knowing that he would have to maintain those old estates, which included buildings that were dangerously unsafe and insanely expensive to heat. They were environmental nightmares as well. In his opinion, every moldering old building on his father’s estates should be torn down. One couldn’t even ignore them and let them decay on their own time, because villagers tended to sneak into the buildings. If they hurt themselves, there could be a lawsuit.
Ella set her phone down. “Hey, are you okay?”
He blinked at her, startled by her question.
“Of course,” he responded quickly, and tossed another pancake onto the warming plate.
“You don’t look okay,” she replied. “You look serious. After last night, I would think that you would be more than okay.” She paused. “But after that bit of miscommunication yesterday, I don’t want to assume anything.”
Her words startled him. They were…good. Logical. And caring. He flipped another pancake. “I was thinking about my father’s estates,” he told her.
She stood up and walked over to lean against the counter, watching the pancake brown in the pan. “What about them?” she prompted.
Malcolm glanced at her at her, then took a longer second look. The light glowed behind her, through the white shirt she wore, highlighting every curve. “They are old,” he replied, his eyes lifting to hers. “Are you doing that on purpose?” he asked, forgetting about the pancakes for the moment. That shadow was much more interesting. He wondered if she’d ever pulled on panties. He liked the idea of her being naked underneath his shirt.
“Old and…that had you scowling like a grumpy bear?” she asked.
“Yes.” He flipped the last pancake onto the platter and turned off the stove. “I hate old buildings.”
He handed her the serving platter of pancakes, then reached into the fridge to grab the syrup, butter, and fruit that he’d already cut up. “Let’s eat.”
“How many estates does your father own?”
Malcolm set everything down on the small table by the large windows that looked out into the garden. “It’s more that the estates own him,” he explained, which was the truth. “I think there are five estates now. He sold off a couple a few years ago.”
“Why would he sell them off? I thought the big thing with you aristocrats was to own as many crumbling estates as possible.”
Malcolm grunted as he forked five pancakes onto her plate and more onto his. “He sold them off because the old man refuses to work. He firmly believes that the rest of the world should support him because he’s a duke.” He spooned a mountain of fruit onto her plate as well, not noticing the stunned look she gave the enormous amount of food he’d served her. “My father rants about how the world isn’t a feudal system anymore, furious that everyone isn’t giving him a portion of their earnings. He’s had to sell off some of the title’s properties to pay for his living expenses.”
“That sounds a bit sad.”
“I think the word you’re looking for is pathetic,” he countered, pouring coffee into her cup. “He wants the world to take care of him but he doesn’t like that he should have become a productive member of society.”
“How often do you see him?”
“Only when we run into each other at social events. And even then, I avoid him.”
“Why is that?”
“Because he’s a bastard,” he told her without hesitation. “Do you need to do anything today?”
Ella recognized a subject change when she heard it. “Okay, no talking about your father. Got it.” She put several of the pancakes back onto the serving plate. “And I can’t eat five pancakes. Two at the most.” She grinned. “Girlish figure and…well, I just can’t eat that much. But thank you very much for making breakfast this morning. I wouldn’t have thought of you as someone who likes to cook.”
“I love it. I cook whenever I have the time. Usually, I’m too busy, but on the nights when I have time, I’ll call my housekeeper and ask her to get the ingredients for a recipe so I can cook. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, I find that it’s a great stress reliever.”
“Interesting.” Ella wasn’t aware of the naughtiness of her expression. “So…cooking is how you relieve stress. Anything else?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “What are your plans for the day?”
Ella’s fork froze halfway to her mouth, the syrup dripping back down onto her plate as she stared at him. Slowly, she lowered her fork, her eyes widening initially, then lowering slightly as