Nigel scowled a little, but Ryan ignored it. They headed back inside as James left, and Ryan let himself be drawn into the complex world of aristocratic finances and customs.
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Chapter Three
By the time he heard James return, his head was spinning, and he nearly jumped out of his chair. “Thank God!"
James walked into the room, grinning from ear to ear and carrying a couple of bags. “Sorry it took so long, but it died halfway to town. I had to mess with it for a while before I could get it going. It's gonna need a new set of plug wires and a bunch of other stuff. A rat or something chewed through one almost all the way, so it's basically running on three cylinders.” He stopped and looked at Ryan sheepishly. “Let me go put this stuff away, and make some tea,” he offered.
"I'll help,” he offered, anxious to take a break. “We can eat in the dining room like real people,” he said. “Nigel? Wanna meet us in there?"
He seemed to be growing used to his new charge's ways, because Nigel Winthrop stood and sketched a brief bow. “Yes, my lord."
Ryan sighed and followed James back to the kitchen. “It's so weird when he calls me that,” he said softly as they passed through the dining room. “So you enjoyed the whole car thing, then?” James seemed to consider auto repair as play. Ryan had known guys like that, although he didn't quite understand it himself.
"Totally,” James enthused, pulling groceries out of the bags. He'd gotten a bunch of vegetables and some rice. “That car is a classic. It's only got thirty thousand miles on it. Unbelievable. If you want, I'd love to fix it up for you.” He looked over at Ryan. “Is vegetable fried rice okay? I figured it was simple."
"Yes and yes. I could pay you to fix it up if you want. I'm sure it's in the budget.” He looked at all the things James had unpacked. “Can I do anything? Chop stuff up or anything?"
"You don't have to pay me,” James said. “I love to work on cars. It would be fun.” He looked back at the vegetables. “You can cut these up,” he said, “while I put the rice on.” He looked around for pans and utensils.
"Okay, but in exchange for fixing it up you can drive it whenever you like, okay?” Ryan set to work. He found a big cutting board and a sharp knife. He washed all the veggies in the deep, ancient sink and started chopping.
James found a large pan that would serve as a wok, and heated it up. He began to stir fry the vegetables, filling the kitchen with mouth-watering smells.
Ryan took a deep breath. “Mm, smells awesome.” He hopped up on the opposite counter again, watching James cook. James had a gorgeous ass, he decided with a regretful sigh. “So what do you write?” he asked, wanting to know more about him.
"Well, that's kind of a long story,” James said as he stirred the sizzling vegetables. “I was a sociology major, and my thesis started to turn into a book. But then as I did more research...” He looked down, a little embarrassed. “It turned into a novel. Yeah, I'm trying to write the great American novel. In Scotland."
"Wow, really? That's awesome! I'd love to read it some time. All I ever write is poetry. Or, you know, lyrics. Not that any of them are very good.” He swung his feet a little, rubbing his palms on his thighs. It was so easy to talk to James. He barely even missed his friends back home, although he realized he needed to call his mom soon.
"I write freelance for a couple of magazines,” James said. “I've had a few short stories published, that kind of thing. I have an agent, at least. That's a start.” He looked up at Ryan. “I wish I could hear you sing. What kind of music do you do?"
That was always a difficult question to answer for Ryan. “Well, kinda hardcore, kinda a bunch of other stuff. I guess mostly hardcore, though. My band wasn't really going anywhere so...” He left it at that, giving a delicate shrug. “Maybe I'll find some cute Scottish boys and start a new band. Play for the Queen or something,” he said with a laugh.
"I'll be in the front row,” promised James, adding the rice to the vegetables and stirring. “You want to find some serving dishes or something to put this in? It's almost done."
Ryan hopped down and started opening cabinets until he found what they were looking for. He put a platter on the stove next to where James was cooking. “God, my stomach is growling now,” he said, smiling.
"Well, good, ‘cause I always make too much food,” James said, adding a dash more soy sauce as he mixed. Then he scooped the rice out onto the platter. “Okay, all ready,” he said. “We just need plates and utensils."
