The Aristocrat Read online

  First Edition

  Copyright © 2021

  By Penelope Ward

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, things living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Edited by: Jessica Royer Ocken

  Proofreading and Formatting by: Elaine York, Allusion Publishing

  Proofreading by: Julia Griffis

  Cover Photographer: Alejandro Brito

  Cover Model: Kacey Carrig

  Cover Design: Letitia Hasser, RBA Designs

  * * *

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Five Years Later

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  Mailing List

  Other Books by Penelope Ward

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  * * *

  Felicity

  Track 1: “Somebody’s Watching Me” by Rockwell

  “What are you looking at?”

  I jumped at the sound of Mrs. Angelini’s voice and put my binoculars down momentarily. “Did you know we have new neighbors across the bay?” I asked.

  “Well, I saw some flashing lights coming from the house the other night. Figured someone finally moved in.”

  “Yeah. They were having a party, I think.”

  We lived on the bay in Narragansett, Rhode Island. Aside from the house next door, the only other residence in the vicinity was a sprawling estate across the small body of water that separated our land from theirs. You’d have to take a boat to get to it—either that or be a really good swimmer. The house had been vacant for several months, but now someone had either bought it or was renting it.

  “Do you know anything about them?” she asked.

  “Why would I?”

  “Because you’ve obviously been spying.”

  I cleared my throat. “I was…birdwatching and happened to notice them. It’s two guys. I think they might be gay.”

  “And how would you know that?”

  “Well, they’re both extremely good-looking. Many of the ones who look that good tend to be gay. It’s not fair.”

  The wind blew Mrs. Angelini’s long sweater as she grabbed the binoculars from me and lifted them to her eyes.

  She laughed after a moment. “Wow. Well, I can certainly see why you’ve taken a sudden liking to…birdwatching.”

  Mrs. Angelini returned my binoculars and winked before she walked back into the house, leaving me alone to resume watching the new inhabitants. But this time when I looked, I saw something I was most definitely not meant to see. One of the men must have gone inside the house, because the other was now alone. He’d moved from his previous spot and was now buck naked under an outdoor shower. My mouth dropped. I should’ve looked away, but my eyes lingered on his bronze body. The water fell over him like a waterfall down a mountain of carved stone.

  I felt awful for staring, but honestly…who showers in front of the neighbors? Although, in his defense, he probably thought he was alone. The only house facing the back of theirs was mine. He likely never imagined someone as far away as me would be watching him.

  My guilt finally caught up with me. I put the binoculars down and took a long sip of my lemon water. Maybe I needed to pour it over my head instead. Trying to concentrate on anything other than the peep show across the bay, I picked up my phone and began to search for summer jobs. I didn’t want anything too stressful, just something to earn a little cash for my move to Pennsylvania in the fall. Considering the most excitement I’d had lately was spying on a couple of handsome men, I needed something to occupy my time.

  I’d graduated from college a couple of years ago but had stayed in Boston for work. I’d just turned twenty-four and had moved back home to Rhode Island for the summer before I was headed to law school. Home was an estate owned by Eloise Angelini, a widow whose husband had owned a string of seafood restaurants. I’d been living with Mrs. Angelini since my sophomore year in high school. After her husband died, she’d decided to become a foster parent, taking me in after my previous foster mother had moved away. Because of Mrs. Angelini, I was able to finish high school with my friends and didn’t have to leave Narragansett. For that, I would always be grateful. And as if taking me in wasn’t enough, she’d decided she wanted to help put me through college—although she never had to, since I got a full scholarship to Harvard.

  Even so, Mrs. Angelini made sure I had a place to call home. She always made me feel like she needed me more than I needed her, though I knew that couldn’t be the case. She’d found me during one of the loneliest times in her life, but I’d already been accustomed to a lonely life. I’d never known anything but being on my own, and I’d learned not to get my heart set on anything, not to get attached to anyone. I’d been in and out of many foster homes by the time I landed on Mrs. Angelini’s doorstep at fifteen. I appreciated that she didn’t try to mother me. She was a true friend and confidante. And we made each other laugh—a lot. Mrs. Angelini gave me a sense of security, and I provided her with a distraction from the loss of her husband. We were just what the other needed. Still, my life had conditioned me not to get too comfortable with anyone—even Mrs. Angelini, who’d done nothing but embrace me with open arms.

  I wondered if it was safe to look back across the bay now. Lifting my binoculars to my eyes, I flinched when I found the sexy man now wiping his still-naked body down with a towel. His huge cock bobbed up and down, and after losing my train of thought for a bit, I moved my peepers off of him and over to the left.

  I jumped. Staring back at me was the other guy—with binoculars of his own. He’d been watching me watch his friend.

  Oh no.

  Then, to my horror, he waved, flashing a snide smile.

