Heired Lines

by Magan Vernon

  But the way the man in the driver’s seat curled his lip, his eyes slightly narrowed at me in the rearview mirror.

  “Did you really think you and Lord Gavin would be riding together?” The man asked, slicing the air between us.

  “Excuse me?”

  The hair on my arms prickled into goose bumps at the audacity of his statement.

  He glanced in the rearview mirror one last time before pulling forward to follow the other cars. “You’re not Lord Gavin’s date to this event. He invited you as a courtesy. Thus, why you are riding in a separate car, so no one thinks otherwise.”

  I clenched my sweaty hands into fists in front of me. If I hadn’t wanted to get in a car accident, I may have slugged the guy in the back of the head.

  But I was also not the violent type. So I did what my fists couldn’t and used my words. “Thank goodness for that. Wouldn’t want anyone to think a historian would lower herself to riding in a car with a nobleman.”

  He narrowed his eyes slightly, glancing back at me.

  I smiled sweetly, fluttering my eyelashes, which just garnered an eye roll in response.

  If the guy was going to be a dick, the least I could do was show him that not all girls wanted to be Gavin’s date. Even if maybe a little part of my heart sank, knowing that the driver was right.

  Not only had I probably insulted Gavin by blurting out that he was pretentious, now we were riding in different cars. I couldn’t take back or try to explain my words before his match.

  Now, after the silent car ride, my nerves got the better of me.

  We reached a long stretch of green belt that curved into an expanse of space dotted with large white tents splayed out in front of a large wooden track, like one I think horses trotted on. Or something. I wasn’t much of a sports or horse watcher.

  The driver didn’t say a word as he let me out of the car. I scanned the crowd, hoping for a familiar face.

  But even though Gavin had invited me, he was already off talking to some others in matching polo shirts while photographers snapped pictures.

  I tried not to sulk, even though I thought was going to cave in to myself.

  This was not a date. It was a chance to see a polo match and maybe learn more about the sport and the town and people of Webley.

  Making sure my wedges didn’t sink into the grass, I walked into one of the tents where I was approached by a waiter carrying a large silver tray. Highball glasses were filled with strawberries and oranges, dancing in a fizzy liquid. “Pimm’s Cup, miss?”

  Pretty sure it wasn’t even ten in the morning and they were serving alcohol punch.

  I took a quick glance around. A few women in their own stylish floral dresses and men in linen suits held onto similar glasses.

  I guess when in Rome, or Webley, as it was. “Thank you.”

  I took the glass, giving him a nod before he went off to the next person.

  When I was in undergrad, I tried going to a few parties with the girls in my dorm. Wearing a new top, too much makeup, and holding a Solo cup of flat keg beer, I tried telling myself that this was supposed to be fun and I should smile and try to talk to the people around me.

  When my new Chuck Taylors were puked on, not once, but twice, I ended up calling it a night.

  There was a way too similar feeling in this tent.

  Taking a sip of my drink, I tried not to wince at the minty fruit drink burning down my throat.

  Hopefully I wouldn’t be the one puking on someone’s fancy shoes.

  “Careful with those Pimm’s, they’ll sneak up on ya.”

  I turned to see Hugh walking toward me with a gorgeous blonde trailing beside him.

  He wore a beige suit with a white Oxford, collar unbuttoned. The outfit was probably tailored for his broad shoulders and tapered waist and meticulously dry cleaned, since there wasn’t a wrinkle or stitch out of place.

  The woman next to him was just as impeccably dressed in a beige cap-sleeve dress that hit right below her knee. Showing off sun-kissed skin that made her look like a California model with her long, wavy blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

  “I don’t think I’ll be having too many of these if I know what’s good for me,” I replied, raising my glass.

  Hugh smiled that bright, gleaming row of straight teeth.

  Unlike his brother, he doled out those grins like candy on Halloween.

  “Can’t have my favorite historian making a scene at the polo match, now can we?” He leaned forward and gave me a small, one-armed hug before stepping back.

  It was barely noticeable, but I swore the blonde raised one of her thin eyebrows, gazing over at me like I was a puzzle piece she couldn’t figure out where to place.

  Well, I guess it was time to introduce myself, if Hugh wasn’t going to do it.

  “I’m Natalie. I’m the current curator at the Webley estate.” I forced the brightest smile I could, holding a hand out to her.

  She blinked hard as if recognition dawned on her before a hint of a smile crossed her lips. Then she took my hand delicately in hers. “Ah, yes, I’ve heard all about you from Hugh. I’m Cecily, Hugh and Gavin’s sister.”

  “Oh, hi.”

  I perked up, maybe rocking her hand a little too enthusiastically now that I knew who the woman actually was.

  Though that didn’t mean she had to like me either. Something I was keenly aware of when I let go of her hand and rubbed my fingers against my palm, hoping I didn’t sweat all over her.

  “Hey, there’s that Spanish duke Juan and his bugger of a brother, Jose,” Hugh said with disgust, downing his drink before handing the empty glass to his sister. “I’m going to go say ‘hi’ and ask him how bad that car wreck in Barcelona was. Watch Natalie for me?”

