In Bed With...Collection

“Yes. Very clear. I’ll get two top investigators to work immediately, giving your precise instructions.”

“Thank you.”

He was trying to get his thoughts in order for a call to Helen Carter at the head office of his travel agency when there was a knock on the library door.

Maggie, he thought, and his heart did a weird somersault and sent a buzz through his veins. Steady does it, he sternly commanded. Wayward responses and wrong reactions could do untold damage. Control had to be maintained. Firm control.

First and foremost he had to establish goodwill and push table-sharing at meals, get things back to normal, do what his grandfather would have expected of him. Courtesy was the key. Courtesy and control. Best to stay right where he was, seated behind the desk and looking at ease.

“Come in,” he called, pitching his voice to a bright, welcoming note.

. Mrs Featherfield entered, carrying what looked like a large ledger under her arm. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important, Master Beau,” she rushed out, beaming a hopeful and eager smile at him.

He felt absurdly deflated, like having a prize whipped away from him at the last moment. It made him effusive in denial. “Not at all, Feathers. I always have time for you.”

“Oh! How nice!” She came forward with an air of happy anticipation. “I wanted to show you my scrapbook.”

Beau was surprised. “What have you been collecting?”

The book was placed on the desk in front of him. “They’re all the newspaper and magazine cuttings about Mr. Vivian. I thought you might like to see them. Especially the more recent ones, since you’ve been away so long.”

Beau opened the book and started leafing through. “This is amazing! I had no idea you were keeping such a record.”

“Well, they are lovely memories, Master Beau. Your grandfather was such a gentleman. Being in service to him was a real privilege.”

“I’m glad you felt that, Feathers,” Beau said warmly.

“Indeed, I do. Nanny Stowe used to say he turned life into a rainbow.”

With a pot of gold at the end of it?

Or was it simply colour after rain?

Beau frowned as he recalled Maggie’s claim of having led a very underprivileged life before coming to Rosecliff. Without much to recommend her, Sedgewick had said.

“Mr. Vivian loved having her with him,” the housekeeper went on. “And he was always determined she’d be the belle of the ball when he took her to those big charity dos.” She leaned over the desk and turned a chunk of pages. “Here they are!”

A photo of Maggie with his grandfather leapt out at him in full technicolour, his grandfather an elegant figure—as always—in a black dress suit and bow tie, turned admiringly towards a magnificent Maggie, wearing a stunning evening gown in black and burgundy, with exotic jet jewellery gleaming on her white skin and against her vivid hair.

“I remember that night well,” Feathers said fondly. “Mr. Vivian called us into the hall to watch her come down the staircase. He twirled his walking cane like a magician and called out, ‘Hey. Presto!’ and we clapped when she appeared. It was such fun! Mr. Vivian was delighted. He was so very, very proud of her.”

The scene described lingered in Beau’s mind. He could see it quite vividly and it made poignant sense of all he had heard about the relationship between his grandfather and Maggie. It also made him feel mean-spirited for thinking badly of her. Of course, his grandfather had been the ringmaster. It was completely in character for him. As for Maggie...well, who would knock back the opportunity to be turned into a star?

“What was she like when she first came here, Feathers?”

“Nanny Stowe?”

“Yes.” He turned to her with keen interest. “What impression did you have of her at the start...say, her first week at Rosecliff?”

No immediate answer...pensive...thinking back. When she spoke, the words came slowly. “It was like she’d been transported to another world and she couldn’t quite believe it. Excited by the adventure but frightened of putting a foot wrong. And surprised. Mostly surprised.”

“By what?’ Beau prompted.

Feathers frowned. “I think...that we’d let her fit in here. I had the sense she wasn’t used to belonging anywhere. What she brought with her....well, it was really pitiful. Some well-worn jeans and T-shirts, a couple of those cheap Indian dresses...” A shake of the head. “...The bare minimum of everything.”

I tend to travel lightly.

“Of course, Mr. Vivian soon fixed that. I suggested she throw out her old clothes but she wouldn’t.” Another frown. “She said they were the only things that were hers.”

The clothes Vivian bought me won’t fit into my usual life.

“She had no idea how to make the most of herself, either. Seeing her now, you would hardly recognise her as the same girl who came here. No make-up, her glorious hair stuck into a plait. And she was thin. Too thin. All bones. Mr. Vivian said she was a thoroughbred racehorse who needed grooming and training. I remember how surprised she was when he showed her how she could look. Like she couldn’t believe it was her.”

Vivian is gone.

So was his magic wand, Beau thought. It’s over for Maggie and she knows it.

You made me realise that today.

“She needed looking after,” came the motherly opinion. “That’s what I thought of her. She was like a waif of the world who’d never had anyone to look after her.”

It’s best I leave.

Beau was suddenly seized by a heart-squeezing suspicion. Maggie was gone. That was why she hadn’t come down to breakfast. She had already left. Packed the things belonging to her and stepped back through the looking glass to the reality that had been hers before coming here.

He leapt up from his chair and barely quelled the impulse to go racing up to the Rose Suite. Her bedroom was off-limits for him. Absolutely. If she was there and he went banging on her door...it would be gross behaviour, open to distasteful interpretation.

“Is something wrong, Master Beau?”

The concern voiced by the housekeeper burrowed through his inner agitation. He looked at her distractedly, his mind dictating that any meeting with Maggie would have to be conducted on neutral ground.

“Feathers, I would like to talk to Nanny Stowe. Would you please go and ask her to join me here?”

“You mean...now?”

“Yes. Please.”

“Shall I leave my scrapbook with you?”

“Yes. Thank you.” He could barely curb his impatience. “It is rather urgent I see her,” he pressed.

The housekeeper looked pleased. “I’ll be as quick as I can, Master Beau.”

She sailed off with an air of triumph. Beau was left with the strong impression she was in league with Sedgewick to set him straight on the subject of Nanny Stowe. However, neither of them could have any idea of what had transpired between him and Maggie last night It complicated everything. There was no longer a simple line to take. Maggie may well have decided the game wasn’t worth the candle if she had to take him into her life.

And if she had the missing million, why stay? Why put up with the aggravation of him when he couldn’t get a damned thing right?

Beau paced around the library like a caged tiger. He’d messed up big-time, not giving Maggie Stowe the benefit of the doubt. He would have to chase after her if she’d gone. Which could present one hell of a problem. A woman from nowhere could easily slip back into nowhere, especially with a million untraceable dollars at her disposal.