“No need,” she says simply. “You’re a delightful surprise. So, you’re trying to convince Chase to write his autobiography?”
“No, actually, I only—” A knock on the open door interrupts him and we all turn toward it as one.
Lance is there, doing an amazing job of hiding the curiosity he’s obviously feeling over Noah’s presence.
“Apologies,” he says in his crisp accent. “Gracie has made Chiquen en Cocotte for dinner and she told me she wishes for you to enjoy it fresh out of the oven.”
I smile at him as I stand, knowing our lovely chef probably used very different words.
“Thanks, Lance. This is Noah.”
They shake hands, and again, I can tell Lance is putting all his training in discretion to good use so he doesn’t show how interesting he finds Noah’s visit.
I’ve told him dozens of times that “proper” etiquette is beyond unimportant to me, but he won’t change his ways. I know he plans on going to the kitchen and reporting back to Gracie, my cook, and Sharon, my housekeeper, about anything and everything he can surmise from Noah from this brief interaction.
Gab takes Noah’s arm and fits hers through the gap, then leads him out of the room and to the informal dining room—because of course the castle has a much grander dining room upstairs, but it’s all for decor really.
Just like this room is technically a drawing room, but I use it as just a normal living room—maybe slightly elevated by the grand fireplace and deep jewel-toned sofas and chairs.
Harrison’s hand clapping me on the shoulder has me looking to the side after I got lost in my head for a bit.
“She’s going to have you married off in no time,” he says conspiratorially, I snort and shake my head.
“I don’t know if even Gab could make this happen, not really.”
“But you didn’t balk at the suggestion,” Tristan says with a sneaky smirk. “That’s more than we’ve seen from you before, so as far as I can tell, it’s a win.”
“Let’s just go eat.”
The room is filled with the delectable scent of spices and salty meat. I see the big platter with crispy chicken breasts surrounded by potatoes, carrots, and more that I can’t discern from over here.
Gab’s situated herself and Noah right next to one another, no surprise there, but instead of sitting right next to the head of the table, she left that chair for Noah.
Which of course means I’m sitting next to Noah a few seconds later.
Dinner is relatively uneventful. Gab is more than happy to go ahead and explain the entire process she went through to write her autobiography—which has won awards for fuck’s sake, as if the woman needed an ego boost.
It’s interesting for me too, even if I won’t be admitting it to her. She of course told me what she was working on a few years back, but now I’m paying attention to details. Like the fact that a friend of her nephew is a writer and helped her out during the course of a summer to come up with what she wanted to tell and what she wanted to stay private.
Eventually it’s Tristan who shifts things around and starts asking Noah questions. About his job of course, but also about his family, and his life growing up in England.
“We’re going to knock out early tonight,” Tristan says once everyone’s sung Gracie’s praises and all our plates are empty. “But I’ll be needing your contact information in case any of my clients want to go the literary route eventually.”
“Ye-yes, of course.” Noah nods, and god, he looks so fucking good blushing and stuttering with excitement.
“I’ll go to my room too,” Gab says easily. “I’m going to go stalk my babies and see if they deem me worthy of a phone call.”
“God, she’s so dramatic,” I mutter as she steps out.
Then, I can finally look Noah in the eyes. Those big brown eyes are staring at me from behind his glasses in a way that’s definitely not conductive to mechilling the fuck out.
“Do you want to see the library?”
His face softens but the excitement from before is still there.
“The one full of ancient things?” he asks, and my heart starts to race at the fact that he’s teasing me.
“That’s the one.” I debate for a second but then decide it’s high time I start acting like the grown-up I am. I rise from my chair and hold out my hand for him.