The Actress and the Aristocrat by Katie Ashley

Chapter Nine: Charlie

Staring out of the backseat window, I watched the steady drizzle of rain fall that London was so famous for. After leaving the countryside two days ago, we’d come to set up a basecamp of sorts for our Eliza project at Rand’s London home in the Belgravia area. Like Sutherlin House, it had belonged to his family for almost one hundred years.

When I glanced forward in the car, I once again had to pinch myself at the sight of Bertie, Earl Whittingham’s chauffer. He was driving me to Heathrow to pick up the stylist who was going to officially transform me into Eliza Littleton.

When it came to the physical undertaking of my new persona, I had all of Hollywood at my disposal. Well, it was less about who I knew personally and more about Rand’s money because, let’s face it, money talks, especially in Hollywood. Thankfully, I knew one of the best in the business.

Her name was Teri Maxx. Yes, even makeup artists in Hollywood don fake names. Not only was Teri one of the most sought-after makeup artists in all of LA, but she was also one of my best friends. She had already made a name for herself when we bumped into each other at Soul Cycle. Actually, what happened was I mowed into her after my rubbery legs wouldn’t keep me upright after coming off my bicycle. After apologizing profusely and offering to buy her a green smoothie, she said in true Teri fashion, “I don’t want a fucking smoothie that tastes like mowed grass. Buy me a Bloody Mary, and we’ll call it a day.”

Although she loved a challenging makeover, it wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be to convince her to hop on a plane and fly to London. It didn’t help I had to be rather cryptic on the phone. While she wasn’t a stranger to working with NDAs, I wasn’t quite ready to spring that on her over the phone. Luckily for me, she was available for a few days since she was in the middle of consulting for a new project and not in the middle of filming.

After Bertie eased the car up to the curb, I unbuckled my seatbelt and slung my purse strap over my shoulder. “I’ll be back in just a little while,” I said to Bertie.

Before I could protest that I could manage the door just fine, Bertie was already out of the driver’s side. Instead of reiterating my independence, I merely replied, “Thank you, Bertie.”

He nodded. “You’re welcome, Ms. Monroe. I’ll wait right here until you return.”

Before hopping out, I grabbed a small, homemade sign I’d made. Since I loved to aggravate her with my goofball side, I’d written, “WELCOME HOME FROM PRISON, TERI!”

After I entered through the mechanized doors, I started weaving my way through the crowd to the arrivals gate. I couldn’t help feeling slightly anxious to see Teri. I wasn’t quite sure what she was going to think about my new gig. She was one of those rare unicorns actually born in LA, and she often chided me on my small-town naivety and trust.

Once I made it to the arrivals, I wedged myself into the front line alongside other family members and chauffeurs. I didn’t have to wait long before I spotted Teri. With her massive Jackie O sunglasses and colorful sunhat, she looked every bit an LA girl. She could make any actress or model feel inferior. Not only was she drop-dead gorgeous with jet-black hair that hung down to her waist and onyx colored eyes, but at 5’9, she looked like she could strut across the catwalk. While she liked to joke she was a mutt, I called her the sixth Kardashian since her maternal grandparents had immigrated during the Armenian genocide. In spite of that heritage, she was much closer to her Mexican roots on her dad’s side.

“Teri!” I shouted while waving my sign.

Her head jerked in my direction. At her smirk, I knew she’d seen my sign. I scurried away from the others to meet her. The minute I reached her I threw my arms around her for a big hug. “You are a sight for sore eyes,” I mused.

“I could say the same thing,” she replied. As I pulled away, she tilted her head at me. “Of course, you would’ve looked a hell of a lot better back in LA.”

I laughed. “Trust me. I wish I was back home, too.”

“Really? I thought I might lose you to your new man across the pond.”

Inwardly, I groaned. With everything that had transpired over the last few days, I hadn’t gotten to tell Teri about what had happened with Cas. “Yeah, there’s been a bit of a development on that front.”

“From your tone, I can imagine it isn’t good.”

“Nope. Not by a long shot.” I grabbed one of her bags. “I’ll tell you all about it on the way to the house.”

“House?” she questioned.

Shit. I didn’t need to have this conversation with her in the middle of Heathrow’s arrivals and departures. It was ripe for paparazzi. Not that any of them remotely had a clue who I was, but I wasn’t going to take any chances.

So, I chose to pretend I hadn’t heard her question. Instead, I just started purposely walking to the exit. Thankfully, Teri fell in step with me and didn’t press me for more details. On the way outside, I peppered her with questions about the flight, her husband, Danny, and even her dog, Lennon. I just kept right on yakking even after motioning to the car and saying, “We’re right over here.”

When I realized Teri wasn’t at my side, I turned around. She stood stock-still, her mouth slightly ajar. “What’s wrong?”

“I think the better question is what is that?” She then pointed at the car.

“It’s our ride.”

Her gaze bounced from the car to me. “When you said you had a car waiting on us, I assumed it was an Uber.”

I flashed her a grin. “No lowly Uber for you today. We’re traveling in style.”

“You hired a chauffeur-driven car for us?”

“Not exactly.”

Teri ripped off her shades, and then her dark eyes pinned me with a hard stare. “All right. I want answers, and I want them now.”

“About what?”

“Don’t play coy with me. I’m talking about how I just flew first class here allegedly on your dime and now we’re getting into your chauffeur-driven car. Not to mention the somewhat mysterious pretense you dragged me around the world for.”

