Gracious Lady. Carole Mortimer

her own wonderful, indulgent father she couldn’t imagine–and she doubted Maximilian Grant would welcome the idea of her as his child any more favourably! Maybe prospective employer reprimanding a less than suitable candidate for employment was more like it, after all. And the longer they talked, the more she realised how true that probably was; she didn’t ‘suit’ Maximilian Grant at all!

      She moistened her lips nervously. ‘You——’

      ‘Sorry I took so long with your sandwich, Mr Grant.’ Her aunt chose that moment to bustle into the room after the briefest of knocks to alert them to her presence, smiling at the two of them brightly as she came in, seeming unaware of the tension that fairly crackled in the room between her employer and her niece. At least, to Sophie it did! ‘I made you some fresh mayonnaise to go with it,’ Aunt Millie beamed with satisfaction.

      ‘You shouldn’t have gone to all that trouble, Mrs Craine.’ Maximilian Grant relaxed enough to smile up at Sophie’s aunt, although Sophie could see the angry glitter directed at her still in his ice-blue eyes. She had seen a photograph of an iceberg once that had the palest of blue coloration to it; this man’s eyes reminded her of that iceberg. ‘You really must go to bed now, Mrs Craine.’ His smile took some of the order out of the sharpness of his words as he spoke to her aunt again, but it was no less an instruction he expected her to obey, for all that.

      Even so, Sophie knew it was an order her aunt would have to disobey; there was no way Aunt Millie would just meekly go off to bed now, without learning exactly how Sophie had got on in her interview with Maximilian Grant. That was something she wasn’t alone in!

      ‘Sophie and I can clear away here when we’re finished,’ Maximilian Grant added–as if he was well aware of his housekeeper’s reluctance.

      ‘Very well,’ Aunt Millie replied stiffly, making her exit, dignified displeasure down each rigid inch of her spine.

      Sophie winced, knowing that look only too well. Not that it appeared to be bothering Maximilian Grant as he looked across the desk at Sophie with raised brows. And why should it bother him? The most Aunt Millie could do to him was serve him up an inedible meal, and as her aunt was very proud of her cooking, that wasn’t very likely! Sophie wished she could be let off as lightly…

      ‘You were saying…?’ Maximilian Grant prompted drily, as if he knew exactly what thoughts were going through her mind.

      What had she been saying? Oh, yes… ‘I just wanted to explain about what happened earlier this evening–but I realise now there isn’t a lot of point to that, is there?’ She sighed wearily at the knowledge that it was probably far too late to redeem herself in his eyes.

      Would it do any good, she wondered, if she were to tell this man that it hadn’t been the defending of her honour that had resulted in her ordering Brian to stop the car and let her out, but of his, Maximilian Grant’s?

       CHAPTER THREE

      WELL, not his honour, exactly, but something he valued far more highly: his privacy!

      She had been pleased to see Brian earlier when he had joined her and Ally for a drink, had thought him still attractive to her now adult eyes, had been pleased to accept the lift back to Henley Hall he’d offered her once he had realised she was going to leave to catch the last bus back, had even been considering accepting his invitation if he should ask to see her again, for an evening out alone this time. What she had unfortunately forgotten was that Brian now worked for the biggest local newspaper in the area. And what she had learnt during that drive back was that Brian had ambitions to move on from that provincial newspaper to the brighter lights of Fleet Street–or wherever the big national newspapers were located nowadays–and he had the idea of using an exposé of Maximilian Grant’s private life to do it, with Sophie as his informant.

      At this moment in time, apart from the fact that Maximilian Grant had a sixteen-year-old daughter with a week’s half-term holiday to be filled, she knew little or nothing of the man’s private life. But, even if she had, she certainly wouldn’t have told Brian so that he could write some dreadful story for one of the gory tabloids. She had been outraged that Brian could even have imagined she might!

      ‘There has been a change of plan,’ Maximilian Grant gave an abrupt inclination of his head now, the light overhead giving his hair the appearance of being silver rather than blond, the angles of his face taking on harsh shadows.

      Sophie pulled a face. ‘I thought there might have been,’ she grimaced. ‘Could you just do me a favour and go easy on me when you tell Aunt Millie why you couldn’t employ me? She may be your housekeeper, but she’s my mother’s sister too, and——’

      ‘I don’t think you understand.’ He stood up, moving to sit on the side of the desk. ‘The change I spoke of has nothing to do with this evening——’

      ‘No?’ She looked at him with derisive disbelief; who was he trying to kid? More to the point, why was he bothering?

      ‘No,’ he rasped impatiently. ‘The fact is, Jennifer isn’t coming home for the holidays after all, and——’

      ‘I realise you’re just saying that to try and save my feelings,’ Sophie shook her head ruefully. ‘But I——’

      ‘Miss Gordon, what possible reason could I have for wanting to save your feelings?’ Maximilian Grant looked down at her, blue eyes mocking.

      Indeed. After all, she meant nothing to him, and neither did her feelings. And he hardly gave the impression of being a man who pulled his punches when dealing with other people, either verbally or physically.

      She could feel the heat enter her cheeks with a slow burn as he continued to look at her with that pitying humour that made her feel about the same age as his daughter!

      ‘Especially if I have to lie to achieve it,’ he continued derisively. ‘I deal in facts, Miss Gordon——’

      ‘Sophie,’ she put in softly. ‘I would rather you called me Sophie.’

      He gave an acknowledging inclination of his head of the request. ‘Well, the facts are–Sophie,’ he amended pointedly, ‘that Jennifer is to go to stay with her aunt for the week instead of coming home. I’m sorry you’ve been put to the trouble of coming down here–although, as you said earlier,’ his mouth twisted, ‘it gave you the opportunity to see your aunt again. And, of course–Brian … wasn’t it?’ he drawled tauntingly.

      ‘Yes, his name was Brian,’ she confirmed in a mutter. ‘But we both know how much I could have done without that meeting!’

      ‘Sorry?’ Maximilian Grant prompted mockingly as her voice was deliberately pitched too low to be audible to his or anyone else’s ears.

      ‘I must say——’ She forced a lightness to her voice that she was far from feeling. Given time–she wasn’t sure how much time!—she would probably become resigned to the fact that she didn’t have a job for the week, after all, but at the moment she just felt completely hollow, not knowing what she was going to do next. But she would bounce back, no doubt about it; she always had in the past. ‘I’ve never actually been sacked before I even started a job before!’ It was a first she could have done without now too! Oh, well…

      Maximilian Grant’s mouth twisted. ‘Employers usually wait a little longer than that before dispensing with your services, hmm?’ he drawled drily. ‘It was your implication, not mine,’ he defended at her disgruntled expression.

      Given time, she might even have found this man’s dry sense of humour amusing–although she doubted it!

      ‘Besides,’ he taunted, ‘your aunt gave me the impression you haven’t quite found your–vocation in life yet… Something about your having tried office work, been a telephonist, done shop work——’

      ‘Yes, OK,’ Sophie hastily cut