Page 56 of Scoring Grey

The man before me has dark midnight eyes. If it were not daylight, I would have sworn I saw the stars reflected in their sparkle. His hair is as black as his suit and just as immaculate, styled into a swept-back quiff. There’s something utterly enchanting about his look. It’s classic, like something that stepped out of another era, and by the way his brow furrows and one side of his mouth hooks into the start of a smile, I’m clearly staring hard.

“I’ve got it, really,” I insist, pulling it out. “Looks can be deceiving. It’s not heavy. It’s only a painting.”

“A gentleman never has idle hands when a lady’s are full. Please allow me.” He grips the painting. “We’re going to the same place anyway.”

I look toward the house. At least ten stone steps are on the sweeping grand staircase leading to the front entrance. “Okay, thank you,” I say as I close the trunk, and the Uber driver pulls away. “Have you been here before?” I ask, making small talk to take my mind off of seeing Callum with Blair. I know it’s for show or was…Stop it.I internally scold myself.It’s been forty-eight hours, not a year, and you asked for this, I remind myself. While it may be necessary, it won’t be easy to accept.

“Yes, I’m quite familiar with the home. And you, have you ever been here?”

“No, I’m nobody. I was invited because I painted a picture for the charity gala.”

We stop at the front door, and he turns to me. “Then I can assure you that you are most definitely nobody. Tell me, does nobody have a name?”

I smile. “Yes, my name is Eloise. And yours?”

“I’m Wells.”

“Wells… Is that short for something?”

He flashes me a half smile before pursing his lips. “No, just Wells.”

Palm to forehead, I say, “I’m sorry, where are my manners? That was off-putting if not borderline offensive. I didn’t mean it to be. It’s just not a name you hear every day.”

“Your name isn’t one you hear every day anymore, either. Shall we?” He nods to the door.

“Yes, I’ll get it.”

As I reach across for the doorbell, he goes for the knob and pushes it open. “I got it.” He tucks my painting under his arm and gestures inside. “Ladies first.”

I smile. “Um, I’ll wait for someone to answer the door. I don’t know these people well enough to just walk in. You go ahead. Just close the door and pretend you never saw me.”

Heck, if I stand here waiting long enough, maybe Dash will arrive with my actual grand gesture. It’s why I took an Uber to begin with. I was already running late. There was no way I would have had time to shower, change, make myself presentable, and stop at the UPS store to pick up my surprise for Cal. Dash offered to help and I didn’t say no. The painting I have now is only a backup in case he doesn’t get here in time.

He laughs. “You’re funny, Eloise. I like that. It’s cold out here, and I think you should come inside with me since whatever dress you chose is shorter than your coat.”

My legs are cold, but when I chose this dress, I was thinking of Cal and not the weather. He’s a fan of short skirts and dresses, and I’m here to make dramatic gestures and ensure he remembers what he has.

“Fine,” I say as I step inside. “But you need to tell someone that you let me in. I don’t want anyone thinking I just walked in like I owned the place.”

“Sure,” he says with a chuckle. “I believe today’s lunch is being held in the conservatory.”

I follow him through the grand main entrance. I’m not a stranger to money. I was raised with a silver spoon in my mouth, literally, but this place is unreal. The ceilings must be at least twenty feet tall and painted like a cathedral, and when you look around the rooms, it’s like you’ve been time-ported back to Queen Victoria’s reign. Everything looks like something you could expect walking into one of the queen’s sitting rooms. As I look around, I can’t help but think Wells dressed the part, knowing where he was coming to today. It explains why he looks so classically chic.

We pass a parlor, the kitchen, and a formal dining room before we run into an older gentleman. “Ah, Mr. Wells, who is your guest?” He has kind eyes, and I can tell this must be the Bronsons’ butler by the way he’s dressed.

“This is Eloise. Would you mind taking her coat and perhaps grabbing an easel from the workshop? She brought a painting for the charity gala, and I’m assuming you plan on revealing it to the guests.”

“Yes, but you don’t have to make a hassle. I’m sure I can find somewhere to set it.”

“Oh, it’s no hassle, Miss Eloise. It is my job. Please join the guests, and I will take care of the rest.”

I give him my coat, and Wells hands over the painting. “Thank you,” I say as he does a curt bow and takes off in the direction we just came from.

His midnight eyes do a studied perusal of my baby-blue satin dress before he props his elbow out. “Are you ready?”

“I am,” I say, careful to only rest my hand in the crook of his elbow rather than looping my entire arm. Body language is a big deal. The extension of his elbow was a cordial gesture. Looping my entire arm through his alters, the whole exchange signifying a closeness we do not share. The last thing I need to do is give Cal more reasons to believe I’m not putting him first. The second we walk through the doors, my tension eases just a little. All eyes aren’t on me as I thought they might be, considering I’m late. Instead, there are cocktail tables set up around the greenhouse with guests mingling. “I didn’t realize this many people would be here.”

“Are you nervous?”

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