  What do I do?

  These guys knew where I lived, and I’d likely run into them around town. I couldn’t hide forever. Playing it cool was my only option. Rather than run inside the house—my first instinct—I tried to remain calm. I smiled and waved back.

  I was just about to put my binoculars down when I saw him call Shower Guy over. The formerly naked man now had the towel wrapped around his waist. The guy with the binoculars said something to him, and they laughed. Then Shower Guy grabbed the binoculars and waved at me as well. He was enjoying this? They both apparently got off on my stupidity.

  I awkwardly waved back and then realized I’d had enough. I turned and went in the house.

  Mrs. Angelini was standing at the sink washing dishes. “What’s wrong, Felicity? You’re all red.”

  “Nothing,” I said as I passed her to go upstairs to my room.

  Despite ruminating about what had happened outside, I forced myself to once again focus on the summer-job sea
rch for the next couple of hours—not the most exciting Memorial Day weekend, that was for sure.

  Later that evening, the doorbell rang, and I could hear Mrs. Angelini’s footsteps as she went to answer it. The door shut before she called to me from the bottom of the stairwell.

  “Felicity, you might want to come down here. You have a delivery.”

  Something came for me? I jumped off my bed and skipped down the steps. Mrs. Angelini was holding a bouquet of bright yellow flowers. Daffodils?

  “Who are they from?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. But there’s a card.”

  I took the flowers from her and walked them over to the kitchen counter. My heart nearly fell to my stomach as I opened the card and read the note.

  Dear redhead across the bay,

  We thought these would be a perfect way to say thank you for being a neighbor. This is a flower known as the Narcissus Peeping Tom. Need we say more? Enjoy them.

  Love your neighbors, Sig and Leo

  Hell.

  Hell was the moment I stepped into the grocery store a few days later and nearly knocked right into him.

  “It’s you.” He held up a long, phallic-looking baguette and shook it. “Remind you of something?”

  My face felt hot. “Very funny.”

  “I haven’t seen much of you outside over the last couple of days. Did we scare you?”

  This was not Shower Guy, but rather the one who’d caught me peeping. He had a strong British accent and was extremely tall, with dark hair.

  “I’ve just been taking a break from the backyard.”

  “Too hot outside for you, eh?”

  “Look, I didn’t intend to see what I saw. I’ve been into…birdwatching this summer. Then one day you two moved in, and I—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa...” The other guy had appeared next to his housemate. “I’m sorry for anything he might have said to you just now. Rest assured, it’s all shite. He’s just playing around.” He, too, had a strong British accent. “I don’t believe we’ve properly met.”

  “Although, you’ve improperly met...” his friend chided.

  “Put a sock in it, Sigmund.”

  Okay, so the asshole is Sig—or Sigmund. The previously naked one must be Leo, then. They were both tall and good-looking, but Leo, with his chiseled features, lustrous hair, and striking eyes was on another level—a total Adonis, and intimidatingly gorgeous.

  Sigmund shrugged. “Surely she knows I’m just kidding.”

  “But you don’t know when to stop. That’s always been your problem. Can’t you see how red her face is getting? You’re embarrassing her.”

  Uh…how red is my face getting? This was mortifying. I couldn’t control that about myself. After all, I was a redhead with fair skin covered in freckles. Whenever I got embarrassed, I basically turned red from head to toe.

  Leo’s tone softened. “I apologize for his rude behavior.” He held out his hand. “I’m Leo Covington.”

  I took it, enjoying the warmth of his skin. “Felicity Dunleavy.”

  The other guy offered his hand. “Sigmund Benedictus. But please call me Sig.”

  Benedictus?

  Been a dick-tus.

  He sure had.

  Fitting.

  “Good to meet you,” I said.

  “And you, as well, Freckles.”

  Freckles? He couldn’t have come up with a more original nickname? I was self-conscious about my freckles, and typically wanted to murder anyone who dubbed me Freckles.

  “Do you mind not calling me that?”

  “Do you prefer a different nickname?” Sig asked. “Peeping Tom, perhaps?”

  Leo gritted his teeth. “Enough. Seriously.”

  “All right. I’ll behave. Going in search of tapenade for this bread.” He winked. “Be back.”

  Relief washed over me as he walked away.

  “I’m...really sorry about him,” Leo said.

  “Well, given how you came to know of me, the ridicule is warranted. I shouldn’t have been spying.”

  “I don’t reckon you anticipated seeing me in my birthday suit. That was the first time I’d ever done that. I assumed no one was in the vicinity, of course. For the record, I don’t make a habit of showering for all the world to see. I never had an outdoor shower in England. So it’s a novelty.”

