She took two herbal supplements, so her body could relax, and she could go to sleep. After dimming the overhead lights, she tried to get as comfortable as possible and prayed she wouldn’t have nightmares of what tomorrow might bring.
****
It was midnight, and Christian was not in the mood for arguing. Unfortunately that was exactly what was taking place in the middle of the street. Duncan, his best friend, was tirelessly going over the differences between Newberry and Co. and another giant American coffee chain. He had already put a severely long day in at the office; this was the last topic he wanted to discuss.
“How many times do we need to do this?” Christian pleaded.
Duncan bristled. “As many times as it takes for you to get it right! Newberry was nearly bought out this year; you need to know our strengths and weaknesses.”
“Why is that again?”
“Because you’re picking up Lord Newberry’s daughter tomorrow morning,” Duncan said, taking sudden interest in his shoes, or as Christian suspected, avoiding eye contact.
“What was that?” Christian asked, mainly hoping he had heard wrong and was hallucinating from lack of sleep.
Duncan lifted his watch. “Oh, look at the time! Must go! You understand. Cheerio!”
Christian pulled Duncan quite forcibly back toward him. “I’m picking up whom?”
The panic on Duncan’s face would have been amusing if Christian weren’t so upset about the topic of discussion. “Lord Newberry’s daughter. She’s been groomed by her father to take over European operations.” He cleared his throat. “Rumor has it he’s sending her here to learn about her English heritage before he allows her to fully take his place.”
Christian rolled his eyes and groaned. Babysitting was not what he had planned for the next few weeks.
“So, I have to pick her up and show her the sights, like some bloody tourist?” Christian struggled to keep his voice calm. He usually prided himself on his calm demeanor, but today had been a hard day for him—in the wake of his recent breakup, his father told him today that if he didn’t marry within the year, he would simply live forever and pray that rules of society would change enough to allow him to pass the title to someone other than his ungrateful son.
It was almost as if he lived in Regency times. It was frightening how set in his ways his father was, but then again the entire family was like that. They even had books written about their bloodlines. A lot of good it did them. If anything, it just sent more fortune hunters and wanna-be nobility their way.
Duncan frowned. “Cheer up! It’s not as if she’s some spoiled American brat; she graduated with honors from Harvard, of all places.”
“Brains don’t get you into Harvard; connections get you into Harvard,” Christian argued, feeling a sudden headache at the back of his head. “Have you seen her photograph?”
Duncan looked amused. “Everyone’s seen her photo, old man. It’s everywhere.”
Christian did not like where this conversation was going. He didn’t have time to worry about a spoiled American princess who wanted to inherit her daddy’s fortune. What he actually wanted was to go to a pub and drown his sorrows in a pint, but that never worked out right for him the next morning.
Duncan put both his hands on Christian’s shoulders. “Come now, how bad can she be? She’s obviously educated. She probably has good teeth, and it wouldn’t kill you to spend some time with a woman, especially after the disgraceful way Jenifer treated you.”
“How did you find out about that?”
Duncan’s answer was a shaking of his head “It’s not every day a Vandenbrook is dumped by a Hanford.” He smiled. “A match from heaven—that’s what it was, and you know it.”
“Oddly enough your sympathies are not alleviating my headache,” Christian said.
“Wasn’t trying to.”
Christian snorted. “How about I pay you to pick up the girl?”
“How about you set me up with one of the Hanford daughters and pay me to pick up the girl?”
Christian grimaced. “Done.”
Duncan tipped his hat. “Pleasure doing business with you.”
Christian’s only response was a low moan and a few words not appropriate for the rest of London society to hear. He did, after all, have a name to live up to.
Christian decided it was best to walk to his house rather than call for a car. He was in a foul mood—a mood which wouldn’t change despite his desperate attempts.
His job at Newberry and Co. had been something dreams were made of. He was VP of Marketing for the London branch, and although his father decided it was an acceptable job for someone of his title to possess, he hadn’t been thrilled to hear about Christian’s plans to continue working there after his internship ended.
He shouldn’t be surprised. His father tried to control everything in his life, from whom he dated, to whom he would marry, to what job he would have. His father had a desire for Christian to enter into politics. Christian, however, had other ideas about his future.
Marketing had always been his passion, so when an internship opened up at Newberry and Co., he decided to take it. Four years later, he was now the VP and couldn’t be happier, until his father’s proclamation.
It’s not that he needed the money or the title. He had plenty of money without his trust fund. It was the principle of the matter. After all, he was the only son. The dukedom was supposed to pass to him, not fall out of the family completely because of his stubborn father. Not that he was worried about his father finding the fountain of youth any time soon. It was the simple idea that everyone was aware of the discontent within his family. Besides, going down in history books as the one Vandenbrook who received the title and single-handedly destroyed the happiness in his family did not have any appeal.
The fact it would slowly kill his mother, who was already peeved at him for the situation with Jenifer, did nothing for his headache or indigestion.
He groaned as he approached his street. Kensington Palace Gardens The most sought-after street in the world, or one of them, at least. It was once called Billionaires’ Row because of the wealthy families who resided there. In all actuality, most of them were millionaires, but to most people it was basically the same thing.
He shared a house with his parents, still a thought that kept him up at night. It was incredible how much control they still had over his life at twenty-nine. “Settle down!” they would say each time he turned down another girl. “Find a different job!” they would say each time he came home late from work. “Marry a blue blood!” his father would yell each time he turned down another marriage proposal from a titled family.