No Ordinary Gentleman

“I prefer it when you don’t sound like a fish wife,” she says with a sniff. “And I’ll tell you somethin’ for nothin’, I see what’s going on between you and Sandy.”

“Nothing is going on.”

“I’ll no’ say I believed it at first. Now don’t get yourself all twisted. I just meant I didn’t believe he’d behave like he has. He’s always been so good.”

“He’s still good,” I whisper. “I think we just bring out the worst in each other.”

“Or maybe the best?” she asks expectantly.

“No, I got it right the first time.”

“But Griffin, he’s no good. You hear me?”

“He’s not that bad,” I mutter,

“He’s not that good, either. Just you watch yourself with him. And Sandy? He’ll no’ take this lying down if I know him. And I do know him—I’ve known him man and boy.”

“Chrissy, I think we can both agree that I can’t stay on here.”

“I can’nae see why not,” she begins.

“Because the man is a freakin’ duke! And he had a wife who he loved, and he hasn’t been serious about anyone since then!” As far as I can tell.

“So?”

“I can’t stay here and fall in love with him. I won’t be made a laughingstock.” Not again.

“So you don’t like to take risks? Is that it?” Chrissy pulls a kitchen chair out from under the table, lowering herself into it. “That seems like a very boring life for a lassie as young as you.”

“Risks? I like risks.” Calculated ones, I silently amend. “I took a big risk in moving to London and another moving here.” Even as I say this, a prickle of unease creeps up my neck. Am I being dishonest? And to Chrissy or myself? “Look, you’ve worked for this family for a long time, right? And your family before you?”

“Aye.”

“Can you think of one instance where a Dalforth has gotten himself engaged or taken a wife from somewhere other than his own sphere? His own world?”

“Aye. The tenth duke,” she says a touch smug. “He married an American!”

“An heiress, I’m guessing?” My love of historical drama and romance novels pays off, yet again.

“Well, aye, but—”

“Someone bred into the role, not a teacher—a nanny.” I tap a finger to my chest. “Not a girl who works the checkout at a grocery store, or a nurse, or a—”

“It doesn’t matter who you are. Not these days.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“I think the Duchess of Mreeth might disagree. She lives with her former gardener after she divorced the duke.”

“Really?” I feel my expression twist.

“Aye, and Mr McCain was saying as how the king of one of the Asian countries married his bodyguard not too long back.”

“Well . . .”

“O’ course, Dougal did say it was maybe because the king was frightened of her, with her being the bodyguard and all. She might’ve strongarmed him.”

“Have you all been talking about this? About me?”

“We only want to see him happy,” she says, pulling a thoroughly unimpressed face. “And if you make him happy—”

“No.” I hold up both of my hands. I’m not having this discussion. Even if it would be easy to love him. I mean, I’m sure he wouldn’t make it easy. He’d probably drive me insane, and—no. I’m not going there. “We aren’t suited. That’s all there is to say.”

“Maybe that’s all you have to say about it,” she says half under her breath. “I dare say he’ll have a fair bit more to say on the subject just yet.” She glances back at me innocently. “Well, he’s nothing if not dedicated.”

If by dedicated, she means insulting, annoying, and just plain persistent, then maybe she’s right. I turn back to the task I’d begun before she came into the kitchen.

He also looked hurt as well as annoyed. I push away the thought.

“That looks like a wee picnic,” she says, coming to look over my shoulder.

“Yeah. I’m taking the boys down to the stream.” Isla had suggested I close the education centre early, and I’d offered to hang out with the boys after school. I won’t get many more opportunities to do so. I don’t want to leave with Hugh still upset. “Or at least, that’s the plan. I guess it depends on what the peacock is up to.”

“It’ll be packed wi’ tourists down there.” Her expression twists doubtfully.

“We could go somewhere else, I guess. But the maze and the formal gardens will be busy on a warm day like this, too.”

“Go to the family gardens. Have you been into the secret garden?”

“Well, no,” I admit. But part of the point of this outing was for me to be seen with Griffin again. If he turns up, I think, glancing at the digital clock on the wall oven. I don’t particularly want to have tourists gawking at us, but I do want to be seen. Seen by someone, in particular, I mean.