Rich (Benson Security #5) - Janet Elizabeth Henderson Page 0,8

dusty. So. Much. Dust. Even the staff couldn’t keep on top of it, and Mother never wanted to hire on more people. She said there were enough strangers in her home as it was. Of course, when the trust took over the place, they upped the staff numbers and dealt with the dust. I hate dust.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that.”

“And we were forever shouting for each other. No matter who you needed, they were never in the same part of the building as you, and the intercom system wasn’t always reliable. It would have been easier if we’d been allowed cell phones, but Mother refused to let us have them until we turned twelve—something about developing brains and radiation.”

Harvard grinned at the thought of a house so big you had to phone your family to find them. “Was there anything good about living there?”

She thought hard for a second. “It was great for hide-and-seek. Although quite often, the games were unintentional.”

As he burst out laughing, the guesthouse came into view. If he hadn’t seen the other house first, he would have thought this one was the mansion. It was built out of the same pale limestone as the main house, but was less ornate in design. There were three rows of windows, the top row being much smaller—probably where they stashed their servants. Wide sweeping stairs led up to the double front doors—which currently stood open.

And standing in the doorway were Rachel’s parents.

Her mother, Lady Francesca Ford-Talbot, the seventh Countess of Ponterley, beamed at them as she practically bounced on the spot with clear excitement. Meanwhile, her father’s body language screamed, “Oh shit.”

Harvard couldn’t help but grin. This was going to be even more fun than he’d anticipated. “Remember, you agreed to marry me. Which means we’re in love. So, act like you adore me and can’t keep your hands off me, and everything will be fine.”

The look she gave him would have made a lesser man lose control of his bladder. “After this is over, I will make you suffer.” Not waiting for a reply, she climbed out of the car.

Harvard took a second to admire the way she smoothed down her dress. The black knee-length sheath had an asymmetrical neckline that was too damn tempting for a man who was supposed to be on his best behavior. And those signature black heels of hers? They slayed him.

Shaking his head to clear the daze of lust Rachel induced, he climbed out of the car and went to meet the parents.

Chapter Three

“Darling!” Her mother held out her arms to Rachel as soon as she stepped from the car. The countess was always impatient when she was excited. And in her mother’s mind, Rachel bringing home a man was definitely cause for excitement. Even when that man was purely a work colleague, which her mother knew full well.

Rachel narrowed her eyes in suspicion as she strode up the steps to wrap the slender woman in a hug. Unlike her friends, Rachel’s family didn’t do air-kisses. No. They did proper hugs. It had been the source of much humiliation as a child. “There’s no need to pretend when we’re alone,” she said.

“Nonsense,” her mother whispered, as though there was someone to overhear. “Your lovely gentleman told Roger it would be best to stay in character at all times. It’s thrilling. I haven’t had this much fun since the sixties.”

And that there was exactly the reason Rachel had suggested keeping her mother in the dark.

Breaking the embrace, she stepped back and felt a hand come to rest on the small of her back. She stiffened before remembering she was supposed to be familiar with Harvard’s touch. Forcing a smile, she set about getting the introductions over.

“Mother, this is Michael Carter. People call him Harvard. I have no idea why. Michael, this is my mother, Lady Francesca Ford-Talbot.”

“Michael, or should I call you Harvard?” her mother exclaimed. “I’m utterly delighted to welcome you to the family. It’s about time Rachel settled down. I can’t wait to get to know you better.” And with that, she enfolded Harvard in a hug.

As her father groaned and looked skyward, Rachel glared at him. This whole thing was his fault. He, more than anyone, knew his wife had a wicked sense of humor that would get them all into trouble.

“Call me whatever you like,” Harvard said when her mother released him. “I’m sorry we weren’t able to meet before this.”

Great. Apparently, they were all pretending, even when there was