Chapter 6
Chapter Six
MERCURY
Dinner was at seven sharp.
When Asher told me it was a formal affair, I thought he was joking. “Like tuxedos and gowns?”
Luckily, it’s not that formal. Men are expected to wear suits, and women are supposed to wear cocktail dresses. I didn’t ask what you wear if you identify as neither. Asher’s parents didn’t strike me as the accepting type.
I guess it’s a good thing I’m a chronic overpacker, because I happened to throw in the perfect dress at the last minute.
As I step back into the cottage, just minutes before we have to leave, I swear I see Asher do a double-take at said dress, then clear his throat and politely say, “You look nice.”
Nice.
I could think of a few adjectives to describe him at this very moment, and none of them are even remotely…nice.
I’ve seen Asher in a suit before. When he rescued me that night on the red carpet and posed for pictures, he had on a dark-blue suit that matched his eyes. Today, however, he’s in something a bit more refined.
And he still looks hot as fuck.
The heather gray still makes his eyes pop, but it’s the fitted vest that really does it for me. It makes him look so dapper that I can almost see him fitting into this world of regalia and tradition.
Almost.
“No kilt?” I say as we both grab our coats.
His lips quirk. “The Knights don’t have a family tartan—just a coat of arms. My ancestor, who was originally given this land and earldom, was English and a member of Queen Elizabeth’s court. He was sent here to keep the Scottish heathens from revolting against their monarch.”
“Is that why you don’t sound like the guy from Outlander?”
He grins. “No, you can blame that on my pretentious boarding school and thirteen years in America. But if you need me to tell you what a bonnie lass you are,” he says, his accent growing thicker, “or apologize for my eejit father, just let me know.”
My cheeks heat as I laugh. “Okay.”
He offers me his arm. “Come on. We mustn’t be late.”
I decide not to make fun of him for using the word mustn’t and ask teasingly, “What will happen? Will we get in trouble?”
“No.” He smirks. “But it will cause them to be even more insufferable if you can believe that?”
I couldn’t, mostly because I had no idea what I was walking into. The two minutes I’d spent with Asher’s father this morning gave me a clue, but he hadn’t offered any more information about his parents since.
I also hadn’t asked.
We’d spend the day sort of politely orbiting around each other. He read and wrote a bit more in that mysterious notebook of his. I discovered he wears sexy little glasses when he reads. That definitely isn’t in his Wiki bio.
I called and checked in with my parents. Thankfully, they did not ask about the elephant in the room, either because they knew he was in it or because they trust me to see this through.
I’m not even sure if I trust myself to see this through.
Everything feels so…muddled.
I mean, what the hell was I actually thinking this morning? Telling his dad I was his girlfriend? It was so unlike me. I was literally shaking the whole time.
It was so spontaneous, and I never do anything spontaneous!
I can’t decide if I liked it or hated it.
I guess I’m about to find out, because thanks to that moment of insanity, I’m sitting in a Land Rover, on my way to Blackstone House for the first time to have a formal dinner with his parents.
“How are we going to pull this off, Asher?” I suddenly ask, feeling my nerves start to kick in. It’s the same feeling I would get right before every big exam or an important client came into the recording studio.
But this time, there are no notecards. No research or years of experience to fall back on. I am literally going into this situation blind.
“What do you mean?”
I look over at him incredulously. “I mean, your parents think we’re dating—”
“Thanks to you.”
My brow lifts. “You didn’t correct me!”
He opens his mouth to argue, then decides against it. “You’re right. I didn’t. I should have, but I didn’t.”
“Why didn’t you?”
He grips the steering wheel as we drive along the winding road.
Shadowy trees pass by the window as the moon rises higher in the sky.
“I don’t know. I guess I liked the idea of him seeing me as the opposite of what the tabloids have made me out to be.
Not some lonely rake, but someone who could be… loved.”
Oh god. My heart can’t take it. Is that how he feels?
“So that’s what we’ll give them,” I say with renewed confidence. Nerves be damned. I am going to help this man because everyone deserves to feel loved.
