The Accidental Countess (The Aristocrat Diaries 3)

“Thank you so much, I’ll look him up now.”

“Hold on. I’ve got his number. Give us a minute.”

I waited until she was back. She reeled off his number that I quickly scribbled down, and after I was done thanking her profusely, I said goodbye and put the phone down.

Then crossed out the first thing on my to-do list.

Now, I just had to try and complete the rest.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EVA

It was kind of nice having something to do. Being able to focus on something other than all the things I couldn’t do and didn’t have right now had definitely served to lift my mood.

It was the only thing I’d ever enjoyed about working in the gallery. When my knobhead boss hadn’t been there, I’d been the most senior member of staff, and I’d just done things. I’d had a purpose, a bit like I had right now.

I was going to have to work on finding one that was a bit more substantial than just moseying about with the dogs.

The funny thing was that I’d always dreamed of a life like this—one where I didn’t need a nine-to-five job, where I could draw and paint to my heart’s content. Now that was my reality, I was feeling a little lost.

Maybe Matthew would let me help with the hotels. I didn’t know the full extent of his business or his investments, but if we were honest, I was looking at living here for probably the next twenty years, living together for at least five.

And we were friends.

Kind of.

Clearly, he’d been happy for me to help today. He’d not only listened to my suggestions, but he’d left me to handle them when he could have easily told me to shut up and get lost. Really, this was none of my business, but he’d let me make it mine.

I knew there was another building he was looking at. I didn’t know much about the Isle of Anglesey, but I did know it was a tourist hotspot. A lot of the businesses on the island depended greatly on the tourism it received every spring and summer, so as far as secure investments went, hotels were a pretty good one.

Everyone always needed hotels.

Maybe… maybe he’d let me help with the next one. If I asked him really nicely.

“Ready?” Matthew said. “The Anglesey Tribune want to take some photos and ask a few questions before we open officially.”

I peered out of the window. All the staff were already inside, and I’d been introduced to all of them, including Matthew’s business partner, so the group outside was the paper and some locals who wanted to visit. “Is it always this crazy for a hotel opening around here?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “No. I think it’s because it’s me.”

“Right. Um.”

“Why don’t you wait in the office? I’ll come and get you at the last minute, then they won’t have a lot of time to ask you many questions.”

“All right. I’ll do that, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.” He smiled.

I turned away to go to the office when he reached out and caught my hand.

“Eva?”

I peered over my shoulder at him. “Yes?”

“Thank you,” he said, stepping closer. “For all your help today. You didn’t have to do any of that—getting the maps and the flowers and a discount at The Prince of Wales pub.”

“I enjoyed it.” I smiled, scuffing my shoe on the floor. “Really.”

“I don’t know how you did it. Especially the pub. Old Dafydd is a grouchy thing.”

“Oh, no, he isn’t,” I replied. “He just likes to make a good deal. He gave me fifty discounts in exchange for a sketch of his old dog before she passes. He’s already emailed me photos.”

Matthew’s lips pulled up. “Incredible. And to think, you were worried that you wouldn’t settle in.”

“Oh, I am. But I really did enjoy this today, if you don’t mind me helping.”

“Don’t mind you helping? Of course I don’t.”

“Sir? The journalist is getting antsy,” one of the waitstaff said, hovering by the door. “I think he’s sick of the menu.”

“All right, Owen, I’ll be right there.” Matthew turned back to me, smiled, and kissed me on the cheek, sending a little tingle across my skin. “Go hide. It won’t take long.”

I slipped behind the reception and through the door to the office. I liked it in here—although it needed some greenery in the form of houseplants, and an easel at the window to overlook the landscape behind it.

Wait.

That was what I wanted at Menai Castle.

Bloody hell. I was projecting.

I really hoped my belongings had been delivered. Not all my things could have been brought up in Matthew’s Range Rover, and even less fit in my much smaller SUV. That was the only reason we’d hired a moving company to get all my possessions from the hotel.

I just wanted my art things. My easels were all in that van, and I wanted to take one down to the Menai Strait and paint instead of just sketch.