The Accidental Countess (The Aristocrat Diaries 3)

“You have quite the way with words,” he noted, walking towards the door when there was a knock. “Ah, hello.”

“Room service,” the woman on the other side said. “Where would you like me to put this for you, sir?”

“Just inside the door is perfectly fine, thank you.”

I glanced over my shoulder to see the woman wheeling a small trolley into the suite, then turned back to the photos.

Had we really taken over two hundred?

I wouldn’t be surprised if they were all useless.

I picked up my phone and snapped a picture of one, then sent it in a group chat to Gabi and Adelaide.

ME: Look at this mess.

Gabriella’s response was immediate and was swiftly followed by one from my sister.

GABRIELLA: Why does he look like he’s in pain?

ADELAIDE: He looks… I don’t know how to say this nicely.

ADELAIDE: Like he really needs a shit.

Exactly.

ME: That’s because you can’t. There are 200+ of these from today and they all look awful.

GABRIELLA: 200+?

ME: Yes. I don’t know why we have so many.

ADELAIDE: I don’t know how you have them so fast.

ME: They’re raw and unedited. Thank God. They need editing. Badly.

“That’s rude,” Matthew said, peering at my phone.

“But true,” I pointed out.

“That might well be, but if they’re not going to help…” He set a glass of wine down in front of me.

“Oh, they’re helping,” I said, picking it up. “Thank you,” I noted quickly. “They’re helping me feel better about this shit tip in front of me.”

He flicked through a few more images and sighed. “They really are bad, aren’t they?”

“I think “bad” is an understatement.”

He sighed again. “Just… I don’t know. Let’s take a selfie and use that instead.”

“No.”

“Let’s get drunk and take a selfie.”

“Even worse.”

“Let’s—”

“Let’s try and find two pictures we can have her edit together, hm?” I suggested, tapping the right arrow button on the keyboard as I sipped my wine. The next photo was of us looking at each other; he was grinning while I was frowning, and somehow, it was the one that made the most sense out of all the ones we’d seen so far.

“Look at that,” he mused, lightly chuckling. “That about sums us up, doesn’t it?”

“We are not using it.”

“Bugger.”

CHAPTER FOUR

MATTHEW

“Have you thought this through?” Alexander asked, eyeing me over the table. He twisted a whiskey glass in circles. “I’m not sure this is something you can take this lightly, mate.”

“Believe me, I’ve thought it through.” I grabbed my glass and downed the rest of it. “What situation am I in here? I’m completely fucked no matter what I do. Mum and Nan are breathing down my neck about meeting someone, but everyone I meet has an ulterior motive. You know that better than anyone.”

He tilted his head to the side, then jerked it in what could only be described as a nod. He raised two fingers and motioned to the waiter for more alcohol.

Yes, he knew it better than anyone. As the Duke of Worcester and my best friend, he’d lived through the same thing I had.

People didn’t see the person when they looked at you.

People saw the title, the money, the estate—especially people in our social circle. It was all about marrying up, marrying higher, doing better for yourself. Social standing was all that mattered, and that made it extremely difficult to find someone who was interested in you for you.

“Yes, but then I met Adelaide and proposed. Like a normal person. I didn’t enter a glorified business contract that’s going to end in tears.”

“You don’t know that. I like Eva. We get along well, and it’s not as though we’ll have to live on top of one another in the house. Christopher is already aware of what we’re doing and has agreed to keep it between the three of us, so it’s fine.”

Alex shook his head slowly. “And you really think that’s going to work? Are you forgetting that Adelaide only moved in to tutor Olympia?”

“Yes, but it’s different. I don’t want to get married, and neither does Eva. We’ve already been over this. We both benefit from this arrangement, and if it goes wrong, then it’s my head on the line, isn’t it?”

“It’s hers, too, though. How can you be sure that it’ll all end amicably in five years?”

“I can’t, but I’ve gone through every scenario I can think of, and I don’t see how it can end badly.”

“All right, let’s say you’ve been married for three years, have a kid, and are friends. What if you meet someone? Or she meets someone? But you’re married, and you lose your chance for true happiness.”

“We’ve discussed that. We’ll cross that bridge when—if—we come to it.”

“I think you’ve lost your bloody mind,” he said simply. “I love Eva, but I think you’re both making an extremely stupid decision.”

“That’s why we’re lying about it.”