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I swallowed.

This had escalated very quickly.

“You’re right,” I said quietly. “But without my aristocratic title, you wouldn’t have a job here either.”

Silence held the room for a moment until I finally looked up at Miles.

“Great Britain is rampant with classism, from the top to the bottom,” I told him after a moment while putting my hands on my hips. “From royalty all the way down to abject poverty. It doesn’t make it right. We are all inherently classist, if we’re willing to be honest with ourselves. Being classist isn’t the issue, though. It’s what one chooses to do with that information that makes all the difference, and how we choose to help those in societal classes below ourselves. And you, Mr. Kingsley…” I straightened my back and tilted my head to the side. “If you are uncomfortable with the title I was born into and my family’s position in society, then perhaps you’re working in the wrong place, don’t you think?”

Miles’ jaw clenched, and he held my gaze for a moment that felt as though it lasted forever.

“If you think to tutor me on classism in my own home when you’ve barely said a kind word to me until the weather forced our proximity, I must confess that your desire to educate me is utterly misplaced and completely unnecessary,” I continued, jabbing my finger at him. “Despite your feelings about such things, I am not the kind of person who judges a person on where they’ve come from. If you cared to pay attention instead of judging, you’d know that my mother was what society calls a ‘commoner,’ and I couldn’t be prouder of the woman she was. Nor could I be prouder of the amazing people who were my maternal grandparents and all the family I have from her side.”

He stilled.

“But, please. Tell me more about how I don’t get it,” I finished dryly, folding my arms across my chest. “I’d love to hear it.”

Miles’ gaze focused on mine with such an intensity it made me want to shirk back, but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t back down to him—I didn’t know what stick he’d put up his arse this morning after the power came back on, but he needed to understand that I was not the kind of girl who backed down from a challenge.

Any challenge.

Even his.

I was sure he had a different perspective to me. There was no way our views of the world lined up, simply because of where we were born, but—

The sound of a heavy door bursting open broke into my thoughts, and both me and Miles jerked into action.

“Hello?” Miles shouted, stepping in front of me. “Who’s there?”

“Lady Gabriella?” A familiar voice called into the void. “It’s—it’s Caleb, and Arthur, we—”

“Oh, goodness!” I shuffled past Miles toward the hall.

Thank goodness.

If ever there was a time for an interruption, it was now.

I could kiss them both.

“Whatever are you doing here?” I asked, joining them in the hall. They were big, wet messes of wellington boots and raincoats and mud, and they both dripped the storm all over the wooden flooring of the wall. “You’re soaked through! What are you doing here, you crazy things?”

“The animals need seeing to, Lady Gabriella,” Caleb asked, shivering as he shrugged off his coat. “Didn’t want you out in this weather.”

“Oh, Caleb. Come inside and get some tea.” I took his sodden coat and put it on the nearest hook, then turned to the elderly man who’d served as butler for as long as I could remember. “Arthur? And you? I told you to go home!”

Arthur shrugged off his thick coat. “My tenant was quite all right, and I thought you might need me, milady. Didn’t like to think of you being alone.”

“Oh, you silly thing,” I said softly, taking his coat, too. “Miles didn’t get the message to leave, so thankfully, I haven’t been alone.”

Their eyes both slipped to the gardener.

“Just as well,” Miles said brightly. “Since she fell and hurt herself.”

Arthur’s disposition immediately changed to one of concern. “Are you all right, milady? Do you need anything?”

Damn it, Miles.

“Arthur, I’m just fine, honestly. A slight twist, that’s all.”

“Has Mr. Kingsley looked after you?”

Well.

“He has.” I slid my gaze in Miles’ direction. “He’s done a fine job.”

He met my eyes, our previous discussion seemingly shelved.

For now.

“A mere twist, I promise,” I assured everyone. “Now, you’re both soaked to the bone, and we have a hot kettle and, I believe, some spare sausages. I’m sure we can whip up some scrambled eggs.”

They both protested, but I shut it down.

“Stop it, please.” I raised my hands. “Come through to the kitchen and warm up, then tell me how on Earth you’ve managed to get yourselves up here without drowning in that floodwater.”

***

After a hearty breakfast of sausages, bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast with fried mushrooms on the side, complete with a pot of tea between the two of them, Arthur and Caleb finally shared how they got there.


Tags: Emma Hart The Aristocrat Diaries Romance