In Bed With...Collection

“Of course, sir.”

“Good. I’ll be off for the day as soon as I’ve showered and changed clothes. Please warn Wallace to have the car standing by.”

Maggie felt impelled to say, “If I can be of any assistance...”

His eyes glittered at her. “You are not my nanny, Maggie.”

Which swept the mat out from under her feet and left her feeling miserably hollow.

“I daresay I’ll see you at dinner tonight, taking your usual place,” he went on.

“If you’d prefer I didn’t...”

“On the contrary, I’ll look forward to the pleasure of your company.”

He was plotting something. She could feel it. With malice aforethought. Every nerve in her body was twanging a warning.

He started to leave, then paused, looking back at her, a sizzling challenge in his eyes. “Oh, and don’t put roses in my room, Maggie. I am not my grandfather.”

CHAPTER FIVE (#ud535c0fb-8216-5cc4-a273-7d8e9771b73f)

BEAU stood under the shower, willing the hard spray of water to beat out the sexual edginess Maggie Stowe had implanted. The woman was a witch. His grandfather had obviously been enchanted by her and she had Sedgewick curled around her little finger, too. Not to mention the rest of the household staff; Wallace singing her praises, Mr. Polly bringing her roses, Mrs. Featherfield star-struck by her stunning beauty.

No doubt about it, she cast a powerful spell.

Beau savagely promised himself he would not fall victim to it.

She’d had him captivated at the start but he wouldn’t go under like that again. He was wise to her now. Maggie Stowe was out for all she could get. If she thought she could turn him into another godfather, making beautiful things happen for her, she’d find herself frustrated at every turn.

It was bad enough that his grandfather had blindly doted on her. Beau was glad there’d been no physical intimacy between them. Not that he would have begrudged his grandfather the right to have his sexual needs satisfied. A man was a man, regardless of age. But taking a woman as young as Maggie Stowe was a bit much for Beau’s stomach. She could only be in her twenties.

Though she certainly knew how to use her assets! No grass growing under those expensively shod feet. The question was...how much hay had she made during the two sunshine years of prettily playing pet daughter to a besotted old man who had the means to indulge her every whim?

Making things more beautiful for him...huh! Making herself more beautiful with nice little items of jewellery would be her line. He’d bet his boots on it. Lucky his grandfather hadn’t adopted her legally. A fine old mess that would have made of the will. As it was, she didn’t have a leg to stand on in claiming anything apart from a year’s free housing and wages.

Though God knew what she’d picked up in gifts while his grandfather was alive. Well, he was about to look into that. She’d invited him to make discreet inquiries before leaping to unwarranted conclusions. Little mistake there. Beau was going to make exhaustive inquiries and he didn’t care whose feet he trod on in getting to the truth. If she expected him to be a gentleman of the old ilk, overlooking unpleasant little realities, she was in for a few nasty shocks!

He stepped out of the shower with all mental motors running. While he dressed he telephoned the family solicitor and the firm of accountants who handled his grandfather’s finances, giving fair warning of an imminent visit from him. He didn’t want condolences. He didn’t want any pussyfooting around the situation. He wanted answers, and woe betide anyone who didn’t have them ready for him.

The ride into the city from Vaucluse was accomplished in brooding silence. Wallace, possibly advised by Sedgewick to keep his mouth shut unless called upon to answer questions, offered no comment about anything, and Beau didn’t care to have any interruption to the plan of action fermenting in his brain.

The solicitor’s offices were in Philip Street. Once there, he told Wallace not to wait around. He’d catch taxis wherever else he wanted to go. Privately, he didn’t want Wallace reporting his every move to Nanny Stowe.

Beau was ushered straight into Lionel Armstrong’s executive suite, greeted warmly by the man himself, and offered refreshments which he declined. They sat in leather chairs across a magnificent mahogany desk and Beau tried to repress the feeling he was dealing with a self-satisfied man who needed stirring.

Lionel Armstrong was just a bit too sleekly well-fed for his liking. The man was in his fifties, handsome in a heavy-set way, vainly proud of his thick white hair which was carefully styled and groomed, and he made almost a fetish of the trappings of success.

“Well, Beau, I’m happy to say there are no tricky problems with your grandfather’s estate. Vivian made a straightforward will and the process towards probate is in hand.”

“I’m glad you consider it straightforward, Lionel. I consider it somewhat surprising. Firstly, I thought he would have made more provision for those who had been with him longest.”

“Ah, you mean the faithful four. No need for concern on their behalf. Sedgewick, Mrs. Featherfield, Wallace and Mr. Polly have been well taken care of. Your grandfather set up superannuation funds for them. John Neville, the head accountant can fill you in on those. I believe the settlement for each one after the stipulated year is up will be well into six figures.”

“And Margaret Stowe?”

“The nanny?” Lionel looked amused.

Beau was not amused. “Yes. The nanny who has a year’s grace along with the others.”

“Oh, that was one of Vivian’s little quirks. Wouldn’t be talked out of it. Said the others depended on her to do the right thing. And I must say she did a splendid job of organising the funeral. Splendid!”

“The cost of which was claimed against the estate?”

“Of course. Everything in order. All accounts checked. If you’re going to see John Neville, he’ll show you.”

“Fine. Does Nanny Stowe have a superannuation fund, too?”

“Every permanent employee on the estate has. It’s the law. However, since she’ll only be in service for three years altogether, it will not amount to much. Nothing there for you to worry about.”

“I’d like to see her file.”

Lionel frowned. “What file?”

“You know and I know my grandfather kept a file on all his employees. References, rеsumеs, and any other information that seemed pertinent. It was your responsibility to run a check on them. For live-in staff taking up positions of trust, it was a mandatory precaution.”

“True.” His mouth twisted over the word. He leaned back in his chair, linked his hands across his stomach, and viewed Beau with a wry expression. “I have no answer to the mystery of Margaret Stowe.”

Beau’s sense of anticipation turned into unpleasant tension. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Ask me for a file on anyone else and I can supply it. All I can give you on Margaret Stowe is a copy of her birth certificate. It states she was a foundling. The informant is a doctor and apparently he gave an estimated date of birth. No parents. No witnesses.”

“Where did her name come from then?”

“Perhaps a note was pinned to the baby. Perhaps the doctor or a nurse gave it to her. Nobody knows. The doctor died eight years ago. He operated from a home surgery. The house burnt down and all his medical records were destroyed. That line of investigation came to a dead end. As did every other line.” He unlinked his hands to gesture helplessly. “It was as though Margaret Stowe lived in a vacuum until her meeting with your grandfather.”

“Oh, come on. You expect me to believe that?” It was looking like a straight case of dereliction of duty to Beau.

“It’s the truth,” came the hasty assurance.

“You must have put a private investigator onto her,” Beau pressed, not prepared to accept a whitewash.

“With zero results. Apart from her birth certificate, she had no official existence. She had never filed a tax return, never owned a credit card. No record of education or employment...”

“What about social security? She could have been raking in unemployment benefits.”

“She was not listed on any register. No passport. No driver’s licence. I assure you, every avenue of information was thoroughly checked. More than once. When the first investigator failed to uncover anything, I hired another. With no better outcome.”

Someone has always kept her, Beau thought. She’s probably had a string of godfathers since her teens.