Nibbling my lip, I glanced left and right to see if anyone might be listening to our conversation. In a low voice, I asked, “Can we talk about it in the car?”

Shaking her head wildly, Teri said, “Uh-huh. I’m not stepping one foot inside there until we set some shady shit straight.”

I crinkled my brow at her. “Shady?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you left the States in a rather modest tax bracket. Now three months later, you’re all bougie. Something isn’t right.” She cocked a brow. “The sudden cash flow isn’t right for honest work.”

My eyes bulged while my head snapped back like I’d been slapped. “Holy shit, Teri. You think I’m…” I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. Hooker. Prostitute. Sex Worker.

I hoped she would burst out laughing and say, “Psych!” or “Just yanking your chain.” Instead, she remained dead serious. “A lot of actresses get swept into it. You wouldn’t the first.”

“Wow, and here I thought you were my best friend and knew me well enough.”

“I do know you!” she protested. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “But I also know how persuasive these bastards can be to impressionable young women. Especially when you’re a stranger in a foreign country.”

I held up my hand. “Let me assure you that I am unequivocally not prostituting myself.”

“Then what’s the deal?”

Well, it all started with a cheating bastard and an antique vase. “You’re not going to believe me when I tell you.”

“Try me.”

“Okaay, but I warned you.” I threw another glance around to make sure that some paparazzi weren’t hiding out ready to pounce on the juicy morsel of gossip I was about to unload on Teri. “Randall Halsey, Earl Whittingham, has hired me to be his girlfriend for the British social season,” I practically whispered.

Teri’s eyelids fluttered in confusion. “Wait, what?”

“Trust me, it’s not going to make more sense if I repeat myself.”

“I beg to differ.”

So had I. “If you’ll get in the car, I’ll tell you everything.” With a grin, I added, “I’ll even talk slow.”

She rolled her eyes. “Like you already don’t talk that way, Peachy.”

“Ha, ha,” I joked. At Teri’s use of my nickname, I knew everything was going to be all right between us.

When we arrivedat Rand’s home in the Belgravia area of London, Teri let out a low whistle. “Now that is impressive.”

“Tell me about it. I thought I wouldn’t get lost as much here, but I still find myself walking into the wrong rooms. But it’s nothing like Sutherlin House—his estate in Sussex.”

“You haven’t somehow stumbled into his lordship’s room in the middle of the night, have you?”

My eyes bulged. “Of course not!”

“Pity. He’s quite a snack.”

Thankfully, Bernie interrupted any more of Teri’s R-Rated thoughts towards Rand by opening the door for us. We headed up the stairs. A quick ring of the bell, and the butler, Peter, opened the door. Once Teri and I stepped inside, he said, “You’ll find his lordship in his study, Ms. Monroe.”

“Thank you.”

As we started down the hallway, Teri shook her head. “This is seriously surreal.”

“Try being the one who pretending to be a part of all of this.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine.”

After rapping on the door of the study, Rand instructed us to enter. When we got inside, I found Rob was with him. “Ms. Maxx, it is a pleasure to meet you,” Rand said as he extended his hand. I don’t know why I expected him to be less stiff and formal for Teri, but he wasn’t.

“It’s a pleasure meeting you as well.”

“I hope your flight was satisfactory.”

“It was.”

Before I could introduce Teri to Rob, he stepped between us. “I’m Lord Whittingham, Randall’s brother. But you can call me Rob.”

“Teri Maxx.”

After kissing Teri’s hand, Rob mused, “You forgot to tell us your talented make-up artist friend was also drop-dead gorgeous,” Rob mused.

“Easy there, Lord Lustful. I’m a married woman,” Teri replied with a smile.

His expression fell. “The good ones always are.”

“You must be an exceptionally good at reading people since I just met you.”

Rob smiled. “Anyone who is friends with Charlie must be exceptional.”

“Oh, you are a smooth one, aren’t you?”

“I try.”

Rand cleared his throat. “Charlie, why don’t you show Ms. Maxx to her room. Then you two can freshen up for dinner.”

“Sounds good.”

“Nice meeting you, Teri,” Rob called with a cheeky wave.

“Same to you, Lord Lustful.”

Rand groaned. “Must I hear those two words together with reference to my brother?”

Teri and I laughed as we walked out of the study. Once we were out of earshot of the guys, I asked, “What did you think?”

“How in another time and place I could’ve committed many salacious sexual acts with the lord?”

I snorted. “That’s not what I meant.”

“How about if you play your cards right, you could be committing many salacious sexual acts with the Earl?”

Tripping over my feet, I turned a horrified glance at Teri. “I especially didn’t mean that.”

She shrugged. “I’m just calling it as I see it.”

I blinked at her in disbelief. “You actually saw the potential for the two of us to get jiggy?”

“Haven’t you?”

“Well, there might’ve been a sex dream.”

“Ooh, I need details.”

“Let’s just say there was thunderstorm and a horse.”

Teri wagged her brows. “Kinky!”

With a laugh, I replied, “Not really. It was like something out of a Jane Austen novel.”

“The Earl does give off some serious Darcy vibes.”

“He’s definitely growing on me now that I’ve got to know him better.”

“I would suggest getting him on you as soon as possible.”

“Seriously, you are the worst influence ever,” I mused with a grin.

“But you still love me.”

I draped my arm over her shoulder. “Of course, I do. Who else would I entrust to make me Eliza Littleton?”