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 chicken?’
It took Sophie several seconds to realise her aunt was answering her employer’s request for a sandwich. Her aunt had been expecting Maximilian Grant in the morning, had been cooking his favourite foods all day in preparation for the weekend, her employer having spent the weekdays in his London apartment, as he usually did. Much to Aunt Millie’s chagrin; there was nothing she liked better than having someone to look after and feed. She had complained to Sophie only that afternoon, as she bustled about cooking pies and cakes, that she was sure Maximilian Grant didn’t look after himself properly in London anyway, that she didn’t understand why he didn’t spend more time down here. It wasn’t the same for her now as it had been with the last owners of Henley Hall, the Grays and their three children permanently in residence. But the Grays had sold up to Maximilian Grant over a year ago, and, although Aunt Millie had been asked to stay on as cook-housekeeper, she didn’t enjoy it now as much as she had when the Grays and their three young children had lived here. Maybe now that Maximilian Grant and his daughter were both back…
‘That will be fine,’ he accepted tersely now. ‘I’ll take the coffee tray back with——’ He broke off suddenly, turning sharply, pinning Sophie with those ice-blue eyes, his mouth thinning. ‘I didn’t realise you had company.’ He turned back to her aunt almost accusingly.
Sophie’s tentative grin, on at last being spotted, turned into a sickly grimace at the open hostility in his voice now. Gone was the abruptly polite employer who had been talking to her aunt, and in his place was–Sophie wasn’t sure…
He must have known the person he was thinking of employing as Jennifer’s companion was coming here, because he had asked that she be here for an interview on Saturday morning before his daughter came home from boarding-school at lunchtime, and he also knew she was his housekeeper’s niece, so that couldn’t be the problem either. And yet he was reacting to her presence here now as if she were some sort of intruder. It didn’t make sense. She hadn’t even spoken yet, so it couldn’t be that!
‘I’m Sophie Gordon,’ she decided to take the initiative when her aunt seemed as surprised by his attitude towards her as she was, stepping forward to hold her hand out in polite greeting. ‘Aunt Mil–er–Mrs Craine’s niece,’ she hastily amended at her aunt’s frown, the beginnings of a blush darkening her cheeks as she saw Maximilian Grant’s eyes narrow even more, in puzzlement this time.
Her voice! He did recognise her voice, was looking her up and down critically now.
And Sophie knew exactly what he would see: a shock of short red curls that refused to be tamed, huge hazel-coloured eyes that could be either green or brown, depending on her mood–right now they were definitely green!—a small snub nose, generously curving mouth, a determinedly pointed chin, her slight, almost boyish body clothed in the unaccustomed skirt and blouse, the satiny sheen to the latter being what had made it easy earlier for him to spot her in the headlights of his car. Well, at least she had done something sensible tonight, had worn something–even if it had been unintentionally at the time!—that could be clearly seen. Although she doubted ‘sensible’ was the word going through Maximilian Grant’s mind at the moment concerning her; she was already well aware of what he thought of her! But Aunt Millie wasn’t, and——
‘Ah, yes,’ Maximilian Grant answered her slowly, the hostility gone now–to be replaced with dry mockery. ‘You’re here about the job,’ he nodded tauntingly.
And she could kiss goodbye to that job, Sophie read from the derisive glint in his eyes, her arm falling back to her side as he made no effort to shake her hand. Which meant that she could also say goodbye to the week’s wages too. And she had needed that money. She doubted, in the circumstances, that he would feel like reimbursing her return train fare either, which made all of this a double blow. Well, she might just have to ask him for the latter; she couldn’t afford, literally, to be proud.
‘That’s right,’ she confirmed brightly. ‘I came down by train this afternoon so that I wouldn’t be late for our interview in the morning.’
Dark blond brows rose over mocking eyes. ‘Very commendable, I’m sure,’ he drawled softly. ‘Although it could be called taking punctuality to the extreme!’
She felt the heat in her cheeks at his undoubted sarcasm at her expense. ‘I thought it
