“Oh yes, about that. I’ve received a pledge on For my Fans, a very large one. Huge, in fact. They want a bespoke video of me, but also with someone else.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t expecting that. I’m extremely honoured he thought of me, and to come out here to ask me when he believed I thought ill of him took courage. “Yes.”
“It would really help me out, to save the hall,” he starts. “And what my uncle built here. And of course saving your jobs, so you’d be helping yourself really?—”
“Kai, I said yes,” I repeat a little louder.
“Oh.” He looks up at me. “Are you sure?”
“I’m very sure, but is there a timescale?”
“I need to double check, but in a couple of weeks I think.”
“That’s good. I don’t want to rush what’s happening between us. I’d like to explore us first without that pressure.” I mean every word. I want to separate what I’ve watched in his videos from reality.
“I want to explore this too,” he says and reaches up to kiss me. “Starting now.”
CHAPTER 18
KAI
“Iwon’t need any dinner today, Martha,” I say when I walk into the kitchen, choosing to come and fetch my own mid-morning coffee rather than asking Jones to bring it. That’s mostly because I’m restless and need something to do. The last few days have been busy. I’ve helped Roberta pack up four paintings to be sent for auction. Her friend was keen to get them to sell. The one Roberta said is listed as a Rubens is going to be authenticated first, but from what I hear there’s already a buzz around it. I like the thought that it might fetch a higher price at next month’s sale. I’ve made two more cam videos, edited and uploaded them. The earnings from LegacyinLace are now over two million pounds and it’s only been a month, so with the sale of the paintings and the bespoke video we’re going to hit the target. Thinking of the video brings Jason to the forefront of my mind, not that he’s ever far from it. We’ve talked and kissed and I’ve spent hours distracting him while he’s supposed to be working this week. We’ve been taking it slowly like he suggested, but today is different, and I’m buzzing with excitement, nerves, and anticipation.
“Why’s that, love?” Martha asks, rolling out a batch of what looks like gingerbread biscuits.
“Because I have a date.” I watch as she stops and turns, delight written over her face.
“Oh, that’s wonderful. You deserve to find somebody.” She wipes her floury hands on her apron as she crosses the room to hug me. I lean into it. I’m getting used to Martha’s mothering. I know she does it to everyone, and it makes me feel accepted as part of the family here, despite being the earl. That’s the part that feels at odds to who I actually am, but it comes with the hall and all these wonderful people, so I accept it too. “Can I ask who? Is it someone we know?”
“You’ll have to wait and see,” I reply. I’m not trying to be deliberately coy but that’s not something Jason and I have expressly talked about. We know we can’t keep it secret, nor would we want to, but it’s early days yet. I know he hasn’t told anyone about us, maybe not even his brother, so I don’t want to be the one to break it to people he’s known a lot longer than I have. But he did say he’d pick me up from here tonight, so I guess after that everyone will know.
“I’m sorry if that messes up what you had planned for tonight,” I say but Martha waves away my concerns.
“It’s fine. Bob and I will just have a simple supper tonight and we can eat it tomorrow.” She returns to the biscuits, this time humming merrily. I finish making my coffee as Jones enters.
“Kai’s going on a date tonight,” she says as he crosses the room. I laugh at how much this seems to have made her happy. I hope it remains that way when she does discover who it is.
“Indeed,” says Jones. I’ve told him, of course, because he’d have been incredibly offended if he’d found out secondhand, that much I have learned about how he sees his role, and I’m fine with that now I’m getting used to it. He turns to me. “I’ve put out the blue and green shirts for you to choose from, and may I suggest the black trousers?”
“You’re not going to let me wear jeans, are you?” I ask, only half joking.
“Are you going bowling or skating?” he replies, and I see his mouth twitch. This is what passes as humour for Jones so I flash him a smile.
“I doubt that.” I have no idea where we’re going, except that it involves dinner.
“Then I think the black trousers are more appropriate,” Jones says and I concede this point. Some of his ideas may be archaic, more in keeping with a bygone era, but he is extremely good at his job, and I’m starting to wonder how I would manage without him—or without any of the staff, I’m grateful for them all. So, shirt decision aside, I have nothing else to do today, and the hours until Jason arrives seem to stretch impossibly before me. I take my coffee and go seek out Roberta, hoping she’ll have something to distract me.
As it turns out, estate finances are sufficiently complicated to keep my mind busy, even though Roberta explains everything to me in simple terms and language. Even once the money has been paid for the inheritance tax, I’m going to need some income to keep the hall sustainable. There are a few farms, land, and houses which bring in rent, but it’s not going to be enough. The camboy account is doing well, but I’m not sure I want to dependon it for being able to pay the bills. I push those worries away for now; saving the hall is the first priority.
“It lookslike your date is here,” says Jones as car lights sweep up the drive, briefly lighting up the front of the hall before the car turns and stops at the bottom of the steps. I’ve been nervously pacing the large entrance hall for the last ten minutes.
“Do I look okay?” I ask, suddenly nervous, even though I know Jason and it’s not like it’s a blind date. But if I’m honest, I want to wow him.
“The blue shirt was a good choice, sir,” Jones replies, but he also gives me a look that implies it would be more than his job was worth if he allowed me out looking any less than perfect. My nerves are so frayed I almost jump as there’s a knock on the front door, even though I’ve been waiting for it. Jones moves forward to open the door. If he’s surprised to see Jason when he opens it, he doesn’t show it, but then, he is the master of keeping his countenance impassive.
“You look amazing,” I blurt out when Jason steps through the door. I’m used to seeing him in jeans and a polo shirt, his work uniform. But he’s dressed in dark brown trousers, a soft cream shirt, and a green sweater. His hair is neat and he’s clean-shaven, and it’s not that I don’t like his stubble, it makes him look rugged, but like this he looks . . . yummy, which is lame, but it’s the only word I can think up as my brain short-circuits with how wonderful and different he looks.
“Not bowling, then,” murmurs Jones as he holds up my coat and helps me into it. I give him my best eye roll, which is the only suitable response.
