Love Language (The Aristocrat Diaries 1)

“What if there is?”

“Is there? Is my greenhouse hurt?”

God, him and his bloody greenhouse. “I haven’t a clue,” I said honestly. “I haven’t been out there.”

“Oh.” He exhaled and his shoulders sagged. “You worried me, there.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. I suppose I would appreciate a lift home. It’s quite a walk from here.”

“Come on.” Miles nodded his head in the direction of his car and unlocked it using the key fob. The lights flashed bright orange, illuminating the other cars, and I followed him over and opened the passenger side door.

I looked the inside over, peering under my seat, over into the back of the Land Rover, and even going so far as to look in the glove box.

“What are you doing?” Miles asked, staring down at me from the driver’s seat. “I promise I have no murder weapons in here.”

“There are cable ties in your glove box.”

“They’re handy to have around. Never know when you’ll need one.”

“And there’s a shovel on the backseat.”

“I’m a gardener. Kind of important for me to have a spade.”

“If there’s rope in the boot, I’m out of here.”

“There’s garden twine.” He shrugged. “Again, kind of important.”

“Hmph.” I looked around. “I was actually looking to see if there are any fish or frogs in here.”

The overhead light flicked on right as he blinked at me, and the dim light made his eyes shine. “Why would I have fish or frogs in my car?”

“You took it for a swim yesterday.”

“I was six inches into a puddle, Gabriella. Not floating down the River Severn.” His lips twitched, but he got them under control.

Alas, still no smile.

What did a girl have to do to make him crack a smile?

Miserable sod.

“You would have been if you hadn’t called me.” I got into the Land Rover and closed the door behind me. “I don’t like frogs. Or toads. They creep me the hell out.”

“You’re scared of frogs? Don’t you have a ton of ponds and lakes on your property?” He started the engine and backed up, starting our journey.

I looked out of the window. “Yes, and when have you ever seen me anywhere near them?”

“Good point.”

I desperately wanted to ask him why he’d wanted to talk to me, but I couldn’t get the words out. Despite the fact we’d been talking all evening while serving the soup to displaced villagers, we hadn’t addressed our previous conversation about classism.

And we hadn’t exactly left it on good terms.

They weren’t particularly bad terms, but they weren’t horribly bad ones, either.

So I broached a much, much safer topic.

“How’s your grandfather? And his cat?”

“The hotel is blocked by a downed power line, but they’re fine. Thankfully. We’re still without power because of that downed line, so I’m glad they staged a rescue mission.”

I glanced over at him. “Are you all right? I know you have an electric fire.”

“I’m fine. I have plenty of jumpers.” He indicated round a miniature roundabout. “Like David Cameron once said, if you’re cold, put on a jumper. Or something like that.”

“You have no power or heating. How is that fine?”

“I have blankets.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I’m not a horrible person, despite what you seem to think, and I do care about your wellbeing.”

Miles glanced at me, and his throat bobbed with a swallow. “I don’t think you’re a horrible person, Gabriella.”

“You could have fooled me.”

“I suppose you’re right. I’ve never made much of an effort to be particularly nice to you, and I’m sorry about that.”

Wait.

What?

“What?” I shifted in the seat and stared at him. “You’re… apologising?”

“Yes,” Miles said slowly. “Contrary to what you seem to think, I’m also not a bad person. Although I admit I’ve given you every reason to think so, whereas you’ve done nothing but be nice to me.”

“Wow.”

“Is that all? Wow?”

“I didn’t expect you to… Never mind.” I shook my head and shifted back again.

“No, what?”

I sighed. “I didn’t expect you to apologise for that, that’s all. It’s pretty obvious you don’t like me, and we’re not friends, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Gabriella, I—” The car rolled over a pothole, stopping him mid-sentence.

I let out a big, “Oof!” as the car bumped over the miniature crater. Thankfully, we were right in front of the Arrowwood Estate gates, and Miles coasted the car through the open gates and onto the driveway. He drove silently up the gravel drive and parked in front of the house.

There was still no sign of my dad or aunt.

I sighed.

“What’s wrong?” Miles asked, shutting off the engine.

“I thought Dad and Aunt Cat might have been able to get back by now.”

“Maybe the roads into Arrow Woods are flooded?”

“Possible. It might just be too busy for them to have gotten here. I know they’re only in Bath.” I shrugged. “There’s also the chance they’re catching up with friends and didn’t let me know.”