Love Language (The Aristocrat Diaries 1)

“What do you like to read?”

“I usually stick to reading for work.”

“How terribly boring.” She shifted so she was sitting a little more upright. “Well, now is as good a time as any to read for fun. What do you like to watch on TV?”

“I don’t watch much TV.”

“Good Lord, Miles. Do you have any hobbies at all?”

I stared at her. “I play cricket.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You do? Where?”

“At the tennis club,” I replied dryly. “The cricket club. Where else?”

“All right, calm down. No need to get your knickers in a twist.” She looked away. “Try that bookcase over there. There’s some sports non-fiction in it, and I’m sure there’ll be something on cricket. Daddy used to play when he was younger.”

Of course he did.

“I’ll take a look. Thanks.” I wasn’t particularly in the mood to read, but I didn’t want to talk to her either, so at least a book would solve the latter problem. I didn’t know anyone who talked while reading, and I hoped Gabriella would be one of those people.

I browsed the shelf looking for something to interest me. It took a few minutes thanks to the sheer volume of books—they needed to set up a desk and invest in some library cards kind of sheer volume—but I finally found a book on the history of cricket in England.

That would do. And actually sounded annoyingly interesting.

I took the book over to the sofa and sat down. At least the library was warm and cosy, and a candle on the side table gave me just enough light to read if I angled the book correctly.

Gabriella had gone one better and was using a torch. “Don’t worry,” she said, looking over at me when she saw me looking. “This one is rechargeable. USB port, see?”

Right. Of course it was.

She was a regular little girl guide.

She’d probably been a girl guide at some point, though.

I returned my attention to the book. I barely paid attention to it for the first few pages, but after that, I found myself getting invested in what I was reading and settled down to read it.

I glanced up when I saw Gabriella moving towards the fire. “Let me do that.”

She waved me off. “I need to move it. It’s been forty-five minutes, it’s good to stretch it. Besides, it’s not that bad.”

“Shall I get things to make tea?”

“Oh, good idea.”

I set the book down and made my way into the kitchen. It was absolutely freezing out here in the hallway, and it was no warmer in the kitchen. I shivered as I checked the cupboard where I’d seen things for tea trays earlier.

Was the rest of the house this cold? There was no way we could sleep upstairs if it was. My room had an open fireplace, and I suspected most of them did, but it seemed like a bit of a waste.

Not that there was a shortage of wood in the wood store, of course.

I set everything for tea on one of the trays, including a small jug with some milk in it, then took it back into the library with another shiver. Thankfully I didn’t drop anything, and I managed to close the heavy library door behind me so we could keep as much heat in as possible.

“Hey, did you know it’s absolutely bloody freezing out there?” I put the tray on the table.

“Yes,” Gabriella said slowly. “That’s the problem with old houses, especially big ones. They can be hard to keep warm. It’s why we never bricked up the fireplaces in the bedrooms.”

“Yeah, well, if you want to sleep in your bedroom tonight, I’d say you need to get that fire started.” I paused. “Weren’t these places built with thick walls to keep the heat in?”

“Yeah, but the insulation isn’t that good.” She leaned forward and dropped a teabag into her cup. “We’ve modernised it over the years with floor and attic insulations, and we obviously have better windows now, but to do the walls would not only cost a ton of money, it would also ruin some of the old panelling we’ve preserved, and the stone walls are too good to cover up.”

That was true. While I wasn’t entirely comfortable here, the stone walls that were present in the kitchen and here in the library were a lovely mix of greys, browns, and taupe that had clearly stood the test of time.

She sat back with her cup of tea and blew on it, eyeing me.

“What?” I asked, stirring two sugars into my own cup.

“Why were you really so desperate to leave?”

“I already told you; I wasn’t.” I squeezed the teabag against the side of the cup to get the last of the tea out of it, then set it on the saucer on the tray where Gabriella had put hers.