Heired Lines

by Magan Vernon

  I plopped down on one of the leather stools, and my outfit squished like a sponge, a puddle dripping to the floor beneath me.

  Quickly, I rolled my suitcase over the splash of water, hoping no one noticed it soaking into the old wood floor.

  The blonde woman behind the bar, pretending to clean some of the colorful alcohol bottles on the shelf, didn’t even glance in my direction.

  Better to ignore me than openly gawk at my mop of hair, the drenched red locks splattering on my back like a wet rag. That was usually the first thing people noticed about me, but then as soon as I opened my mouth and history facts started pouring out, that’s when they slowly backed away.

  Well, today, I needed someone to at least pay a little attention to the girl with the soaked clothes and dead cell phone.

  And if that wasn’t enough, the guy a few stools down from mine had to get a plate of something fried and delish that had my stomach grumbling so loud, I swore everyone heard it over the loud music coming from the speakers.

  Maybe if I ordered a little something, I could ask the bartender to use a charger.

  If she’d look at me and if I could find my debit card in my waterlogged purse.

  Where the hell did I put that thing anyway?

  After buying way-too-expensive Dramamine at the airport and a tube of Chapstick, I knew I put it in there.

  Did I have enough left on my card for a big meal?

  What was the conversion rate now for dollars to pounds?

  Shit, pounds or euros? I thought I was in pound country now…

  “What can I get for ya, miss?” she asked in a two-pack-a-day hack that somehow still sounded melodic with her English accent.

  “Uh…” I stared at the chalkboard menu above her, squinting as water droplets clung to my lashes, blurring my vision.

  I had to call my boss to tell him why I was late, so alcohol was out of the question. What I really wanted was a greasy cheeseburger and fries, but all I saw on the menu were drinks. Though others had food…

  First world problems.

  “Um, can I, uh, start with a water and get a food menu? And, um, do you have an outlet or someplace to charge my phone?” I held up the dead device, putting on my best smile, though my lips trembled as a nervous laugh escaped.

  The bartender rolled her eyes before glancing at the row of full barstools. When she turned back to me, I swore she scowled, her mouth open and ready to tell me to shove my phone somewhere.

  But before she could say anything, a slim phone slid across the counter, and the hulking frame of a man scooted into the seat next to me.

  Okay, maybe hulking wasn’t the right word, but at my five-foot-two, he was at least a foot taller than me. Unlike me, he wasn’t soaking wet. He wore a crisp suit, molding to his broad shoulders. Then that face, like it was chiseled with a bright white row of straight teeth, a hint of stubble on those high cheekbones, brilliant blue eyes, and tousled, sandy blond hair. He was the opposite of my drenched-rat look.

  “Here, you can use my phone,” he said in a commanding voice with an English accent that practically purred.

  I would have taken it if I actually remembered the phone number and not just saved it in my dead phone.

  “That’s okay. I just need a quick charge to call my ride,” I said quickly, forcing a smile so I would at least seem polite.

  He didn’t miss a beat, his gaze still focused on me as he slid his phone back in his pocket. “Your ride may be a while. Most of the roads are flooded, unless she lives in town.”

  “I think it’s a he who lives in town, and I’m not exactly sure where he lives.”

  He arched an eyebrow, a small crack in his beautiful exterior. “So you have someone picking you up, but you don’t know where he lives? Let me guess, you don’t know his phone number or what he looks like, either, so really, he could be an ole bloke in this place.”

  My entire body tensed as I glanced toward the bar, hoping maybe the bartender would come to my rescue with some free peanuts and a charger. But, of course, she was chatting up another set of patrons, not even glancing in our direction.

  Way to save a girl from random pub dude.

  Really attractive random pub dude, but still.

  “I was hired to help out this guy clean out his family’s estate. I’m a historian, and he needs help with some of the older pieces on the property, so I’ll be curating them.” I sat as straight as I could, trying to add as much confidence as a girl with soaking wet clothes could to her voice and appearance.

  He smirked, a breathy laugh escaping his nose. “So you met a man online who offered you a position in England to clean out his family’s place, not knowing anything about him, and yet you came? This sounds like one of those catfish TV shows you Americans love.”

  I slumped involuntarily as I put my hands on my hips, ignoring how heavy my wet blouse was as it dragged my arms down. “I did do an internet search on this guy I’m supposed to meet. He doesn’t have any social media presence, and the only photos I found of any Gavin Webleys were of an old man cleaning shotguns.”

  The man in front of me just smiled, not saying a damn word.

  It was the bartender who cleared her throat, and I turned to face her, finally trying to control my breathing after I spit everything out to the smirking guy next to me.

  The woman pushed a glass of water and a phone charger across the counter. “Here ya go, love, but if you really are looking for Lord Gavin Webley, I don’t think you’re going to need the charger.”

  I stiffened, licking my lips, before I tried keeping my voice and posture steady.

  Did she just say Lord? As in nobility? “Did he call into the pub?”

  She shook her head then nodded toward the well-dressed man next to me. “Can I get you anything, Lord Webley?”

