Australia: In Bed with Her Groom. Emma Darcy
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you say butler?’
Olivia Stanton was clearly rocked off her set course.
‘I did, Mrs. Stanton.’
‘What is Ashley Harcourt doing with a butler? I didn’t know she could afford one.’
The rhetorical question, followed by the comment on her financial position, made Ashley realise that Harry’s arrival in her life would give rise to enormous speculation and gossip in the neighbourhood. It was a measure of her enthralment with Harry that Ashley found she wasn’t overly troubled by this prospect. Let them say what they liked. And they’d certainly do that when they saw him! Her course was set. She was going to keep the butler, no matter what!
‘I believe my services are of value, Mrs. Stanton,’ Harry answered silkily.
‘Well, it is unusual.’ Olivia justified her rudeness.
‘Perhaps it will start a fashion, Mrs. Stanton. Mrs. Harcourt does run an employment agency.’
Ashley grinned. That was a clever stroke.
‘Are you connected to the Rolls Royce that’s involved in these outrageous photographs?’
Ashley rolled her eyes, knowing full well that another of William’s schemes was coming home to roost.
‘It comes with me, Mrs. Stanton,’ Harry answered smoothly.
He had solved the problem of accommodating the chauffeur and getting the car off the street by sending them both to a local motel. He dismissed the cost as though it was nothing, assuring Ashley once again that she would not be held financially liable for what he did in pursuit of a successful outcome to his mission.
And the mission had been verified. Harry had shown her the branch of Roger’s family tree that had originated from England. It was amazing that so many people had died off, leaving only William as the last of this specific blood line.
‘Do you know what use William made of your car this afternoon?’ Olivia demanded testily.
‘Yes, I do.’
‘Are you aware that he is charging ten dollars for the photographs he took?’
‘As I understand it, there is no obligation to buy, Mrs. Stanton. If you can’t afford the price—’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘The boys were very happy about the chance of being photographed at the wheel of a Rolls Royce, but if you want Dylan to be unhappy—’
‘I didn’t say that, either.’
‘A once-in-a-lifetime occurrence, Mrs. Stanton, is not something to be belittled. You are, of course, entitled to disagree. I believe William can bear the cost of Dylan being left out of the photo-graphs—’
‘I don’t want him left out,’ Olivia cried, drowning in the string of logic that had flowed from Harry’s silver tongue.
‘Of course not, Mrs. Stanton. No mother would want her son left out of something so special. Shall I tell William to put Dylan’s photograph in the sold pile?’
A died-in-the-wool accomplice, Ashley thought, bemused and amused by his dexterity in handling the most difficult people.
‘Yes,’ Olivia surrendered weakly.
‘Thank you, Mrs. Stanton. Is there anything else? A message for Mrs. Harcourt?’
‘No.’
‘Then thank you for calling, Mrs. Stanton.’
Killed off with politeness, Ashley thought, as she heard the line disconnect. On the other hand, Olivia was probably dying to get a free line so she could spread the news of Ashley’s acquisition of a butler who came with a chauffeured Rolls Royce. It would certainly add a bit of spice to her reputation as a businesswoman.
Fortunately it was no longer a scandalous matter for a man and woman to be living under the same roof together without benefit of marriage. Ashley had no doubt that most of her friends and acquaintances would take the attitude, ‘Good luck to you!’ while they tried to stifle their envy.
However, she did need to warn Harry not to say anything about their connection to Springfield Manor. That was their private business. Apart from which, it would spoil everything. She didn’t want to think about it herself. She simply wanted to enjoy having Harry fix things for her as he’d been doing so beautifully ever since he had arrived.
As on most January days, the heat of summer lingered long into the evening. Ashley zipped herself into her favourite sundress. It was casual enough not to look too dressed up. The polished cotton was cool and the pretty pink and green floral print suited her colouring. The bodice was fitted, with shoestring straps over her shoulders. The full circular skirt always made her feel feminine.
Normally, she would unpin her hair at this time, brush it out and clip it into a high ponytail to keep it off her neck. Practical it might be, but it didn’t look elegant. She effected a more sophisticated casual look by winding it into a loose knot on top of her head. Several strands artfully escaped.
She dabbed on some Beautiful perfume, applied a silvery pink lipstick, slid her feet into strappy white sandals and hoped that Harry would find her more than passably attractive.
The staircase led down to the family room, which was separated from the kitchen by a wide working counter that also served as a breakfast bar. She heard William peppering Harry with questions as she started down. Something about ghosts. William was fascinated with the supernatural.
Harry, however, lost the thread of their conversation as Ashley came into full view on the staircase. His hands stopped tossing the salad he had mixed in a bowl. He watched her descend as though transfixed by her grace and beauty. At least, Ashley hoped that was what was captivating him, and he wasn’t simply surprised by the change in her appearance. It was much more heart-lifting to fantasise that he was seeing a woman who attracted and intrigued him.
She was conscious of the full skirt swishing around her bare legs as she descended step by step, conscious of silky strands of hair brushing against the smooth golden tan of her bare shoulders, more intensely conscious of her sexuality than she had been in so many years she had forgotten how powerful the feeling could be. She had given up believing she would meet a man who would trigger such a response in her.
She could feel her whole body glowing under the interest in Harry’s eyes, an interest that clearly sizzled with sensual signals as it enveloped all of her, from the loosely draped topknot of her hair to the swell of her full breasts encased in the tightly fitting bodice to the emphasised curve of waist and hips to the dainty slimness of her ankles. All her instincts picked up the knowledge that he found her desirable, and she revelled in the certainty that the strong attraction she felt was not one-sided.
‘Oh, hi, Mum! You’ve interrupted a great story!’ William informed her, seeing no reason for the halt in his entertainment.
‘Your mother has first claim on my attention, William,’ Harry said, quietly but firmly putting her son in his place, his gaze not even slightly wavering from her. His eyes seemed to bathe her with warm pleasure as he added, ‘Good evening, Ashley.’
The formal greeting didn’t feel like a formality at all. It felt like a promise of wonderful things to come. The gateway to possibilities was open. ‘Good evening, Harry,’ she returned, giving him a smile that welcomed him to her world.
He had discarded his suit coat and rolled up his shirt sleeves. Ashley noticed that his shoulders didn’t need any padding and his forearms were strongly muscular. He was still lean and elegant, but she added physical power to his other attributes, and had little doubt he could fight with more than words, if need be. Harry Cliffton, she decided, was a man with many sides to him. Ashley wanted to discover all of them.
The telephone rang again.
William sighed at this further interruption to the subject that interested him.
Harry