The Millionaire's Convenient Bride. Catherine George

He glanced at his watch and collected his jacket. ‘I must be off.’

      ‘Thank you for lunch,’ said Hester, as they went back into the house.

      ‘My pleasure.’ He beckoned as Sam appeared. ‘Show Hester round, then drive her wherever she wants to go. I’ll see you on Monday, Hester. All right, John,’ he said, resigned, as his assistant opened the study door. ‘Put your whip away, I’m coming.’

      ‘If you’re ready, Hester, we’ll start at the bottom with my quarters and work up,’ Sam suggested.

      She followed him down a short flight of stairs to a compact, orderly basement flat. His sitting room doubled as an office, with electronic equipment to screen visitors, and the control panels of a very complicated alarm system.

      ‘Connah’s very hot on security,’ he explained.

      ‘So I gather. Have you worked for him long?’

      ‘Since I left the military. The lower stairs lead to a cellar Connah converted into a double garage,’ Sam added as he led her up to the ground floor into a kitchen with tall sash windows and a door that opened on to the back patio. ‘My quarters used to be the kitchen and scullery, and this was the original dining room,’ he explained. ‘The old butler’s pantry leads off it—very handy for the freezer and washing machine and so on.’

      ‘Very nice indeed,’ she commented. The large kitchen was fitted with every modern appliance possible, including a state-of-the-art electric range. ‘You’ll have to give me a teach-in on that before I start producing meals.’

      Sam chuckled. ‘If I get a share in the result sometimes, no problem. I’m a dab hand with a potato peeler.’

      ‘I’ll remember that!’ They went up to the next floor and passed by the closed study door to enter a drawing room furnished with the emphasis on comfort and lit by the multi-paned windows typical of Regency architecture. The adjoining dining room was more formal and painted an authentic shade of pale green Hester found cold. The master bedroom on the next floor was part of a suite with a bathroom, dressing room and guest room, Sam informed Hester as they passed by on the way to the top floor.

      ‘You’re up here, next to Lowri,’ he said, leading the way to two adjoining bedrooms, each with a small bathroom and a view over the trees in the square to the hills encircling the town. ‘You wouldn’t think so now, but these were the attics at one time. Suit you all right?’ added Sam.

      Hester nodded, impressed. ‘But how is it so cool up here on a hot day like this?’

      ‘Air-conditioning.’

      Sam’s phone rang as they went downstairs. ‘Right you are, Connah. Coming down now. He wants to see you again before you go, Hester,’ he added.

      Connah looked up as she put her head round the study door. ‘Come in and sit down. Is your room satisfactory?’

      ‘Very much so.’

      ‘Good.’ He consulted a list. ‘Next on the agenda, time off. You’re free to go out some evenings when I’m home, Sundays are your own, also the occasional Saturday from noon onwards. You’ll have to ring the doorbell to gain entry, but Sam will either be with you or waiting for you, so it’s not a problem.’ He paused, as though gauging her reaction. ‘Or is it?’

      ‘Of course not,’ said Hester, though it was, a little. ‘Otherwise I’d need the code for your impressive security system.’

      ‘Other than myself, only Sam knows that.’

      ‘Not even Mr Austin?’

      ‘No. John’s London based so he isn’t here very much, but when he is he rings the bell.’ He paused, giving her a very direct look. ‘One last point. In your application you say you’re single but precisely how single are you?’

      Hester felt her hackles rise as she met the intent dark eyes. ‘For the time being, totally. There’s no danger of gentleman callers, Mr Carey Jones.’

      CHAPTER TWO

      ‘I’VE been pronounced fit to take care of Connah Carey Jones’s ewe lamb, but not to drive her anywhere myself, nor to be trusted with a key to the house,’ Hester announced when she got home. ‘Security is a religion with the man. If that’s what it means to have loads of money, I’ll pass.’

      ‘You can’t blame him for wanting to keep his child safe,’ said her mother, and shook her head in wonder. ‘I’m still amazed that he’s the man who turned up on our doorstep in the snow all those years ago. You were very taken with him at the time!’

      ‘You must have been too, to volunteer full board for a few days,’ Hester retorted.

      ‘I liked him, yes,’ said Moira, and smiled wickedly. ‘But I wasn’t moonstruck like you, darling.’

      ‘I’ve been reading up on him,’ said Robert, the peacemaker. ‘He’s one of the new hedge fund breed. He made a packet with an asset management firm he set up with a partner, but eventually sold off his share in the firm to “pursue other interests”, but these weren’t specified.’

      Hester nodded. ‘I heard that much from Angus Duff, my journalist chum. Of course I didn’t know if the CC Jones he researched was our man, but I somehow had this gut feeling that he might be.’

      Moira eyed her narrowly. ‘Was that why you were so keen to apply?’

      ‘Of course not. I replied to a box number. It was only when John Austin told me the name of his employer that I had this wild idea that Mr CC Jones might just possibly be our mystery man. But even then my only reason for applying was to earn some extra money before I go to the Rutherfords in October.’ Hester smiled in satisfaction. ‘While I’m living in Albany Square I’ll spend very little, which will do wonders for my rainy day fund.’

      ‘How about time off?’ asked Robert.

      ‘Every Sunday, the occasional Saturday, and some evenings when the big white chief is at home.’

      ‘You sound as though you’re not so enamoured with him this time round,’ said her mother.

      ‘His looks still pack the same punch for me, I admit, but I was rather put off when I found he wasn’t willing to trust me with a key to the house,’ said Hester tartly. ‘He also got a bit personal about my social life.’

      ‘Understandable, with someone as attractive as you,’ said Robert.

      She smiled at him affectionately. ‘But I assured him there would be no gentleman callers—’

      ‘Surely you didn’t say that!’ exclaimed Moira, rolling her eyes. ‘You’re not an Edwardian parlourmaid, girl!’

      ‘For a moment he made me feel like one,’ admitted Hester, eyes kindling.

      ‘What’s he like?’ asked Robert curiously.

      ‘Tall, dark and formidable, with hard black eyes that pin you down.’

      ‘Are you sure you want to work for him?’ demanded Moira.

      ‘Don’t worry, Mother, I’m sure I can play Jane Eyre to his Rochester for six weeks, whether I like him or not,’ Hester assured her, then grinned. ‘And I know he doesn’t have a mad wife in the attic because that’s where I sleep.’

      Robert drove Hester to the house in Albany Square just before eight thirty on her first day and not only insisted on carrying her luggage up the steps to the front door, but on waiting with her until Sam Cooper appeared.

      ‘Good morning, Sam,’ said Hester, smiling. ‘This is my stepfather, Robert Marshall.’

      Sam held out a hand to Robert. ‘Sam Cooper, sir.’

      Robert gave him a straight look as he took it, then smiled, obviously satisfied with what he saw. ‘Glad to meet you. I’m sure I leave