“Merc, we barely know each other.”
I simply shrug. “We know enough.” Well, I know enough—about him.
He tosses me a doubtful glance. “When’s my birthday?”
“January twelfth,” I reply a bit too quickly. My cheeks flush as I add, “Mine is February eighteenth.”
He seems a bit taken aback by my answer, and it takes him a moment before he asks, “Okay. What’s your favorite color?”
I roll my eyes. “Blue, but your parents aren’t going to be suddenly convinced we’re in love because we know each other’s favorite colors, Ash. We need to know more personal stuff.”
He shifts in his seat, looking uncomfortable. “Like what?”
I laugh. “I don’t think your parents are going to ask anything that personal. But you’ll need to know stuff like where I went to college.”
“UCLA. You studied music production.”
My mouth gapes open. “Yeah, how did you know that?”
He shrugs. “Your dad talks about you a lot. I listen.”
If my cheeks weren’t red before, they are now. “Oh. Um…well, I know you didn’t go to college.”
“That’s actually false. The internet always leaves out the quarter of a term I did at St. Andrews.”
I snicker. “A quarter of a term? How long is that? Like a week?”
He smirks. “Two weeks. I really gave it the old—”
“Please don’t say it—”
“College try.”
“You really have been in the US too long if you’re saying dumb shit like that.”
His smile falters. “Well, I don’t really have to worry about that anymore. If my parents have their way, I’ll be hosting balls and be married to a duchess or a rich heiress in no time.”
The blood in my veins suddenly turns cold. “Is that what they want?”
“The idea has been mentioned a time or two,” he says, his voice chilly and resolute. “I am inheriting an earldom, after all. It’s what’s expected of me.”
“Is that what you want?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, the car stops, and he says, “We’re here.”
I was so focused on him, I didn’t even notice the house—could you call such a place a house?—come into view.
Holy shit balls.
“The entrance was once far less grand,” Asher says, staring at his ancestral home with little to no emotion.
“Or so we’re told. The imperial staircase was added in the eighteenth century.
As were the gardens over there.” He leans over, his shoulder brushing mine as he points left.
“And the conservatory. The earl at the time was a bit of a showboat.”
“I’ll say.”
I reach for the door handle, but he stops me. “Wait. Just a moment.” Then he hops out and jogs around the front of the Land Rover to open my door.
“Is this what Asher, the boyfriend, is like?”
“I don’t know,” he answers, somewhat awkwardly. “I’ve never been anyone’s boyfriend before.”
My mouth gapes open. Never? “I…well, then you won’t mind if I’m a little rusty, either. I haven’t dated since early high school.”
Now he’s the one who looks surprised. “Not at all?”
I shrug as we walk up the stairs to the front door. God, there must be a thousand. “Never seemed that important,” I say. “I had goals. I didn’t want anything to get in the way of them.”
“Your father always said you were very driven.”
I swallow. “Yup.”
So driven that I have no friends, no love life, and the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me was waking up next to my teenage crush this morning.
Just as I’m starting to wonder if I’ll need to ask for a break, we reach the top of the stairs. During the day, I’m sure the view from the expansive patio is breathtaking, but at night it’s mainly just the soft glow along the path up the driveway.
An array of plants and ferns dots the limestone patio.
Before I can admire them, the double doors are pulled back, and we’re met by a stoic-looking man in a black suit and tie.
His face is weathered by age, and his hair is bright white.
He gives me a passing glance, then nods politely at Asher.
“Welcome, my lord. They are expecting you.”
My stomach suddenly feels like it’s in my ass. I am so out of my league here. But then Asher slips his hand into mine as we step over the threshold, and my heart jolts into overdrive for an entirely different reason.
This was such a bad idea.
As the butler leads us in, I try to focus on the inlaid floor and the paintings on the walls. But all my concentration seems to center on the feel of his large hand on mine. That is, until we turn a corner and enter a large drawing room.
Full of people.
“What the fuck?” Asher mutters under his breath.
