Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
The place is giant, and I should feel intimidated, but I don’t know; there is this rightness to it. I can’t tell you why; it’s just a feeling. One I can’t name, the same as when I met Wells.
The car rolls to a stop, and a man in formal attire opens my door before I can reach for the handle, and I freeze, suddenly unsure of the protocol. This is a different world, and I don’t want to offend anyone or go against any customs. I’m being welcomed into their home. I want to respect that.
Do I thank him? Is that condescending? My mind races with questions. Caldwell is already out of the car, coming around to offer his hand, and I take it because it’s the only thing that feels solid and safe.
“Welcome home, Your Highness.” The man bows slightly. “And welcome, miss. We’re so pleased to have you.” I stand up straighter; his posture is impeccable.
Your Highness. It still sounds strange. Like a movie. Wells is a Highness. The same man that laughs at my strange quirks and buries his face between my thighs every night. It’s truly mind-blowing now that I’m in his world.
“Thank you,” I manage, and the man smiles—warmly, genuinely, nothing performative about it. It has me relaxing.
“Mrs. Halloway has been preparing for your arrival,” he says, leading us toward massive doors that are already swinging open. “She’s quite excited to meet you.”
“Mrs. Halloway?” I ask.
“Housekeeper,” Caldwell fills in for me. “And unofficial sovereign of the estate. She’s worked here since I was a child.” I can see the fondness in his expression.
An older woman appears in the doorway, gray-haired and sharp-eyed, wiping her hands on an apron. She takes one look at me and beams. It’s a genuine smile that makes me feel welcome.
“Oh, you brought her. Finally.” She steps forward and takes my hands in hers, squeezing tightly. “Look at you. Exhausted and overwhelmed and still standing. Good girl.” She fusses over me. The same way my grandma did when she was alive.
I blink, surprised by the contact, by the immediate warmth. “It’s nice to meet you,” I tell her.
“Come inside, come inside. I’ve put you in the east wing, Caldwell. And don’t you start with me. I know what rooms you prefer, but a girl has needs and also should have space to breathe.” She ushers me through the doors, and I catch Caldwell’s eyes over her shoulder. He’s smiling, something fond and relieved in his expression.
I don’t know this woman yet, but I already want to hug and kiss her. I also want to corner her and get all the stories I can about Wells; I bet she knows the good ones.
I try to keep my composure when we step into the entrance hall; it’s all marble with skylights above that let the sun flood in and light up the space.
I try not to gape at the chandelier or the paintings that look old enough to be in textbooks. I’m overstimulated by it all, but it’s fabulous. A freaking massive double staircase winds up on either side.
“Your room first,” Mrs. Halloway decides. “Then tea. Then you can explore or rest or whatever you need.”
She leads us up the right staircase, down a corridor lined with windows overlooking gardens I can barely process. I could probably spend months exploring this place and not see half of it.
“When was this built? Is this modeling original? Did you import the marble from Brazil? Such a rare blue quartzite.” I keep peppering them with questions. “Sorry,” I say after they’ve answered the fifth one for me, but clearly, we’ve got the time because we’re not in the room yet.
“Mable loves history and information. She obsesses over it,” Wells informs Mrs. Halloway, who is a few strides ahead of us.
“I just feel like I should know these things. I’m so behind already. Is there a library?”
“The public one or the one here?” Caldwell asks.
“Wells,” I whisper, elbowing him in the side. “Don’t be talking dirty to me right now,” I tease, making him throw back his head and laugh.
We stop walking, and I see that Mrs. Halloway is watching him with a bright smile.
“This is good.” She nods. “Perfect.” I’m not sure if she’s talking to us or not, but when she pushes open the double doors at the end of the hallway, I forget what we were talking about.
“Oh my,” I breathe out.
This isn’t a bedroom; it’s a massive suite with a sitting area and fireplace and windows that must face east because the afternoon light is pouring in. The bed is enormous, draped in cream and pale blue, and there’s a desk in the corner that makes my fingers itch with the need to organize something.
“Mrs. Halloway,” Caldwell says, amused. “You’re spoiling her.”
“Someone should.” She pats my arm. “I’ll send up tea in twenty minutes. Take your time.”