Page 24

H e didn’t allow her to finish. “Lady Gabriella Staunton Hawes? Lady Gabriella? ” He didn’t resume his position on the sofa. Instead, he leaned back against the island counter, arms folded over his chest, legs crossed at the ankle—making a mockery of indolent calm.

“It means very little, Leo. Obviously, you think it makes a difference? That I’m hiding who I am?”

“Well, aren’t you?”

“I’m not obliged to use it, and more often than not, I choose not to.

Titles can be as much a nuisance as they can be useful.

Often more so. Great if I want to get into a private nightclub or want a job managing an art gallery in Mayfair.

” She paused to insert a self-deprecating scoff.

“But it also creates barriers, raises expectations, invites judgment, resentment, and assumptions. The added pressure of applying for jobs that multitudes of untitled people apply for every day? Like a nannying position? I’d be laughed at; not taken seriously. ”

He made to interject but she needed to make her point; make him see it hadn’t been a casual misrepresentation, so she held up one hand.

That there were reasons behind it, solid reasons.

“Would you have employed me if you’d known?

Many people outside that world are put off by it or presume unrealistically, that I would think I was too good for the position.

” She didn’t add, like you are now , but she was tempted.

He shook his head, but she saw exasperation, not a direct answer to her question. “So, speaking of nannying—and all that experience you claimed to have had?”

“Was exactly the truth. I was indirectly trained by one of the best in the business—the woman who practically raised me, and who nannied my father before me. Nanny Tommsett. Tommy. I had nineteen years of experience, Leo. Right up until my nineteenth birthday when she retired.”

“But—”

“But nothing . I expressly remember telling you that I’d learned day by day with Benny. You agreed it was the best experience. If you’re now questioning anything I have done with Mia, then it’s time for Benny and I to move on.”

He held up both hands, as though trying to calm her. “I wasn’t suggesting that. But geeze, Ella! Lady Gabriella? Are you royal or something?”

“Hardly,” she responded on another scoff.

“The title does allow for invitations to certain events and social occasions where royals may be present, but unless some ancient randy ancestor had a dalliance with someone of royalty— which actually isn’t as farfetched as it might sound —I am not in any danger of being pressed to take the throne. ”

“Right…”

“My father is Lord Thorvane. Most are merely courtesy titles now, often attached to land holdings. His title dates back several hundred years.”

He was nodding, his mouth still a tight line. “Grow up in a castle?”

Ella frowned, guessing that the questions he was a reaction to having all this dumped on him.

“No, however, when I wasn’t away at school, I was raised for the most part in a somewhat updated eighteenth-century stately home.

Sixteen bedrooms. Stables. A butler. Leaky roof.

Terrible plumbing. Horrendously expensive to heat, and weighed down by the constant upkeep and exorbitant taxes.

The usual for such an estate.” She paused before adding, “Is all this helping, Leo? I know this can’t be easy. ”

“You got that right. You can’t blame me for wondering who you really are. I mean you came in here pretending to be—”

“I need to stop you there. I came as myself, Leo. Someone in need of work that would also enable her to keep her child close to her, anything more are presumed pretensions, and that is on you. Yes, it’s true I didn’t reveal everything about myself, but what you saw and got from the start was me .

Me, the same person who sits before you now. Nothing has changed.”

When he didn’t respond, she continued, hearing the tinge of desperation in her tone.

Strangely, it wasn’t desperation regarding her position with him as Mia’s nanny, but for Leo to see her for who she truly was.

For him not to be blinded by a ridiculous title and guided by cliched assumptions.

“Yes, I grew up in a huge rambling house. Yes, we had a cook—who by the way taught me to play cards. Very well. And yes, we had a butler—who sat with me for hours during term break and helped me understand algebra. Yes, I had a nanny—who was my substitute parent, and loved me, and to whom I shall always be grateful because there were times when it seemed like she was the only one. And yes, I had a privileged education at one of the most exclusive boarding schools in the UK—a cold drafty place that perpetuated stifling, narrow-minded ideals, and is proud to be a dedicated emotion-free zone.”

The look in his eyes gentled, morphing into something closer to sympathy than mistrust.