“I thought this was just dinner with your parents?” I whisper.
“My father must have left out a few details.”
I squeeze his hand. “What if someone—”
“No need to look alarmed, son. Everyone here has been sworn to secrecy—the legally binding kind, that is.” Asher’s father forces a fake smile as he looks me over. “Well, almost everyone.”
“You’re not making my girlfriend sign a confidentiality clause.” He stares his father down. It’s kind of hot.
Just an act, remember? None of it is real.
“I’ll sign it,” I say, hoping my voice sounds more confident than my nerves feel.
The earl’s brow lifts in surprise. “You know what will happen if you—”
“I said I’ll sign it.”
His fake smile reappears, this time a little strained. “Wonderful. Greggory can take you to my office and—”
“She can sign it later.” Asher’s voice is firm. Resolute.
“Fine,” his father tersely replies. “Why don’t you go find your mother? I’m sure she’d love to meet…”
“Mercury,” Asher supplies.
It’s not lost on me that the earl has yet to introduce himself. I doubt, given all the manners and decorum he’s acquired over the years, it’s not a mere oversight.
“Yes, of course. Such a…unique name. How could I forget?”
This is usually the part of the conversation where I explain my father’s love of music and how all my siblings have unique names because of it.
But I somehow don’t think he’ll appreciate that story.
So I just smile. Or try to.
He bids us farewell with a halfhearted wave, and I turn to Asher, recalling his earlier comment about us being late. “They can be more insufferable than this?”
A smirk tugs at his lips. “If you can imagine, yes.”
“I really can’t, no.”
“Just be glad my mother isn’t trying to set me up with—”
“Asher! There you are.” A woman about my mother’s age with chocolate brown hair and bright blue eyes hurries over to us. She’s wearing an elegant knee-length sapphire-blue dress with long lace sleeves and a fitted waist.
“Countess.”
She loops an arm around his and tries to give him a little tug. He doesn’t budge. “There’s someone I would love to introduce you to. Her family has a summer home near here. She went to St. Andrews as well—”
“I didn’t go to St. Andrews.”
I shift from one foot to the other. This is starting to feel extremely uncomfortable. The woman hasn’t even looked at me once. It’s like I’m invisible.
Asher just looks extremely annoyed.
“Anyhow, she’s a scientist of some sort now—”
“Mother—”
“But I doubt she plans on keeping all that up when she—”
“Mother.”
The countess looks exasperated. “What is it?”
“I’m not interested in meeting anyone tonight, or any other night, for that matter,” he says, with far more respect than she deserves. “But I’d be more than happy to introduce you to my girlfriend, Mercury.”
I know it’s not real, but every time he introduces me as his girlfriend, I get a little thrill. My stomach flips, and my heart races just from the thought of being…his.
His mother turns her head and looks at me for the first time.
I feel like I’m being examined under a microscope.
The elegant designer dress I’m wearing suddenly feels cheap and tacky.
I worry the makeup I spent forever applying in front of the crappy bathroom mirror is too much.
I run a nervous hand over my long waves, wondering whether I should have pinned them back.
“Mercury, this is my mother, the Countess of Dunloch.”
“It’s so nice to meet—” I start to say before his mother abruptly cuts me off.
“Can I speak with you?” she says, glaring at her son. “Alone?”
“Anything you need to say, you can say in front of her.”
His mother looks around, feigning a smile. “I must insist.”
Nervously, I squeeze his hand. “It’s okay, Ash. Really.”
The expression on his face is torn. Either he really doesn’t want to leave me alone, or he doesn’t want to be alone with her.
Either way, I don’t think this woman will relent on her request.
“Okay. I’ll be right back, though. Find Mac,” he instructs. “He’s around here somewhere.”
“I’ll be fine,” I lie. My heart pounds as I watch him walk away. I look around the room. So many unfamiliar faces. I take a step back, hoping to melt into the background. But then I hear someone say, “So tell me,” a familiar voice says behind me. “What do you really want from my son?”
Is this family for real?