Gracious Lady. Carole Mortimer

it was no surprise at all, as they approached the house, to see it ablaze with lights. ‘Just drop me off here,’ Sophie told Brian as they turned in the driveway, the house still some distance away. ‘Ally has nothing on my aunt Millie when it comes to the “outraged dragon",’ she explained with a grimace at his questioning look. ‘And as you can see by the lights, she’s still up!’

      Sophie could envisage her aunt right now, seated at the wooden table in the centre of the kitchen, the belt to her pink towelling bathrobe neatly tied at her ample waist, her rosy face bare of make-up, even the powder and lipstick she usually wore during the day, and there would possibly be rollers in her hair, depending on whether or not tonight was a hair-wash night; Sophie wasn’t sure about the latter, had left too early in the evening to know one way or the other. But she did know her aunt wouldn’t be reading or writing, or doing anything else for that matter, as she waited. She would just be waiting.

      Brian didn’t need any further discouragement, stopping the car while they were still well away from the house, turning in his seat to look at her. ‘If you’d like me to come in with you, I will,’ he offered bravely.

      Sophie laughed softly. ‘Now I know why I had a crush on you when I was younger! It’s a nice offer, Brian, and I do appreciate it.’ She squeezed his arm gratefully. ‘But I believe Aunt Millie is best faced alone.’ Mainly because, in this instance, Brian was more likely to drop her further into trouble than she already was if he should say the wrong thing at the wrong time!

      As it was, Sophie was still trying to work out what she could say to her aunt–if she had a chance to say anything!

      ‘If you’re sure that’s what you’d prefer…’ Brian accepted with some relief. ‘I’ll call you in a few days, shall I, and–no?’ He winced as he saw she was already shaking her head at the suggestion.

      ‘We’re friends again, Brian; let’s just leave it at that,’ Sophie dismissed evenly. ‘And don’t try this on anyone else, hmm?’ she advised as she pushed the car door open in preparation of getting out onto the gravelled driveway. ‘You aren’t very good at it!’

      ‘Thanks!’ he returned drily. ‘A man’s ego certainly couldn’t become inflated with you around, could it!’

      She chuckled softly before shutting the door and setting off down the driveway, grateful to Brian as she did so as he deliberately kept the car headlights brightly shining in that direction until she reached the door; it was a black, moonless night, and shadowy bushes edged the driveway in eerie silence.

      She turned and waved once she reached the door, vaguely registering that Brian was turning the car around and leaving now even as she saw, from the light streaming from the kitchen window, that sleek car of bottle-green parked outside. Sophie’s nervousness returned anew at the sight of that car, and she entered the house on leaden feet.

      As soon as she entered the kitchen she could see she was wrong on all four counts concerning her aunt; she wasn’t seated at the table but stood beside it putting a cup and saucer on a tray, she wasn’t dressed for bed but wore one of her usual blue dresses with the pristine white collar, and her powder and lipstick looked newly applied, and, although Sophie could see her aunt had washed her hair, it certainly wasn’t in rollers but neatly brushed into style.

      Oh, well, here goes, Sophie groaned inwardly. ‘Aunt Millie?’

      Her aunt was so startled, obviously not having heard Sophie’s entrance, that she almost dropped the sugar bowl she had been about to put on the tray with the cup and saucer. She glared across at Sophie impatiently at the same time she slammed the sugar bowl down. ‘I didn’t hear you get back,’ she accused unnecessarily, her attention almost immediately returning to the tray, adding a coffee-pot and a jug of cream before nodding her satisfaction that everything seemed to be in place.

      ‘Just now,’ Sophie nodded warily. ‘Brian brought me back.’ And this time she wasn’t lying! ‘Aunt Millie, I want to explain about——’

      ‘Not now, Sophie,’ her aunt dismissed irritably, picking up the tray. ‘Can’t you see I’m busy?’

      Of course she could see her aunt was busy, but it was imperative she explain to her about——

      Her aunt frowned. ‘If you want to do something useful, Sophie, then open the door for me so that I can——’

      ‘Mrs Craine, I’ve decided I will have that sandwich you offered, after all.’ The door to the main part of the house had been thrust open from the other side before Sophie could reach it, a man now standing in the doorway.

      A man with harshly hewn good looks, blond hair shot through with silver, and ice-cold blue eyes…

       CHAPTER TWO

      MAXIMILIAN GRANT.

      The owner of this house and the extensive grounds that surrounded it. Her aunt’s employer. And he had arrived unexpectedly in the middle of the night.

      Sophie had recognised his voice immediately he spoke as he opened the door, of course, had frozen in her position slightly behind that door–which was probably the reason he didn’t seem to have seen her yet!

      Would he recognise her when he did see her?

      Recognise her as what, she wondered with a grimace? The young woman he had come across alone in the dark at the side of the road, apparently ‘asking to be raped or worse’?

      What else was it he had called her? ‘irresponsible’, and–oh, God, he’d said she should choose her friends more wisely in future. And she was supposed to be here as the prospective companion, for the following week, to his young daughter! After the unforgettable list of offences he had already found her guilty of, she didn’t think that was very likely to happen now.

      She gave a weary sigh at the thought of having to pack up her things and leave again so soon after she had got here; she had only arrived that very afternoon. But she now gave up all hope that Maximilian Grant wouldn’t realise she had been that woman walking along the road in the dark; if she had recognised his voice instantly, then it was logical to assume he would recognise hers too, especially as the incident was still so new. And memorable. At least, she presumed he didn’t stop along dark country roads to offer lifts to ‘damsels in distress’ every night of the week! Or even if he did–although he certainly hadn’t given the impression of being a knight in shining armour!—they wouldn’t all have turned out to be the woman seeking the position as companion to his daughter.

      Sophie couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face as a perfectly ludicrous idea occurred to her. It must be the near-hysteria she felt at this whole situation that was causing it, but she had suddenly had an illusion of Mr Rochester with a car phone! OK, so she was taking poetic licence with the story, but there was no denying that they had met in the dark of night, nor that Maximilian Grant had been travelling, albeit in a car rather than on horseback, to his country home, nor that she was here as the companion he hadn’t yet met to his young charge, this time a daughter rather than a ward.

      OK, she was taking more than poetic licence with this last bit; Maximilian Grant’s daughter Jennifer wasn’t home from school for the week’s half-term holiday until tomorrow, and Sophie had yet to be officially given the job of keeping her occupied for the week. Another twist, a rather significant one in this case, was that Sophie was the one who had actually realised Maximilian Grant’s identity, rather than the other way around, as it had been with Rochester and Jane. Perhaps not Mr Rochester with a car phone after all…

      She had been trying to cheer herself up with this nonsense, and now she realised she just felt more deflated than ever. Not depressed. She had made a vow to herself long ago that she wouldn’t allow that emotion to colour her life. As she didn’t boredom either. There was always something to see, too much to do, to give in to that malaise. But, even so, she realised that this time she was coming very close to it!

      ‘Roast