She cringed. “Leo, I’m not telling you this to elicit sympathy.

Even at its worst, I am very aware my life was still so much better than many others.

I survived and thrived in my own way, and had every material thing I could wish for.

So, yes, our upbringings have been different, and I’m sharing a potted version”—she stopped at his frown—“a quick-and-dirty version of mine so you can see that despite those differences, surely over these past weeks we’ve proved that we are basically just two people who love our children and want what is best for them?

They are what matters, and little else.”

Head tilted back, he peered at her from beneath those long lashes; watched her from across the room—a space of feet that now felt like miles; hundreds of them.

In the life of her fantasies, she’d cross to him, take hold of those folded arms and wind them around her.

She’d lay her head against his magnificent chest and feel his warmth and strength envelop her.

She’d experienced that just once with him and she knew it would stay with her forever.

She would never unknow that feeling; fail to yearn for it, even though she knew it could never happen again.

In her fantasy she’d tell him it all, bare all before him. But an untimely interruption had taken the moment, and the delivery had killed her opportunity for further explanation, and now the mood was all wrong.

She could only hope, that unlike being held in his arms, maybe the right time would come again. Or not. Or maybe she was just a coward.

Irrespective, it was that thought that dumped her on her fantasy like a wave dumps a struggling swimmer. Tossing her right onto the cold sand of reality. Reality that doubled-down in the form of the plaintive cry from above that also echoed through the baby monitor. “Mama…”

That one word… Frozen, she dared not breathe, her eyes never leaving his face, watched his mouth tighten while inside she died a thousand deaths.

Not Benny.

Mia. Mia was awake.

Rising with as much dignity as she could muster, she said quietly, “I’ll go to her. Unless you…?”

She’d half expected him to metaphorically move her aside, surprised when he simply shrugged. “I need to get down to see what progress the boys have made.”

He said nothing more. Just snatched up the hat that had been tossed on the counter and headed for the mudroom. Nothing at all…

*

Chopping wood that’s partially frozen can be easily achieved with the right tools.

A warmed and oiled chainsaw, for example, might do it.

A razor-sharp ax. But it splinters sometimes flies in any direction.

Leo had seen more than one bloodied head injury, and according to his late grandfather doing so was best avoided.

After deciding against checking on the ranch hands in lieu of bit of time alone with his thoughts, his grandfather’s warning didn’t play into his decision to burn some built-up energy. He chose to tackle the logs stacked beside the feed barn. Built-up energy? Or was it frustration? Anger?

Hell, he didn’t even know what he felt. Cheated?

Blindsided? The ax came down at the wrong angle, bounced, and the ensuing shudder ran right up his arm, jarring every muscle, leaving them trampled in its wake until the burn pooled in his shoulder.

It didn’t stop him, and he brought the ax down again, this time hitting that sweet spot, throwing himself into this unnecessary task with even more vigor.

Again, his aim was out with the next swing and again he felt the burn, blamed being out of practice as much as being distracted. He hadn’t chopped wood since before his rodeo injury and while it had been months, there was bound to be a repercussion or two.

But… Lady Gabriella? Lady? She was titled.

She mixed with royalty. What the hell? His cuss was roared into the ether as he swung down hard again, so distracted by his rioting thoughts, he failed to hear the approach of a vehicle because the first he knew he had company was when a shadow fell across his work area.

“I can get a load of cut firewood hauled down here if you’re short?”

Leo didn’t look up, merely grunted as the ax came down once more. “I think we’re good. Thanks.”

JD moved closer, put himself too close to the swinging implement, too close to possible wayward timber missiles—forcing his youngest brother to stop what he was doing.

On a sigh, Leo tossed the ax to the side, and JD clucked his tongue. “The old man’d have your hide for doing that. So, you wanna tell me what’s eating you, or should I guess?”

JD knew something. Leo’s head shot up, but he gave nothing away. He hoped. “Guess what?”

JD widened his stance, crossed his arms across his chest. “Word’s got around about what happened in Bozeman this morning. Ella really took out some guy? For attempting to take Mia?” He shook his head. “That male ego of yours take a beating because she showed you up?”