Dating the Duke (The Aristocrat Diaries 2)

I wandered into the library. Alex was standing in front of the chess table with his arms wide, and one of the cats was lying on the table, surrounded by fallen chess pieces.

“This is… interesting,” I said, looking at the scene in front of me.

“The cat is on my chess table,” Alex replied through gritted teeth. “What is it doing on my chess table?”

“It looks like it was sleeping, and you woke it up.”

“Get rid of it!”

Laughing, I walked over and scooped up the cat—no, I didn’t know if it was Monica or Rachel—and deposited her on the sofa instead. Unfortunately, she wasn’t impressed with my new spot for her, and she pounced off, proceeding to bat a pawn across the floor with her paw.

“My pawn!”

I fought back a laugh as the cat continued chasing it across the floor until it went under a bookcase. She made a good effort to retrieve it but gave in and slinked out of the room with her tail in the air.

She was even flicking the tip for good measure.

“Bloody cats,” he muttered, kneeling down to collect all the pieces. “I guess I have to put these pieces away every time I’m done now.”

I nodded and got onto the floor to dig out the pawn. I found it right at the back, against the wall, and gave it a sharp swat of my own to free it. “Here’s your pawn.”

“Thanks,” he said dryly. “Remind me again why I agreed to keep the bloody cats?”

“They make your daughter happy.” I smiled and used my sleeve to wipe all the cat fur from the table. “There. Let’s get it set up.”

Alex had it ready in seconds, and we both sat down.

“Now, I’m warning you. I’m not drunk, I’m not tired, and I’m going to pay more attention today.” I shuffled in my seat. “Right. I’m ready.”

“You’re white. You start first.”

I made the first move with my pawn and settled in, ready to get my ass beat. It didn’t take him long to destroy me, but we started another game.

Apparently, I was a masochist.

My phone pinged in my cardigan pocket, and I held up a finger so I could get it.

EVA: Um… I have some bad news.

ME: Why? What’s wrong?

“What’s wrong?” Alex asked. “You’re frowning.”

“It’s Eva. Says she has bad news.” I glanced up.

“Oh. What could it be?”

“I don’t know. I hope it’s nothing to do with Mum and Dad or the hotel.” My phone pinged again.

EVA: I’m not going to be here for our birthday.

She was kidding, right?

After the fuss she’d made, she was bailing on me?

ME: ARE YOU JOKING?

“Addy, are you all right?”

“She said she’s not going to be here for our birthday! After all the shouting and yelling she’s done at me.”

“Did she say why?”

Another ping.

EVA: No, I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I’M SORRY

EVA: I have to work

ME: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU HAVE TO WORK?

EVA: There’s a huge art show happening in London, and Jay wants me to take some of my pieces. It’s only on for the weekend and this could be my chance. I’m so sorry Addy!!!!!!

I relayed the message to Alex.

“Well, you can’t be mad at that, right?” he asked.

“I can! Our birthday is in four days, Alex. I was getting ready to go home. She’s brought it up every single time we’ve talked for the last three weeks.” I huffed and hit the reply box.

ME: I mean… fine. But you owe me after how you’ve been bitching at me. This is last-minute.

EVA: I know. Someone dropped out this morning. I’m so so so so sorry.

ME: Tell Mum I won’t be home. I’m not going to bother if you aren’t there.

EVA: Addy, you can still go home.

ME: I was only going for you because you kept going on at me. I’ll be fine here. I have to write now I’ll talk to you later

I put my phone on silent and put it back in my pocket. I knew I was sulking and being a brat, and I was genuinely happy for her—my sister was an incredible artist and photographer, and she deserved all the success in the world—but I was allowed to be annoyed after how many times she’d mentioned our birthday.

Alex’s lips thinned into a flat line. “Definitely not going, then?”

I shook my head. “No. I was only going home to spend it with her, so there’s no point.”

“Why not go to London and see the exhibition?”

“No. It’s fine. Is it my move?”

“Adelaide.”

“It’s fine.” I met his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I said I’m fine, so I’m fine.”

He got up and rounded the chess table, then prised me out of my chair to stand in front of him. “Look, I know it’s not the same, but we can still celebrate your birthday. We can go somewhere fun, or get the cross-stitch group together for you, or I’ll take you to dinner.”