Ryan gathered up the rest of what they needed and they made their way into the dining room. He set three places and then went looking for Nigel. He returned with the stiff Brit and they all sat down to eat. “So, after this we really have to see the rest of the house, okay?” Ryan prompted.
Winthrop looked askance at the plate of food before him, but tried some anyway. “Of course, my lord. Whatever you wish."
Ryan frowned a little. “I wish you wouldn't call me ‘my lord.’ Any chance you could call me Ryan? And I'll call you Nigel?” He glanced at James, wondering if he was pushing the solicitor too far.
Winthrop was silent for a moment, pouring himself a glass of water from a pitcher they'd brought in. “I hope you don't find what I'm about to say disrespectful, but you are now a Peer of the Realm. For me to call you by your given name ... it would be like turning your back on the Queen. It's just not done here."
"But, well, take the Queen for example. Like, Prince Charles doesn't call her ‘Your Majesty’ does he? I'm sure there are some situations..."
"Yes, but I am not your son,” Winthrop said tightly.
"Okay, but, well, you're one of two people I know in this whole country. You're here to advise me and stuff, right? Can't we at least try to be like friends?"
Winthrop's eyes widened and he was silent again.
Ryan looked at James. “Doesn't that make sense to you?” he asked.
James reached over and put his hand on Ryan's reassuringly. “Maybe these things take time,” he said softly. “You'll both get used to each other."
Ryan stared at James for a moment. His fingers felt a little rough, but so warm where they were touching his hand. His stomach lurched, and his voice came out as little more than a hoarse squeak, as he said, “Okay. Maybe you're right.” He finally looked away, but didn't pull his hand away. He turned his eyes to Nigel. “I guess if it means so much to you, call me whatever you feel comfortable calling me,” he said softly.
"I am honored that you wish to think of me as a friend, my lord. I hope I can live up to your expectations,” the older man replied, softening a little.
Ryan smiled and then glanced at James, whose hand still covered his own.
The meal went more smoothly after that, and Nigel seemed to try his best to eat the food that he clearly didn't like.
After they cleared away the dishes it was finally time for the tour. They started on the ground floor. Nigel showed them the breakfast room and the salon on the first floor, as well as the library, which had a billiard table and a long, polished bar. There was a back staircase that led up to the servants’ wing, but they returned to the foyer to take the main stairs. There were two other hallways that hosted bedrooms, ten in total, divided between facing the front gardens and the back. The third floor had a formal ballroom and a portrait gallery along the entire width of the building. Portrait after portrait of the Earls of Elgin. A few bore some resemblance to Ryan, although they were fairer of complexion.
The last stop was the nursery and the servants’ wing. The rooms were considerably smaller, but still quite nice. There were ten bedrooms there, as well, although most contained at least two beds each. The nursery was still full of toys and storybooks from the last child who had been raised there. It all seemed so strange and foreign to Ryan.
"What's that door?” he asked, pointing to the only door they hadn't yet gone through.
"That is the attic and the stairs up to the roof,” Nigel explained. “T
here is various bric-a-brac from former Earls and Countesses up there. Nothing you need concern yourself with. And of course through the other door in the kitchen is the way to the basement where the staff usually eats, and the laundry and some of the baking facilities.” He urged them back downstairs.
Ryan filed that information away, but by the time they reached the ground floor there was a loud knock on the front door. Without even thinking, he went to open it. There standing before him was a woman, not so much older than himself, in a sensible, wooly-looking suit. She had bleached blonde hair swept up in a bun.
The woman's eyes widened as she took in Ryan. Clearly she wasn't expecting him. After a moment's hesitation and obvious internal struggle, she spoke in a very proper accent, “Hello, my lord. You must be the Earl. Please forgive my rudeness. I wasn't expecting you to answer the door yourself. But of course, the staff has been let go.” Her tone was still vaguely disapproving. “Oh, where are my manners?” She sketched a brief curtsey, and said, “I am Portia Murray. So honored to finally meet you, my lord."
"Oh, hi,” Ryan said, holding out his hand. “I'm Ryan. Legato. Um, yeah, the Earl. Sorry, I'm not quite used to that yet."