  Cecily rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Hugh.”

  But he didn’t answer and just squeezed her shoulder before darting off in the direction of the two men with matching slicked black hair and aviators.

  “You don’t need to babysit me, Cecily, I’ll be fine,” I said quietly, feeling heat rise to my cheeks in embarrassment.

  She smirked those glossy red lips. “Obviously you’ve never met some of the ladies at a polo match. They can be worse than a group of high school girls.”

  “I think I can deal with some mean girls.”

  She shook her head slightly, her long blonde locks swooshing down to her elbows. “You’ve never met a duchess, then.”

  I shrugged. “No. I haven’t. But maybe I’ll win them over with my awkward charm, or they’ll walk away after I tell them some facts about history.”

  She giggled, covering her mouth with a manicured hand.

  “Don’t worry, they’re all just jealous right now because you’re a gorgeous redhead in a Valencia dress and Dolce wedges who just arrived in Lord Gavin Webley’s motorcade.”

  I blinked, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end.

  Surely I couldn’t have heard her right.

  “Jealous? Of me? Don’t they know I’m the curator of the antiques?”

  Cecily finally smiled before looping her arm through mine. “Love, today you are more than just that girl at the manor. Own it.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Lord Gavin

  Out of all of the dresses in England, why did Natalie have to wear that one?

  I would never pick a woman out of the crowd just because she was dressed in a way to attract a man. But in that flowing dress with her hair pulled back, she was ethereal. She stood out even from the other women walking around with their large hats and laughing over glasses of Pimm’s.

  “Who is the redheaded American that came in one of your cars?” A rough hand grasped my shoulder and I turned to see William Bilingsley, a class A bugger.

  His parents were old London money and friends of my family going back to practica
lly the medieval times. Didn’t mean I had to like the guy with his smarmy smile and inky black hair curling around his ears like a super-villain in a CGI-heavy movie.

  “She is the new Webley curator and historian, Natalie Reeder from the University of North Carolina,” I said, dropping my shoulders as he lifted his hand from them. At ease for the moment.

  Until his hungry eyes roamed over her body.

  My fists clenched at my side, and I tried to pry them apart, but my entire body was like solid brick.

  This wasn’t the time to get into a squabble with the guy, right before a charity polo match for which we also happened to be on the same team.

  Maybe I could have my horse take him out and hope people believed it was an accident.

  “An American for Webley? Where’d you dig her up? Gumtree? Or one of those online garage sale sites?” he asked, shaking his head but still had that self-righteous smirk on his pale face.

  More like eBay, but I wasn’t going to admit that to him.

  “She’s astonishing. She’s done more work curating pieces for the historical society than anyone else who even tried to get through Aunt Sarah’s things.”

  I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, eager to get away from this conversation with William.

  Just talking about Natalie had my heart beating faster, and it wasn’t from the adrenaline of the journalists asking questions or taking photos. There was something about her that I kept trying to tamp down.

  William scoffed and I curled my upper lip at the sound, bringing me back to reality and to face that stupid smirk.

  “You’re still trying to clean out that old place? I would have thought you’d knock it down by now or just put everything in a big trolley and send it on down to the historical society.”

  “Not everyone has a past they want to get rid of.”

  I wished I had something to drink, something to get away from this damn conversation.

  “Touché, old friend. Touché.”

  He smiled, his lips a little too stretched. “Since she came all the way here, does that mean she’s single? That I could maybe buy her a glass of champagne?”

  “The drinks are free, and she’s not your type,” I spat.

  If my heart was thumping before, now the thing was like a wrecking ball, banging against my rib cage.

  He tilted his head back, laughing way too haughtily for my liking. “Didn’t know you had a thing for the help. Why didn’t you just tell me that in the first place?”

  “She’s not the help. She’s the curator. And there’s nothing going on between us, but that doesn’t mean I want you muddying the girl,” I grumbled, my heart falling to my stomach even as I said the words.

  Nothing between us?

  Well, that wasn’t totally true.

  There was definitely an electricity that buzzed in the air whenever she was near me.

  But I wasn’t going to tell this bugger.

  And I wasn’t going to let him get his grubby hands on her, either.

  I looked back over my shoulder then fully turned when I lost sight of Natalie.

  “Excuse me, William, I have to check on something,” I said quickly, not even waiting for his response. Then I darted through the crowd, scanning the tables that lined the tent.

  Surely she couldn’t have gone far.

  I stopped suddenly, grinding my feet into the ground.

  Why the hell was I chasing after the girl anyway?

  Blast, the sun must have been getting to me.

  But there was that sinking feeling. The one that made my stomach feel like I dropped a curve in a roller coaster.

  Then I heard an all-too-familiar laugh of William’s sister, Hallie.

  Slowly I edged to the side of the tent, nodding to a few men in dark suits and women in large hats.

  Normally, I would have probably stopped and shook their hands and made small talk, but then I heard Hallie’s voice again, and a cold chill ran through me.

