He noticed. Damned observant man. ‘Are you going to yours now, I meant,’ he said, not looking at all flustered at the misunderstanding. ‘Rather than any sort of inappropriate proposition.’
‘I knew that,’ Faith said quickly. ‘And yes. Bed. After I finish up some emails and such.’
Dominic nodded. ‘Come on. We can work in the office of my suite. Keep each other awake while we finish up for the day. I’ve got some things I need to go over with you, anyway.’
She shouldn’t. All she really wanted to do was take off her make-up, curl up in her bed with the late-night TV on low, and answer her emails until she passed out from exhaustion. Working in Dominic’s room meant keeping on her high heels and actually making coherent conversation, both of which seemed like they might be beyond her until she’d got some sleep.
And yet...
‘We can have a nightcap,’ he said, striding off in the direction of the lift. ‘Come on.’
She followed. He was her boss, after all, and she was obliged to bow to his requests. At least, that was what she was telling herself. She was too tired to think about the part of her that wasn’t ready to say goodnight to him just yet.
Dominic’s suite was twice the size of her, already impressive, accommodation. It had a kitchen area, a full dining table, a lounge filled with an oversized corner sofa and a glass coffee table and, tucked away in a corner by the bedroom door, the office.
There was only one desk, but two chairs, and another low table between them. Dominic took the desk chair, flipping open his laptop as he sat, so Faith settled into the visitor’s chair—lower, more comfortable, and far too likely to send her to sleep.
Wearily, she reached into her bag for her tablet, contemplating just kicking her shoes off regardless. It was late. He’d understand. And her feet couldn’t smell that much, could they?
Hmm. Maybe better not to risk it.
‘Drink?’ Dominic asked, and when she looked up she saw that he’d taken off his jacket, his shirt collar lying open beneath it. Her gaze fixed on the hollow at his neck, just above his collarbone, and she wondered, in what could only be a sleep-deprived daze, what it would be like to kiss him there. How his skin would feel under her lips, under her fingertips. ‘I’ve got brandy, whisky, probably some rum...’
Faith blinked, and brought her attention back to the real world. ‘Um, a whisky would be great. Thanks.’
Work. She was here to work. She really had to remember that.
She swiped a finger across the screen to bring it to life, and brought up her email program. Thirty-seven new emails. And since this was a new account Dominic had set up for her to do the job at hand, chances were that very few of them were spam. She suppressed a groan. She was never going to get to sleep tonight.
Dominic returned from the bar in the kitchen area with two tumblers, filled with ice and topped with what she imagined would probably be the finest whisky. Did she even remember what that tasted like? she wondered. Her father had only ever drunk the best, most expensive Scotch whiskies, and he’d tried to ensure that she grew up with a taste for the finer things, too.
‘Here.’ Dominic bent down to hand her the glass, and Faith’s mouth moistened as that hollow at his neck grew closer.
This was ridiculous. She needed to go to bed.
As soon as she’d finished work.
Leaning back in the swivel chair at the desk, Dominic stretched his legs out in front of him, arms folded across his chest, and studied her.
‘What?’ Faith asked after a few long moments of scrutiny.
‘You did a really great job tonight,’ he said.
A warm glow flushed across her skin. ‘Thank you. I knew it was important to you that your clients start the trip off with a bang.’
‘And you certainly did that. The bus was a masterstroke.’ And yet still he kept staring at her.
‘Is there a But... here?’ Faith didn’t care if she was being blunt. It was far too late at night for subtle.
Dominic shook his head, unfolding his arms to push himself up into a straighter seated position. ‘No buts. Just a few questions.’
Questions. Possibly her least favourite things. ‘Such as?’
‘Well, I never got to see your full résumé. We didn’t even have a proper interview.’
‘And you want to do that now?’ Was the man crazy? ‘You realise I’m already doing the job, right? And doing it well, according to you.’
‘I know.’ Dominic sounded completely unruffled. ‘Like I say, I just want to know a little bit about your background.’
Her work background, Faith reminded herself, as her heart started to beat double time. All Dominic cared about was the job he’d hired her to do. Even if he did start developing suspicions about who she really was, he probably wouldn’t care unless it interfered with one of his meetings. All she needed to do was keep things professional. How hard could that be?
‘Well, I started working in events in London,’ she said, carefully editing out that part about how, as Lady Faith Fowlmere, she’d mostly been attending the events. Or, at most, throwing epic parties at her famous friends’ houses. ‘Then moved more into the tour guide side of things for a while.’ After she ran away from home and became Faith Fowler. ‘That’s where I met my previous employer, who hired me to run his tours in Italy, where I’ve been for the last year and a half.’ After Great-Uncle Nigel spotted her at an event in London and almost dragged her home and she realised that another country would be much easier to hide in. ‘That’s about it,’ she finished with a shrug.
Dominic gazed at her, his eyes still assessing. But finally he nodded. ‘Well, you obviously learned a lot in your time. Like I said, you’re doing a great job. I trust you’ll find more wonderful experiences to entertain us over the next few days. And you’re coming to Beresford Hall with us later in the week, of course?’
