She was not fully American legally, since she had dual citizenship.
But she was fully American otherwise.
Nevertheless, Treverton suited her.
A man wearing dark brown trousers, a tan blazer with dark brown edging on the lapel, a white shirt and patterned brown tie came out the front door before Dair came to a stop outside it.
Dair bent forward to eye him suspiciously through Blake’s window and realized his estimate of the bloke being “a man” was generous.
“That’s Jeff. Mum’s butler,” Blair told him tonelessly.
Butler, his arse.
The bloke couldn’t be over thirty. He was blond, tall, tanned, fit, and obviously a boy toy.
Jesus Christ.
The tentacles of Helena’s bullshite were so strong, they reached even beyond her death.
They got out and he moved around the car to take Blake’s hand as they walked to the front door.
On their journey, Jeff was eyeing him too. He did it with surprise, and he was far from happy to see Dair approaching at all, much less holding Blake’s hand.
“Hey, Jeff,” Blake greeted when they arrived.
“Blake,” the man replied.
“Lady Sharp,” Dair corrected, and got both their attention.
“We don’t—” Blake started.
He looked down at her.
“You’re Lady Sharp now, darling,” he said gently.
For the first time since they woke up, light hit her eyes as she considered him.
But for once, she decided not to quarrel.
Instead, she turned to Jeff and introduced him.
“Jeff, this is Alasdair Wallace.”
“Yes, I know. Big fan,” Jeff lied stonily.
“Always great to meet fans,” Dair replied on his own lie, or it was in this instance, then went right into, “Ye can get the bags and take them to Blake’s room. We’ll be sharing it.” With that, he handed the man the car fob but warned, “We’ll be needing to leave soon, so I’d like that back promptly.”
There was angry red in the man’s face as he stiffly nodded, and Dair considered this evidence he was rarely asked to do any menial tasks around the house, if he ever was.
No. His tasks were not menial in the slightest.
Dair guided Blake into the house.
She took him to one of the less formal rooms, though it was all formal, so this one was incrementally less formal.
There, she turned on him and he was relieved as fuck she had a spark of fire in her.
“Was it necessary for you to piss all over your patch with Jeff?”
