Victoria
The family arrived at the house. Samantha and the girls headed to their rooms. Yes, I thought of it as their rooms. While Ethan and I made our way back to the house, I sensed a certain tension in him. The day had been filled with excitement and warmth, but now, as we prepared to check on James, our driver, something seemed to weigh on Ethan's mind.
I led the way to the guest room where James was recovering. After the storm and the chaos that followed, I wanted to make sure he was comfortable and well. The good doctor had been calling, and I had Mia, one of the maids, making sure James was taken care of. It was the least I could do; the man has been my driver for 20 years.
I knocked softly on the door, and James's voice called out for us to come in.
We entered to find James propped up on pillows, looking better than I expected but still clearly recovering. The guest room was warm and inviting, with a tray of untouched food on the nightstand beside him.
"James," I greeted him with a smile, "how are you feeling?"
James's face brightened when he saw us. "Much better, thanks to you all," he said, his voice raspy but full of gratitude. "It's good to see your face, My Lady. You've been more than kind. And Ethan, I don't know if I said this the other night, but I can't thank you enough. You saved my life out there."
Ethan nodded. "Right place, right time. I did what anyone would do."
Ethan's face took on a bit of color. The boy didn't know how to take a compliment.
James chuckled softly. "No, you did do more than most would. I've been in a few tough spots before, but nothing like that. You've got a good head on your shoulders, Ethan."
I watched as Ethan gave a small, almost self-conscious smile.
As we made to leave, Ethan turned to James and said, "You're a good man, James. A good James." His tone was light, almost joking, but I noticed a slight edge to his words that piqued my interest.
James looked a bit confused by the comment, but he smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Ethan. Lady Harrington, my wife plans to come tomorrow. I hope that is acceptable."
I was barely listening. "Of course, James. I am happy to have Mindy here."
Once we were out of the room and heading down the hall, I couldn't help but ask, "What did you mean by 'a good James'?"
Ethan hesitated, and I watched as his internal debate played out on his face. Finally, he sighed, as if resigning himself to the conversation. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. It just popped into my head. It's nothing, really," he began, but I could tell there was more to it than that.
I stopped walking and turned to face him, my curiosity getting the better of me. "Ethan, if something's bothering you, you can talk to me. What's on your mind?"
He met my gaze, and for a moment, I saw the vulnerability in his eyes—the same vulnerability that I'd glimpsed earlier when he'd mentioned his ex-wife. "It's just that my ex-wife left me for a guy named James. A rich guy. The kind of guy who has everything—or at least, everything she wants."
I felt a pang of sympathy as he spoke. I knew more than should through conversations with the girls. I also knew there was more to his story than he was letting on. "And they're still married?" I asked gently.
Ethan nodded, his jaw tightening slightly. "Yeah, they're still married. The guy's got money, but… well, he's nothing special. Short, fat, balding. Older, too. But that's what she wanted—security, I guess. Or maybe just the lifestyle that came with it."
I saw the bitterness in his expression, the hurt that he was trying so hard to mask. It was clear that Sarah had left some deep scars on him, and the fact that she had chosen someone like James over him had only added salt to the wound.
"Ethan," I said softly, reaching out to place a hand on his arm, "you're a good man. Anyone can see that. It's her loss, not yours."
He looked at me, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of something—appreciation, perhaps, or maybe even relief. But then he nodded, his expression guarded once again. "Thanks, Victoria," he said quietly. "I appreciate that."
After we left James's room, I could see Ethan was itching to get out for a bit. The way his shoulders relaxed just a touch when he mentioned needing to run to the store gave him away. He was a man who found solace in simple tasks, and I suspected he wanted some time to himself after everything.
"Victoria," he began, his voice casual, "would it be alright if I borrowed your car to run to the store? I don't want to unhitch mine just for a quick trip."
I raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "You can use the car, Ethan, but on one condition."
He tilted his head, curious. "What's that?"
