Page 68 of The Himbo and the Lord

I thank all the saints that no one else seems to be in this hallway right now because he wasn’t particularly quiet.

“I did not,” I protest and turn back around to keep walking.

Noah isn’t a runner, but if he wants to be mean then he can try to catch up.

“But you were right,” he cries. “I heard he was impressed. That’s a good thing, Nate.”

“Whatever,” I mumble.

I should’ve kept my mouth shut. I should’ve kept my smart-assery in check, now I’m probably on the dude’s shit list and that’s really not something I want to deal with when I have other important shit to think about.

Shit like meeting the lord and lady for dinner tonight.

It’s the first time I’ll see them since the hospital a few weeks back, and despite everything that happened that day, I do want to make a good impression—a better impression.

“Mate,” Noah complains, then grabs my arm and pulls me back with surprising strength.

“What?” I snarl, and I feel bad immediately.

“What’s with you?” he demands.

“I’m just—” I can’t even explain it.

“Nothing bad’s gonna come from this,” he tells me, his voice soothing and not excited this time. “Everyone’s impressed, not only me or the professor.”

I let out a long breath then finally look him in the eyes. I search there for the truth, and when I find nothing but understanding and patience, I relax slightly.

“Sorry for snapping at you,” I tell him.

“It’s fine. Is this still about those pictures in the society pages?”

“Ugh, no.” I groan and resume my walking.

About two weeks ago, Ru and I were photographed walking down the damn street and holding hands. I could tell Ru was having lots of feelings about it, but I could do nothing for him. Our picture was splashed across the pages of multiple “newspapers” that are insults to journalism.

According to Ru, Petra, and Jenna—who we met for lunch a few days after—everyone was talking about it, and mostly in a good way.

“Then the next lot of gossip about who-knows-which aristocrats came along and now everyone’s talking about them instead of us.”

“Then what’s the matter?” he demands.

I consider not telling him as we walk the rest of the hallway then come out to the beautiful lawn of Oxford, but when a ray of sunshine hits my face, I stop to feel it and just start talking.

“We’re going to Ru’s parents’ estate later, for me to officially meet them or whatever. I don’t know shit about royals or lords, not really. And the last time I talked to his dad I was a bit of a smartass?—”

“That’s your natural state,” Noah interrupts me, and I shut him up with a narrow-eyed glare.

“I’m fucking nervous here, Noah.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, but doesn’t sound or look sorry at all, even if he holds up his hands in surrender. I snap into attention, though, when he takes a good grip of my shoulder and looks at me seriously. “You are Nate Waterford, a genius on the stock market and a good person who comes from agoodfamily,” he emphasizes. “If you were a woman, no lord would be against you being with their son?—”

“But I’mnota woman.” I point out the obvious.

“I know,” he says through clenched teeth. “And Ru’s father knows it too. What I’m saying is that he has no ground to stand on. You two love each other, you’re good together, and nothing he says will change the state of your relationship. Try to win him over maybe, or don’t. Just be yourself and you’ll have them eating out of the palm of your hand. You’re a charming bastard, Nathaniel, so buck up and stop whining.”

The verbal slap works wonders for me. So much so that I’m even smiling when we get in the car to drive from Ru’s place here in Oxfordshire to his parents’estatean hour later.

“You seem calm,” Ru says with enough bitterness to make me snort.

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