Faith froze, the pleased smile she’d had at his words fixing into place as she realised what he was asking. Beresford Hall. Family seat. Full of people who knew the aristocracy, knew the families, kept up with the news.
Full of people who might recognise her.
‘Actually, I was thinking that perhaps I should stay here and get the last couple of nights’ entertainment sorted out?’
Dominic raised his eyebrows. ‘We have Wi-Fi at the Hall these days, you know. You can work there.’
‘Right. Of course.’ Maybe she could hide on the bus. Or in a deserted corner bedroom. Or a cupboard. Anywhere. ‘Only, I was thinking—’ she started, but Dominic spoke over her.
‘Then that’s settled.’ He tilted his head as he studied her. ‘I’ll be interested to see what you make of the old place.’
‘Oh?’ What did it matter what she thought? She was only the hired help.
But Dominic nodded. ‘I want Beresford Hall to be an all-inclusive events location. It’s more than a piece of history now, more than heritage. There are a lot of opportunities there—at our conference facility for a start. If you wanted me to introduce you to the head of events there...’
‘No,’ Faith said, too loudly. ‘I mean, thank you. But really, this job is just a one-off. In between tours, like I said. I’m not looking for a permanent conference and events job here in the UK.’ Especially not at Beresford Hall, where someone was bound to recognise her on her first day. No, thank you.
‘So you’ll be going back to Italy, after this week?’ Dominic’s gaze was sharp, and Faith got the impression that this was the real question he’d wanted to ask all along.
‘Um, probably not Italy, no,’ she admitted.
‘So, you don’t actually have another job lined up there?’
‘Not exactly.’ Faith plastered on a sparkling smile. ‘I like to keep moving, you see. Don’t want to be tied down to just one country.’
‘I see.�
� Dominic leant back in his chair again. ‘You never did tell me exactly why you had to leave Italy.’
Because my ex-boyfriend was threatening to bring the international media down on me, and the company I was working for went bust.
Neither of those facts were really going to put Dominic’s mind at rest, were they? When in doubt, lie and run.
Faith gave a high, tinkling laugh. ‘Well, you know, after a while even pizza gets a bit boring. Besides, I wasn’t sure my hips could take any more pasta!’
Before he had a chance to respond, Faith gathered up her tablet and notebook and shoved them into her bag.
‘And I know how lucky I am to have this great job,’ she added, getting to her feet. ‘Which is why I need to get some sleep, ready to do my best work again tomorrow. Goodnight!’
She kept smiling until the door closed behind her, well aware that Dominic was still staring after her. But her heart didn’t stop racing until she was back in her room.
She needed to make sure that Dominic didn’t have any more chances to ask her questions about her previous life. It was far too tempting to tell him the truth.
* * *
She was lying to him, Dominic thought for the hundredth time as he took his seat on the executive coach taking the group to Beresford Hall three days later. Faith had been the perfect employee so far, arranging dinners and tours with such finesse that Dominic would have felt entirely comfortable letting her take charge of everything alone, except for one thing: he knew she was lying to him.
He had absolutely no idea why, but Dominic hadn’t got where he was without developing the ability to spot when he was being lied to. The only question was, what on earth could Faith Fowler have to lie about?
Even if her career history had been embellished—although, given how little she’d actually told him, it seemed unlikely—she was doing a good enough job that he wouldn’t care. She clearly didn’t want to visit Beresford Hall—she’d come up with half a dozen excuses over the past few days to try and get out of it. But he’d stayed firm. He wanted her there, if only to find out why she didn’t want to go. But it still didn’t seem like something to lie about. Which meant it had to be something to do with why she was in such a hurry to leave Italy.
The last of his clients climbed aboard and took their seats, followed by Faith, in full professional mode. Shading her eyes from the sun streaming in through the coach window, she did a quick head count and nodded to the driver, barely sparing a glance and a tight smile for Dominic as she chose her own seat—as far away from his as was possible in the circumstances.
He’d lain awake for far too long after she’d left the other night, dreaming up elaborate falsehoods and scandalous pasts she could be hiding. Associations with the Mafia, drug trafficking, murder. Just the fact he was having to think about these things meant he should probably fire her and minimise whatever risk her lies represented.
But he didn’t. Partly because he couldn’t believe it was actually that bad. But mostly because she was Faith, and he wanted to give her a chance. He wanted her to stick around.
Which didn’t mean he was going to stop trying to find out what she was hiding.
Beresford Hall lay less than two hours’ drive outside London. Dominic spent the journey catching up on some reading, chatting with Ben, Henry and Marie about his next trip over to the States, and trying not to stare at the back of Faith’s seat.
It was just the mystery, he told himself. Strange woman walks into his life, just when he needs her, and proceeds to do a perfectly good job while lying to him the whole time. Of course he was intrigued. Of course he’d been thinking about her. He needed to know the truth to protect himself, even if he suspected it would turn out to be nothing. A row with a boyfriend, perhaps. Nothing more.
And, whatever her reasons for leaving Italy, she didn’t want to come to Beresford Hall either, that much was clear. But maybe she’d open up to him there. Maybe he could get her to talk.
