dear, what has the poor girl told you, Mr Vasilikos?’ There was a note of apprehension in her voice.
‘That she does not wish to sell her share,’ he replied bluntly. ‘And that she is prepared to force you to resort to legal measures to make her do so. Which will, as you must be aware, be both costly and time-consuming.’
Pauline Mountford’s be-ringed fingers wound into each other. ‘I’m so sorry, Mr Vasilikos, that you have been exposed to...well, to this, unfortunate development. I had hoped we could reach a happy conclusion between ourselves and—’
Max cut across her, his tone decisive. ‘I make no bones that I want to buy this place,’ he said. ‘But I don’t want problems and I don’t want delays.’
‘We don’t either!’ agreed Chloe promptly. ‘Mummy, we’ve just got to stop Ellen ruining everything.’
He looked at the pair of them. ‘Do you know what is behind her reluctance to sell?’
Pauline sighed again, her face shadowing. ‘I believe,’ she said slowly, ‘that she is a very unhappy young woman. Poor Ellen has always found it very...difficult...to have us here.’
‘She’s hated us from the start,’ Chloe said tightly. ‘She’s never made us welcome.’
Pauline sighed once more. ‘Alas, I’m afraid it’s true. She was at a difficult age when Edward married me. And I fear it is all too common, sadly, for a daughter who has previously had the undivided attention of her father not to allow that he might seek to find happiness with someone else. I did my best...’ she sighed again ‘...and so did poor little Chloe—you did, darling, didn’t you? You made every effort to be friends, wanted her so much to be your new sister! But, well... I do not wish to speak ill of Ellen, but nothing—absolutely nothing that we did—could please her. She was, I fear, set on resenting us. It upset her father dreadfully. Too late, he realised how much he’d spoiled her, made her possessive and clinging. He could control her a little, though not a great deal, but now that he is gone...’ A little sob escaped her. ‘Well, she has become as you see her.’
‘She never goes anywhere!’ Chloe exclaimed. ‘She just buries herself here all year round.’
Pauline nodded. ‘Sadly, that is true. She has her little teaching job at her old school—which in itself surely cannot be advisable, for it keeps her horizons from widening—but that is all she has. She has no social life—she rejects all my attempts to...to involve her!’ She levelled her eyes at Max. ‘I want nothing but the best for her. If Haughton holds too many memories for me to bear, for her I am sure it is much, much worse. Doting on her father as she did was not emotionally healthy for a young woman...’
Max frowned. ‘Did she not want her father to include you in his will? Neither you nor her stepsister?’ he asked.
Was that the root of the matter? That Ellen Mountford had wanted everything her father had left to go to her, cutting out his second wife and stepdaughter completely?
‘That may be so, alas,’ confirmed Pauline. ‘My poor Edward quite thought of Chloe as his own daughter—she took his name, as you know. Perhaps that led to some...well, perhaps some jealousy on Ellen’s part? Possessive as she was about her father...’
Memory stung in Max’s head. His mother might have taken his stepfather’s name, but he—the nameless, fatherless bastard she had borne—had never been permitted to.
Pauline was speaking again, and he drew his mind back to the present.
‘You must not think, Mr Vasilikos, that Edward has been in any way unfair to Ellen. Oh, he might have taken steps to ensure that Chloe and myself were taken care of financially, by way of including us in the ownership of this house, but Ellen was left everything else. And my husband...’ she gave a sigh ‘...was a very wealthy man, with a substantial stock portfolio and other assets.’ She took a little breath. ‘Our share of this house, Mr Vasilikos, is all we have, Chloe and I, so I’m sure you will understand why, as well as finding being here without Edward too painful, we must sell. And,’ she pointed out, ‘of course Ellen’s share of the sale price will be handsome.’
Max absorbed the information, keeping his expression impassive. What Pauline Mountford said rang all too true. That open bristling that he had seen from Ellen Mountford in her stepmother’s company—
He got to his feet. There was nothing more to be achieved here right now. ‘Well, I will leave it with you. See what you can do to change Ellen’s mind and attitude.’
He smiled down at them—the courteous, impersonal smile he used to keep others well-disposed towards him for his own benefit.
Ten minutes later he was heading off down the drive, his glance going to either side, taking in one last sweep of the place. For now. His expression tightened. Whatever was necessary to induce Ellen Mountford to abandon her objection to selling her share of this place would, he determined as he turned out through the drawn-back iron gates on to the road, be done.
With or without her co-operation.
MAX HEARD OUT his legal advisor, then drummed his fingers on the polished surface of his mahogany desk. Forcing a sale would indeed be time-consuming, and he wanted to take possession without delay—before summer was over. Which meant getting Ellen Mountford to drop her objections.
He gave a rasp of exasperation, swivelling moodily in his leather chair, his dark eyes baleful. There had been no good news from Pauline Mountford, and he strongly suspected there would not be. If Ellen was as entrenched in her hostile view of her stepmother as she seemed to be, then Pauline was doubtless the last person capable of changing her stepdaughter’s mind.
But he might be able to.
An idea was forming in his head—he could feel it. An idea to make her want to sell up.
Chloe Mountford’s voice echoed in his memory. ‘She never goes anywhere—she just buries herself here all year round!’
His eyes glinted. Maybe that was the key that would start to unlock the problem.
Impulsively he summoned his PA. ‘Tell me, have I got any particularly glitzy social events coming up soon here in London?’ he asked her.
Five minutes later he had his answer—and had made his decision. He sat back in his chair, long legs extended, a smile of satisfaction playing around his mouth. Oh, yes, he’d made his decision, all right. And Ellen herself had given him the way to convince her of it.
That mention she’d made of her surprising involvement in a charity for giving city children a countryside holiday under canvas. That would do nicely. Very nicely. His plan would help him lever Ellen Mountford out of his way—he was sure of it.
And as he settled down to work again, in a much better frame of mind, he became aware that he was sure of something else as well. That, of all things, he was looking forward to seeing her again—and making an end, once and for all, to all that nonsense of hers about looking the unappealing way she did.
I’ve seen her real body—her goddess body!—and now I want to see her face look just as good as her figure.
The smile played around his mouth once more, and the gleam in his eyes was speculative. Anticipatory.
And for a moment—just a moment—the prospect of finding a way to remove Ellen Mountford’s objections to selling him the house he wanted to buy was not uppermost in his mind.
How good could she look? How good could she really look?
The glint came into his eye again. He wanted to find out.
* * *
Ellen turned off the ignition and got out. Her car needed a service, but she couldn’t afford it. Her salary was wiped out simply paying for the essentials at Haughton—from council tax