Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Slowly, Winnie shifted around to face the knight who’d rescued her on the road.
Of all the people who worked at the estate, of all the people to have found her completely helpless, and of all the people she might have seen instead to ask after the faults of Foxwood, why did it have to be him?
Had he known all along that she’d been hired by his dad? Is that how he’d “guessed” that she was a consultant—because he’d been playing her?
She glued a smile to her lips, praying it was convincing enough to show that she wasn’t startled by his presence. That was another Knox rule—don’t let anyone take you by surprise.
Of course, when she turned to face the guy, that was easier said than done. Instead of being covered from head-to-toe in armor, face splattered with mud, water dripping from his curled hair, Winnie was met with the sight of a knight-turned-modern-day-stud-muffin.
In the brighter light of the study, his features were even more defined. His scruff was dark along his jawline, though it faded to a slightly lighter blond as it inched toward his cheekbones. The blue in his eyes shone brightly, enhanced by the thin, light azure color of the t-shirt he wore, and his shoulders—those shoulders. Obviously, the armor hadn’t been what made them broad all along.
He sure did clean up nicely.
And she sure was an idiot to not have realized who he was earlier.
Seriously. Riding across his estate at dark. Joking about his family being crotchety. Omitting his last name. Being offended by her criticism of his home.
Obviously all the signs were there.
Rather than admitting she was a total dolt, though, she blamed it on jetlag. That had to be why she was failing so abysmally at life right now.
“Matthew,” Mr. Wintour said, breaking through the silence that had filled the air. “I’d like for you to meet Winnie?—”
“Knox,” Matthew interrupted. His dad looked at him in surprise. “We’ve met.”
His voice was deep and rich, far more now that she could hear him without his armor or the rain muffling his words.
He turned toward Winnie more fully. “So you’re the puddle I followed all the way here,” he stated, his blue eyes shining.
Her eyes dropped to the study floor. What was he talking about? There wasn’t a puddle in sight. Anyway, she’d wiped her feet in the entryway. She was sure of it.
Mr. Wintour looked between the two of them in confusion. “I’m sorry, you’ve met before?”
“Just a few moments ago,” Matthew answered for the both of them because apparently, Winnie had lost her ability to speak. “On the drive. Apparently, she wishes to leave her mark wherever she goes.”
Again, Winnie said nothing.
Mr. Wintour took a step forward to face her more directly. “Is this true? Have you met Matthew already?”
Winnie blinked, then cleared her throat. “Yeah, but I had no clue he was your son,” she said, forcing a light tone .
“Clearly,” Matthew responded.
His eyes were on her again, this time slightly more pointed. He was referring to the conversation they’d shared after he’d helped her out of the mud. The conversation where she’d criticized the estate.
His family’s estate.
That was obviously when things had shifted between them. He’d been playful, kind, helpful. Charming, even. Then she’d run her big mouth and offended him.
She fought the urge to look around for a hole to crawl into and die quietly within. Everything she’d said to Matthew earlier had been true. And they were all things she was fully planning on mentioning to Mr. Wintour himself. Granted, she’d be a touch more delicate…
Anyway, it was Matthew’s fault for concealing who he was to her. He was basically asking for trouble.
Mr. Wintour looked between them again. “I’m still slightly confused, I have to admit,” he stated.
Finally finding her voice, Winnie answered first, refusing to allow Matthew a chance at embarrassing her further. “Your son helped me out of the mud when my car got stuck on the side of the road.”
There. Simple. Straightforward. To the punch. No need to bore him with all those other details.
Matthew’s eyes didn’t stray from hers, his brow slightly raised. Did he know something? Namely, did he know about her speeding?
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Mr. Wintour said with a frown.
“Oh, it’s totally fine,” she said with a wave of her hand.
“I take it the rain was the culprit?”
She clamped her mouth shut and nodded. It wasn’t not the truth.
Still, Matthew watched her. He absolutely knew something.
“I’m sure I know of the exact place you were caught,” Mr. Wintour continued. “I’ve been meaning to hire someone to grass over that section for so long, but it just keeps getting pushed back on my ever-growing list of things to improve.”
“I’m sure Miss Knox wouldn’t have any problem adding to that list,” Matthew said. “Why don’t you ask her to share with you some of the items she mentioned to me earlier?”
Winnie stared up at him. She hadn’t realized he was so tall before. Nor had she been aware of how bright a blue his eyes were. They were like his dad’s, except they held a more sinister glint to them. A glint that said, “I’m not afraid to betray thee by thrusting thee under thy emerald steed, my lady.”
Still, she wouldn’t be intimidated. Not any longer.
She gave a small laugh and faced Mr. Wintour. “Oh, I always have a list of things to improve. The to-dos for my own apartment is so eternal, I hardly have any room to store it on my phone anymore—and I live in a one-bedroom apartment.”