Seeing the estate he’d saved from ruin and built up into a multi-million-pound business often made women feel fondly towards him. No reason to suppose a little imposing grandeur wouldn’t do the same for Faith.
The coach pulled up the long driveway, curving through the landscaped gardens, past the fountains and up to the front of the Hall. In the past, all you’d have seen from the road was woodlands and immaculately trimmed hedges. These days, Dominic got a thrill from spotting a gang of archers heading off to the archery range, and a group of men in suits making their way towards the conference facilities. No weddings today, he supposed, with it being a Wednesday, but there were at least two stag dos booked in for the weekend, taking over the rally track and go-carting on the outer edges of the estate.
Dominic didn’t try to dampen down the surge of pride he always felt when he saw the Hall, and especially when he saw the reaction of his clients to the magnificent building. Yes, he’d been born into a privileged family. But it had taken every ounce of his own determination and ability to make his family name, and estate, what it was today.
Maybe the people looking on only saw the money made, the clever business decisions he’d taken. But he, at least, knew that it was more than that. He’d done his time feeling ashamed as a boy—of his mother, his name, his life. But he’d grown up since then. He’d taken on the challenge and surpassed it. He’d reclaimed his heritage, his self-respect, his future.
And he had every right to be proud of that.
But when he finally caught Faith’s eye, as she stood to guide everyone back off the bus, he didn’t see the expected awe or appreciation in her gaze. Instead, she was frowning at the Hall as if it personally offended her.
His most likely reason for her reluctance to come with them that day rose up in the back of his mind again. Perhaps she just resented the aristocracy, and perceived privilege. Hadn’t she been happy enough to use his name to get what she wanted from their suppliers that week, though? If there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was a hypocrite.
Dominic clenched a fist against the back of the seat beside him as he stood. He’d make sure Faith Fowler got a full tour of Beresford Hall. He wanted her to understand exactly what he’d achieved here, although he couldn’t have said why it mattered to him so much.
* * *
Beresford Hall was beautiful, magnificent, a shining example of some sort of architecture or another, and everything else the guidebook said it would be. But all Faith could see was the shadow of Fowlmere Manor hanging over it, reminding her how hard she’d worked to get away from places like this. People like this.
Sure, Fowlmere was maybe half the size of Beresford Hall, and there were far fewer people hanging around it these days, but the similarities caught her everywhere she turned, and she couldn’t shake the shiver that crept over her shoulders when she thought how close she’d come to being trapped somewhere like this her whole life.
Dominic led them up the stone steps to the imposing front doors, hauling them open and holding one to let them pass into the main hall. It was early on a weekday, but there had been several coaches parked in the car park when they arrived and the hall already boasted three lines for tickets. This, Faith supposed, was where Fowlmere really differed. Even if her father had let them, what tourists would want to pay to visit a crumbling manor that had sold most of its heirlooms to pay gambling debts?
Beresford Hall was often held up as an example of heritage done right. Open most days to the public, save one wing that was kept as family quarters, Dominic had put history on display for all to share and he’d done it in style.
‘Come on through, guys,’ he said, lifting a red tasselled rope to let them skip the queue. ‘I’ll give you the house tour myself, before we get a better look at the newer additions to the property.’
Faith followed, remembering the horrible attempts to open Fowlmere to the public when she was a child
. Only two days a year, her father had decreed, and he’d give the tours himself. Except, when it came down to it, it turned out he didn’t know much about the history of the house, or the family. And when her mother had stepped in to take over, Faith had realised she was already slurring her words at ten in the morning.
Faith had learned everything she could about the Manor and her ancestry, to be ready for the next open day. But, in the end, her father had declared it a waste of time and shut the gates again.
Not so at Beresford Hall.
‘This is the chamber prepared for Queen Victoria, when she visited the Hall.’ Dominic waited as they all took in the room, with its rich red walls and imposing four-poster bed. Gold accents glittered on everything, adding a shine to the faded history. ‘Beresford Hall has been host to five British monarchs, and we have memorabilia from each of their visits.’
He was obviously proud of his family and his history, Faith thought. She wondered what that would be like. Whether she’d have stayed if her own family hadn’t been such a shambles. Who would she be if she’d grown up somewhere like Beresford, where her future was neatly mapped out for success, rather than finding buckets to catch drips from leaking roofs, or hiding bottles from her mother and lying to debt-collectors when they came looking for her father?
But she wasn’t that girl. She was Faith Fowler now, and that was all she ever intended to be.
With a sigh for things lost, Faith followed Dominic through the next doorway to a magnificent dining room, staring out of the window instead of listening to him talk. She was his employee, not his girlfriend. She didn’t have to hang on his every word. She didn’t have to care about this house, or its history. She didn’t have to learn which king stayed when.
Because this wasn’t her world any more. And it never would be again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘WHAT ARE YOU frowning at?’ Sylvia asked.
Dominic looked down at his sister, taking in her wrinkled up nose and exasperated eyes, and tried very hard to shake his bad mood. ‘Nothing. It’s all perfect. Thanks for setting this up for me.’
Heiress on the Run (Harlequin Romance) Page 6
