The Accidental Countess (The Aristocrat Diaries 3)

“Probably not.”

“There we are, then.” I rested my arm on the back of the sofa and teased my fingers through her hair. “You don’t need to change who you are for fear of offending someone, Eva. Lord only knows my grandmother is impossible to offend anyway.”

“Really? Surely she gets offended by something.”

“Well, yes.” I shifted so my body was facing her. “She gets highly offended when there’s none of her favourite champagne in the cellar. She finds people who don’t like reading or gardening to be offensive creatures, and bugs with more than six legs are right up there.”

“So she’s not offended by me being slightly rude.”

“She’d be far more offended if you attempted to apologise.”

“Noted.” Eva’s lips pulled up into a small smile. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

EVA

I never knew a person could be so paranoid about being pregnant.

Yesterday, when Ffion had been talking about it, I’d laughed it off. Internally, of course. There was absolutely no way I could be—I was obsessive over taking my pill on a daily basis, and it’d never failed me in almost eight years.

So why was I sitting on the toilet, staring at a white and blue stick as a stupid little hourglass ticked around?

Seriously, how long did it take? This was longer than three minutes. It had to be. I’d been sitting on the toilet for so long that my legs were going fuzzy and falling asleep. I was going to be walking like a pirate for the next several minutes until they woke up again.

Here’s the thing.

I knew I wasn’t pregnant.

My period was due in a few days, depending on when she fancied making her appearance, and I had all my premenstrual symptoms. I was bloated, my nipples were as sensitive as could be, and I wanted to eat fucking everything in the house.

I was actually starving, or so my hormones would have me think. I would only be satiated when I’d eaten approximately my body weight in hot buttered toast, salt and vinegar crisps, chocolate digestive biscuits, and an entire grocery store aisle of gummy worms.

This was all bloody Ffion, putting a bee in my bonnet, and getting me all worked up.

I huffed out a breath and put the pregnancy test on the edge of the bathtub. I eased myself up with a little groan as blood rushed down my legs, and huge tingles that were actually a little painful shot through my lower legs.

“Ow, ow, ow,” I muttered, taking ginger steps, using the bath to keep me up. I shook my legs and bent my knees one after the other to shake out the pins and needles, and after a good minute, I finally regained feeling in my calves.

Surely the test was done now.

I picked up the stupid little plastic stick and looked at the window.

Not pregnant.

There.

As I’d assumed.

I tossed the stick in the bin and, after giving my hands a thorough wash, grabbed my phone from the small chest of drawers on the other side of the bathroom.

ME: Can confirm I am not pregnant.

I walked back into my room and grabbed some clothes for the day. After getting changed into leggings and a slouchy jumper, I pulled on some warm socks. The rain had started again, and that had me in the mood to paint.

My phone buzzed with a text, and I snatched it up, then headed out of my bedroom.

MATTHEW: I… what?

ME: Your nan made me paranoid.

MATTHEW: And your response was to take a test? Can’t you only do that on certain days?

ME: Well, obviously, I waited until I was in the middle of my period.

MATTHEW: I honestly don’t know if you’re being sarcastic or not.

ME: Oh, my God. I’m due in a couple of days, and the one I used is a fancy one that’s supposed to detect it now. It said not pregnant.

MATTHEW: Right. And you just so happened to have one?

ME: I’m a sexually active woman.

MATTHEW: I know, and I approve, but that doesn’t answer the question.

I sighed.

This was why women got frustrated.

Men asked such silly questions.

ME: Yes, I did just happen to have one. I actually have two more in my bathroom.

MATTHEW: Why do you have three pregnancy tests in your bathroom?

ME: To hang them on my wall as a modern-day form of art, Matthew, obviously.

MATTHEW: This would go a lot faster if you’d stop being snarky.

ME: It would go a lot faster if you’d stop asking stupid questions. Why do you think I have pregnancy tests? It’s not to paint a still life of Clearblue’s finest, is it?

MATTHEW: I know why one keeps pregnancy tests, Eva. I was just wondering why YOU had them considering we aren’t trying yet.

See? If he’d said that in the first place, this conversation would be over.

I walked into the kitchen. “Good morning, Christopher.”

The older man turned around and smiled. “Good morning, Eva. Would you like a cup of tea?”