Page 37 of Pride
She had a point.
“I need to ask him about that tomorrow, but for now, what do I do?”
“Well, I would say tell Gold to shove his job up his ass, but I know you won’t do that. Maybe just keep a low profile. Wait for it to all blow over. And it will. Blow over, I mean. Soon enough, someone else will write a shitty review and he’ll move onto them, whoever he is, the fucking freak.” She tapped her chin in thought. “Maybe it’s not a he. It could be a she?”
It could. But my instincts told me this was definitely him. The artist himself.
“And you’re welcome to stay here as long as you want,” she went on. “I like having the company.” She tapped her wine glass against mine, which was still sitting on the table untouched, and grinned.
“I don’t want to overstay my welcome, but thank you,” I replied.
“Apart from weirdo stalkers and shitty bosses, how are you doing?”
I couldn’t stop a sigh from escaping.
“Oh, you know, surviving. I do have an appointment with a Duke tomorrow, though. For work.”
“Hold up,” she gasped, holding up her hand. “You have a what now?”
“An appointment. With a guy called Alex Kingston.”
“A Duke,” she marvelled, nodding to herself with an impressed smile.
“Yes. Kind of. He doesn’t use the title, but he has it. And it’s for an article for the newspaper.”
“And what does this Duke who doesn’t use the title look like?” she asked, picking up her phone and tapping away at her screen.
I knew she was going to do a search on him, but part of me didn’t want her to. I didn’t want her doing a deep dive and finding out anything that I wouldn’t want to hear. So I grabbed her phone to stop her.
“Gracie,” I fixed her with a pointed stare. “It’s work. Nothing else. Please don’t start searching online and getting any crazy ideas.”
“Who? Me?” She put her hand on her chest like she was shocked I’d suggest such a thing. Then she put her hand out to ask for her phone back. “As if I’d do such a thing.”
I held onto the phone and said, “Promise me you won’t Google him. It’s just an interview. The possibility of another story for the paper. That’s all. Nothing else.”
Gracie rolled her eyes, but after giving me an exasperated sigh, she said, “Fine. I won’t Google him. I know you’re stressed enough tonight, and I won’t add to that. But when you are ready to go looking for some dirt on him, remember, I’m your girl.” She lifted her glass in salute, then added, “I wonder why he doesn’t use the title?”
“He doesn’t believe in it.”
“Ah. A champagne socialist,” she surmised, then it hit her. “How do you know that?” She narrowed her eyes on me.
“I met him at the gallery on Friday. We got talking, and he might’ve mentioned something about it.”
“You met a hot, rich Duke on Friday, you’re going to visit him at his stately home tomorrow, and I’m only just finding out about this?”
“He isn’t a Duke. And to be fair, I have had other things on my mind.”
“Fair enough.” She shrugged. “I’ll let you off... this time.” And then she grinned conspiratorially to herself. “Can you image the look on Gold’s face if you became the Duchess of Sunford. You could buy the newspaper and become his boss.”
“Again... not a Duke. And I’m not marrying him. I’m going for a business meeting. It’s a discussion about the prospect of writing a piece for the newspaper about his art collection.”
“I bet it is.” She smirked.
“It is. He has a lot of S.K.A.M. pieces. This could be my chance to make amends.”
“Make amends for what? You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“It still might help to clear my name. At this point, I’m willing to try anything.”
