The Silver Bell and the Stubborn Heir

Ellie didn’t flinch. She just smiled, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “Good morning, Mr. Ashford. The ‘to-do’ pile is in rainbow order. Red is urgent. Lavender is for things that can wait until you’ve had coffee.”

Their relationship was a series of small, domestic battles.

“I’m not asking the agency.” He gently untied her apron strings. The white fabric slipped to the floor. “I’m asking Ellie. The girl who saves my estate, steals my books, and makes better tea than anyone in England.”

Leo framed it and hung it in the kitchen.

“I did your dusting ,” she corrected, poking his knee. “But I also pay attention. You’re not a failure, Leo. You’re just looking in the wrong drawers.”

Leo spilled ink on a contract. Before he could curse, Ellie was there, dabbing it with salt. “You’re supposed to use a blotter, sir, not your sleeve,” she said, her fingers brushing his. He felt a ridiculous jolt. She smelled like lemon polish and vanilla.