Back in the Headlines

by Sharon Kendrick

  ‘I think you’ve made your point,’ he said coolly. ‘I thought you wanted to find out about my staff—as opposed to the minutiae of my property portfolio. You’ll answer to Vanessa—she’s the housekeeper. There’s a cook and various kitchen staff. There are also ground staff and secretarial staff and several cleaners—I have no idea of exact numbers. But I’m sure you’ll soon get to know them all.’

  ‘Right,’ said Roxy, resisting the temptation she’d been fighting ever since she’d woken up and turning in her seat to look at him properly. Her initial assessment of him had been an accurate one. He really was the most charismatic man she’d ever met and she wondered if he’d always been that way. She tried to imagine what he must have been like as a little boy—but it wasn’t easy to imagine Titus as being in any way little. Had he always had that wayward lock of thick, tawny hair brushing against his neck? And did women always feel an urge to brush it away and to place their lips there instead? She bet they did.

  Rather self-consciously, she cleared her throat in an effort to distract herself. ‘So what’s it like, growing up surrounded by staff?’ she asked.

  Titus slowed the Bentley down. ‘You must have had people working for you during your heady days as a star.’

  She tried not to notice the way the muscles of his thigh tensed when he pressed on the clutch or the sarcasm which had hardened his voice when he said ‘star’ like that. ‘Yes, I did—but they were employed by the record company, or by whichever hotel we happened to be staying in. I didn’t have any staff of my own.’

  ‘But you must have had a manager.’

  ‘My father acted as my manager,’ she said tonelessly.

  He heard the chill which had crept into her voice. ‘But he’s no longer around?’

  ‘He’s not dead, if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘It wasn’t.’

  Roxy stared down at her unpainted fingernails, aware that two of them were broken. His unspoken question hung on the air but she guessed he was too well brought up to say it. Why couldn’t you go to your father for help? Why did you tell me you didn’t have any relatives?

  ‘He’s around,’ she elaborated reluctantly. ‘But he’s no longer my manager and he wouldn’t be, even if I had need of one—which I don’t. I don’t really see him very much at all these days.’

  ‘And why’s that?’

  His unexpected question surprised her so much that she found herself answering it. Because for a moment then, he sounded as if he was actually interested. As if she was more than just an unnecessary burden he’d been forced to carry.

  ‘His succession of increasingly young girlfriends doesn’t exactly help smooth the father-daughter relationship,’

  she said. ‘But things have never been quite the same between us since he lost my entire fortune due to some pretty dire investments.’

  ‘Ouch,’ he said softly.

  Roxy shrugged. ‘Yes, it was pretty painful at the time—but you get used to it. Easy come, easy go,’ she recited, with a carelessness which she had deliberately cultivated over the years. Because what was the point in lamenting something you couldn’t change? ‘But anyway, that’s enough about me. What family do you have?’

  Titus let the Bentley crawl along at a snail’s pace. If it had been anyone else, he probably would have changed the subject. And if it had been anyone else, they would probably have let him. But Roxanne Carmichael was different, he recognised—and not just because she had the rather cocky confidence which came from having once received mass acclaim. She was different because of the circumstances surrounding her arrival at his house.

  She wasn’t just someone who had applied through the usual channel of an advertisement placed in the back of a genteel magazine. He had brought her here—and thus a rather unusual bond had formed between them. Which meant that he couldn’t be as dismissive to her as he would with any other junior member of staff—none of whom would have dreamed of asking him such a personal question. And she was going to be living here, he reminded himself. Inevitably she was going to find out more about him. So why not cut out the middleman and let her hear it from him for a change?

  ‘My father died eighteen months ago, which was when I inherited the title. Before that, I was living in Paris as a humble earl.’

  ‘I can’t imagine you being a humble anything.’

  ‘Should I take that as a compliment?’ He saw the look on her face and gave a sardonic smile. ‘No, I didn’t think so.’

  ‘And is your mother still alive?’

  ‘She is,’ he answered. ‘She lives in Scotland now.’

  ‘Oh? Why not here?’