"You let me come with you," I said, leaving no room for argument. "I have a couple items to pick up from the grocery store, and besides, I'm curious about what you're planning to make for dinner."
He hesitated for a moment, as if weighing whether to argue, but eventually nodded. "Alright, if you don't mind coming along."
As we walked toward the Escalade, I noticed how the tension seemed to ease from his shoulders, even if just a little. I understood the need for space, for moments of quiet after an intense day, but I was also determined not to let him retreat too far. He had a way of holding everything in, and it was clear to me that he needed someone to talk to, even if he didn't realize it.
Once we were on the road, I decided to keep the conversation light. "So, what exactly do you have in mind for dinner?"
He glanced over at me, a hint of a smile on his lips. "I'm thinking of making homemade pizza. The girls love it, and it's something we can all do together. And I'll make 'The Pie' for dessert."
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "The Pie? The girls mentioned this already. They said 'The Pie' with something close to reverence. So this Pie, what is it?"
Ethan chuckled softly, the sound warming the car's interior. "It's a triple chocolate coffee pie. The girls are obsessed with it. I usually save it for special occasions, but I think today qualifies."
"That is very important information, Ethan. I cannot believe I am just now hearing about this."
He shrugged, his hands steady on the wheel. "Just wait until you talk to the girls about their favorite titled dessert. Last year, Maya and Lily didn't talk to each other for a whole day because of how heated their conversation was about the Pie and the Cake. It was silly."
"Oh, and now there is a Cake… well, I look forward to all of these developments."
Silence ensued. But it wasn't a bad thing. I found myself enjoying the comfortable silence that settled between us. It wasn't the awkward kind, but rather the sort of silence that comes when two people are simply content in each other's company.
We pulled into the grocery store parking lot. He smiled at me as we stopped. I smiled back. It was strange how at ease was around him. It wasn't often that I truly relaxed in someone's company, especially not a man's. But with Ethan, everything just felt… natural. It was then I realized a simple fact: I was comfortable—like completely comfortable—around Ethan. It reminded me of someone.
It reminded me of Henry, my dead husband.
That gave me the shivers.
We got out of the car, and without even noticing it, I found myself inching closer to Ethan. We walked through the store, grabbed a cart, and started picking out ingredients for the homemade pizza and that intriguing dessert. Conversation picked up and flowed easily, and I caught myself laughing with the occasional snort. It was very unladylike.
I asked him about the toppings he preferred, and we discussed the best way to make a pizza crust. It was then I realized something else: I was flirting. I was flirting with this young man twelve years my junior, and I was sure he didn't even notice.
In fact, that was the thing about Ethan—he didn't seem to realize the effect he had on people, especially women.
We moved through the aisles, and it was impossible not to notice the glances he was getting. A few women, clearly locals, were giving him appreciative looks. One even did a double-take when she saw him reach for a jar on the top shelf, his shirt pulling just tight enough to show the strength in his arms.
Ethan, of course, was completely oblivious. He focused on the task at hand, checking items off his mental list, not paying any attention to the admiring gazes he was receiving. I found it endearing—this man, so handsome and kind, had no idea how attractive he was.
As we rounded the corner to the produce section, I spotted a young woman standing with a group of friends. She was petite, with sleek black hair that framed her face and traditional Asian features. Japanese maybe? I thought I heard speak a few phrases of Japanese, but that didn't really mean anything. The girl was dressed in designer clothing—a cream-colored blouse that clung to her frame and a pair of tight black jeans. Her friends were giggling and nudging each other as she glanced in our direction.
I was amused.
Before long, she seemed to gather her courage and made a beeline straight for Ethan. I observed, curious, as she approached him with a confident smile.
"Excuse me," she said, her voice light and sweet, "but you look familiar. Do you have Instagram? I feel like I've seen you somewhere before."
Ethan blinked, clearly surprised by the attention. "Uh, no, I'm not sure what 'the Gram' is. But I assume it's some sort of social platform. But I don't really do social media."