  Chapter Two

  Lord Gavin

  Out of all the days for Webley to have a torrential downpour, this had to be the worst.

  When Tillie said my name, Natalie went as white as a ghost, her doe-brown eyes widening as she turned back toward me. Her wet hair splashed against her back, her clothes just as soaked.

  “Lord Webley,” she sputtered, pushing the soggy strands of hair out of her face. Something I’d wanted to do since she walked into the pub.

  But I had recognized her from my security team’s dossier immediately.

  Even drenched, she didn’t look anything like her social media posts, which were full of a girl with large glasses, hair in a tight bun, surrounded by dozens of books or antiquities.

  “Yes. Your ride, your employer, and you’re very late and not at our proposed meeting spot.”

  Her tongue flicked across her lips. “As you can see, Lord Gavin…” She said my name with extra contempt, drawing out the syllables as she pointed toward one of the stained-glass windows. “The train was delayed due to the storms and, since my phone died, I figured I could get some shelter inside and charge it before I called for my ride.”

  She smirked, putting her hands on her lap. “But I guess my knight in shining armor is here now. Are you a knight? No, that would be a sir. My apologies on not doing my research on your noble order.”

  She had just the right amount of sass and smarts. Normally, no one dared talk to me like she did. They were either cowering at my title or what they knew of my family.

  She was going to be one hell of an interesting addition to the estate, that was for sure.

  If we could get there in this bloody weather.

  Standing up, I placed a few notes on the bar for Tillie before turning back to Natalie, keeping my face neutral. “I’m sure you’ll learn all about my family’s lineage as soon as you get to work. So, come now, we’ll head up the hill.”

  She tilted her head to the side then pursed her lips before glancing over her shoulder at the rain pounding on the windows.
/>   “Um…”

  She chewed on her bottom lip for a fraction of a second as she turned back toward me.

  Bloody hell.

  I tried not to stare, but it was kind of cute when she worried.

  Stop. Checking. Her. Out.

  “Isn’t it kind of dangerous to drive in this? We can just wait it out here and call an Uber or something.”

  It took everything I had not to roll my eyes. At least that stopped the other thoughts that were making my breath catch.

  I buttoned the top button of my coat. “We’ll be fine in the Range Rover.”

  She pursed her lips, glancing down at her hands and keeping her stare locked on them as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

  “I suppose if you really need me at the estate right away and think you can get there in this weather…”

  She looked up at me with a small smile.

  That damn smile that now really had my breath caught in my throat.

  Bloody hell, this girl was going to be trouble.

  …

  The rain cascaded off the old rooftops in buckets, drenching both of us as we ran the ten feet from the back door of the pub to the Range Rover.

  Not my favorite of all my cars, but the McLaren and Bugatti wouldn’t make the trek in this weather.

  I started the engine.

  Out of the corner of my eye, Natalie hugged her arms close to her body. Her teeth chattered. I reached over and turned on the heat, full blast.

  “I’ll have Meredith prepare some tea for our arrival,” I said, keeping my eyes on the road as we inched out of the parking lot and onto the cobblestone road.

  “There’s no need to do that. I’ll be fine as soon as I get changed,” she protested, but I recognized the edge in her voice. The slight rise with each word as if she was unsure of the next.

  I pressed the button on my steering wheel. “Call Meredith.”

  “Calling Meredith,” the monotone voice rang through the speakers.

  “Yes, sir, did you make it into town okay? Do you need me to send Frederick? Oh, this early summer weather is just ghastly,” her aging voice crackled through the line, and I couldn’t help but smile.

  She’d been working for the family since before I was born, and I always had a soft spot for her.

  “I’m on my way back now. Can you have a tea service ready?”

  “Ah, sir, would you like to dine in your room?”

  Natalie tilted her head toward me, and I kept my face neutral, barely glancing in her direction. “Natalie Reeder, the new curator, will be joining me in the parlor. She looks famished, so please add some extra scones and clotted cream. And light the fire as well.”

  “Yes, sir. Be careful coming home.”

  “Thank you, Meredith, bye.”

  After I hung up the call, Natalie cleared her throat. “You didn’t need to do that. I could have just had something in my room. Or the kitchen? Where do all the other servants eat?”

  I shook my head, arching a brow as I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. “We don’t have servants, Natalie.”

  “So, workers then. Or employees? Whoever they are, I could just go eat with them. You don’t need to make special accommodations for me.”

  “You’re the new curator. It’s your first day in this country, and I want you to feel comfortable in the manor.”

  “I’ll be fine, really.”

  Keeping my eyes on the road, I clenched my jaw, sucking in a breath through my teeth.

  Why the hell was she arguing about this?

  “We’ll have tea, and you can see some of the items that my great aunt left in the parlor before moving on to the other rooms. Get a feel for the place. That sound doable, or are we going to argue some more about this?”

  “Well when you put it that way…” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “I wasn’t trying to be a bugger.”

  I made sure to keep my eyes on the winding road, the silver birch trees lining our path.