  He cut the engine even though they were still some distance away from the house, but he knew that the moment he approached one or more of the servants would appear to greet him. ‘Because my mother divorced my father many years ago,’ he said. ‘When she discovered that he’d been having a long affair with the woman who was later to become my stepmother.’

  Roxy registered the contempt in his voice as he said the word stepmother and suddenly his behaviour became a little more understandable. Did his father’s extra-marital affair explain why he’d been so quick to condemn her when he thought she’d been seeing Martin Murray?

  ‘And your stepmother still lives here, does she?’ she questioned, wondering what on earth the atmosphere was going to be like if he said yes.

  ‘She does not. She moved on to pastures new when my father became infirm. Fortunately, I was able to persuade him to dissolve the marriage before he died.’ His tone became cold and steely. ‘So although he was cuckolded and made a fool of—at least she wasn’t able to make some outrageous claim on the estate.’

  The ruthlessness which had hardened his voice didn’t surprise her—because hadn’t she encountered it herself? What a difficult man he could be. But he was also a very charismatic man, with an allure she was finding it almost impossible to ignore. And that was crazy. She was sensitive enough to realise that, while he might fancy her, he certainly didn’t like her. And she’d be wise to put any romantic thoughts right out of her head and get this relationship on a more formal footing.

  So start taking control right now!

  ‘I feel I ought to thank you,’ she said stiffly. ‘For rescuing me from that awful hostel and giving me a job.’

  He shrugged. ‘Let’s just call it cause and effect, shall we? It was my fault that you were in the hostel in the first place.’

  Roxy shook her head. It might make her feel better to blame him for everything that had happened to her, but it wasn’t very fair. ‘Not really. I’d been feeling ropey for days. I should have gone to see a doctor myself.’

  That was generous of her, he conceded—watching as she twisted her long hair into a single plait and tied it with a scrunchy. Watching as it tumbled over the luscious swell of her breasts. With an effort, he redirected his attention to the towering splendour of his ancestral home.

  ‘Look,’ he said softly as he brought the Bentley to a halt in the vast forecourt of Valeo Hall.

  The breath caught in Roxy’s throat as she looked up at the enormous golden building. ‘Oh … wow!’

  ‘Like it?’ he questioned, with silky pride.

  ‘Like it?’ There was a pause as she allowed herself to drink in the beauty of the place. ‘Oh, Titus—it’s amazing!’

  Two bronze lions stood guard, their jaws locked in silent roar as they stared down from two enormous plinths. Giant pillars lined the wide steps leading up to the main door, where an attractive woman in her thirties was standing waiting for them. Her dark hair was woven neatly on top of her head and she was wearing an elegant grey dress, which was clearly some kind of uniform.

  ‘Come and meet Vanessa,’ said Titus.

  Shrugging on her warm jacket, Roxy got out of the car—hanging back a little as Titus walked towards the steps.

  ‘How lovely to see you, Your Grace!’ said the woman, in a soft voice. ‘Did you have a good journey?’

  ‘Very g
ood thanks, Vanessa,’ Titus answered. ‘The roads were surprisingly quiet.’

  Roxy blinked. Your Grace? Surely people didn’t still say that kind of thing? But Titus was gesturing towards her—looking a bit like a man who was trying to pass off a secondhand car as roadworthy.

  ‘This is Roxanne,’ he was saying to the housekeeper. ‘You remember me telling you about her on the phone? She’s a qualified cleaner, but don’t forget she’s been ill—so do break her in gently, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course I will,’ said Vanessa, giving Roxy a cautious smile. ‘Welcome to Valeo, Roxanne. We’re all pretty busy with the arrangements for His Grace’s party—so I can certainly find plenty for you to do here!’

  Roxy nodded, unable to shake off a sudden feeling of deflation. She was going to miss the company of Titus, she realised—even though he’d just described her as a ‘qualified cleaner’. Her time of being alone with him had come to an end and now she was going to have to blend in and get on with it, just like everyone else. She forced an answering smile. ‘Thank you. I’m … I’m really looking forward to working here.’

  ‘Good. Well, I’ll show you around now, so that we can leave His Grace in peace,’ said Vanessa. ‘I’m afraid it will take you ages before you start to find your bearings—it is rather a large house.’

