Gracious Lady. Carole Mortimer
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expecting Maximilian Grant in the morning, had been cooking his favourite foods all day in preparation for the weekend, her employer having spent the weekdays in his London apartment, as he usually did. Much to Aunt Millie’s chagrin; there was nothing she liked better than having someone to look after and feed. She had complained to Sophie only that afternoon, as she bustled about cooking pies and cakes, that she was sure Maximilian Grant didn’t look after himself properly in London anyway, that she didn’t understand why he didn’t spend more time down here. It wasn’t the same for her now as it had been with the last owners of Henley Hall, the Grays and their three children permanently in residence. But the Grays had sold up to Maximilian Grant over a year ago, and, although Aunt Millie had been asked to stay on as cook-housekeeper, she didn’t enjoy it now as much as she had when the Grays and their three young children had lived here. Maybe now that Maximilian Grant and his daughter were both back…
‘That will be fine,’ he accepted tersely now. ‘I’ll take the coffee tray back with——’ He broke off suddenly, turning sharply, pinning Sophie with those ice-blue eyes, his mouth thinning. ‘I didn’t realise you had company.’ He turned back to her aunt almost accusingly.
Sophie’s tentative grin, on at last being spotted, turned into a sickly grimace at the open hostility in his voice now. Gone was the abruptly polite employer who had been talking to her aunt, and in his place was–Sophie wasn’t sure…
He must have known the person he was thinking of employing as Jennifer’s companion was coming here, because he had asked that she be here for an interview on Saturday morning before his daughter came home from boarding-school at lunchtime, and he also knew she was his housekeeper’s niece, so that couldn’t be the problem either. And yet he was reacting to her presence here now as if she were some sort of intruder. It didn’t make sense. She hadn’t even spoken yet, so it couldn’t be that!
‘I’m Sophie Gordon,’ she decided to take the initiative when her aunt seemed as surprised by his attitude towards her as she was, stepping forward to hold her hand out in polite greeting. ‘Aunt Mil–er–Mrs Craine’s niece,’ she hastily amended at her aunt’s frown, the beginnings of a blush darkening her cheeks as she saw Maximilian Grant’s eyes narrow even more, in puzzlement this time.
Her voice! He did recognise her voice, was looking her up and down critically now.
And Sophie knew exactly what he would see: a shock of short red curls that refused to be tamed, huge hazel-coloured eyes that could be either green or brown, depending on her mood–right now they were definitely green!—a small snub nose, generously curving mouth, a determinedly pointed chin, her slight, almost boyish body clothed in the unaccustomed skirt and blouse, the satiny sheen to the latter being what had made it easy earlier for him to spot her in the headlights of his car. Well, at least she had done something sensible tonight, had worn something–even if it had been unintentionally at the time!—that could be clearly seen. Although she doubted ‘sensible’ was the word going through Maximilian Grant’s mind at the moment concerning her; she was already well aware of what he thought of her! But Aunt Millie wasn’t, and——
‘Ah, yes,’ Maximilian Grant answered her slowly, the hostility gone now–to be replaced with dry mockery. ‘You’re here about the job,’ he nodded tauntingly.
And she could kiss goodbye to that job, Sophie read from the derisive glint in his eyes, her arm falling back to her side as he made no effort to shake her hand. Which meant that she could also say goodbye to the week’s wages too. And she had needed that money. She doubted, in the circumstances, that he would feel like reimbursing her return train fare either, which made all of this a double blow. Well, she might just have to ask him for the latter; she couldn’t afford, literally, to be proud.
‘That’s right,’ she confirmed brightly. ‘I came down by train this afternoon so that I wouldn’t be late for our interview in the morning.’
Dark blond brows rose over mocking eyes. ‘Very commendable, I’m sure,’ he drawled softly. ‘Although it could be called taking punctuality to the extreme!’
She felt the heat in her cheeks at his undoubted sarcasm at her expense. ‘I thought it would be nice to spend some time with my aunt before–if my time here were to be taken up with Jennifer for the next week,’ she defended with a shrug–and then wished she hadn’t bothered as the mockery deepened in his expression, wry amusement quirking a mouth that looked as if it could border on cruelty if crossed. Border? Go well over the edge!
‘Really?’ Maximilian Grant murmured now, his stance challenging, his legs slightly apart, wearing dark fitted trousers that looked as if they might be part of a well-cut business suit, his snowy-white shirt unbuttoned at the neck, although he had probably worn a tie with it earlier; he didn’t look the type to dress casually very often, and today had been a working day. The tie would have been silk too, Sophie guessed ruefully; Maximilian Grant’s business empire had made him a millionaire many times over. ‘And did the two of you have a pleasant evening together talking over family and old times?’ he enquired pleasantly now.
Too pleasantly! He knew, damn him–she was sure now that he did!—that she hadn’t spent the evening with her aunt at all, believed she had spent them in the arms of her lover, Brian Burnett!
But, Sophie puzzled with a frown, as he did know that, and they both knew that he did, why didn’t he just tell her aunt? Whatever his reason, she was sure it had nothing to do with helping her avoid the severe verbal reprimand she would get from her aunt if she were to be told Sophie had already made the acquaintance of her employer, and under circumstances Aunt Millie certainly wouldn’t approve of!
"We spent the afternoon catching up on family news,” her aunt was the one to answer him in perfect innocence of the taunt, obviously pleased at how well Sophie and her employer appeared to be getting on together. She had actually recommended Sophie for this job, and would feel it reflected badly on her if Sophie should now prove unsuitable.
Unsuitable, Sophie realised with an inward groan, had to be the very least of what Maximilian Grant thought of her. Although the most she could hope for was that he wouldn’t be too frank with her aunt when he told her that!
‘Sophie spent the evening with a friend she made down here during holidays with us as a child,’ her aunt added affectionately.
‘Indeed?’ Eyes so pale a blue that they looked almost grey were narrowed on Sophie now even as he answered her aunt’s statement. ‘Perhaps you would bring the tray through to my study and we can talk now.’ All humour had gone from his expression now, derisive as it had been, and he was grimly authoritative, the suggestion an order rather than a request. ‘Another cup, if you please, Mrs Craine.’
One-thirty in the morning hardly seemed like the ideal time to be conducting an interview, Sophie thought even as she was vaguely aware of her aunt putting another cup on the tray. But despite the realisation that she now felt rather tired, from travelling down here today, an evening out that had hardly been uneventful, and the very lateness of the hour, Sophie knew she was in no position to argue, so she picked up the tray dutifully in preparation for following him.
He arched dark blond brows. ‘Are you hungry? Or is that a silly question to ask a student? I believe you’re reputed to be permanently in that state,’ he said ruefully.
Sophie turned frowningly to her aunt Millie. She was taking a university course, yes, but she could hardly be classed as a student. Aunt Millie saw her puzzled look, giving a barely perceptible shake of her head in reply, and to Sophie’s further discomfort she realised her aunt hadn’t told Maximilian Grant the whole truth about her. Not that she could exactly blame her aunt, but it did put Sophie in a doubly awkward position where this man was concerned.
‘I ate earlier, thank you,’ she replied distractedly, frantically wondering exactly what her aunt Millie had told her employer about her.
‘A chicken sandwich for one, then, Mrs Craine,’ he instructed tersely before striding purposefully out of the room.
Sophie shot a helpless look across the room at her aunt before hurrying after