Chapter 8 Asher
ASHER
Ella’s eyes nearly pop from their sockets as we walk up the brick path to my parents’ home.
“This is the house you grew up in?”
“Yes. And my father was raised here as well. My grandfather was raised in a similar house on Long Island and bought this one as a second home to be a bit closer to the city.”
“Yes, I can see that. Yup. Just a little second home.” Her voice drips with sarcasm as she takes in the house.
“I didn’t say a small second house. Just a second house.”
She snorts.
I reach up and ring the doorbell. Ella runs her hands over her black dress, smoothing an invisible wrinkle.
“You look lovely, stop worrying.” Ella could wear rags and look beautiful. She practically did the first day I met her, and even without makeup and wearing a ridiculous outfit, I was still attracted to her. But tonight, in a tight but elegant little black dress? Perfection.
“I just . . . I know you’ve said your mother is nice, but it’s still nerve-wracking meeting someone’s mother. And your mother isn’t just anyone. She’s Catherine Rothschild Langford.”
“Yes, that is her name.”
Ella gives my bicep a small punch. “You know what I mean. She’s a legend.
And she’s nobility. The fact that she’s still known by her maiden name before your father’s surname speaks for itself of how big of a deal she was before she married him.
She was the ‘it girl’ of her day, and people are still fascinated by her. It’s intimidating.”
“Yes, she does draw a lot of attention. She always has. But she isn’t the type of person you might expect her to be with her fame. She’s still just a person, and most importantly, when it comes to us, she’s just my mom. Try not to think about her as the great Catherine Rothschild Langford.”
“That is easier said than done. And it’s even stranger since we’re in this . . . arrangement. What does she know about that?”
Ella’s nose is scrunched in that adorable way of hers and I can’t help it, I bend down and kiss her below her ear. I wish again that we weren’t at my parents’ house but that I had her home, naked, in my bed.
“Not here,” she breathes, though I can tell by the blush on her cheeks that she’s affected. Hmm. Could I convince her to let me have her somewhere while we’re here?
“Asher, what does your mother know about all this?” Ella repeats, nudging me away.
I scowl at her. “She knows. And she’s supportive.”
Ella nods just as the door opens, and Harold, my parents’ butler, ushers us inside.
“Welcome, Asher.”
“Good evening, Harold. This is my girlfriend, Ella Hale.”
“A pleasure, Ms. Hale. Welcome to the Langford residence.”
“It’s lovely to meet you,” she says, holding out her hand and shaking his.
Harold looks at me and gives me an impressed wink after he lets go of Ella’s hand.
Most of the women in our social standings would not have shaken the butler’s hand.
Our family doesn’t operate like that, though.
We’re not people who separate humans into categories, and so Harold is used to being treated like family in our home, but most of the time, our guests don’t extend that same basic courtesy.
He’s very used to high society guests ignoring him, and he has assured us many times it doesn’t bother him, but I know he appreciates it when someone acts with normal human decency.
“Your parents are in the dining room. Have a lovely evening.”
“Thank you.”
“Residence is a bit of a misleading term,” Ella whispers to me as I lead her through the grand foyer. Her eyes are wide as she takes it all in. “Mansion is the word I would use.”
I chuckle. “The perks of your family having wealth back when there was still ample land available on the East Coast.”
Ella shakes her head in disbelief.
“Asher, darling, welcome,” my mother says as we enter the dining room. She hurries toward me and gives me a small kiss on my cheek. Even in my thirties, I cannot escape my mother’s affection.
She turns to Ella and grasps her by her hands. “And welcome to you as well, Ella. I’ve heard so many delightful things about you. I’m so glad I finally get to meet you.”
Ella is stiff and clearly nervous. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Langford.”
“Please, call me Catherine.”
Ella nods shyly.
“Welcome, Asher, Ella,” my father says.
“Hey, asshole,” Declan says, clapping me on the back.
“Declan!” my mother hisses. “This is dinner! And we have a guest.”
“Oh, Ella doesn’t mind.” Declan waves a dismissive hand. “She’s no stranger to our brotherly interactions. She works on the same floor as us. I eat lunch with Ella and Asher at least twice a week.”
“Be that as it may, this is dinner in our home, not the office. I expect you to behave like the gentleman I raised you to be.”
