Dating the Duke (The Aristocrat Diaries 2)

I shoved the door shut behind me.

“Hello? Anyone here?” I called brightly, walking through the vast hallway as though I’d only just stepped inside. I really did feel a little dirty for listening, but it was one of those situations that was a bit like a train wreck.

You knew shit was going to go down, but you couldn’t tear your eyes—or ears—away from it.

Alexander stalked out of the living room with Elizabeth hot on his heels. They were both flushed, and the tension between them was palpable.

It was extremely uncomfortable.

“Adelaide. You’ve been gone quite a while. I was going to send out a search party.” Alex forced a smile. “Is everything all right?”

“Oh, yes. Sorry, the food was delicious, and Maggie has been coercing me into numerous things, like dessert and cross-stitching at the pub.”

Elizabeth huffed. “Her and that bloody cross-stitch club. It’s a front for drunks.”

Alex slid his eyes towards her. “Regardless of what you think of it, I think it’ll be wonderful for Addy to make friends here. Six weeks is a long time stuck in one place with little enjoyment.”

Wow.

That was a little too bitter, even for me.

She huffed again and stalked past him. “I’m going to collect Olympia from the farm and take her to dance class. Unless you’d prefer I kept my thoughts about that to myself, too.”

Oh.

I looked away.

“She does enjoy it when you take her,” Alexander replied graciously. “And I shall pretend not to notice that she’s not hungry and there’s McDonald’s in the rubbish bin when you come home.”

“Excellent. Finally, something we can agree on.” She looked to me. “I’m glad you’ve had a productive day, Adelaide.”

I smiled. “Thank you.”

Elizabeth left with a regal sweep towards the back of the manor, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say she was a teacher for those pretending to be nobility in movies.

We stood in an uncomfortable silence for a moment until Alex said, “You heard every word of our argument, didn’t you?”

I shifted from one foot to the other. “I suppose that depends on when it started, doesn’t it?”

He met my gaze, his lips twitching upwards into a tiny smile. “Touché.”

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” I said quickly. “I came back, and I didn’t know what to do when I heard you fighting. I didn’t think I could escape upstairs without being noticed, so…”

“It’s fine.” Alex shook his head. “I’m sorry you had to overhear it. Would you like some tea?”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. It sounds like you’ve had quite the afternoon. Just let me see Olympia off to ballet, and I’ll come and make a pot.”

“I can do it.” I slipped past him and headed in the direction of the kitchen. “No Boris?”

“Yes, he’s in the library with Mrs. Anderson discussing a replacement housekeeper.” He smiled. “Two minutes.”

I nodded and walked down the hall to the kitchen. It was the most beautiful room—aside from the library—and the walk-in pantry that Olympia regularly made a huge mess of was the thing of dreams.

Sure, we had a large kitchen and pantry at the hotel, but that was just it.

It was a hotel.

It wasn’t my kitchen.

I set my things on the island and ran my fingers across the granite countertops with a sigh. I loved this kitchen, and I really missed cooking. We usually just ate at the hotel or Mum would cook something for us in our living quarters, but it wasn’t me.

Maybe I would have to see if Alex would let me loose in his kitchen one day soon.

I busied myself making the tea. I could just about hear Alex and Olympia saying goodbye to one another by the door, and by the time he joined me in the kitchen, the tea was steaming in the pot and ready.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said, approaching the island as I set the pot down on a cast iron teapot stand.

“Oh, please. I don’t spend half as much time in the kitchen as I’d like to. A pot of tea is a small thing.” I opened the cupboard with the teacups in. “Are we teacup and saucering, or are we drinking tea like people do in the twenty-first century?”

“Hold on.” He retreated to the door and poked his head out of it. He tilted his head to the side and held that position for a moment before he came back to me and walked into the pantry.

What the devil was he doing?

He emerged seconds later with a large wooden breadbin in his hands.

“What the—”

“Wait for it.” He set it on the island and slid the door upwards, revealing eight mugs that were most definitely not the kind of things you’d find in a duke’s household.

“Oh, my gosh. What are these?” I pressed my hand to my mouth and peered in at them. One had “Best Dick Ever” written on the front, but ‘dick’ was crossed out and ‘duke’ was scribbled on top of it. “Let me guess; Gabriella?”