[2022 Wattys Winner] When love cynic Madison Watson starts university, she vows to follow three simple rules.
One: Work out at least twice a week.
Two: Get an internship.
Three: Stay away from men.
But after a chance encounter with th...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
So, James was rich.
Like, Richie Rich kind of rich. Lush green topiary bushes styled into baby bunnies and ponies kind of rich. Three-story mansions on seventy acres of land kind of rich. The gardens and orchards were manicured to perfection, and light string music clung to a rose-scented breeze. Was it all that shocking in hindsight? Probably not. God had blessed James physically, mentally, and socially. Why not throw in a net worth larger than most people could dream of, too?
As soon as I stepped out of my car and onto the Bennet's pebbled drive, spotting the paddocks adorned with the occasional stallion and meadows of swaying crocuses dotting the rolling green hills in the distance, I wanted to step right back in and floor it back to campus. And then maybe cry in poor. Unfortunately, I couldn't do either of those things, because an eager valet dressed in a baby blue suit practically snatched my keys from my hand and offered to take my car out back. Where exactly out back was on the Bennet's overwhelmingly large estate, I wasn't quite sure.
Then again, I was way too far into my state of shock to really be able to think it through.
I followed a group of cooing women wearing outrageous floral headpieces up the ivory steps to the front door, straightening out my violet two-piece self-consciously. It wasn't my style, but it was the only dress I owned that wasn't black. It was also my only piece of designer clothing, thanks to my mother's desire for everyone to think we had more money than we actually did. I'd felt so silly when I threw it on two hours earlier, but staring up at the three-story building looming over me, I was glad I had.
"Could I get a name please, ma'am?" the man at the door asked, conferring the glistening silver iPad in his hands. He was dressed in a striking tuxedo and looked remarkably similar to a butler. Probably because he was, quite literally, a butler.
"Oh," I stammered. "Um, Madison. Watson. But I was only invited yesterday, so I don't know if you'll have my—"
"Ah, yes. Miss Watson. Guest to Master Bennet. How lovely to have you in attendance." He tapped something on his iPad, then motioned for me to walk through the front door. "You'll find the hearth room on the other side of the foyer, after which a door to the vestibule will take you to the boudoir. I'm sure you won't have much trouble finding Master Bennet and his crew." His gray eyes twinkled every-so-slightly. "They usually stick to the outskirts, somewhere near the food."
I blinked. I registered ... nothing after the word attendance. Honestly, with the way that he was talking, I had half a mind to curtsy.
Perhaps James was the subject of a Jane Austen novel after all.
"Can't I just follow them?" I asked sheepishly, jerking my head toward the women who were being directed to walk around the house to the back—and nowhere near whatever a hearth room was.
"I'm afraid not," was the butler's stoic reply, his eyes still gleaming.
