Page 13 of Rough Around the Hedges

I froze.

I didn’t need to be a genius to know who’d just stumbled into our conversation. In fact, I didn’t even need to turn around to know that the subject of our discussion was now present for it.

I wanted the ground to swallow me whole.

Not because he’d heard, but because that was how I always felt in the presence of the aristocracy.

I was sure I was mildly allergic to the upper class.

Did I have any Benadryl in the shed?

Susan gasped and pushed off the fence, then dropped into a humble curtsey. “Your Grace. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“What are you doing?” I said, staring at her. “You only curtsey for royalty, you daft potato.”

Susan straightened. “Dukes can be royal.”

“Yes, but the Duke of Hanbury is not. You don’t need to curtsey.”

Isa kicked me. “Shh. Don’t upset the handsome rich man.”

“Why not? If I piss him off, that makes you look better in front of the ‘handsome rich man,’ doesn’t it?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. “I’m doing you a favour.”

Bruce wandered into my view and bent down in front of me, meeting my gaze. “Rose, have you considered that you may have a better relationship with this duke if you don’t set off a string of verbal bombs in your first meeting?”

“Ah, Brucey baby, you assume Iwanta better relationship. I’m quite happy with the one we’ve had for the last six months, and I’m rather perturbed that the radio silence has now been ruined. It’s like when you hear Mariah Carey on the radio for the first time on November first.”

Isa tilted her head to the side. “You mean that shiver you get down your spine at the knowledge you won’t feel peace again for the next several weeks?”

“Exactly.” I pointed a courgette at Bruce. “That sense of impending doom.”

He took it from me and bonked me on the top of the head. “Rose Matthews, I raised you better than this.”

“You didn’t raise me at all, you crazy old man.”

“Who taught you how to use a chainsaw?”

“Oh, you’re right. Should I get it and show you my skills, you beer-guzzling freeloader?”

“I’d like to see you try, you potty-mouthed whippersnapper,” Bruce shot back, hitting me again with the courgette. “Now get up and remember your manners before you scare His Grace off.”

“That’s not the threat you think it is.”

“Rose. I’ll call your mother.”

I rubbed my hand down my face.That was, though. “Low blow, Brucey. Fine. You win.”

Look.

I knew I was being childish. I knew I was being rude.

I just didn’t care. I had never in my life cared for the Duke of Hanbury, and pigs would have to sprout wings and perform Swan Lake in the West End before such a thing would come to pass.

After all, nothing good came from new people moving to Hanbury.

Especially not those sharply-dressed city slickers who couldn’t tell a turnip from a turkey.

I took Bruce’s offered hand and got to my feet with an, “Oomph,” and stepped around him to meet the new duke. “Rose Matth…”

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