Heidi froze. “How do you know that?”
It was my turn to give a knowing, smug little smile. “Oak Wood Cottage is a smallholding on Arrowwood Estate that went up for rent three months ago.”
Her jaw tightened.
“Whatever your brother-in-law told you, he’s renting. From my family.” I stared at her. “So you needn’t bother telling him about Miles. If a gardener is needed on that property, Miles already tells them what to do.”
If she hadn’t frozen before, she really had now. Given the way she spoke to me, she hadn’t known that information, and the expression that tightened her face said she wasn’t happy about it.
“I have brea—” Miles froze, and I caught his gaze as it flickered between me and Heidi. “—Ed,” he finished after a moment. “Is something wrong?”
“No, it’s fine. Heidi was just leaving. Weren’t you?” I said coldly, giving her a look that said I was done with her bullshit, and I wasn’t going to take it anymore.
That despite the years of bullying as a child, where she’d always made me feel less than, I was reclaiming ownership of who I was in this particular relationship.
I was no longer going to let her walk all over me.
Especially when she was on the back foot like she was right now.
Heidi glanced between both me and Miles with venom in her eyes. “Yeah, I was. I should have known what I’d find when I came here.”
How dramatic of her.
“Should I ask?” Miles set the basket full of fresh, buttered bread that gave off the most delicious aroma next to the huge pot of soup.
“No. I wouldn’t bother,” I responded.
“I’m going to.”
“Of course you are.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Oh, that’s easy.” I picked up an empty bowl and ladled soup into it until it was full, then held it out to him. “She’s spent her entire life hating me because I was born Lady Gabriella Hastings and she wasn’t.”
The truth of the words lifted a boulder’s worth of weight from my shoulders.
That was it.
She hated me because of who I was—because of who I was born.
Yet she didn’t know who I was, because she’d never cared to get to know me.
A little bit like Miles, hm?
Miles cradled the soup bowl, watching me carefully. “And that doesn’t bother you?”
I waited a moment until I answered. “No.”
“It doesn’t?”
I raised my gaze until it locked onto his. “I just realised she’s spent her entire life hating me without ever truly knowing me. If someone doesn’t care to get to know me, then why on Earth should I care about their opinion of me?”
“I—” Miles stopped himself, and something flashed in his eyes, something that looked an awful lot like reticent understanding. “I think that’s an excellent point.”
“Thank you.” I smiled. “I completely agree. Now eat your soup before it gets cold. We aren’t done here yet.”
***
“Gabriella? Can we talk?”
I buttoned my coat and peered over at the figure emerging from the light of the church’s back door. “I can’t think of anything I’d like to do less,” I admitted, returning my gaze to the sky to scan the weather.
It had finally stopped raining. Hopefully Dad and Aunt Cat would get home tonight, or at least tomorrow morning.
“You’ve been talking to me for the last three hours.”
“I didn’t have a choice. Besides, asking you if there’s more bread and telling you that’s enough pepper in the soup is hardly a scintillating conversation.”
Miles wrapped his arms around his body. “Two minutes? Please?” He glanced around the parked cars. “Where’s your car?”
“Caleb brought me.”
“His car isn’t here. You know that, right?”
“Oh, shoot!” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “He took his grandmother home, and it looks like he forgot to come home for me.”
“Let me take you home.”
“I’ll get a taxi.”
“You’re being awfully stubborn.”
“Now you know how I’ve felt for the last few months trying to talk to you!” The words left me a lot harsher than I intended.
Miles gently inclined his head. “That’s a fair point.”
I sniffed, folding my arms across my chest.
“There’s no use in you paying for a taxi when I’m here. I don’t mind. It would be helpful to check on the greenhouses and make sure there’s no damage before I come tomorrow anyway.”
“What if there is?”
“Is there? Is my greenhouse hurt?”
God, him and his bloody greenhouse. “I haven’t a clue,” I said honestly. “I haven’t been out there.”
“Oh.” He exhaled and his shoulders sagged. “You worried me, there.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. I suppose I would appreciate a lift home. It’s quite a walk from here.”
“Come on.” Miles nodded his head in the direction of his car and unlocked it using the key fob. The lights flashed bright orange, illuminating the other cars, and I followed him over and opened the passenger side door.
I looked the inside over, peering under my seat, over into the back of the Land Rover, and even going so far as to look in the glove box.
“What are you doing?” Miles asked, staring down at me from the driver’s seat. “I promise I have no murder weapons in here.”
“There are cable ties in your glove box.”
“They’re handy to have around. Never know when you’ll need one.”
“And there’s a shovel on the backseat.”
“I’m a gardener. Kind of important for me to have a spade.”
“If there’s rope in the boot, I’m out of here.”
“There’s garden twine.” He shrugged. “Again, kind of important.”
“Hmph.” I looked around. “I was actually looking to see if there are any fish or frogs in here.”
The overhead light flicked on right as he blinked at me, and the dim light made his eyes shine. “Why would I have fish or frogs in my car?”
“You took it for a swim yesterday.”
“I was six inches into a puddle, Gabriella. Not floating down the River Severn.” His lips twitched, but he got them under control.
Alas, still no smile.
What did a girl have to do to make him crack a smile?
Miserable sod.
“You would have been if you hadn’t called me.” I got into the Land Rover and closed the door behind me. “I don’t like frogs. Or toads. They creep me the hell out.”
“You’re scared of frogs? Don’t you have a ton of ponds and lakes on your property?” He started the engine and backed up, starting our journey.
I looked out of the window. “Yes, and when have you ever seen me anywhere near them?”
“Good point.”
I desperately wanted to ask him why he’d wanted to talk to me, but I couldn’t get the words out. Despite the fact we’d been talking all evening while serving the soup to displaced villagers, we hadn’t addressed our previous conversation about classism.