  ‘So I see,’ said Roxy. She looked up to find a pair of pewter eyes studying her and she felt the unsteady lurch of her heart as she returned his gaze with a polite smile. ‘Thanks very much for the lift, Your … er … Your Grace.’

  ‘The pleasure was all mine,’ he answered coolly.

  He turned and walked into the big house and Roxy stood there for a moment, feeling a bit like a child who had just lost her security blanket, until Vanessa’s voice broke into her thoughts.

  ‘Come inside,’ said the housekeeper.

  Roxy had thought that entering Valeo Hall was going to be a bit like booking into a smart hotel, but all thoughts of hotels faded the moment she stepped inside. A vast, marbled staircase led up to the first floor and was supported by huge alabaster columns—so that it felt a bit like standing in the British Museum, on a school trip. Looking up, she could see high, domed ceilings with carved and gilded cornices. Exquisite tapestries hung from dark wooden walls and chandeliers like complicated cascades of diamonds sent fractured rays of light across the expanse of floor.

  But it was the scale of the place which was so startling. Everything looked so vast that it made her perception seem warped. A chair sitting by the start of the staircase—presumably in case you got exhausted after the long walk across the hall—looked as tiny as a piece of furniture from a doll’s house.

  ‘Good heavens,’ said Roxy, underneath her breath—but Vanessa must have heard her because she smiled.

  ‘I know. It’s pretty amazing the first time you see it, isn’t it? I remember walking in here for the first time and not quite believing I was going to be allowed to stay!’ She fixed Roxy with a curious look. ‘I believe you’re just here on a short-term contract, until after His Grace’s birthday party?’

  Roxy nodded. ‘That’s right,’ she said, as something in the formal-sounding terms of her employment reinforced the Duke’s inaccessibility ‘Is it going to be a big party?’

  ‘About three hundred and fifty guests, I believe.’

  ‘Gosh,’ Roxy observed wryly. ‘He must have a lot of friends.’

  There was a split-second pause. ‘He?’ echoed Vanessa, with a slightly studied expression of surprise. ‘The Duke’s friendships are not really any of my business—and neither are they yours. I’m afraid that you’ll be much too busy polishing all the glassware and dusting the statues to spend time thinking about His Grace’s private life! And now, I’ll take you across to your room if you like.’

  Roxy felt an unexpected twist of disappointment. ‘You mean I’m not staying here?’

  Vanessa’s head jerked back, as if Roxy had committed her second faux pas in as many minutes. ‘In the main house? Good heavens, no. Did you think you might be? The workers’ cottages are about a five-minute walk away, over by the windmill. As staff accommodation goes, you’ll find it’s excellent and I’m sure you’ll be perfectly comfortable there. Just let me get my coat and I’ll take you—it’s pretty wintry outside.’

  It certainly was, thought Roxy as an icy wind greeted them and chilled her through to the bone. The clouds were dark and heavy but it seemed almost too cold to snow. They crunched their way across the frosty grass until they’d reached a row of small cottages and when Vanessa unlocked the door of one, it was so low that Roxy had to dip her head to enter.

  Inside it was simply furnished and compact, with tiny windows looking out onto the flat Norfolk landscape. There was a green furry crocodile lying on the sofa and a used mug on the coffee table, next to a half-eaten packet of digestive biscuits. Vanessa gave a little click of disapproval.

  ‘You’ll be sharing with Amy—one of our permanent cleaners, who’s about your age.’

  ‘Sharing?’ echoed Roxy, because the last time she’d shared had been when The Lollipops were starting out and they’d been jammed into dingy little digs and had nearly killed each other.

  ‘His Grace didn’t mention that? I suppose he didn’t realise. You’ll have your own bedroom, of course,’ added Vanessa crisply. ‘I did ask Amy to make sure that the place was tidy before you arrived. I’m sorry about the mess.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ said Roxy automatically.

  ‘Staff dinner will be in the main house, at six-thirty,’ Vanessa was saying. ‘And whatever you do, don’t be late. We have a brilliant cook but she doesn’t take kindly to poor timekeeping. Now, unless you’ve got any questions, I’ll leave you to unpack.’