Mr. Wintour chuckled. “I know the feeling all too well.”
Matthew’s smile lessened. Ha. She’d beaten him on that one.
“Well,” Mr. Wintour continued, “I’m glad you were there to help her out, Matthew.”
“Mmm,” Matthew hummed, his eyes lingering on Winnie. “So, Dad, when were you planning on telling me that you’d hired another consultant?”
The air in the room shifted drastically, almost instantaneously. Winnie looked between the father and son, the tension so thick, she could almost reach out and touch it.
Matthew hadn’t known about his dad hiring her, then.
“Let’s discuss this in a moment, Matthew,” Mr. Wintour said with a strained smile. “Our guest has had her fair share of drama during her day of travel, and I’d love for her to receive some rest.”
“Oh, of course,” Matthew said with a nod and a fake look of concern. “Anyone can see how exhausted she looks.”
Winnie hid her frown. This apple had fallen far, far away from the tree, hadn’t it? Matthew must have been born in a completely different orchard altogether .
He turned to his dad next. “So the running total is five consultants now, right?”
Mr. Wintour cast a wary glance at Winnie, but she merely brushed aside the surprise she felt in learning the number. “There’s nothing shocking about hiring multiple consultants,” she said truthfully. “It can be difficult to find a good match. Hopefully I can be just that, though.”
Mr. Wintour’s gratitude came through in his smile. “I’ve no doubt that you will be. Now, Matthew?—”
“Yes, but this is the first from the States,” Matthew interrupted. “Tell me, Dad, where is the logic in hiring someone who clearly knows nothing about running British estates?”
Be like Fort Knox.
“That’s enough, Matthew,” Mr. Wintour said, then he shifted an apologetic gaze to Winnie. “You’ll have to excuse my son’s manners. Apparently, he’s misplaced them.”
“Oh, it’s just fine,” she replied. “I’ve lived in New York for long enough that I’m used to anything by now.”
Mr. Wintour chuckled, but Matthew hardly looked amused.
“New York is it?” he questioned. “That makes sense.”
“Matthew…” Mr. Wintour warned, but his son wasn’t finished.
“So tell me, Miss Knox,” Matthew said, folding his arms across his broad chest, the ridges in his forearm shifting, “what makes you think you’ll be a good fit for the estate?”
“It’s Winnie,” she stated. “And I think a quick Google search of my name and accomplishments will tell you everything you need to know about me, Matthew. Or, you know, I could always give you my resume.”
Mr. Wintour looked almost proud at her response. She hadn’t received such a look from someone since she’d graduated a year early from high school and Dad had actually smiled at her.
“That won’t be necessary,” Matthew returned, hardly amused. “I’ll just wish you luck, though, as it is no small feat to care for an entire estate. ”
“Oh, I can only imagine,” she agreed. “Fortunately, overseeing the renaissance faire will ease me right into it.”
To her surprise, Matthew’s seemingly unalterable expression shifted, and a deep frown carved through his brow. His arms fell to his sides, and he turned to face his dad directly. “What?”
If Winnie had thought the air in the room was uncomfortable before, it was nothing compared to the silent tension between them now, marked only by the sound of a clock ticking on the desk nearby.
Well. She could now safely assume that Matthew had been unaware of her taking over his faire.
“Matthew,” Mr. Wintour began, “as I told you before, we can discuss this later when Winnie has had the chance to rest.”
Winnie didn’t need to rest as much as she needed an escape. She glanced to the door. Could she slip out unnoticed? Wander around the hallways until she found her room? Or did she have to wait for Mr. Fernsby—whom Mr. Wintour had obviously rung for but was sure taking his dang sweet time getting there?
“No, I want to talk about it now,” Matthew stated, ignoring his father’s words. “Did you place her over the festival?”
Mr. Wintour glanced at Winnie with an apologetic look, then faced his son again. “Yes. I have.”
Anger flashed in Matthew’s eyes as he shifted his gaze to Winnie, his jaw twitching beneath his scruff.
“How…” Matthew broke off with a sigh, facing his dad again. “I created the entire event. What makes you think you can just hire someone to take over what is rightfully mine?”
Matthew was in charge of the event—had created the event? Good grief. This was not what she signed up for. No wonder he’d touted its historical accuracy and invited her to see it.
Winnie released a quiet, pent-up breath. Out of all the consulting jobs she’d had, out of all the awkward moments, the fights that had broken out, and the surprises that had been launched at employees, this had to be the worst of them all .
Stuck in the middle between a father and son, revealing things she wasn’t supposed to, apparently leaving a trail of water through their stately home. Could today get any worse?
She glanced at the door again. Where was a butler when a girl needed him?
