Carole Mortimer Romance Collection. Carole Mortimer

as if he had been waiting not to be alone when he went. But Juliet had never had any idea that Janet had actually loved her employer. How awful for the other woman. And how sad that she had apparently had years of unrequited love.

      But Janet knew, no matter what Liam himself might have assumed to the contrary, that there had never been anything but friendship between Juliet and William, that the elderly man had been more like a father to her than anything else. And so Juliet had no reason to defend herself before Liam. She had no reason to, but it was still very difficult not to.

      Liam gave an impatient glance at his watch. ‘Well, as it’s too late to go into the office today, we’ll have to leave that until the morning, so I think I’ll go and shower and change before having a look around this place.’ His expression was grim once again. ‘Although I stand by my first statement: nothing seems to have changed!’

      Except that, since he had left ten years ago, his father and brother had both died, Juliet could have pointed out. But didn’t. This was all difficult enough as it was, without further antagonism between them.

      ‘I’ll get Janet to show you to your room,’ she said politely as she rang for the housekeeper.

      Liam watched her consideringly. ‘You’re pretty good at this, aren’t you?’ he murmured tauntingly.

      She steeled herself for the insult she knew was about to come. ‘Good at what?’

      He shrugged. ‘Being mistress of the house. Must be years of training,’ he added with cold dismissal, before putting down his empty cup and striding out into the hallway to meet the housekeeper. Juliet heard the murmur of their voices seconds later.

      There had been an unmistakable double edge to Liam’s last statement, and, although she had been half expecting it, it was still hurtful; her hands shook as she put down her own cup of tea untouched. By ‘mistress of the house’ Liam meant something completely different from the usual context, and he had meant to be deliberately insulting.

      He was a strange man, one minute insisting that she rest while at his villa, the next, in this house, treating her with the contempt which he thought his father’s mistress deserved. But he was right about her insensitivity to Janet’s feelings for William; William and Janet had always got on extremely well, more like friends than employer and employee, but it had never occurred to Juliet that there might be more to it than that on Janet’s side. No wonder the other woman had been so upset at his death. Juliet felt a certain amount of guilt now where the housekeeper was concerned because of her own lack of understanding.

      As no doubt Liam meant her to—although the guilt he believed she should feel was concerning her own supposed affair with his father!

      Juliet busied herself in the study before dinner, dealing with any immediate business matters, only going upstairs to shower and change fifteen minutes before she knew the meal was to be served. She hadn’t seen Liam since he’d left the sitting-room so abruptly after tea, and could only suppose he had business of his own he was dealing with.

      She felt as if her heart had jumped into her mouth as she walked down the hallway to her bedroom only to see the door further down from her own standing slightly ajar; someone was in Simon’s bedroom! Surely Janet wouldn’t have chosen that room to give Liam? No, she simply couldn’t believe that Janet could have been so insensitive.

      But Liam could!

      Juliet hurried down the hallway to stand in front of a doorway that hadn’t been opened for seven years, as far as she was aware. And she still couldn’t go into the room herself. She stood on the threshold looking in, watching him as he moved lightly around, looking at a room that had stayed exactly as Simon had left it.

      He turned and saw her standing there; he was already dressed in a black evening suit and snowy white shirt. ‘I thought I would dress for dinner,’ he drawled drily as he saw her staring at him.

      Juliet didn’t care what he wore for dinner; she just wanted him out of this room! ‘This is Simon’s room,’ she said stiffly.

      Liam’s mouth twisted. ‘I’m well aware of whose room this was, Juliet,’ he bit out tautly. ‘My little brother obviously chose the furnishings himself!’ He looked derisively about him at the glass and chrome furniture which was completely at odds with the quiet elegance of the rest of the house.

      And he was right—Simon had picked all the furniture in here himself, had taken great delight in modernising his own personal domain.

      ‘But I don’t suppose you would know that, would you?’ he said as he crossed the room to join her. ‘He’s been dead for over seven years now…’ he reflected.

      She knew exactly how long Simon had been dead, could have told Liam not only to the day but to the hour and minute as well.

      ‘I do know that,’ she said abruptly. ‘What are you doing in here?’ She didn’t feel as if she could move away from the door now that it had finally been opened once again, even though she could sense that Liam wanted to leave the room.

      He shrugged. ‘Trying to see, from the things he left behind, whether my little brother had changed at all.’

      Juliet could have told him that she was also one of ‘the things’ that Simon had left behind, and could have asked what looking at her told him about his brother. But the shock of seeing this room again was more than enough for one evening; she wasn’t up to coping with Liam’s verbal fencing concerning her past relationship with Simon as well.

      Liam gave a grimace at the chrome and glass furnishings. ‘He obviously hadn’t!’ he said disgustedly.

      She couldn’t say whether Simon had changed or not after Liam had left; she could only remember the Simon that she had known. ‘You didn’t come home for his funeral either,’ she said flatly, finally managing to follow Liam from the room, closing the door firmly behind her, trembling slightly as that feeling of someone walking over her grave shivered down her spine.

      He shook his head grimly. ‘He was already dead and buried by the time I read about it in the newspapers.’

      ‘And your rift with your father was so strong that you didn’t feel perhaps you could do him some good by returning?’ Juliet frowned.

      His eyes hardened coldly. ‘Nothing had changed,’ he rasped harshly. ‘I still wouldn’t have been the son he wanted!’

      ‘But—’

      ‘Juliet, don’t interfere in things you can’t, and never will, understand,’ he bit out icily.

      She couldn’t understand because she didn’t know, but it now seemed apparent that Simon had somehow been involved in the rift between father and older son. ‘I just think it’s a pity that you and William couldn’t have made your peace before he died.’ She shrugged heavily.

      Liam glanced impatiently at his watch. ‘You now have five minutes to change for dinner, Juliet,’ he said, lightly changing the subject. ‘On past experience, I wouldn’t advise you to be late for one of Janet’s dinners!’

      He was perfectly right about Janet’s strict adherence to the times for meals, and her displeasure if her food was ruined. But Juliet didn’t feel that she could eat anything even if she did manage to change in time; seeing Simon’s bedroom again so suddenly like that had robbed her of all appetite.

      ‘And don’t say you don’t feel like eating.’ Liam correctly read her next comment, although not the reason for it. ‘We’ve already been through that argument. Numerous times. And the doctor said I was to make sure you ate three healthy meals a day,’ he added warningly.

      Juliet couldn’t help her gasp of laughter. ‘He said I was to make sure I ate three healthy meals a day, not you!’ she protested.

      Liam turned her firmly in the direction of her bedroom. ‘Then make sure you do. Go and change. Quickly!’ he instructed firmly as she would have protested once again.

      Juliet found herself in her bedroom, washing