Gracious Lady. Carole Mortimer
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Millie wouldn’t have considered as suitable references for the companion of this man’s daughter. She buried her nose in her coffee-cup so that Maximilian Grant shouldn’t see the possibility of them in her candid hazel-coloured eyes–because since meeting him she was sure this man was astute enough to realise exactly the type of things her aunt had missed out of her résumé!
But he was completely wrong about what she wanted to do with her life. She knew exactly what she wanted to do as a career; it was just taking her longer than most to be in a position to do it. But she would get there in the end, even if she had to do another two dozen zany jobs to achieve it.
‘Your expenses for coming down here will, of course, be reimbursed to you.’ He stood up now in what was obviously an end to the conversation, moving to sit behind the desk again before biting into the sandwich her aunt had placed there for him. ‘Mmm, they’re good,’ he said appreciatively after that first bite. ‘Try one,’ he invited before continuing to eat.
Food would probably choke her at the moment, her disappointment over the lack of a job was so acute. ‘No, thanks.’ She stood up. ‘I–I think I’ll go to bed now. You don’t mind if I wait until morning to leave, do you?’ She frowned as that thought occurred to her.
Irritation turned his eyes icy-looking again. ‘Don’t be so damned silly,’ he rasped angrily. ‘If your aunt wants you to stay on with her for a few days, I’m not going to object.’
Oh, God … Aunt Millie still had to be faced yet! And no matter what Sophie said to the contrary, her aunt was sure to assume it must have been something Sophie had said or done that had influenced Maximilian Grant’s decision not to employ her after all, and that her unsuitability reflected on her because she had been the one to suggest Sophie in the first place! Her aunt wasn’t completely responsible for suggesting Sophie anyway; Sophie’s own mother had put the idea to her sister when she had casually mentioned the fact that the family would be here for Jennifer’s half-term. And actually, Sophie wasn’t totally convinced, despite the fact that this man said otherwise, that her accidental meeting with Maximilian Grant beside the road earlier this evening hadn’t influenced his decision concerning her…
‘I think it’s best if I leave tomorrow,’ she assured him; there was no point in suffering Aunt Millie’s reproachful looks for longer than was necessary.
‘As you wish,’ he shrugged dismissively, studying some papers that lay on his desktop.
Sophie wondered if he had any idea of the financial blow he had dealt her–even with the reimbursement of her expenses. Probably not. The amount of money she would have earned during the week would have been a mere drop in a very big ocean to this man, but to her… Forget it, Sophie, she instructed herself firmly. Move on. Don’t look back. Never look back. It was the only way.
Maximilian Grant didn’t even seem to notice her leave the room, so engrossed was he in reading those papers and eating his sandwich at the same time. In fact, he had probably already dismissed Sophie Gordon from his mind.
But her aunt Millie hadn’t; she was waiting up for her in the kitchen, as Sophie had known she would be!
But to her everlasting relief, when Sophie told her aunt that Jennifer was to go to her aunt’s rather than coming home as originally planned, Aunt Millie was so annoyed at the inconsideration shown to her that there was no thought of reproach.
‘Well, really!’ She stood up to clear the coffee things away. ‘But then, I suppose the aunt had a lot to do with that,’ she sniffed disapprovingly. ‘A spoilt little madam, if ever I saw one. It won’t do young Jennifer any good to spend time with that Celia.’ She shook her head with foreboding.
Sophie wasn’t sure whether it was Jennifer or the aunt who was the spoilt little madam; and she was too relieved at being let off so lightly to want to pursue the subject, excusing herself to go to bed, explaining that she had to travel back to town tomorrow.
‘Of course you have.’ Her aunt looked guilty now at having delayed her even further. ‘And I really am sorry you went to all this trouble just to be disappointed.’
She shrugged. ‘Mr Grant said he would pay my expenses——’
‘That’s the least he could do in the circumstances.’ Her aunt still looked disgusted at the way Sophie had been treated.
‘Yes,’ Sophie grimaced. ‘Well. Bed, I think,’ she said again firmly.
Aunt Millie nodded, her expression indulgent. ‘You have a lie-in in the morning, if you want to. There’s no hurry for you to leave,’ she added with indignation at the cavalier treatment Sophie had received.
Aunt Millie being so gently kind–especially when Sophie wasn’t one hundred per cent certain she deserved it!—was almost as nerve-racking as one of her reprimands could be, Sophie decided, beating a hasty retreat.
But once she reached her bedroom she found she was no longer tired enough to go to bed, her mind racing with alternative plans she could make for the next week. Genteel poverty sounded rather elegant, almost noble, but it didn’t pay the bills, or put food in her stomach. Oh, she would find another job, was sure of it, had never failed yet. But until she did…
Maybe if she read for a while she would start to feel sleepy again; the amount of times she had fallen asleep over one of her books in the past, she wouldn’t be in the least surprised if it worked now! But the books she had brought with her weren’t for light reading, and the more she tried not to think about it, the more the extensive library she had spotted earlier today in the main house seemed to lure her. In fact, one of the first things she had intended doing once she was taken on as Jennifer’s companion had been to ask Maximilian Grant if she could have a good look round in there; if–holy of holies!—she might actually be allowed to read some of the leather-bound books if she was very careful with them. Her fingers itched just to touch them.
Maybe Maximilian Grant wouldn’t mind if she were to just take a little look in there now…? After all, she wouldn’t get another opportunity.
The house, when she ventured out of her bedroom, was in darkness, both her aunt and Maximilian Grant seeming to have gone to bed now. The elegant beauty of the high-ceilinged hallway took on frightening proportions in the shadows of the night, making Sophie wonder if she was really that desperate to have a look in the library after all!
But once she had opened the library door, and literally just smelt all those books, she knew she had to go in and take a look. One of the switches beside the door activated the tall lamp that stood beside the green leather armchair that was placed to one side of the fireplace, the latter filled with a vase of dried flowers this time of year. The central heating was more than adequate for a cool May night.
All the classics were there, all beautifully bound, and, as she had known it would, it gave her pleasure just to touch them.
She didn’t believe it, almost the first book she pulled out; Jane Eyre! After the thoughts she had had earlier this evening, she knew this was the book she would have to read to get to sleep tonight. Her fingers closed lovingly about the green leather as she pulled the book down from the shelf.
But the book fell to the carpeted floor with a thud as she was grabbed from behind, crying out as her arm was twisted up behind her back and she was spun round in movements so deftly executed that she barely had time to breathe after that first shocked shriek.
And when she found herself pressed up against the hard steel of Maximilian Grant’s chest, with wide, frightened eyes staring up into his furiously angry ones, she wasn’t sure she was ever going to be able to breathe again!
‘You!’ he accused her disgustedly, although he made no effort to release her.
When Sophie was becoming more and more desperate by the second that he should do so; she wasn’t sure how much longer she was going to be able to remain even standing without breathing!
Close to him like this–very close to him, their bodies moulded together from shoulder to thighs!—she was made aware of every pore of his