Love Language (The Aristocrat Diaries 1)

“Why would a church have fake baguettes next to the pulpit?”

“I don’t know. To appease the French?”

“I don’t think the French pray to the baguette Gods.” Miles looked at the baguette then at me. “Do you have a bread knife?”

“Oh, yeah, I keep them in my back pocket. No woman can be without one.”

Actually, life would be more bearable if one could keep bread, butter, and a knife on one’s person.

“You are on fire today,” he muttered. “Where can I find one?”

“The kitchen is through there,” a familiar voice said. “That door there that’s slightly open. Go through there, take the next one on your left, and you’ll find the kitchen.”

I turned and looked at my deadly enemy.

All right, so deadly enemy was somewhat of an exaggeration, but I couldn’t be entirely sure that Heidi Williams had not tried to kill me when we were fifteen.

That was a long story, and as far as she was concerned, she really hadn’t meant to drive that quad bike into me, and it’d only broken my leg, so it was fine.

Right.

Like that was real.

Heidi and I had a long, convoluted history that ultimately culminated into one simple fact: we hated each other.

As a rule, I was not a hateful person. I could hold a grudge as well as the next person—a little too well, probably—but I tried not to hate people. After all, I’d learnt that nine times out of ten, people who did bad things weren’t actually bad people, but good people going through a bad time.

It didn’t excuse their decisions, but nobody was perfect, but it did lend hope for the goodness of humanity.

Of course, bad people existed, but I was going off on a tangent here.

Heidi, however, I genuinely believed was not a good person.

That, or she really, really hated me, far more than any child ever should have hated another as a child.

Despite common misconceptions, being a part of the aristocracy wasn’t all sunshine and roses. General privilege aside, as a child, I really was just that. Kids didn’t much care about anything outside of Kings, Queens, Princes, and Princesses, so the fact I had a title was just something la-di-dah to a lot of kids at my school.

As much as it opened to me to many friendships, it also gave way to many instances of bullying.

Heidi Williams was the ringleader of it—for my entire schooling in town. From six or seven years old to leaving secondary school at sixteen, she was a thorn in my side to endure. I’d been determined not to use my father’s position to fight my battles, even though I probably should have been honest with him at some point.

I’d only seen her in passing for the last several years. She’d left for university, gotten a job in London, and that was the last I’d heard of her until recently.

Now, here she was.

In front of me. Completely ignoring me. Paying Miles far more attention than he warranted.

What?

I was totally holding a grudge from our disagreement this morning.

I was a good person having a bad day.

End of discussion.

“That one next to the spider plant?” Miles asked her.

Heidi smiled. “That one right there.”

“Thanks.” He turned to me. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Can’t wait,” I said dryly.

Unbothered by my attitude, he left, grasping his baguette.

Wait.

That sounded weird.

The baguette.

The baguette.

The bread one.

The bread.

Not his… you know… baguette.

Oh, bloody hell.

This was why I didn’t leave the house.

“Gabriella.” Heidi smiled at me, although it was decidedly less kind than the one she’d offered Miles. “Nice to see you slumming it with the little people.”

“Heidi, if you don’t mind, I’m trying to help out. Can we do this another time?”

“I’ve been hoping to catch up with you.”

I turned away. “That makes one of us.”

“Him. He works for you, right?”

“For my father, technically,” I said slowly, peering over at her. “Why?”

Her lips curved into a small smirk. “My brother-in-law has just purchased a farm nearby and is looking for a gardener.”

“Congratulations to him. May I suggest he tries the internet?”

“Any gardener you have must be good enough for him.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” I paused my not-so-cordial conversation to serve two twin girls some soup. They’d already raided various bread baskets, given the abundance they had on their plates.

Heidi waited until they’d gone. “Is Miles available?”

“You’d have to ask my father,” I replied nonchalantly. “That’s his business, not mine.”

“I don’t think I’ll need to.” She paused. “Is he single?”

I barely restrained myself from rolling my eyes. “I can’t say either way. As you so succinctly pointed out, he’s an employee. We’re hardly best friends.”

And we never would be, either.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” She smiled, but there was nothing kind about it. “Would you give him my number?”

“I’d rather pour this hot soup into my eyes and never set eyes on you again,” I replied honestly. “Do it yourself, Heidi.”