His fingers drummed on the edge of his desk. Why was it so hard to start teleconferences on time? If he could fly back from Brussels and arrive at his office by 8 am ready and prepared, why couldn’t a bunch of lawyers roll up at their own offices at 9 am? Here he was, watching a blank screen, waiting for them to boot up and sign in. The file in front of him had a big black label.Employment Dispute.It did nothing to improve his mood. Pendle & Thompson were the kind of big company he hatedto defend.
Even the computer was bored and had gone to sleep. The screen saver—no doubt chosen by Vicky, his PA—showed a series of sunset scenes and inspirational quotes. Didn’t she know by now that he detested this kind of hippie philosophy? A quote in italics rolled across the screen from right to left:Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. So, be kind. Always.
The memory from earlier in the week rolled across his mind’s eye. The young woman he’d left in the café. She’d clearly been fighting a battle, but he’d notbeen kind.
For Christ’s sake, how was he supposed to act when some silly little car came out of nowhere and crashed into the middle of hisbusy day?
A sudden flush of shame washed over him as he remembered his cutting words—words calculated to put the young woman in her place and leave her there. The last thing he’d expected was for her to jump out and tear him off a strip.
He’d dealt with plenty of angry women in his life, but she was different. There’d been something in her eyes, something he’d seen only once before.Long ago.
Real grief was unmistakable. Once you’d seen it, you neverforgot it.
So, he had done his best and arranged everything he could think of to help her. After all, he was very good at making arrangements. What he wasn’t good at was the unpredictable, and something about her didn’t make sense.
Why would someone so clearly in need of help bridle when offered it? She had something under the layers of pain and defeat, a tiny spark. He could almost admire her if she hadn’t made himso uneasy.
A movement caught his eye. His senior PA was hovering outsidethe door.
“What is it, Vicky?”
She opened the glass door and walked in. “Miss Caroline Colgan is on the phone. She said it was urgent.”
His mood darkened. He knew all too well what Caroline meant when she said“urgent”.
He blew out a frustrated breath. “Thanks. Just tell her I’m not available. And Vicky?”
“Yes?” she stopped, on her way out.
“In future, if she rings again, you don’t need to ask me. Just dealwith it.”
She nodded and closed the door behind her a little too carefully. Vicky was an excellent administrator, but she hated dealing with his personal life; she thought him a heartless bastard.
He rubbed a hand over his eyes. His day had started at 4 am and would not end until 8 pm, the last thing he needed was clingy exes.
The relationship with Caroline had been a brief and ill-advised holiday romance in the Alps, three years ago. Caroline, a seasonal waitress at a local ski resort, had tripped in front of him on the slope and twisted her ankle. He’d carried her, crying and shivering, all the way up to his rented chalet, wrapped her in a blanket, lit a fire and called the local paramedics. The ankle was fine in the end but she’d stayed for lunch and then an afternoon in bed with him. At the end of a fun week, they’d said goodbye amicably, or so he thought. Two weeks later, she’d turned up at his office in London desperate and homeless. He’d found her a new job, and a small studio flat, he’d even paid for the first two months until she could get on her feet. But at the end of the two months she was back on his doorstep having lost her job and fallen into debt. The tearful scene would repeat itself several time before it became clear that Caroline had no intention of keeping any job. What she wanted was a rich boyfriend to take care of her.
She wasn’t the first woman to see him as a step up, but she had definitely been the last. After Caroline, he’d vowed any girlfriend would have to be his equal, in every way. These days he only dated rich, successful women, confident socialites. He avoided, like the plague, women with problems and noprospects.
The screen blinked back to life, and the teleconference finally kicked off. He faced the webcam, schooled his features to a professional blankness and cleared his throat. “Good morning, everyone. Shall we turn to the employee’s complaint? You’ve all read the allegations of bullying in the workplace; I am sure you have plenty ofcomments.”
Two of the five faces on the screen dipped to flip hurriedly through the paperwork. Of course, they hadn’t read it.
He supressed a smile. “The company have buried these complaints at the very back behind the external references and spreadsheets. Always start reading from the back to find what the client doesn’t want youto see.”
He pitched his tone exactly between helpful and reprimanding. The two lazy lawyers would understand their mistake and get the message without losing face. One did not nurture professionals by humiliating them in front of their colleagues. And next time they’d be on timeandbetterprepared.
As he proceeded with the business, a small voice at the back of his mind nagged.You didn’t even bother to ask her name—that girl in the café with a spark of courage in hersad eyes.
Same day La Canette, 4pm
Millie stood on the starboard side, hands on the railings, watching the tiny island come into view. From this distance, La Canette looked like a green-and-lavender swan. The centre was a wide and long oval with a narrow gracefulneckconnecting it to a small headland farther to the southwest. As the ferry from Guernsey sailed closer, the colours resolved into fields, woods and a carpet of pink-and-lilac wildflowers swaying in the breeze. Narrow paths snaked between the fields; she could see the occasional cyclist in the distance and even a few people riding horses.
Despite everything, her heart lifted. This was going to be her new home. She pulled out the printed letter of introduction the employment agency hadgiven her.
Mrs Baxter, Housekeeper.
Du Montfort Hall.