  Leo was simply striking. His hair was light brown with golden undertones. He had beautiful bone structure and full lips that were difficult not to stare at. There wasn’t one thing I would change about his face. His eyes were a deep blue. They reminded me of a piece of sea glass I’d used to make a necklace once.

  I cleared my throat. “What brings you to Narragansett?”

  “I’m taking six months off from life. It seemed like a good location to get lost. We picked this place randomly on a map, actually. Sigmund and I have spent our time in a few different locales. First was California, then New York, and now Rhode Island.”

  “Are you two…together?”

  His brow lifted. “What do you mean by together? We’re rooming together. But if you mean romantically together, then no. Exactly what did you assume?”

  “I thought you might be gay.”

  “If I were gay, I’d have far better taste in men than that wanker cousin of mine. What in God’s name made you think we were gay?”

  “I don’t know. Two handsome men...living together in a big house…”

  “So, if I’m a guy living with another man, I’m automatically shagging him?”

  “You’re right. That was a hasty assumption.”

  “Thank you for the compliment, by the way.”

  I just called him handsome, didn’t I? Feeling suddenly hot, I looked toward the produce section. “Well, I’d better be going...”

  “Before you do, I want to apologize for the flowers he sent your way the other night. I urged him not to. Not everyone appreciates that sense of humor.”

  I shrugged. “It was fine. And they were pretty. I was embarrassed, at first, but then I ended up laughing about the whole thing. Mrs. Angelini certainly got a kick out of it.”

  His brow lifted. “Mrs. Angelini?”

  How do I explain who she is without unloading my history on this stranger? I kept it simple. “She’s my roommate.”

  “Ah. Roommate. So she must be your lesbian lover, then.” He raised an eyebrow, and I had to smile. “Anyway, why do you call her Mrs. Angelini? She doesn’t have a first name?”

  “Well, she’s seventy. It’s more of a respect thing. It’s what I started calling her some years back, and it stuck. She’s always asked me to call her by her first name, but I got used to calling her Mrs. Angelini.”

  “I see.” His eyes seared into mine for a moment. “Your roommate is seventy. And how old are you, might I ask?”

  “Twenty-four. What about you?”

  “Twenty-eight,” he answered. His eyes lingered on mine for a bit. “Listen, we’re going to be renting the house across from you for the entire summer. We know virtually nothing about Narragansett. I’d love to pick your brain about places to go and things to do here. Maybe you wouldn’t mind coming over for tea sometime this week?”

  “Tea? You really are British, aren’t you?”

  “Guilty as charged.” His white teeth gleamed.

  Looking down at my feet, I said, “I don’t know.”

  “I promise not to take off my clothes...” He added a crooked smile.

  I let out a much-needed laugh. “Well, since you put it that way.”

  “Tomorrow at two, then? Or whatever time works for you.”

  A part of me wanted to refuse, but why? It wasn’t like I had anything more exciting going on. I didn’t quite understand whether he genuinely wanted my expertise on Narragansett, or if there was something more to the invitation, now that I knew he wasn’t gay.

  “Sure. Two tomorrow works.”

  “Brilliant. You know how to get to the house without having to swim across, I take it?”

&nb
sp; “Yes.” I smiled.

  “Very well, then. And I promise, Sigmund will be on his best behavior.”

  “I can handle it if he’s not.”

  This seemingly rich traveler had no idea just how much I could handle. I might turn red when I was embarrassed, but I’d grown a pretty-thick skin over the years.

  That’s the way it is when you always had to fend for yourself.

  * * *

  Felicity

  Track 2: “It’s the Hard-Knock Life” by the Original Broadway Cast of Annie

  “What exactly does one wear to tea?” I asked.

  “I’ll tell you what they don’t wear. That raggedy ‘gamer girl’ T-shirt you’ve got on.”

  My best friend, Bailey, was entering her second year of grad school at Brown. She lived about forty minutes away in Providence, but was visiting me a couple of hours before I was set to head over to the neighbors’ house.

  “That’s why I’m asking you. You have much better fashion sense than I do.”

  She sifted through my closet. “I’m thinking…something buttoned up and proper, yet chic.”

  “Really? Aside from their accents, these guys don’t seem that proper at all. They’re more wild.”

  “Think about it. Tea? That’s like synonymous with high necks and buttons.” She reached for a white blouse I often wore to interviews. “This looks nice. What do you have for skirts?”

  “I don’t really wear them.”

  “Seriously. Your entire closet is jeans, the same few T-shirts in different colors, and a couple of sweatshirts.”

  “Well, that’s what I like.”

  “You need something for special occasions, though.”

  “I don’t really go anywhere.”

  She managed to find the one skirt I had in the back of my closet. “What’s this?”

  “That’s the skirt I wore to concert choir performances in high school.”

  “Does it fit?”

  “I think so, but don’t you think that’s too formal?”