The girl—Hana, as I overheard one of her friends call her—looked momentarily thrown off but quickly recovered. "Oh, that's a shame. Well, in case you ever want to connect, here's my number." She held out a small piece of paper, her manicured fingers brushing against his as she handed it to him. "Maybe we could grab coffee sometime?"
I watched the exchange, a small part of me curious about how Ethan would respond. He looked at the paper, clearly a bit flustered, and then back at her. "Uh, thanks. I'll, uh, keep that in mind."
Hana's smile widened, clearly pleased with herself. "Great! I'm Hana, by the way.
She put out a hand. Ethan took it. "Ethan. It's nice to meet you, Hana. That's a pretty name."
"Thank you Ethan. I think I like it even more now. It's nice to meet and I hope to hear from you." She turned to leave but gave him a little wave and walked back towards her group swishing her butt back and forth in her retreat. She was greeted by her friends were all smiles and whispers as they glanced back at him.
Ethan stood there for a moment, still holding the paper, before tucking it into his pocket. He glanced over at me, looking a bit sheepish. "That was… unexpected."
I couldn't help but laugh softly. "You have no idea how many people find you attractive, do you?"
He shrugged. "It's funny that you say that. Trust me, that is an uncommon occurrence. I don't often get hit on. I cannot remember my last date."
Somehow, I find that hard to believe.
"Well, you should call her," I teased, giving him a playful nudge. "You might be surprised by how many people are interested in getting to know you."
Ethan just shook his head, clearly not convinced, and we continued with our shopping. As we walked through the store, I played back their interaction in my head. Hana had clearly been working up her nerve to talk to Ethan, which meant that she had observed us. So she noticed my flirting and either didn't care or didn't understand what I was doing.
For some reason, I felt somewhat offended. Don't get me wrong; I am not so overt in my affections. But even with my subtlety, she should have known what I was up to. The fact that she ignored me meant she didn't think I was an obstacle—like she could sweep in and just charm Ethan.
I narrowed my eyes. Not to toot my own horn, but I was quite the prize back in the day, and I still look pretty damn good if you ask me. Hana approached Ethan and didn't even acknowledge me.
Actually, now that I think about it, it pisses me off. It's not like I am going to do anything about it. But still.
We made our way back to the house, the car filled with bags of groceries. By the time I was halfway back, I decided that Hana's and Ethan's interaction was actually quite amusing. Ethan had been so charmingly oblivious to the attention he was getting, that he probably sent the girl into a bit of a tailspin. Young, beautiful, and rich, if her designer clothes proved anything, someone like that wasn't exactly grounded most of the time.
Not like Samantha. I decided I would laugh about it. I did wonder if Ethan was going to call her.
When we pulled into the driveway, Ethan offered to unload the groceries while I went inside to check on the girls. I agreed, though I couldn't help but watch him for a moment as he started unloading the bags, his strong, capable hands making quick work of it.
Just as I was about to head inside, a familiar voice cut through the air, making me tense. "Victoria, darling! There you are!"
I turned to see Robert Montford striding up the driveway, his thin frame moving awkwardly. He was flanked by a few of his family members—his cousins, I recognized them from various events over the years—each one of them as middling and annoying as the next. They all had the same confident, almost arrogant air about them, the kind that came from years of wealth and privilege.
"Robert," I greeted, keeping my voice polite but distant. "What brings you here?"
Robert's smile was wide, but there was something predatory about it. "I heard you were in town and just had to come see you. It's been too long, hasn't it?"
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Robert had always been like this—overly familiar, overly confident, and always pushing the boundaries of propriety. He stepped closer, his presence almost suffocating as he reached for my hand, but I subtly pulled back, maintaining a polite distance.
"Yes, it has been a while," I replied coolly, hoping he would take the hint and back off. "But I've been quite busy."
