She moves past me and trots down the stairs, and I follow her, still pissed at myself for asking something so idiotic. When she hits the hallway, she calls for her dog, who comes waddling out of the kitchen on his tiny legs. The thing reminds me of some exotic creature from a Sci-Fi franchise instead of a pet.

“Okay, Brutus, baby. Let’s go see Jade. You love Aunty Jade, don’t you?”

She bends down and clips the dog’s lead on, and I get a bird’s eye view of her ass. She’s toned, and the dark, tight jeans she’s wearing show that off to perfection. Her top is a dark t-shirt with a pair of female lips in red standing out starkly against the black cotton. Her boots are combat style, and on her wrist is a man’s watch. Other than a pair of gold earrings that’s the only jewelry she’s wearing. Closer inspection reveals the watch to be an Omega Seamaster.

She looks hot, truth be told. I ignore this fact and grab her car keys and open the door. Simon is waiting for us, leaning against her car. He came as soon as I told him we’d be needing him this evening. Although officially, he’s a driver; if shit kicks off while we’re out, it’s reassuring to know he will be nearby in the car and can help.

“Evening m’lady,” he says with a tip of an imaginary hat.

“I’m not a lady,” she says, with a smile.

“But your father is a Lord,” I reply.

She climbs into the car, scoots over and Brutus jumps on her knee, the same as the previous time. I follow and sit by her.

“My father is actually a Baron, but often Barons and other peers are called Lord for simplicity’s sake. It means, if we were being official, I could be called The Honorable, but I hate all that and have never used it.”

“So your father is a Baron who became a Lord?” Color me confused.

“No. His Baron title is hereditary, which means it gets passed down. Barons can also be called Lord X for example and rarely use the title, Baron. There are also live peers, and they are given their title by the Queen after nomination by the Prime Minister.”

“It all sounds very complicated,” I say. “Kind of interesting.”

“There’s a lot of crap talked about it. This nation is built on hereditary hierarchy, and I for one don’t agree with it.”

“You don’t?” I ask, surprised. “Even though you’re high on the list and have done well out of it?”

“Exactly. I want to do well due to my merits and my hard work; not because my great-great-great grandfather was given some land by an ancient monarch.”