"Miss Murray, this is not the time or the place,” Nigel practically bellowed, coming to stand beside Ryan. “Miss Murray is the reporter I told you about before, my lord. But she will be leaving immediately."
Ryan glared at Nigel. “It's okay. I don't mind talking for a minute or two.” He turned his attention back to the woman. “Did you wanna come in?"
The woman's frown at the solicitor's outcry turned to a smile as she realized that the new Earl wasn't necessarily listening to advice. “I would be most happy to come back at a more suitable time, but if you have a few moments now, I promise I won't take up too much of your valuable time."
Ryan stood back to let her pass through the door. He had an odd thought that vampires can't come into your house unless you invite them, but pushed it away. He led the way into the drawing room and offered her a seat on the sofa. “What was it you wanted to talk about, Miss Murray?” he asked.
James hovered across the room, studying the bookshelves.
The woman sat down, crossing her legs smoothly and focusing on Ryan to the exclusion of all else. “I'm a reporter for the local newspaper, my lord. All the townspeople are eager for news of their new Earl and the honored task of informing them falls to me. It's not every day we get a newcomer from America in our sleepy little town.” She leaned forward earnestly. “The British people love their royalty, my lord. They would appreciate just a few details about you."
"Okay. Um. Like what? I'm twenty-six. I'm from California, what else do you want to know?” He thought maybe he should keep the details on a need to know basis. “I hope I'll get a chance to, you know, meet people myself, so..."
The woman pulled out a small notebook and began to make a few notes, nodding. “Lovely,” she said, looking up at Ryan. “And is there a Mrs. Legato who will be the newest Countess of Elgin?"
Ryan couldn't help but smirk at that. “Um no. No Mrs. Legato, unless you mean my mom.” He glanced at Nigel. “I mean, you know, not yet, anyway.” He sighed, hating the white lie.
The reporter picked up on that uncertainty, and leaned closer. “Is there a lucky girl back home in California, then? So the local girls don't get their hopes up?"
Ryan was used to instantly translating, ‘is there a girl', ‘are you seeing anyone', and ‘what about that special someone’ into ‘do you have a boyfriend?’ in his mind, so he didn't miss a beat. “Nope. No one back home,” he said, smiling serenely. He'd never actually had a relationship with anyone that lasted longer than a couple of weeks, but he knew when the right person came along he would. He wasn't worried about it.
The woman's smile widened predatorily. “Well, I'm sure that will make the local girls’ hearts flutter, especially when they see you,” she purred, patting Ryan gently on the knee. She went on to ask more innocuous questions about how much Ryan knew of Elgin and the late Earl, but occasionally she'd slip in a more personal one.
Nigel hovered nearby and, when he felt something was too personal, would clear his throat. Finally, when the reporter had taken up twenty minutes of their time, he interrupted. “Excuse me, my lord. There are many other things we must discuss. I believe it is time to bring the interview to a close."
Ryan looked up at him and agreed, much as it was stroking his ego to have a complete stranger so interested in his life. “Well, Miss Murray, thanks for coming by. Maybe we can talk some more another time,” he said, standing.
Portia smiled. “Of course, my lord. Thank you for your time. When you wish to give me an exclusive interview...” She produced a business card and pressed it into Ryan's hand. She seemed to notice James for the first time and frowned slightly, but Nigel was already ushering her out the door.
When the woman was gone, James walked closer to Ryan and said, “She's quite a piece of work."
"Yeah. I guess all that stuff they say about the British press is true.” He shrugged a little. “But I have nothing to hide, you know? I don't care. It's all good.” He looked into James’ eyes and smiled. “Sorry it took so long. Were you totally bored?"
"No, you're fascinating,” James said immediately, smirking.
"Haha, yeah. I thought you said you didn't want to get paid.” He stuck out his tongue playfully at James. “Really, once she figures out how boring I am, I'm sure she'll lose interest.” He didn't think staying up late dancing or drinking soy lattes was really the stuff of tabloids.
