Dating the Duke (The Aristocrat Diaries 2)

I stepped into Bentley Manor and let out a long sigh. This place was, weirdly, starting to feel a little bit like home, and I was relieved to be back after a somewhat unexpected night.

Alex glanced at me as he locked the door. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were starting to feel at home here.”

“Well, I’m not really at home at a pub.”

“You could have fooled me.”

I swatted his arm. “Stop it. I wouldn’t have gone by choice, but after Maggie invited me, I felt it would be rude to turn her down.”

He waved me into the kitchen. “Maggie is known for her strong-arming techniques. She does rather fancy herself as the welcoming committee in town.”

“And you sent me to her café? Knowing my aversion to people? The audacity.”

“I tried to warn him,” Boris said. “But he didn’t listen. Maggie is quite audacious.” He picked up the teapot and poured the rich, brown liquid into two large teacups that were sitting on fancy saucers.

I guessed that Alex’s naughty mugs were back in their bread bin prison in the pantry.

Shame. I should have liked to try another one.

“Here you go, sir. Adelaide, your Ibuprofen is on the saucer for you.” Boris set both teacups in front of us. “If you’ll not be needing anything else, I’ll retire to my bedroom, sir.”

Alex nodded. “Thank you, Boris. I appreciate you preparing a pot of tea for us this evening.”

“Thank you,” I added. “It’s delicious.”

Boris smiled at me. “You’re most welcome, Adelaide. I will see you both in the morning. Please put your teacups by the sink.” With that last instruction, Boris swept out of the kitchen with silent footsteps and disappeared somewhere into the hallways.

I peered after him, holding the blister packet of Ibuprofen in my hand. “Where does he go?”

Alex stared at me. “What on Earth do you mean?”

“Where does he go?” I repeated. “He just… disappears. Every evening. Does he live here? In the house? Does he have his own space? Does he live in the village? Is he beamed up by aliens once a night?”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t venture into conspiracy theory territory at the end of that and confirm that Boris does live on-site. My father renovated an old caretaker’s cottage near to the main house, and Boris has lived there ever since.”

“Doesn’t he have a family?”

Alex hesitated. “That’s not my story to tell, I’m afraid.”

“Oh.” I looked down. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. Just… perhaps don’t bring it up to Boris, yes? He considers us his family, and I’m more than happy to return the sentiment.”

“I understand.” I smiled sadly at him. “I’ll not ask again.”

“He might talk to you. He appears to have taken a shine to you.” He met my gaze. “I can’t imagine why.”

My cheeks flushed lightly. “I like Boris. He’s always kind to me.”

“Of course he is. It’s because you’re so bloody nice to him.”

“Stop it.”

“No, you are. I’ve never known anyone to be as nice to working staff as you are.”

I leaned forward on the table. “Well, it might have escaped your notice, but my parents run a hotel. Being nice to staff is kind of something I have to deal with. I find it gets things done a lot faster than being a dick.”

He raised his teacup in agreement. “Work staff and household staff are two different things.”

“Depends how you look at it, I suppose. Staff are staff, regardless of what they do. Quite frankly, I don’t think it matters if someone cleans your toilet or handles your most private affairs. They both deserve the same treatment.”

Alex inclined his head. “I suppose you are, once again, completely correct in your assessment.”

“Of course I am. I’m a woman. I pride myself on being right.”

“Naturally.” He picked up his teacup and finished his tea. “Right. I’m off to bed, if you think you can manage it up the stairs by yourself.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you. I think I might head to the library and get some writing done.”

“Really? Now?”

“Of course. My best work is done at night-time. And after wine, if the way my brain is whirring is any indication.”

His lips tugged up into a small smile. “Goodnight, Adelaide.”

I cradled my teacup. “Goodnight.”

With a small nod, he turned and left, leaving me alone in the large, almost cavernous kitchen.

I looked down into my teacup with a pause. He didn’t have to do that tonight—he didn’t have to come and get me. I could have gotten a taxi back, but he did it.

Why?

“Alexander! Alex!” I jumped off the stool and rushed after him, catching him partway up the stairs.

“You didn’t break a teacup, did you?” He looked down at me with wide eyes.

“I did not.” I fought back a smile. “I just wanted to say thank you. For coming to get me tonight. You didn’t have to.”