  After the housekeeper had left, Roxy unpacked her suitcase and made herself a cup of tea in the small and very old-fashioned kitchen. Her hands cupping the steaming drink, she walked over to the window and stared out at the darkening sky. And she thought how bizarre fate could sometimes be and the different places it could take you.

  She had ended up working in a stately home, in the most subservient position of her life. It wasn’t ideal, but it was a life-saver.

  And the last thing she could afford to do was to start falling for her arrogant and aristocratic boss.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ROXY had never heard of a ‘vermicular collar’ or a ‘large, conical foot’. But there again, she hadn’t realised that you could pay as much for a rare, Georgian wine glass as most people would spend on their monthly rent. Or that she would be expected to polish hundreds of the wretched things during the frantic run-up to the Duke’s party.

  She sighed as she held another delicate goblet up to the light and watched it sparkle, imagining herself toasting the birthday boy. What would she say to him, if she was speaking from the heart? Here’s to Titus Alexander, the icy-eyed Duke who I can’t stop thinking about—or fantasising about, even though I’m obviously the kind of woman he despises.

  ‘So this is where you’ve been hiding yourself.’

  A familiar aristocratic drawl interrupted her dreamy thoughts and Roxy very nearly dropped the precious glass, her fingers only just clamping around the twisted stem in time to save it. And she turned round to find herself looking into a pair of mocking grey eyes.

  It seemed like a year since she’d last spoken to him and yet it was barely a week. A week when she’d resolutely gone about her work and tried to forget about her charismatic employer and to concentrate on her job. But Titus’s presence seemed to permeate every aspect of his stately home. Everything revolved around the Duke and the Duke’s wishes.

  Occasionally, she’d seen him striding around the house but she’d spoken to him only once, when the housekeeper had asked her to take two glasses of whisky along to the Morning Room. Roxy had found Titus sitting talking to his estate manager and he had glanced up when she’d walked in and said, ‘Ah, Roxanne,’ in a way which had made his companion give him a sharp look. Her hands had been tr
embling as she’d put the tray down and when she had straightened up it had been to find his eyes fixed very firmly on her legs …

  Her hands were trembling now as she put the wine glass down and tried to compose her face into a nonchalant expression, but it wasn’t easy. Not when he was wearing an outrageously close-fitting pair of jodhpurs, which clung like syrup to his narrow hips and taut thighs.

  Roxy looked up into his smoky grey eyes and felt an instant kick of lust. ‘Yes, here I am,’ she said lightly.

  ‘Had any breakages yet?’ His sardonic gaze travelled towards the glass, which was now sitting safely on the table.

  ‘I’m afraid I dropped two just this morning,’ she answered blithely and saw his face go slightly pale.

  ‘You’re kidding?’

  ‘Funnily enough, yes, I am. I might be getting dazed from staring at so much Georgian crystal, but so far—I’ve managed to keep them all intact.’

  ‘Good.’ There was a pause while he tried not to stare at the soft curve of her lips. Or stop to ask himself why he had deliberately come looking for her after vowing that he would continue to stay away. Perhaps because she had been haunting his nights with the kind of hot and erotic dreams which were usually the province of sexually frustrated teenage boys. And that was crazy when there was an instant solution to his dilemma, if dilemma it was. He could pick up the phone and have someone here by the end of the afternoon, if he wanted to. There were legions of women—beautiful women of his own class—who would have been overjoyed to receive such a summons from the Duke of Torchester.

  Yet wasn’t it frustrating to realise that currently there was nobody who turned him on the way that Roxy Carmichael did? He was obsessed by her—or, rather, by the thought of having sex with her—and was wondering whether it was worth fighting a battle with himself any longer. Because it was pretty clear from the darkening of her beautiful blue eyes that the feeling was mutual, so why not give into the powerful chemistry which was sizzling between them? Yes, she was a servant and he had vowed that he wasn’t ever going to stray into that rather dangerous territory again, but sometimes temptation was a little too much for a man to resist …