“I have sixty thousand followers on Bookstagram!” Her voice was faint now, all the way down the corridor. “I know about books!”
I cracked open the door and shouted through the gap. “I did my dissertation onKnights-Errant!” I slammed the door. Then opened it again and shouted: “At Loughborough University!”
Well, I doubted Ridhi would be back. But what the hell had she been doing here in the first place? I returned to my book and stack of biscuits, wondering whether she’d cost me ten big ones. Twenty minutes later, there was another knock, and I presumed I was about to find out. Too fed up to care, I opened the door still clad only in my boxers, ginger nut crumbs tumbling out of my belly button. I was greeted by a blonde woman wearing not very much.
“Is you Lord Buckford?”
“Sadly,” I sighed.
She curtseyed.
“No, please don’t do that. You need to go?—”
“You can call me Ellie.” She extended her hand, and on instinct I shook it, which she took as permission to slither past me into the room. “I’m a vegan chef. Maybe you seen my YouTube channel, Eat Like an Ellie Plant?”
“I’m afraid I haven’t.”
Ellie collapsed on my bed.
“We saw you riding your horse earlier. You looked right fit.”
“Ah.” I was beginning to see what was going on.
“You’re ever so good with animals. That’s a very sexy quality in a man.”
“Er, thank you. I believe Indira’s lined up a dozen men with a range of sexy qualities for you ladies to choose from. She’s even dressed them all up like Colin Firth. Or Matthew Macfadyen. Whichever you prefer. You should probably be getting back to them, or you’ll get stuck with Mr Collins.” I held the door open, gesturing the way out with my hand.
She didn’t budge. “Why chase them pretend lords when I’ve got the real deal right here?”
If she fancied long-term financial security, she might not be so keen. I shook my head.
“Well, I’m afraid I’m gay, so you’re out of luck.”
It was a spur-of-the-moment thing to say. An unexpected trump card.
Ellie smiled and slowly shook her head. “No, you ain’t.”
“Pardon?”
“We was talking about you, all us girls, and Kiki—she’s like a hotline toThe Bulletin, don’t ever tell her nothing, babes, unless you want it in the papers the next day—Kiki said she remembered a headline about the Bisexual Baron Buckford.”
I swallowed. “Don’t believe everything you read in the papers.”
Ellie eyeballed me squarely and shook her head. She didn’t believe me. She pulled her dressing gown up, revealing a remarkable amount of thigh.
“Do you ever eat meat, my lord?”
Dear God, I nearly had a heart attack.
“I could never be with a meat eater, you see. It’s unjustifiable.”
I jumped on the proffered life raft. “Eat animals? I’m afraid I do. Completely ravenous for them. Got a deep freezer downstairs simply bursting with sausages. Saw a chap walking around with a very tasty-looking duck the other day too.”
Ellie turned up her nose, like she’d been crop dusted with the gamiest of meat farts. “You’re disgusting, mate.”
“Afraid so,” I said, pointing again to the door, urging her out.
She shook her head. “I’ve been thinking all afternoon about the incredible collaborations we could do. My audience would go mad for a vegan lord with a chest like that.”