  “Here with Lord Gavin? Really? As his maid?” She laughed. That damn tone carrying over the people gathered near the sandwich table.

  I hovered just behind the group. Natalie’s back was to me, but I’d recognize that bright red hair anywhere.

  “I’m a curator at Webley,” she said matter-of-factly.

  That’s my girl.

  What?

  I mentally chided myself. She wasn’t mine.

  Yet.

  Hallie and the two drones flanking her—with their inky black hair and tight floral dresses—laughed again, the sounds echoing through the tent and making my skin crawl.

  She then got that look in her dark eyes. The one I’d seen so many times when she was about to reprimand a maid for not cutting her sandwiches just right.

  She took a step closer then leaned in, her lips curled in a wicked smile as she whispered something to Natalie.

  Natalie’s shoulder shook slightly and that was when Hallie’s eyes caught mine across the tent, a wicked smile on her too-bright pink lips.

  Without wasting another second, I ignored everything in me that told me to stay put, and marched across the tent.

  “Gavin, it’s been much too long,” Hallie called, putting her arms out wide.

  I stopped as soon as I was behind Natalie, taking her by the waist and spinning her toward me.

  Her eyes widened as she looked up at me, her bottom lip trembling.

  I’d apologize for this later, but right now, I was going to make sure that Hallie and William knew their place.

  “There you are,” I murmured before leaning and pressing my lips to hers.

  It was just a peck. A tiny movement of my mouth to hers. But an electricity that spread all the way down to my chest. My body melted as she held onto my arms as if she never wanted me to let her go.

  And I didn’t want to.

  I wanted to deepen that kiss.

  To peel off each layer of clothing and show her exactly what she did to me.

  But now was not the time.

  Maybe it never was.

  But at least I could say I took that one chance.

  And it was worth it to see her hooded eyes when I pulled away.

  “Going to be in the stands watching me?” I asked, smiling and trying to ignore the rapid beating of my heart.

  She nodded, biting down on her bottom lip that I wanted to kiss all over again.

  “Grand.”

  …

  I should have known as soon as the match was over that I’d have over a dozen missed calls from Mother.

  Hovering over the button to delete the notification, my phone buzzed in my hand.

  My head was pounding and not just from the match.

  Sweat dripped down my neck and I swiped it away, wishing I could make the notifications stop.

  Should have known this would have gone all to pot.

  Guess news did travel fast, or maybe this was just about how well I played today.

  Though the prickling of the hairs on my arms gave me a feeling this was definitely something else.

  Unlocking the phone, I slid the device to my ear. “Hello, Mother. Didn’t see you at the match today. Still in London?”

  She huffed, a sound that had me gritting my teeth.

  “You know we couldn’t make it in from London and if we had, maybe that little act for the cameras wouldn’t have happened. Who is the redheaded girl? Why are both your faces slapped over every social media site, and why am I getting emails and messages from every society family in London asking if she’s some Scottish duchess?”

  I crossed my arms over my ever-tightening chest. Hell, was it always this hot?

  “I don’t think Natalie is Scottish, but I’ll be sure to ask her as soon as I can.”

  “Natalie?” Mum’s voice shrilled. “As in t
he cleaner, Natalie?”

  It took everything I had not to roll my eyes, so I just clenched and unclenched my jaw. “She’s a historian and the current curator, not some cleaner who is dusting all of our old antiques.”

  “Whoever she is, I shouldn’t have to see you snogging her in photos plastered all over the internet. Did you know Grace Bilingsley called me? Said her Hallie was right there when you grabbed the girl and kissed her in front of everyone. How are the people of Webley supposed to take you seriously when you’re adopting dogs and now snogging some random American girl?”

  As I walked back toward the tents, hungry stares from the reporters followed me. Probably waiting to ask me the same questions my mother was currently barraging me with. But when I got past them, I spotted that blast of red hair. It was as if the wind was knocked out of me then came whooshing back into my lungs.

  I may have royally fucked up with a lot of people, but the least I could do was explain it to the one I put in the middle of all this.

  “Mother, I’ll have to talk to you later. I have some business to attend to,” I said calmly, ignoring that she was still barking orders as I hung up the phone, sliding it into my pocket.

  A few journalists already had their cameras and recorders out. But before they could get near me, Sully and Hitchcock swooped in, blocking them from my view but not from their voices yelling over the crowd.

  “Who is the redhead?”

  “Rumor is she works in the manor?”

  “Can we get a sound bite about that kiss?”

  I ignored their calls. I was too busy zeroing in on the redhead in front of me. She stood in the crowd, biting her bottom lip, eyes wide, and still looking just as gorgeous as ever.

  What I wouldn’t have done to kiss that mouth of hers again in front of everyone. Show them I wasn’t owned by what my parents expected of me.

  But as much as I longed to, the falling of her face as soon as I approached told me my mother wasn’t the only one disappointed.

  “Do you want to get out of here?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Yeah. Probably a good idea.”

  I refrained from putting my hand on her back to lead her away from the crowd. Though I itched to touch her. To let her know that I was probably the biggest bugger for putting her in that situation.