least Viola was behaving herself, thought Lewis. So far, anyway. He eyed the carry-cot in the corner dubiously. She was sleeping peacefully, but the way today was going that wouldn’t last.
He would have to make the most of the time he had left today. He wished he hadn’t agreed to see Martha Shaw, but Gill had been so insistent that her friend was just the person he needed to look after Viola that in the end he had given in just to shut her up. ‘Martha will be absolutely perfect for you,’ she had insisted.
Lewis wasn’t so sure. Gill was a friend of Savannah’s and worked on some glossy, glittery magazine. He couldn’t imagine her being friends with a nanny at all, let alone the kind of calm, sensible, solid nanny that he wanted.
The door opened. ‘Martha Shaw,’ said his PA brightly, and ushered in exactly the kind of woman Lewis least wanted to see right then.
He should have known, he thought bitterly, taking in the slightly dishevelled glamour and the brittle smile. She was attractive enough, with a swing of dark straight hair and that generous mouth, but she was far too thin. Lewis preferred women who didn’t look as if they would snap in two the moment you touched them.
So much for a calm, solid nanny. Martha Shaw radiated nervous exhaustion. Her huge dark eyes were smudged with tiredness, and she held herself tensely.
And she wasn’t just holding herself.
‘That,’ said Lewis, ignoring her greeting and levelling an accusing stare at her hip, ‘is a baby.’
Martha followed his gaze to Noah, who was sucking his thumb and gazing around him with round blue eyes. Nothing wrong with Lewis Mansfield’s powers of observation then, even if his manners left something to be desired.
‘Good heavens, so it is!’ she exclaimed with an exaggerated start of surprise. ‘How did that get there?’
Her facetiousness was met with a scowl that made her heart sink. Not only was Lewis sadly lacking on the courtesy front, but he clearly had no sense of humour either. Not a good start to her interview.
Time to try charm instead. ‘This is Noah,’ she said with her best smile.
It was not returned. Somehow she hadn’t thought that it would be. Lewis Mansfield was the walking, talking embodiment of dour. He was tall and tough-looking, with an austere, angular face and guarded eyes. It was hard to believe that he could be related in any way to the golden, glamorous Savannah Mansfield, with her famously volatile temper and celebrity lifestyle.
Gill might have warned her, thought Martha with a touch of resentment. Admittedly, Gill had said that Lewis could be a bit gruff. ‘But he’s a sweetie really,’ she had hastened to reassure Martha. ‘I’m sure you’ll get on very well.’
On the receiving end of his daunting glare, Martha somehow doubted that.
She studied Lewis with a dubious expression as she waited for him to apologise for keeping her waiting, or at least to ask her to sit down. Very dark, very thick brows were drawn together over his commanding nose in what looked suspiciously like a permanent frown, and she searched in vain for any sign of softness or sensitivity in the unfriendly eyes or that stern mouth. He looked grim and grumpy and, yes, definitely gruff, but a sweetie? Martha didn’t think so.
‘He’s very good,’ she offered, ruffling Noah’s hair when it was obvious that no apology would be forthcoming. They could hardly stand here all afternoon glaring at each other, so one of them was going to have to break the silence and it looked as if it was going to have to be her. She hoped Lewis couldn’t see her crossed fingers when she thought about all the broken nights. ‘He won’t be any trouble.’
‘Hah!’ grunted Lewis, prowling out from behind his desk. ‘I’ve heard that before—usually from women who promptly hand over their babies and go off, leaving you to discover for yourself just how much trouble they are!’
Oh dear, this wasn’t going well at all. Martha sighed inwardly. Gill had given her the impression that Lewis Mansfield was a frazzled engineer, struggling to build up his own company and overwhelmed by the unforeseen responsibility of looking after his sister’s baby. She hadn’t actually said that he was tearing his hair out and desperate for help, but Martha had come fully expecting him to fall on her neck with gratitude for turning up just when he needed her.
Dream on, Martha told herself wryly. One look at Lewis Mansfield and it was obvious that he wasn’t the demonstrative type. He didn’t look the slightest bit desperate or overwhelmed, and as for feeling grateful…well, there clearly wasn’t much point in holding her breath on that front!
She thought about St Bonaventure instead and forced a cheerful smile. ‘That’s why I’m here,’ she pointed out, and sat down on one of the plush black leather sofas.
To hell with waiting to be asked, she thought. Noah was heavy and she was tired and her feet hurt. If Lewis Mansfield didn’t have the common courtesy to ask her to sit down, she would sit anyway.
She settled Noah beside her, ignoring Lewis’s look of alarm. What did he think Noah was going to do to his swish sofa? she wondered, exasperated. Suck it apart? He was only eight months. He didn’t have the teeth or the hands for wholesale destruction.
Yet.
‘Gill said that you’re looking after your sister’s baby for a few months,’ she persevered. ‘I gather you’re going out to the Indian Ocean and will take the baby with you, so you need someone to help. Gill suggested I could be the someone who makes sure that she isn’t any trouble to you while you’re away.’
‘It’s true that I need a nanny,’ said Lewis, as if unwilling to admit even that much. ‘Savannah—my sister—is going through a very…stressful…time,’ he said carefully, as if Martha wouldn’t have read all about his sister’s tempestuous affair, wedding and now divorce in the pages of Hello!
‘She’s finding it hard to cope with the baby and everything else that’s going on at the moment,’ he went on, ‘and now she wants to check herself into a clinic to sort herself out.’
Martha knew about that too. Hello! was required reading in the Glitz offices and it was a hard habit to kick. She didn’t blame Lewis Mansfield for the faint distaste in his tone. Savannah Mansfield was ravishingly pretty, but she had always struck Martha as a spoilt brat who was far too prone to tantrums when she didn’t get her own way. Her marriage to the brooding rock star Van Valerian, not renowned for the sweetness of his own temper, had been doomed from the moment their engagement was announced with full photo coverage and much flaunting of grotesquely large diamond rings.
Now Savannah was checking herself into a clinic famous for its celebrity clientele, most of whom seemed to Martha to be struggling solely with the pressure of being too rich and too thin. Meanwhile poor little Viola Valerian had been abandoned by both parents and handed over to her grim uncle.
Martha felt sorry for her. Lewis Mansfield might be a responsible figure, but he didn’t look as if he would be a very jolly or a very loving one.
Which was a shame. It wasn’t that he was an unattractive man. Her dark eyes studied him critically. If he smiled he could probably look quite different, she thought, her gaze lingering on the stern mouth, but when she tried to imagine him smiling or loving a queer feeling prickled down her spine and she looked quickly away.
‘Who’s looking after Viola at the moment?’ she asked, really just for something to say while she shook off that odd sensation.
‘Her nanny. She’s been with Viola since she was born, but she’s getting married next year and she doesn’t want to be away from her fiancé for six months.’
It seemed fair enough to Martha, but Lewis sounded impatient, as if Viola’s poor nanny was being completely unreasonable in wanting to stay with the man she loved.
‘I need someone experienced at caring for babies who’s prepared to spend six months in St Bonaventure,’ he went on, and Martha straightened her back, pleased that they had at last