“I’m afraid your perfect baby, Sterling, is the only one who could pass for a gentleman.”
“One out three is better than zero,” I tease, winking at my mother.
She scoffs, rolls her eyes, and sits in her seat.
But Declan and I can both see the tug at her mouth as she tries not to smile.
My mother was raised in high society in England, and she raised us with those same refined manners, but she isn’t overly stuffy and controlling like most women of her station.
She didn’t want to raise us with an iron fist, and she accepted the fact that a house of boys would be rowdy, chaotic, and messy.
We’re less rowdy, chaotic, and messy now, but we’re still her boys, and at home, we don’t pretend to be anything but what we are—unless we have guests.
But Ella isn’t some uptight business associate, so propriety will be damned tonight.
“I apologize for my sons,” my mother says to Ella. “I tried. I really did. But they are still a bit feral, even with me, a nanny, and boarding school for their secondary education.”
“I’d take feral over boring any day,” Ella says with a warm smile, looking like she’s growing more comfortable.
“And since I know how strong all three of their personalities are, I think it’s a miracle your house didn’t burn down.
I already told Asher you deserve a medal for raising the three of them; I’m sure they didn’t make it easy. ”
My mother laughs and smiles. “I do, don’t I?” She turns to my father. “I think we both deserve medals for our efforts. Heaven knows how we made it through without one of them dying or destroying the family name. Although, there were some close calls.”
She narrows her eyes at me, while I send her a cheeky smile.
“Indeed. I’m just glad the next set of Langfords will be my grandchildren,” my dad says, “and I can sit back and let the boys do the work of parenting while I spoil the little ones.”
“Please, no talk of grandchildren,” Declan begs. “We haven’t even started eating.”
Just as he says that, two servers bring the first course: minestrone soup.
“Well, none of us are getting any younger, dear,” my mother says, picking up her spoon. “Your father and I would like grandchildren before we’re too old to enjoy them properly.”
“And don’t forget we have no Langford heir,” my father says, pointedly, at me. “By the Langford family traditions, your first born will be the heir.”
Ella shifts uncomfortably in her seat and takes a long sip of her wine. I place my hand on her knee and give her what I hope is a don’t worry about any of this, look.
“I love being the spare,” Declan says with a wicked smile. “No pressure to produce the heir.”
“You are not the spare. And while we’re at it, stop calling Sterling the double spare,” my mother snaps.
“You know we’re in the works to adjust those traditions with the family trusts,” my father says to Declan. “We want all of our sons and grandchildren to inherit their share of the Langford legacy, not just Asher’s first born.”
“But the first born will get the biggest share,” Declan insists. “Or has that changed?”
“No, Asher and his first born will gain the largest inheritances. But we have already cut down the size and assets of that inheritance and divided the excess between you and Sterling.”
“And if I don’t have children?” Declan asks.
“Then upon your death, your inheritance will be given to Asher’s and Sterling’s children. But I don’t want to hear such things. I want at least two grandchildren from you.”
Declan rolls his eyes, and Ella silently eats her soup, watching the tennis match of my family casually discussing our vast fortune in terms of inheritance.
“Welcome to my family dinner,” I whisper with a chuckle in her ear.
An hour later, Ella and I stand on the third-floor terrace that overlooks the estate.
“The grounds are incredible,” Ella says, taking in the view. “What was it like to grow up here?”
A wave of nostalgia runs through me. “It was the best. We used to imagine all sorts of stories and adventures out in the yard and in all the unused corners of the house. I didn’t realize when I was young just how different my life was from other children because all my friends lived in similar houses.
It wasn’t until I was in my tween years that I discovered there was a world outside manors and estates and household staff members.
“But I’m glad I didn’t know any better when I was young.
Because what I remember is the magic. I remember playing pirates on a small boat in the pond, running from hissing swans, climbing old trees, begging our cook for sweets, and generally causing chaos throughout the house with Declan and Sterling. ”
She smiles. “I love that. It does sound magical. Can I see your old room?”
I sigh. “I suppose so. But my parents haven’t changed it much since I was a teen. All they did was take down the posters, so no judging.”
She smirks. “No promises.”
I lead her across the house to the second level of the west wing. Mine and my brothers’ old rooms sit down a long corridor along with our old nursery that my mother insisted stay intact. And at the end of the wing is a large room that we turned into a game room as teens.