Gracious Lady. Кэрол Мортимер

mouth thinned, his eyes ice-cold. ‘I’m more than capable of getting my own coffee and sandwich,’ he rasped harshly.

      Sophie would hazard a guess at his being more than capable of doing most things for himself! She really shouldn’t have let herself be goaded into giving that insolent reply. And she wouldn’t have done if he weren’t so–so damned superior, looking down that arrogant nose of his at her as if she were some unusual type of specimen that he wanted to push and poke around until he discovered what made her function the way that she did–and then dispose of her! Or maybe she was just being over-sensitive; after all, he did have a certain right to be judgemental about her behaviour…

      ‘Or you could have made it for me,’ he continued challengingly before she could make a reply. ‘When you finally got in!’

      She winced at the disapproving anger in his voice. He sounded like a stern father reprimanding a wayward child, although anyone less like her own wonderful, indulgent father she couldn’t imagine–and she doubted Maximilian Grant would welcome the idea of her as his child any more favourably! Maybe prospective employer reprimanding a less than suitable candidate for employment was more like it, after all. And the longer they talked, the more she realised how true that probably was; she didn’t ‘suit’ Maximilian Grant at all!

      She moistened her lips nervously. ‘You——’

      ‘Sorry I took so long with your sandwich, Mr Grant.’ Her aunt chose that moment to bustle into the room after the briefest of knocks to alert them to her presence, smiling at the two of them brightly as she came in, seeming unaware of the tension that fairly crackled in the room between her employer and her niece. At least, to Sophie it did! ‘I made you some fresh mayonnaise to go with it,’ Aunt Millie beamed with satisfaction.

      ‘You shouldn’t have gone to all that trouble, Mrs Craine.’ Maximilian Grant relaxed enough to smile up at Sophie’s aunt, although Sophie could see the angry glitter directed at her still in his ice-blue eyes. She had seen a photograph of an iceberg once that had the palest of blue coloration to it; this man’s eyes reminded her of that iceberg. ‘You really must go to bed now, Mrs Craine.’ His smile took some of the order out of the sharpness of his words as he spoke to her aunt again, but it was no less an instruction he expected her to obey, for all that.

      Even so, Sophie knew it was an order her aunt would have to disobey; there was no way Aunt Millie would just meekly go off to bed now, without learning exactly how Sophie had got on in her interview with Maximilian Grant. That was something she wasn’t alone in!

      ‘Sophie and I can clear away here when we’re finished,’ Maximilian Grant added–as if he was well aware of his housekeeper’s reluctance.

      ‘Very well,’ Aunt Millie replied stiffly, making her exit, dignified displeasure down each rigid inch of her spine.

      Sophie winced, knowing that look only too well. Not that it appeared to be bothering Maximilian Grant as he looked across the desk at Sophie with raised brows. And why should it bother him? The most Aunt Millie could do to him was serve him up an inedible meal, and as her aunt was very proud of her cooking, that wasn’t very likely! Sophie wished she could be let off as lightly…

      ‘You were saying…?’ Maximilian Grant prompted drily, as if he knew exactly what thoughts were going through her mind.

      What had she been saying? Oh, yes… ‘I just wanted to explain about what happened earlier this evening–but I realise now there isn’t a lot of point to that, is there?’ She sighed wearily at the knowledge that it was probably far too late to redeem herself in his eyes.

      Would it do any good, she wondered, if she were to tell this man that it hadn’t been the defending of her honour that had resulted in her ordering Brian to stop the car and let her out, but of his, Maximilian Grant’s?