“Frankie. And this is Elvis.” I glance towards the back door.
“Enchanté,” Daniel says. “I’m Daniel. You’ll forgive my forwardness. I am simply taken aback.”
“Why?” I push my tangled mass of hair back, making Elvis extend his wings for balance.
“Because you’re perfect. You, my dear, are exactly who we’re looking for.”
“For what?” I glower at both of them.
“Nothing nefarious. My goodness.” Daniel chuckles. “No need to give us the evil eye. What happens in a duke’s house stays in a duke’s house.”
“What?” A duke?
“Why yes. Didn’t you know? You’re in a duke’s home.”
“What, this place?” I say before I can stop myself. “This can’t be a duke’s home.”
Daniel and Mr. Suit exchange glances.
“And why, pray tell, not?” Mr. Suit asks with enough condescension to make me grind my teeth “Are you an expert on dukes?”
“No. I’m American. It’s just…” I shrug. “Seems kind of a dump.”
Daniel sputters and turns his head, becoming very interested in inspecting his own briefcase. I suspect he is laughing. Mr. Suit stares at me like I’m a strange sort of bug he’s never seen before.
“I mean, for a duke,” I amend. “Don’t they all live in castles?”
“No,” Mr. Suit says with an entire lab’s worth of acid in his tone. “As a matter of fact, we don’t.”
Aw, snap.
I gulp. “Um, I take it back. It’s not a dump, it’s a very nice home. Is it yours?”
“As a matter of fact, it is mine,” Mr. Suit says.
“I thought a duke would live in a palace or a castle or something…” My babbling stops when my brain catches up. “Oh. If this is a duke’s home, and you live here, then…”
Daniel turns back. “Allow me to introduce His Grace, the Duke of New Arcadia.” Daniel keeps talking but I don’t hear the rest. There’s a blank space where my brain used to be. My thoughts are whited-out. I knew there was royalty here, in New Arcadia. They have a queen and everything. My own employer is called Lady Drey. But it’s different meeting someone close to my age, with beautiful features and a GQ presence. He’s someone I’d perv on.
He’s someone I am perving on.
Shit! I am perving on a duke! In his home! Where I barged my way in, naked, chasing a parrot.
Daniel is still talking. He’s facing the duke and leaning close, as if he’s trying to convince His Grace of something. But the duke is still staring at me in a way that makes me hot and cold all over.
I cross my arms over my chest. Elvis chirps in my ear and squats slightly. A second later, a white-grey bead of parrot poop rolls down the bespoke suit sleeve.
“Oh, Elvis,” I groan.
Daniel stops talking. Now they’re both staring.
This is horrific. This is worse than the time I was in a beauty pageant and accidentally stepped on Donna Draper’s dress and tore the bottom half clean off.
I’d say a prayer to St. Francis—Please let me get out of here without dying of embarrassment—but I don’t think this situation is under his jurisdiction.
“Look, I didn’t mean to intrude,” I say to the duke. “Thanks for helping. And for the suit jacket. I’ll clean it.” I back away. I’m going to get Elvis back to Lady Drey’s mansion, and then I’m going to clip his wings. It’s either that, or choke him. “Can we just forget all this happened?”
“Wait,” the duke says in his deep voice. “If you leave like this, he’ll fly away.”
I stop in my tracks. “Right.” I consider stuffing the bird under the jacket, but I don’t want to ruin it more—the suit jacket, not the bird.
“Does he have a cage?” the Duke of New Arcadia asks patiently.
“Yes.”
“I’ll go get it,” Daniel says.
“No, that’s okay—”
“I can go, and you two can talk.” He emphasizes the word talk, and gives the duke a meaningful glance.
“Am I in trouble?” Shit, I didn’t break any laws trespassing into a duke’s house, did I? I don’t want to be deported.
“Oh, no, no trouble. You might even say you’re an answer to a prayer.” Daniel winks at me.
At the gleam in his eye, I take a step back, and trip on a dining room chair. Elvis protests as I nearly fall over.
“Sit down, Frankie,” the duke orders.
I sit so fast, Elvis spreads his wings for balance. Something in that ducal tone, so used to issuing orders, makes my body want to obey.
The duke continues, “Daniel, do you mind?”
“Not at all. Where is the cage, Frankie?”
“Um, in the Florida room… at least, that’s what we call it in the States.”
“The conservatory. Understood.” Daniel arches a brow at me. “And while I am retrieving things, shall I find something for you to wear?”
“Oh, no, it’s fine. I can just wear my robe.”
“I’ll just be a jiff!” Daniel slips through the door, leaving me alone, with a duke. I sit up straighter and cross my legs. I can almost hear my grandmother scolding me and my cousins to ‘act like ladies.’ Too late, Grandmère. She would have kittens—several litters—if she could see me now.
“Would you like something to drink?” the duke asks.
“Uh, no. No, thank you.”
“Are you quite sure? I have tea, fruit juice… the remnants of a green smoothie.” He crosses the kitchen and frowns into his mug.
“Oh no, I wouldn’t drink that,” I blurt. “I think Elvis pooped in it. Sorry…”
“No harm done.” The duke sets the mug down. He returns to his seat and folds his long body into it. His hand extends across the table but he doesn’t tap his fingers. He’s perfectly still. He might as well be carved in marble. “How long have you been living next door?” he starts, just as I say,
“Are you going to deport me?”
The duke raises a dark brow. “No. Why would I? Have you done anything illegal?”
“No. But Daniel said something about ‘you found her’. What did he mean?”
“Daniel is the head of my PR. He has… an interesting idea about how to fix a current scandal.” The duke checks his watch.
“A scandal? Involving you?”
“Yes. Me and a woman of your description.”
“Ah. And he thinks I can help?”
“Yes.” The duke’s eyes flick to me. Up and down and away. “I am skeptical.”
Again with the arrogance. A sane person would sit meekly and hold their tongue. I want to poke him, see if I can get him to react.
“You don’t think I can do it,” I guess. “Is that why you won’t look at me?”
“No,” he says patiently as if explaining things to a small child. “I’m not looking at you because you’re not properly clothed.”
“You certainly couldn’t get enough of me when I was naked,” I mutter.