answer was the one she usually gave when quizzed about it. Her mother had been very particular about the spelling...it was the one decision in her life she’d appeared to have made with ease. It was a far from a normal occurrence. When it came to making informed decisions for herself and her daughter Elizabeth Blessington reacted to the task like a billiard ball run amok—decisions were random and precarious. How could they not be when they were invariably emotionally driven rather than made using reason and common sense? That was why Kit had found herself taking charge from such a ridiculously young age. While her friends had been playing with dolls or games Kit had usually been sitting in her mother’s kitchen, trying to help find some practical solution to her latest dramatic dilemma—or if not that then consoling her because some unsuitable man she’d become infatuated with had once again let her down.
Elizabeth Blessington’s choice of men had been disastrous, and the self-destructive pattern had begun with Kit’s father. Ralph Cottonwood had been a genuine Romany gypsy who had selfishly abandoned Elizabeth when she’d become pregnant. In her mother’s wistful words, ‘He couldn’t be tied down to a conventional married life when the allure of the open road would always call to him.’
Although Kit had missed not having a steady male influence in her life, she’d long ago decided that her itinerant father had probably done her and her mother a favour by not sticking around. One totally impractical parent with her head in the clouds had been quite enough to cope with...
‘Why don’t you sit down?’
Moving his wheelchair into the centre of the room, Henry vaguely waved his hand towards the couches.
‘Okay.’ As she settled herself Kit rested her hands together in her lap and patiently waited for him to continue. A sudden realisation struck her. She’d thought his eyes were green, but in the beam of gold sunlight that streamed through the windows she saw that they were a chameleon-like hazel, and fringed with enviably lustrous long black lashes. She’d have to be made of stone not to admire such a compelling visage...
‘So tell me, Katherine with a K, what impulse led you into doing this kind of work?’
‘I decided to do it because I like helping people.’
‘And what qualifications do you have?’
The question didn’t faze her, even though she’d often regretted her lack of opportunity to study for a profession. But with a mother who was often in financial trouble because she didn’t have a clue how to manage money Kit had had no choice but to start work at sixteen so that she could contribute to the household income and help pay the rent.
‘Do you mean professional qualifications?’
He nodded.
Pursing her lips for a moment, Kit quickly gathered her thoughts. ‘I’ve done some fairly intensive first-aid training courses and completed a carer’s certificate. But what I lack in professional qualifications I make up for by having plenty of “hands-on” experience in helping to take care of people. If you speak to Barbara—the manager at the agency—she’ll clarify what I’ve said. I’ve been with her for the past five years and my record is exemplary. The agency standards are extremely high, and she wouldn’t keep me on if I didn’t help her live up to that.’
Her heart was thudding a little as she finished speaking, because Henry’s expression had at first been perturbed and then somewhat amused. Was he perhaps thinking she must be crazy if she thought he’d seriously consider taking on someone with minimal qualifications to work for him? Kit hoped he would at least give her a chance to demonstrate her competence. Inexplicably, the thought of travelling up to Scotland tomorrow had strangely lost its appeal.
‘It’s lucky for you that I’m a risk-taker. Other people might call it reckless, but fortunately I don’t much care what other people think. Okay, Ms Blessington, when can you start?’
He was going to give her a chance? Secretly elated, but careful not to show it, Kit strove for her usual composure. ‘Are you saying that you’d like to offer me the job, Mr Treverne?’
He immediately combed his fingers through his unruly dark hair and scowled. ‘Isn’t that why you’re here...because you want to work for me?’
‘Yes, I am. But—’
‘Firstly, don’t call me Mr Treverne. It’s far too formal. You can call me Hal. I’m sure you can guess that’s not an invitation I extend to many, but for the purpose of ease of communication I’m extending it to you, Kit. And, yes...I’m offering you the job and I’d like you to start tomorrow. My sister assures me that the agency you work for does indeed have a good reputation for employing reliable and competent people—people who know how to employ discretion and respect confidentiality. That’s especially important for businessmen in the public eye like me, as I’m sure you’re aware? And, by the way, there’s a confidentiality clause in the contract that I’ll need to get you to sign. I trust you’re okay with that?’
‘Of course.’
Emitting a relieved sigh, Hal nodded. ‘Then you can arrive tomorrow, just after breakfast. Depending on what kind of night I’ve had, I usually endeavour to have toast and coffee at around eight. There’s one more thing...I have an appointment at the hospital at ten. You’ll have to drive me.’ Looking thoughtful, he paused, narrowing his chameleon-like gaze. ‘I presume you’d like to accept the position?’
‘Yes...yes, I would.’ Rising to her feet, Kit walked towards him, her smile perhaps a little more cautious than usual. Henry Treverne was a commandingly attractive man and she wouldn’t be truthful if she didn’t privately admit that it worried her. It had never happened before but she’d often feared that if she fell for a man she worked for it would be the ruination of all her dreams and plans. Add to that the fact that he was still very much an unknown quantity with regard to what he would be like as an employer, she sensed, going by his brusque manner, that she would have her work cut out in proving to him he’d chosen the right person for the job.
‘Thank you...thank you so much. I promise I won’t let you down.’
‘I sincerely hope you won’t. The thought of having to interview prospective employees again fills me with horror after the parade of too-earnest applicants I’ve seen today.’ Hal’s lips shaped an ironic smile. ‘Barring yourself, of course. If you’re at all too earnest about having this job you hide it well. Would you like to see your room now?’
‘Yes, I would.’
‘Then follow me. In light of my accident, I thank God I chose an apartment that doesn’t have stairs. For convenience, the room I’ve allocated you is next door to mine.’ His hands resting lightly on the tyres of the wheelchair, Hal paused as another thought struck him. ‘I won’t give you a key because the revolving doors downstairs are never closed, and Charlie is usually there on the front desk if there’s a problem. Plus, if you’re out then that means I’m in, and all you need to do is get Charlie to buzz me to let me know you’ve returned. Okay?’
‘But what if you’ve fallen asleep and don’t hear the buzzer?’
‘Unless I’ve been clubbed over the head by a particularly vindictive burglar you don’t need to be concerned about that. I don’t easily fall asleep—at least certainly not during the day. But, just to reassure you, Charlie has a spare key for emergencies.’
‘That’s good to know.’
‘Then