"Busy, indeed," Robert said, his gaze flicking to Ethan, who was still unloading the car. His eyes narrowed slightly, clearly sizing him up. "And who might this be?"
"Ethan Miller," I introduced, stepping closer to Ethan's side. "He's been helping us out a lot recently. A true gentleman."
Ethan, sensing the tension, straightened up and offered a polite nod. "Nice to meet you."
Robert's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "A pleasure, I'm sure." He turned his attention back to me, his tone a bit more insistent. "Victoria, darling, I am sure you are aware of the Manson Ball. I noticed you didn't RSVP. This simply will not do. Lord Danforth is hosting, and you know how influential he is. I'm sure he'll be extending a personal invitation to you. My mother has also wanted to connect with you. As you probably know, my father has passed, and I think she was hoping to consult with you."
The unspoken message: it's the kind of event one simply can't turn down.
I felt a pang of irritation at Robert's presumption, but I kept my composure. He was right about one thing—Lord Danforth was a powerful figure, the kind of man whose invitation was more of a summons. I couldn't ignore a personal invitation; it would be disastrous socially, if not politically. Robert's mother wasn't much better—The Duchess of Ainsworth held massive political influence in her own right and through her eldest son, who was a high-ranking figure in the House of Lords, and her son-in-law, who was a US senator.
Damn. This was all that I needed. The idea of going to the ball in my current state, surrounded by people like Robert, was far from appealing, and of course, without my husband…
"I know this comes as a shock and that you likely lack an escort with the departure of your husband."
I wanted to punch him. Everyone could hear the slight sneer in his voice.
"I am here to rescue you, darling. Please allow me to escort you."
That wasn't just a no. That was a HELL no. But this was not good. He had planned this. He'd brought his family so I would have a harder time refusing. Damn him. Still, I wasn't about to let Robert have the upper hand. I offered him a polite smile, one that didn't quite reach my eyes. "Thank you for letting me know, Robert, but I am aware of Lord Danforth's expectations. I had already planned on attending."
Robert's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Oh? But how? I only just—Yes, I mean, good. I wasn't aware you had already made arrangements."
"Yes," I replied, glancing at Ethan with a smile that was as much for his benefit as it was to get under Robert's skin. "Mr. Miller will be my date."
The reaction was immediate. Robert's smile faltered, and the men with him exchanged surprised glances. It was clear they hadn't expected this, and I could see the wheels turning in Robert's mind as he tried to process the information.
"Your date?" Robert repeated, his tone slightly incredulous.
"Yes," I said, my tone firm. "Ethan and I have grown quite close recently, and I thought it would be nice to attend the ball together. Besides, he's proven to be quite the companion. Haven't you, Ethan?"
Ethan, to his credit, kept his expression neutral, though I could see the confusion in his eyes. He nodded, clearly uncertain of how to respond. "Uh, yes. Yes, of course, Lady Harrington."
Robert's eyes narrowed slightly, his smile now more forced than genuine. "Well, I see. I will simply see you at the Ball, Victoria. I hope you have a good time."
I could see that he was trying to recover, to regain some sense of control over the situation, but I wasn't about to let him. "We will, thank you, Robert. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have some preparations to make."
Robert opened his mouth as if to say something more, but he seemed to think better of it. He offered a tight smile and a nod. "Of course. I'll see you both at the ball, then."
As he and his entourage turned to leave, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. The nerve of that man, always assuming he could manipulate situations to his advantage. But this time, I had the upper hand, and it felt good.
Ethan looked at me, clearly still trying to make sense of what had just happened. "So… we're going to a ball, then? Do I get my very own fairy godmother?"
I let out a nervous laugh at his bewildered expression. "Yes, it seems we are. I hope you don't mind. If I had to suffer a whole night with that windbag, I might as well return myself to the sinking limo."
Ethan shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Not at all. But you're going to have to help me figure out what to wear, and, uh, I don't really dance."
I grinned, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction. "Don't worry, Ethan. I'll take care of everything."