“What was Mr. King like before the accident? More approachable?”
“Oh, no. He’s always been guarded. The only person he truly opened up to was the Madam’s father and of course, he fell in love with Zackary from the day he was born.”
“Do you think he tolerates all her affairs because he feels guilty?” Mrs. Blackmore asked.
For a moment the butler stopped and looked between us, then he rose to his feet, a look of dignity on his face. “Being with you women for even a few minutes has turned me into a tattler.”
“You don’t need us. You’ve always been one,” Mrs. Blackmore growled.
“I’ll take my flapjacks to go,” he said and rose to finish off his tea elsewhere.
Mrs. Blackmore finished putting Zackary’s breakfast together and I rose too. It was time for me to go get him.
Chapter 29
Charlotte
I dressed in a pair of slim fitting blue jeans and a pretty pink sweater for my night out with Melly. Then, sitting on my bed, I Facetimed April.
“Whoa! You look amazing. What happened to the sackcloth and ashes strategy?”
“The fishwife is not around,” I explained, before I told her about what I heard Mrs. King say to her son.
"Wow!” she breathed. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“To be honest, she sounds like a true psychopath. You know, divide and rule. I know you want to help, but maybe the King family is not your problem. There are all kinds of bad situations going on in the world right now.”
“I know, but I’m not stuck right in the middle of them.” I couldn’t get my mind off the King family members. Zackary’s innocent vulnerability … his father’s terrible and needless isolation, and his mother’s cruel deception. All of it saddened me and made me feel helpless.
“How are things with your ward’s father?"
"Why would you ask me that?" I shot back guiltily.
April looked at me with narrowed eyes. "Er … because you spoke about his voice. Have you had any more interactions with him?"
"Weren't you the one ready to screw my head off for even making such a statement?”
"Well after what you've told me about his wife and their marriage, that doesn’t stand anymore."
"It still does in my book," I said, “and moreover I haven’t got to see him properly yet.”
"I know the burns are probably a serious situation, but the mask makes him sound so … appealing. Does he wear it all the time?”
I felt myself blushing. “The mask covers half of his face."
“Why are you blushing?”
“I kind of saw him in the mirror.”
“What? When were you planning on telling me that? Come on … what does he look like?”
“He’s … he’s … he’s beautiful, April.”
She frowned. “Hang on. You just lost me. He’s got such bad scars he has to wear a mask ...”
“Yes, he is badly scarred, but somehow they make him special. Oh, I know I’m not making any sense. I don’t understand it myself, but they make him … do you know what I mean?”
“No, but tell me more.”
“He has great abs too.”
Her eyes popped open. “You've seen his abs?”
I nodded. “I had to take his breakfast tray to his room. He was shirtless."
"You’re Zackary’s nanny. What on earth are you doing carrying breakfast trays to his room?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I have time.”
I sighed. “All right. The girl who was supposed to take it was not around and I volunteered okay?”
“You volunteered?”
“Uh … huh.”
She grinned. “So how much did you actually see?”
"Just an outline,” I said quickly. “The details were cast in shadows.”
“Damn, I should pay a visit one of these days to your castle. I'm dying to have a glimpse. You know it's men like this that know exactly what they’re doing. They're all dark and broody and then they pounce and rip your clothes to pieces ...” She wiped invisible sweat off her brow. “God damn it's been a while since my husband did that. I’ll have to rectify the situation as soon as I push this baby out.”
I laughed. One of these days I will tell her what I really feel for Brett King.
“Just to make things clear do you have any plans on getting it on with Mr. Gazillionaire?”
I gave her a dry look. “What the hell is wrong with you? Is this actually coming from your mouth?”
"He's more or less divor—” she said.
"Actually, he's not." I felt the amusement and hilarity of the last few minutes drain away. The truth was no matter how it looked from the outside the arrangement they had set up worked for them and I was the outsider.
Chapter 30
Charlotte
We got into Melly’s Mini and she drove us to The Red Peahen. It was Melly’s favorite bar. It seemed that out of all the others she had scoured, this was the one that seemed to draw the most handsome male patrons. All burly farmer types. I listened to her bright chatter, smiled encouragingly and made all the right noises, but quite honestly, the local eye-candy was the last thing on my mind.
It was Friday night so there was a small band playing in one corner and an area had been cleared in front to serve as a dance floor. Melly assured me it would be heaving later, but at the moment there wasn’t a soul on it. The band was quite good though. They were playing old rock and roll numbers mixed in with a few sixties hits.
Melly bought the first round and we settled into our seats. She tossed an almond at me. "Is this how you're going to spend your night off?"
“What do you mean?”
“Like you dropped your pizza cheese down on the ground.”
I grinned. “I’d still eat it.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” she whispered dramatically, “but so would I.”
After that we had quite a nice time and I ended up drinking far more than I normally would have. About nine-thirty a couple of guys walked in and Melly’s mouth dropped open as she pushed her glass away from her. “Did you see that?”
I turned around. A brawny guy in faded jeans and a green shirt had just walked in and made his way to the bar.
I turned back to her. “Did you see the girl he’s with?”
She made a face. “Never mind. That tall guy over there, three o’clock, has been staring at you. Do you want to go say hi or should I step in?"
I lifted my head and true enough, an attractive guy was sneaking looks our way. "Why do you have to make it happen?” I asked. “Let him come over if he's interested."
She sighed heavily. “In case you haven’t noticed, gender expectations are now non-existent. Speaking about gender expectations I haven’t had sex in months and I’d really like to get laid tonight.”
Her eyes connected with a couple of guys standing at the bar she had identified earlier as potential partners. She rose to her feet with determination. “Does the guy in the black shirt seem like he’ll do, or does Mr. Brown Boots beside him appear to have more potential?”
They were passable enough. Not really my type. My type was at the castle. “How am I supposed to know what’ll do for you?” I could feel my words starting to slur. I knew I should stop drinking.
"I need to know who to invest my energy on. They came together so if I pick the wrong one I lose out on both.”
"Black Shirt's got more guns …”
“True,” she agreed and emptied her glass in one smooth movement. Black Shirt stood to his feet then and she sucked in her breath. “Jesus, did you see the ass he’s been sitting on all this time?”
Well, okay, I had to agree. Farmer Black Shirt was worth the walk up to the bar. “Go for it,” I encouraged.
She was transfixed. “I am, but he’s something to behold, isn’t he?” She plopped back into her seat. “I think I’m intimidated.”
I couldn’t contain my amusement. "What happened to gender expectations and all that?” I asked. “You were never going to go up to either of them, were you? You’re too chicken.”