Page 67 of Rough Around the Hedges

He leant in with a grin and whispered, “Oh, I know.”

This was the worst day of my life.

Jennie cleared her throat. “Miss, if you’d like to follow me, I’ll show you to your room.”

“Thank you, Jennie.” I sniffed. “At leastsomeonehere is nice to me.”

She smiled warmly, and I paused to poke my tongue out at Oliver before following her up the ornate sweeping staircase. She guided me to a room where she opened the door and lowered her head. “There’s a fully stocked bathroom through that door to the left, and there are some clothes on the bed for you, miss. If you ring this bell when you’re ready, I’ll take you to the duke’s office.”

I scratched the side of my jaw. “Is it the same room he was using before?”

“Pardon me?”

“Oliver’s office. I’ve been there before.”

Jennie blinked, then blushed. “Oh—oh.”

Oh, dear.

It seemed that she had the wrong idea.

“Yes, miss! His Grace has used the same office since he arrived in Hanbury.”

“Then thank you, but I won’t need to call for you. The stairs are down the hall and to the left, is that right?”

She nodded. “I will inform the duke. Please take your time. I will fetch your belongings and leave them on the bed for you.”

“Thank you, Jennie.”

She bowed out of the room, closing the door behind her, and I peered around.

It was nice.

Exactly what I imagined a bedroom inside a four-hundred-year-old manor house looked like, to be honest. Not to mention it was clearly a guest room. Despite how beautiful and fairytale-like it was, there was no hint of warmth or personality in here whatsoever.

Nice… but sad.

I shrugged it off and poked my head into the bathroom. “Holy moly,” I breathed, staring at the giant bathtub in front of the window. It overlooked the back garden that was full of flowering shrubbery, a place I knew all too well. The rose bushes there had given me more than one thorny scratch in the past, and I was the one who’d co-ordinated the planting of the peonies along the path with the daughter of one of the late duke’s friends.

What was her name again?

Eleanor?

Ellie?

Gabrielle?

Hm.

No idea. I’d been too preoccupied by the thought that the ornery old bastard had any friends at all to engage my brain enough to remember something like a name.

I waved away those useless thoughts and peered at the shelves. As Jennie had said, they were fully stocked, and they were fully stocked with the expensive stuff, too.

Something told me this was his mother’s doing, not Oliver’s.

Well, whatever it was, I was going to make use of it. There was no telling if I’d ever find myself in such a luxurious bathroom ever again, so there was no way I wasn’t going to lie here for the next forty-five minutes and make myself at home.

I would needsomethingto relieve the stress of having to deal with Oliver again.

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