The Accidental Countess (The Aristocrat Diaries 3)

They all scrambled to get to her to be the first to receive her attention, and I rolled my eyes.

“Sure, they listen to you.”

She peered up from where she was roughing up Baxter’s mane. “Sorry? Did you want them somewhere?”

“They were begging. I tried getting them to go to bed, but I think the smell of the bacon was too much.”

“Oh.” She straightened and pointed towards the hallway where they all had one of many beds. “Bed. Go.”

Dutifully, all three dogs trotted off in the direction she’d pointed. I put down the eggs and walked over to the door.

All three bloody dogs were in their beds.

“What kind of sorcery was that?” I grumbled, walking back over to the cooker.

Eva laughed, pulling a carton of apple juice from the fridge. “I guess they like me better.”

“Mm.” I peered over at her in her short, satin robe. “Understandable.”

“Stop it.” She laughed again, reaching up to her hair. She pulled a hairband from around her wrist and tied her long, dark hair into a ponytail.

“Are you trying to torture me in that robe?” It was the robe of dreams—light pink, satin, thin enough that I could see her nipples, and short enough that if she bent over, I’d see a lot more than just her thighs.

“Don’t get too excited,” she replied, replacing the juice in the fridge door. “I’m wearing Snoopy pyjamas under this.”

“I don’t believe you.”

She turned, untied the belt, and showed me her pyjamas. The top had the iconic picture of Snoopy lying on top of his doghouse on the front with Woodstock on his feet, and the short blue bottoms had repeated prints of the dog himself.

I could still see her nipples, but it didn’t have quite the same effect when they were either side of a cartoon dog.

“All right, you win.” I retrieved a jug from the cupboard above my head and set it down.

“I should hope I do. I know what pyjamas I’m wearing.” Eva stepped up next to me. “What are you making? Want some help?”

“No, I’m fine. I was going to bring it up to you. I thought you were calling the moving company and could use some breakfast in bed.”

“Ugh, don’t talk to me about them.” She put the glass down and leaned against the cupboards. “They’re now telling me Tuesday! Bloody Tuesday! I asked them how the hell it’s taking them so long to get here from Somerset when I managed it in a few hours. Apparently, their driver picked up some twenty-four-hour bug.”

“Are they aware it’s been considerably more than twenty-four hours now?”

“That’s what I told them! They picked it up on Tuesday morning, and it’s now Saturday. I said if he’s still suffering, he should be at the hospital.”

“What did they say?” I cracked eggs into the jug and grabbed a fork to whisk them.

“Oh, they came out with some bollocks about him needing to go forty-eight hours without vomiting. I asked them if they were a moving company or a primary school, and they didn’t have an answer for that one.”

I chuckled. “So, Tuesday?”

“I told them I want it here by nine a.m. on Tuesday, and if not, I was going to tear them so many new assholes they’d need to visit a morgue to replace their bodies.”

“What did they say?”

“They asked me if I was threatening them.”

I slid my gaze towards her. “And you said?”

“I said I don’t threaten, I promise.” The look of murder in her eyes was such that I had no option but to believe her. “They tried to say they’d call the police, and I told them I’d welcome it because I’d report them for stealing my possessions, then sue them for the money back.”

“Eva.”

“What? They told me my stuff will be here by nine on Tuesday.” She grinned and picked up her glass. “Turns out they weren’t a fan of being sued.”

I shook my head and added milk to the jug. “I can’t imagine they were.”

“They have my stuff, Matthew! They have more than a thousand pounds of art supplies and paints and easels, and that doesn’t even include all my clothes and shoes and everything else. I just want my easels so I can start painting again. They should have been here by now.”

“I have a solution for that, you know.”

“You do? Are you going to drive down there and get my things in a mystery moving van I haven’t seen?”

I stopped whisking the eggs with the fork and turned to her. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but we do have art galleries here. They sell painting things, too. We’ll just go and buy you one today.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “How far do we have to go?”

“Not very. Stoneheadnton is the closest village. It’s a bit of a tourist trap, but there are loads of little shops there. One is an art gallery, and I know the woman who owns it.” I turned back to cooking breakfast, this time going to the freezer for some hash browns, then got sausages from the fridge. “She has all kinds of painting supplies. I’ll show you the village, take you to my favourite café for lunch, then we’ll go to the gallery and get you everything you need.”