  I’d never had a woman fight me so hard on just having a damn cup of tea. There was something about her that had maddened me since the first email.

  Now that we were alone in the car, it was hard to try not to get a better look at her. To try to figure out what was going through her head.

  Which I was trying my damndest not to do until she gasped loudly, her hands smacking her cheeks.

  My shoulders stiffened as I caught my breath, gripping the steering wheel.

  “What? Is one of the dogs in the road?” I slowed slightly, seeing if any of the property’s Great Pyrenees had decided they didn’t want to be in their shelter and wanted to swim in the puddles.

  I chanced a look in her direction, noticing her wide brown eyes as she slowly shook her head before dropping her hands to her lap. “No, I, uh, well I guess when you said this was an estate in a small town, I didn’t expect a castle. I should have maybe looked at the address that was on the paperwork.”

  The twenty-foot-tall gates opened a few meters ahead of us, revealing the shadows of the limestone manor that stretched across over twelve-hundred acres of private land. I had no idea how big the structure actually was, but there were over one hundred rooms, and I still didn’t know what was in half of them.

  “This was just my aunt’s little house in the country.” I shot her a wink as we pulled through the gates and followed the oak-lined path, past the donjon, and toward the west wing entrance.

  Pulling my car into the portico, I had to tear my gaze away from her wide-eyed amazement. Seeing this her way had a lightning effect in my chest. Like the first time I’d seen the manor myself.

  I pressed a button on the dash, and the ramp opened, leading down to the garage. My other cars parked along different bays.

  “By the cobblestone work, I’m guessing this was built around 1500, so this was a former dungeon, perhaps? When did it become a garage?” she asked as I parked and she followed me to the lift, another later addition.

  I tried to keep my face still, but the damn lightness in my chest had a smile bubbling to my lips. “Great Aunt Sarah wanted to make sure her DeLorean was taken care of.”

  She nodded as we ascended in the lift, then stopped on the main floor.

  “Was the underground garage to keep the structure intact?” she asked, no hint of anything other than a genuine question in her voice.

  I held back a laugh. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone asked me about the manor with interest in the historical value. “Well, Auntie wanted to put in a full car lift, but the historical society objected to changing the actual structure.”

  I handed my wet coat to one of the younger maids, Elsa.

  Elsa turned toward Natalie and her luggage, but the wide-eyed redhead was already flitting around the room.

  Before I could even suggest it, Natalie started talking a mile a minute. “So, this stonework is obviously original as well but has had some masonry done. Do you know when that was?”

  I stiffened my shoulders. Really? Another question?

  “This estate has been in my family for generations. It’s an eclectic mix of antiques. But I’m sure you’ll discover more of that as you do your research and tag the items to go to the museum or auction.”

  I stepped behind as Elsa followed, trying to make it known she wanted to take her wet coat, but not catching the young woman’s eye as she flitted around the room.

  Good to know she appreciated the architecture, but this was only the beginning. And if she was going to get to it, then I might as well show her the parlor and see if she wanted to get started over tea.

  After I changed, that is. The wet clothes were weighing me down, and if we were going to keep talking, I needed to change.

  “Natalie, do you want to get changed before we have tea?”

&n
bsp; She stopped moving, swallowing hard before nodding. “I’d love to see some of the other rooms first. I’m already halfway dry anyway.”

  “If you insist,” I said, softening my voice as we followed Elsa out of the foyer and to the parlor.

  The look of whimsy that just a few minutes ago crossed Natalie’s face was now replaced by wide eyes and her mouth forming a perfect O.

  The parlor and my bedroom were two of the few rooms I cleared out, moving some of the furniture and objects to other places. Some of the employees worked the best they could with the cleaning, but Mother and Father insisted we didn’t get rid of anything until someone were to appraise the items.

  My body tensed as she moved around the room. I had nothing to be embarrassed of. I hired this woman to curate the items. So I shouldn’t have held my breath when, instead of anything else, she went right to a row of Victorian dollhouses that were lined up on the far wall.

  I made my way to the birchwood table where Meredith, the head maid, had set a small tea service, thinking maybe taking a drink would calm whatever nerves were rushing forward.

  She poured a steaming cup from the teapot, placing it on a saucer in front of each of our high-back chairs.

  I glanced at Natalie, that nervous bubble of energy filling my chest. What was she going to find in those dollhouses?

  What would she find in any of the rooms, for that matter?

  I cleared my throat. “Thank you, Meredith.”

  She smiled, pushing her glasses up her nose before she turned toward Natalie. “Do you take sugar in your tea, dear?”

  Natalie slowly looked toward us then back to the row of dollhouses as if she was trying to figure out if she should listen or take a quick glance at the pieces.

  “Oh, yes. Thank you. But I can get that myself,” she replied, quickly darting across the room, her eyes constantly moving between the table and the dollhouses.

  Meredith smoothed her apron before picking up a bowl with her nimble fingers circling the spoon. “It’s no trouble at all to serve you, ma’am.”