I leaned over and kissed him, pressing my lips firmly enough into his that my nose squished against his cheek.

“But letting you in the greenhouse helps, right?” he muttered.

“Oh, yeah. Although you’ll never get me out of there now you’ve let me in.”

“I’m absolutely all right with that.” He sat down and pulled me on top of him, trapping me in his arms. “Who wants to tell your dad that he’s not getting a duke or an earl for his son-in-law, then?”

“You can do that.” I trailed my finger down his cheek. “If you’re sure.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” He met my eyes. “You’re mine, princess.”

“I’m not a princess.”

“Not in your eyes,” he said, lowering my mouth to his. “But you are in mine.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Right.

It had been five days since The Incident. Aunt Cat had done nothing but hide out at the hotel with Alpaca the dog—that Dad still didn’t know about—and he’d been hiding in Worcester with Alexander.

It was time to put an end to this.

I’d called Dad this morning and told him the boiler was broken. Without Arthur being around, I needed someone to take a look, and all the senior male members of staff had confirmed they were no good with such things.

He’d agreed to come home.

Begrudgingly.

Alex had agreed to drive him on the understanding my Aunt Elizabeth and his daughter, Olympia, could accompany him for the weekend. Naturally, any time spent with Olympia was time well spent in my eyes, so I’d agreed.

Adelaide and Evangeline were bringing Aunt Cat and the dog home, and Miles had agreed to bring Arthur under the same guise of the boiler.

I was the only woman in the house, and I was ready for this.

I was going to fix this.

It’s what my grandmother would have done. It’s what my mother would have done.

It’s what Lady Vic told me to do, too.

At least I’d heard from my brother. He was apparently in Tokyo. I had no idea what he was doing in Japan, but I prayed he would learn some manners while there. They were the politest people in the world, and if anyone stood a chance at kicking his arse, it was the Japanese.

No pressure, friends.

I paced the hallway. I’d asked Pierre to come in this afternoon and prepare a large dinner, but he’d been busy, so I’d had to do it myself. Somehow, with Adelaide’s help, we’d managed to pull together a semblance of a three-course meal.

All right, so we’d gotten the cheesecake from the bakery and the soup came from Aunt Cat’s updated apocalyptic stash of tinned soup, but that roast chicken was all ours.

And we hadn’t burnt down the kitchen.

Go us.

The front door opened, and I froze. “Daddy!” I rushed over to him and wrapped him in a hug. “You’re home!”

He grunted but returned the embrace. “The boiler broke. Nobody could help you. I had no choice.”