I said as I took her hand and blocked her view of the large estate.
If I didn’t get her body in motion, she was likely to spend the entire day staring at my childhood home.
She nervously smoothed down the red dress she was wearing after she clambered out of the vehicle. “Are you sure that your mother completely understands this plan?”
Nicole wasn’t the type of woman to shrink from a challenge, and I didn’t like seeing her unsure of herself. “Absolutely. She’s even agreed to host an event. Don’t be nervous. You two will get along fine.”
She stiffened her spine. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t like I didn’t know that you were ridiculously wealthy. I guess I just wasn’t quite ready to see you in your own environment.”
“Was I that different in the United States then?” I looked at her curiously as I took her hand. “You look absolutely gorgeous, by the way. Have I told you that?”
She shot me a small smirk. “You’ve told me at least a dozen times since we got off your jet, but thank you…again.”
It was a beautiful early afternoon in Surrey, and the sun was glinting off Nicole’s beautiful blonde hair.
For once, she’d left it unconfined, and it was sexy as hell on her.
I took a deep breath, incredulous at how much better I felt after a very long, restorative sleep.
My headache was completely gone for the first time in two years, which I certainly didn’t regret. However, I couldn’t quite seem to forget how damn good Nicole had felt plastered against my body before I’d passed out.
Unfortunately, I’d slept so long that Nicole had already been awake and dressed before I woke.
“Are you okay?” she asked as we strolled toward the house. “Is your headache still gone? Your color is so much better than it was yesterday.”
Never in a million years would I have considered myself the kind of guy who wanted a woman to fuss over him, but bloody hell, Nicole’s concern warmed my heart. “I feel fantastic,” I answered honestly.
She shot me a genuine smile. “Good. I’m glad your swagger is back.”
“I don’t swagger, woman.”
“Oh, you do,” she argued. “I think it’s probably imbedded in your Lancaster DNA, but it’s pretty hot.”
Well, all right then. If Nicole liked my so-called swagger, then maybe I did have one.
We climbed the stone steps, and the door opened before I could even ring the bell.
“Welcome home, Your Grace,” my mother’s elderly steward said in a jovial tone.
I ignored the accusatory look that Nicole shot at me. I’d never said that nobody used my title. I’d given up on reminding Barnaby that I’d prefer he didn’t use a formal address with me. The older man was in love with tradition, and his family had worked with the Lancasters for generations.
“Hello, Barnaby.” I led Nicole into the house. “Haven’t you retired yet?”
When he was going to retire had become an ongoing joke between me and the elderly steward.
“No, Your Grace. I’ll retire when your mother does,” he retorted smartly.
Mum didn’t actually have an occupation, but she worked tirelessly for her charities. I grinned at him. “Then be prepared to work until you die,” I advised.
“Most happily, Your Grace,” the old man shot back.
I clapped him on the shoulder. “Barnaby, meet Nicole Ashworth. She’ll be staying here at the estate with me while I’m in residence. We’re going to do some sightseeing, and attend some of the social events.”
I already knew that none of the household employees had been advised that any of this was a ruse, so I had to be convincing.
“It’s a pleasure, Miss Ashworth,” Barnaby said with a genuine smile.
Nicole reached out her hand in greeting, and Barnaby shook it in a typical American greeting.
Smart man.
“Please call me Nicole,” she said smoothly. “I’m really excited to be here. From what I could see from the car window, Surrey is absolutely beautiful.”
Barnaby beamed at her.
Bravo, Nicole. There isn’t a single other statement you could have uttered to please an elderly gentleman whose roots are firmly entrenched in the Surrey soil.
“You’re early, Damian,” Mum exclaimed as she sprinted down the stairway in a manner that shouldn’t be possible for a woman her age.
I caught her petite figure up in my arms and kissed her cheek. “No, Mum. You’re fashionably late, as usual.”
My father had once said that my mother was always running behind because she cared far too much about her appearance. Her attention to how she looked was much more about anxiety than vanity, and her