With a lot of ceremony, he poured an inch of the vintage in Millie’s glass and waited for her approval. George watched.She’s not used to this.He didn’t rescue her; he wanted to see how she coped. People under pressure in unfamiliar surroundings normally revealed a lot about themselves.
She let go of the shawl she’d been holding like a shield as she reached for the glass and took the obligatory sip. Without waiting for the wine to make an impression on her taste buds, she smiled up at the sommelier. “Thank you. It’s wonderful.”
The sommelier poured the rest of her glass with a courteous“Ma dame.”
The shawl fell open, and she quickly pulled it tight again. George caught a brief glimpse of a smooth, velvety neckline and a gentle swell of breast. There were distinct tan lines, a golden-brown V surrounded by creamypale skin.
Interesting.
It was the kind of tan one got through an open shirt collar. The women he knew always took care to achieve a uniform tan, usually by regular trips to exclusive beaches where they could disrobe in the sun. Millie could have sunbathed topless on that sunny rock where he found herlast week.
He swallowed hard. For Christ’s sake, he was acting like a fourteen-year-old boy leafing through a lingerie catalogue.Pull yourself together. She is here todo a job.
Yes, job. He fixed his mind on that.
“How do you like your job?” he asked her with a serious face and a serious voice. If only it wasn’t the same question he’d just asked her five minutes ago. Come on, focus!“Working for my father can be challenging,” he added quickly.
“It’s fine.”
“And the physiotherapy?”
She nodded. “That’s fine, too.”
Like hell.Another lie.
“From what I’ve heard, my father always refused physiotherapy.” George spoke smoothly, outlining the evidence. “Nurse Ann reported three months ago that my father wouldn’t speak to Liam. In fact he wouldn’t even look at him.” He watched her closely. “You remember this? Three months ago was when you started, am I right?” He laid down the facts like iron bars totrap her.
Millie nodded. “Yes.”
There it was, again, the hint of something nervous in the line ofher lips.
She reached for her glass and sippedher wine.
“So how did it go from absolute refusal to ‘fine’?” he asked, leaning back in his chair towatch her.
Millie tooka moment.
He waited.
Her fingers touched the stem of her wine glass, then moved the silver cutlery a little closer to the side plate before meetinghis eyes.
“Mr Du Montfort, from what I understand, used to govern all of LaCanette.”
Here we go.“Yes.”Go on.Tell me you want to restore him to his former glory and bring love intohis life.
Her fingers smoothed the crisp white linen tablecloth in front of her. “A powerful man accustomed to giving orders and being incontrol.”
Great assessment, but you forgot to say rich. Come on, don’t be coy.He kept his face expressionless.
She took a sip of her wine, then put her glass down. “Mr Du Montfort, as I see him, is a proud man. It’s a big comedown for him to need help with the simplest of movements.”
A proud man, yes, his father was certainly that. George’s eyes travelled down to the table, to Millie’s fingers curled around the stem of her wineglass. Reflections of the candle flame danced on the pale liquid.
She went on. “How can we expect him to let his staff see him struggling to lift a spoon with his left hand? To see him struggle to walk three short steps?”
The first, and only time, he saw his father try to walk after his stroke was at the hospital. Two nurses had held him upright while his left leg shook like a leaf.
An unfamiliar pain squeezed George’s heart for an instant.
