Guardian to the Heiress. Margaret Way

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Guardian to the Heiress - Margaret Way Mills & Boon Cherish

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snapped her out of her unhappy thoughts. “Allow me to be the first to congratulate you, Carol. You’re the Chancellor heiress.”

      She gave a bleak laugh. “So I might as well get back my father’s name. I’ve never liked Emmett but it was a shield for the time. This won’t make anyone in the family happy. I do hope they’ve all been well-provided for, or am I in for a lengthy court battle?”

      “No battle. Your grandfather knew exactly what he was doing. Sound mind, sound intent. I drew up the will. It’s ironclad. I should tell you at this point I have control over your inheritance until you turn twenty-one, which I understand is August eighth, next year?”

      She gave him a taunting smile. “That means you have charge of the purse strings?”

      “We can always discuss what you need. You don’t have to worry about any heavy-handed treatment. I’m here to protect your interests, Carol.” And to protect you, he thought, jolted by his instantaneous attraction to her. It was like being handed a bouquet of the most beautiful red roses, perfect buds awaiting full bloom but spreading their fragrance. He couldn’t think of a single young woman of his acquaintance who’d had that extraordinary effect on him.

      “Sounds like I might need it,” she said wryly. “The truth is, I don’t want the money. On the other hand, I think I can do a lot of good. Rich people have a responsibility to give back to the community.”

      “Your grandfather certainly did that.”

      She couldn’t deny it. “So here I am, an heiress without warning. I think I’m in shock.”

      “Well, you’re not jumping up and down,” he said.

      There was such an attractive quirk to his handsome mouth. It struck her that her feelings were a bit extreme. “Everyone will hate me,” she said. “Why would I feel elated? Except I am, in an odd way. It’s not the money. It’s the fact Poppy—my grandfather,” she quickly corrected, “wanted custody of me. If only I’d known that. It would have given me some comfort.”

      She didn’t say her own mother had denied her that comfort. In death, her grandfather had left her rich enough to be independent of everyone—first up, her mother. They didn’t enjoy a good relationship. At least her mother had always been surprisingly generous when it came to providing for her. She had even bought her a flashy sports car when she had needed a car to get to and from university.

      “You haven’t asked how much.” Damon wondered if she had any idea.

      She shrugged a delicately boned shoulder. “I don’t want to know. Not yet, anyway. That’s way too mercenary. How much does anyone need? I just love big-business philanthropists, doing so much good, keeping their eye on things, not letting the money stray into the wrong hands.”

      “Well, you won’t be in the their class.”

      He had a heartbreaking smile. It lit up his handsome dark face with its gilt-bronze tan. She wondered if he were a yachtsman. Most likely he was; that tan was from the sun, not any sunbed. “I don’t want to be there when the will’s read,” she said with a faint shudder.

      “I’ll be there, too, Carol,” he reassured her. “I expect I will have to go to the country house the day after tomorrow, maybe sooner. I’d like to take you with me. You should be there. The house is yours.”

      Her finely arched brows, so much darker than her hair, shot up. “You’re serious?”

      “Absolutely. Wills are serious matters.”

      “I know that.” She coloured. “So I can tip them out—my uncle Maurice, Dallas and Troy, although he lives in the apartment at Point Piper. That belonged to Poppy.” Her childhood name for her grandfather was flying out regardless.

      “That remains with the family,” he said. “Do you want to tip them out of Beaumont?”

      She looked into his fathoms-deep dark eyes. “I have to think about that. I’m not finished my degree yet. I expect you’ve checked me out?” Of course he had. “I’m smart enough, apparently, but I’m not giving my studies my best shot.”

      “A fresh start next year,” he suggested. “You’ll feel more committed by then.”

      “Why were you so committed?” She really wanted to know. “We’ve all heard Professor Deakin sing your praises.”

      A faint grimace spread across his dynamic features. “I didn’t have your advantages, Carol, but I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer. I was ambitious, an inherited trait. Then I, too, lost my dad, a geologist, when I was twelve.”

      So both of them had lost their fathers at an early age. He at twelve, she at age five. That made a bond.

      “It was just my mother and me,” he was saying. “I determined after that, it was my job to look after her, when she knew perfectly well how to look after both of us. She’s a strong woman. She ran a very successful catering business until she sold out a year ago. These days she and her sister, my aunt Terri, travel the world.”

      “That’s good. There would be so much to see.” She hesitated for a moment before asking. “How did your father die? He wouldn’t have been very old.”

      He told her, although he didn’t talk much about the premature death of his father. “He died in a mine explosion in Chile where he had been sent by his company to explore copper deposits in the region. He was able to help get a lot of the men out. He wasn’t so lucky. He was forty-one.”

      “Oh, Damon, I’m so sorry.”

      There was such a compassionate look on her face, he wanted to pull her to him.

       Steady on!

      Physical contact of the order he was thinking was out of the question. But even the thought gave him a strange pleasure that was very unsettling at the same time. He hadn’t anticipated this feeling of urgency. Anyone would think he had been appointed her knight in shining armour.

      “The long summer vacation is coming up,” she said with a slight frown. “My Uncle Maurice made no attempt to see me in all these long years.”

      “No.” She had been deprived of family.

      “It’s a heavy burden having a lot of money,” she commented gravely.

      “It is indeed. People don’t always realize that. Money can’t buy happiness. I’ve seen that time and time again. Too much money in a family can bring about a lot of internal conflict.” A prominent family’s feud was being publicly waged in the press at that point of time.

      “Did my grandfather leave any instructions for me?” She hoped it was so.

      “I’m glad you asked, Carol, because he did,” he answered gently. “He wanted you to know how things were. He wanted you to know why certain decisions had to be made. I guess he wanted pardon.”

      “Then he’s got it,” she answered quietly. “I could never learn to hate my grandfather no matter what my mother tried to drum into me. I was a rebellious child, not easy to handle. Not cute at all. One thing in my favour—hate was left out of me, when sadly it defined my mother.”

      Конец

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