"You don't seem boring to me,” protested James. He glanced toward the door and lowered his voice. “How long you think till we can get rid of, what did you call him? Mr. Frostyballs?"
Ryan's heart skipped a beat at that. Of course it meant nothing. James was, understandably, getting bored with all the Earl-ish details. “I think I can give him the brush off. That was a lot to absorb in one day."
When Winthrop came back from seeing Portia Murray out, Ryan addressed him before he had a chance to say anything else. “Nigel, I was wondering if you could go see about finding some people for the house. I think I really need a housekeeper, at least. And probably a cook and stuff. And I think my brain is about to explode from too much information for one day, okay?"
Nigel seemed to stand a little straighter at the prospect of having a task to perform for the new Earl. “Of course, my lord. I've overtaxed you, and you're likely still jet-lagged. I shouldn't have let that infernal woman take up so much of your time. I shall telephone you in the morning with my progress. Is there anything you require before I leave you?"
"No, I think I'm good. I can walk into town if James here gets sick of ferrying me around,” he said, smiling.
Winthrop bowed and, after collecting his papers and leaving most for Ryan to look over at his leisure, took his leave. Ryan waved to him, closing the front door behind him, and then turned to James. “I thought he'd never go."
James smiled. “I know. He means well and all that, but he seems to think it's his life's purpose to make you into the Earl you should be.” He glanced down at Ryan's clothes. “You're not going to start dressing in pinstriped suits and bowlers, are you?” he asked.
Ryan snorted. “Uh, no. Ew. If nothing else, I intend to bring a little fashion sense to this burg. So, anything you wanna do? Play with the fancy electronics or something? Hang out and read one of the ten gazillion books? Work on the car?” He didn't care what it was, as long as he had some form of entertainment to keep James around.
"Well, I don't really mind. I could show you around the town. You need some better clothes than that. We could rent some movies or something. There's no television reception to speak of, and I don't see a satellite receiver anywhere.” He shrugged. “I don't mind. If you're tired, just say so and I'll get out of your hair."
"Better?” he said with a horrified gasp. “I think you meant ‘warmer’ clothes, didn't you?” He smiled. “Yeah, that sounds awesome. An
d you're gonna need stuff from your place if you're gonna accidentally stay over too late to go home, right?” He hoped he wasn't being too forward, but the idea of staying in the huge castle alone was still a little intimidating.
"I meant warmer, of course!” James assured him. “You'll let me know if you get sick of me, right? I don't want to overstay the Earl's welcome or anything."
"Haha, the Earl commands your presence,” he said, chuckling. “You know, unless you get bored or need to do something else. Totally don't feel you have to babysit me if you have stuff to do. But, if you don't it's kinda nice to have someone else here, especially someone cool. I have the feeling I'm not gonna relate to very many people here.” He was trying not to get too attached to James, but it was difficult.
"I like being here,” James assured him. “I'm totally serious. You can command my presence any time."
Ryan's eyebrows raised a little, but he didn't say anything. James probably didn't mean it as anything. “Cool. Let's go mingle with the natives and give them an eyeful of their new lord and master,” he said. “We should probably take your car instead of mine, though. I'm not all about hanging out on the side of the road talking to sheep while you indulge your mechanical side."
"The sheep are cute,” James offered. “But yeah. I can pick up a couple things for the MG, too. It's really in great shape. He looked at Ryan's thin t-shirt. “You want to borrow my coat?” he asked.
"I have my jacket until I can buy a sweater someplace. Is there anything around here that's not tweed or brown, you think?” He headed out to the foyer where he'd left his fuzzy jacket hanging on a hook by the door. He pulled it on, zipping it up, and headed out the door with James, sliding the key into his pocket. He got into James’ car when he unlocked it, remembering to get in on the other side, and buckled his seat belt.
James drove them to town, and proceeded to give Ryan a tour. It didn't take long, it was quite a small town. They ended up on the high street, and James found a parking place. “This is pretty much it for shopping in this town. There's a few shops were you might find a few things. We can take a longer trip into Aberdeen in a couple days, if you need anything else.” They walked along the street, and the wind was starting to get up.
Ghost of a Chance Page 4