“Matthew,” Mr. Wintour said softly, as if Winnie couldn’t hear every single word spoken between them, “I told you months ago that this was in our future. The future is now here.”
“But I clearly said no,” Matthew countered.
Mr. Wintour lowered his voice. “Last I checked, I am still owner and head of this estate. The event is held here, it uses the estate’s money, therefore I have the final say.”
Go, Mr. Wintour.
Matthew pierced Winnie with his gaze, and she blanched. Had he heard her thoughts somehow?
“So, in exercising your authority,” Matthew said, his jaw tight as he spoke, “you chose to hire her ?” He pointed a condemning finger in Winnie’s direction. “She has clearly never stepped foot in England before, and obviously, she knows nothing about running a festival. She doesn’t even know what century the medieval era is in, for heaven’s sake.”
Okay, that was a low blow. He was right, of course, but still. “For the record,” she began, tired of watching the conversation unfold as if she wasn’t even there listening to the entire thing, “I do know when the medieval era takes place. I just…mixed up the centuries.”
“Who doesn’t every now and then?” Mr. Wintour asked.
Matthew looked between them with his mouth open, clearly thinking they’d both gone crazy. “You can’t be serious with her,” he stated.
“I am,” Mr. Wintour continued. “Because Winnie knows more about reviving dying businesses than both of us combined. Foxwood needs her. We need her. You need her.”
Winnie should have been flattered by his confidence, but truthfully, she just felt more wary. She really needed to not screw this up.
“But she’s from the States,” Matthew continued. “She’ll change the entire point of the festival. We’ll be the laughingstock of Yorkshire. It’ll be loud and brash and…” He glanced at her. “ American .”
Winnie folded her arms across her chest and finally allowed a frown to form on her own brow. “And just what is the matter with that?”
He gave her a look. “Do you really want to get into that right now?”
What a jerk. There was absolutely nothing wrong with being American. Sure, they were a little loud at times. Perhaps a little more enthusiastic than other countries. But when had that ever hurt anyone? Matthew just needed to come off his high horse.
Mr. Wintour looked to Winnie apologetically once again, but she moved forward with a reassuring nod.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m not offended by what he’s saying. Furthermore, I know why he’s acting this way.”
Matthew sniffed derisively. “Do you?”
She raised her chin. “Yeah, I do. You’re feeling overly protective and defensive because of how much work you’ve put into the event, and you don’t want an outsider commandeering everything you’ve poured your heart and soul into because you’re afraid of losing the integrity of something you’ve formed from the ground up.”
Matthew didn’t respond, but she could see in his eyes that she’d hit the nail on the head.
“But you don’t need to worry,” she continued. “I’m not that kind of consultant.”
He looked even more skeptical than before.
“I’m not,” she insisted. “I value souls and people, so I’m not looking to fire anyone. And I value others’ ideas and input more than my own. I’m not here to change up everything. I’m here to fix it. With your help, I have no doubt that we can turn it into something even better than what you already have.”
Instead of his defenses lowering as she’d hoped, his eyes maintained their steely blue, his lips in a thin line. “We’ll see.”
Well, that wasn’t exactly the vote of confidence she’d been hoping for, but at least he wasn’t criticizing her nationality any longer.
Before another word could be said by anyone, movement by the door drew their attention, and mercifully, the butler finally arrived.
“Mr. Fernsby,” Mr. Wintour greeted, sounding just as relieved as Winnie was, “will you show Miss Knox to her room, please?”
“Yes, sir.”
Mr. Fernsby waited by the door, and Winnie stifled a sigh of relief. Escape at last.
She shook Mr. Wintour’s hand in departure first. “Thank you for your vote of confidence, Mr. Wintour. I look forward to speaking more with you tomorrow.” Then she turned toward his son. “And I look forward to working with you and your faire, Matthew. Even if the feeling isn’t mutual.”
She held out her hand to him with an innocent smile, awaiting his reaction. If he didn’t accept her handshake, he would look even worse to his dad. But if he did accept it, he would appear to be surrendering. Either way, she’d come out on top. It was the perfect tactic.
And yet, when he did raise his hand to accept hers, his long fingers wrapping around her own, her smile faltered, and her mind froze as an energy coursed between them at their touch.
She glanced to their intertwined hands, then up to his eyes. His blue gaze met hers with such striking intensity, she knew he felt the same thing she did. A connection. An attraction. All the things she shouldn’t be feeling for a coworker.
Swiftly, she pulled her hand away and averted her gaze, walking to where Mr. Fernsby waited for her before the two of them departed down the hallway .
Part of her wished to be a fly on the wall in the study as the Wintours continued their battle, but Mr. Wintour was right. She needed to rest. She would no doubt be playing host to a plethora of her own battles at Foxwood soon enough. Battles with a pompous knight who had expected her to be a silent damsel in distress when she was the furthest thing from it.