And we hadn’t exactly left it on good terms.
They weren’t particularly bad terms, but they weren’t horribly bad ones, either.
So I broached a much, much safer topic.
“How’s your grandfather? And his cat?”
“The hotel is blocked by a downed power line, but they’re fine. Thankfully. We’re still without power because of that downed line, so I’m glad they staged a rescue mission.”
I glanced over at him. “Are you all right? I know you have an electric fire.”
“I’m fine. I have plenty of jumpers.” He indicated round a miniature roundabout. “Like David Cameron once said, if you’re cold, put on a jumper. Or something like that.”
“You have no power or heating. How is that fine?”
“I have blankets.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because I’m not a horrible person, despite what you seem to think, and I do care about your wellbeing.”
Miles glanced at me, and his throat bobbed with a swallow. “I don’t think you’re a horrible person, Gabriella.”
“You could have fooled me.”
“I suppose you’re right. I’ve never made much of an effort to be particularly nice to you, and I’m sorry about that.”
Wait.
What?
“What?” I shifted in the seat and stared at him. “You’re… apologising?”
“Yes,” Miles said slowly. “Contrary to what you seem to think, I’m also not a bad person. Although I admit I’ve given you every reason to think so, whereas you’ve done nothing but be nice to me.”
“Wow.”
“Is that all? Wow?”
“I didn’t expect you to… Never mind.” I shook my head and shifted back again.
“No, what?”
I sighed. “I didn’t expect you to apologise for that, that’s all. It’s pretty obvious you don’t like me, and we’re not friends, so it doesn’t matter.”
“Gabriella, I—” The car rolled over a pothole, stopping him mid-sentence.
I let out a big, “Oof!” as the car bumped over the miniature crater. Thankfully, we were right in front of the Arrowwood Estate gates, and Miles coasted the car through the open gates and onto the driveway. He drove silently up the gravel drive and parked in front of the house.
There was still no sign of my dad or aunt.
I sighed.
“What’s wrong?” Miles asked, shutting off the engine.
“I thought Dad and Aunt Cat might have been able to get back by now.”
“Maybe the roads into Arrow Woods are flooded?”
“Possible. It might just be too busy for them to have gotten here. I know they’re only in Bath.” I shrugged. “There’s also the chance they’re catching up with friends and didn’t let me know.”
We both got out and looked at each other across the front of the car.
“Thank you for—”
“Do you want—”
We stopped.
“Go ahead,” Miles said, motioning for me to speak first.
“Oh, um, thank you. For the lift home. I appreciate it.” I wrapped my arms around my waist.
“You’re welcome.” He swallowed. “I was going to say… Do you want to come and check the greenhouses with me?”
“Can I go inside?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Seems unreasonable. Why would I check them if I can’t go inside?”
“Because I’m not done talking to you.”
“Wow. You’re normally done talking to me before the conversation has even started, so this is an interesting development.”
“You are hilarious.”
“Thank you. I try.” I fell into step beside him as we walked around the side of the house. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Our conversation. About classism.”
“Oh, goodie. I was hoping that would come up.”
“You couldn’t have put any more sarcasm into that sentence if you’d tried.”
“I disagree. I could have. I was trying to be polite.”
“Terrible job.”
“I know. I wasn’t trying terribly hard.”
Miles coughed, and I swear he did that to hide a laugh. “Anyway, I wanted to apologise for that, too.”
Had I stepped into a parallel universe? Was the church a portal to another dimension? That was the only explanation for this.
“You are right. Britain—especially England—is a classist society and you could argue it always has been. People care far more about what class you were born into than they do where you born, what colour your skin is, or what your sexuality is.” Miles unlatched the gate into the private gardens and held it open for me to pass through, which I did. “Classism is usually shown as a prejudice, where the upper classes judge the lower ones. Working class people don’t like to think they judge those above them, but obviously, we do.”
I eyed him but kept walking in silence.
“And I judged you,” he said after a moment. “Because of who you are, where you live, and the society you were born into. And I shouldn’t have done that.”
“You’d be surprised how used to that I am.”
“But you shouldn’t be.” Miles stopped and looked down at me, his blue eyes earnest. “You didn’t judge me when you met me. You’ve done nothing but be nice to me and try to make me feel welcome, even seeking me out to ask for my advice for your course, and I’ve been incredibly rude and unkind to you ever since I started, all because I judged you because you’re Lady Gabriella Hastings and your father is a Duke. My own prejudice against you showed, and I shouldn’t have let it. If I’d stopped for a second to speak to you and get to know you, I wouldn’t have judged you so harshly. And I am wholeheartedly sorry for the way I’ve treated you—for judging you, ignoring you, and being as dreadful as I have been to you.”
I looked down at the gravel path and moved my foot, digging a small hole in the tiny stones until I saw dirt. Oops. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” I paused, still not looking up. “And for what it’s worth, I know I can be irritating, and maybe if I’d told you the truth about my course, you might have understood why I was asking all the questions.”
“It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have been so rude to you. You’ve never treated me badly. You literally winched me out of flood water with a twisted ankle while I was being a stubborn arsehole about it.”
“Don’t sweat that.” I peered up with a small smile. “It gave me a chance to be a righteous bitch, and I do enjoy being right.”
Miles cleared his throat and coughed into his hand.
He was so trying not to smile.
“Well, I’m glad that made you feel better.” He met my eyes. “I don’t think you’re a horrible person, Gabriella. Nor do I dislike you. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. I think you’re a wonderful person, and I like you very much.”
Oh.
Oh.
I swallowed. “You do?”
“Yes.” Miles hesitated. “And I would like it if we could be friends.”