At His Service: Cinderella Housekeeper: Housekeeper's Happy-Ever-After / His Housekeeper Bride / What's a Housekeeper To Do?

His stomach lurched as he recognised his own vulnerability. Whether she knew it or not, that fragile woman had tremendous power over him.

But he didn’t want to push her, even if he guessed she might be feeling at least some of what he was feeling. He watched a jet puff out its white trail in the clear blue sky, the plane so high up it was only a silver speck in the air. Part of him exulted at the knowledge that she found him attractive, that he put her off-balance, but another part of him ached with the uncertainty of any deeper feelings on her part.

‘I need a sign!’ he whispered, waiting for something to happen.

But the plane kept on its course, its trail a no-nonsense line. No writing appeared in the sky saying Go for it. He scanned the horizon for a hint of divine thunderbolts, but the pale clouds refused to comment.

He continued to ponder his position as he sat behind a truck on the M25 later that evening. The crawling traffic gave him plenty of time for self-analysis. He sat for many minutes trying to predict the outcome of any romantic entanglement with Ellie and decided that prophecy was not his thing. It didn’t matter, anyway. Whether she loved him back or not wouldn’t change how he felt about her. He would just have to be patient. Wait in this horrible limbo until a sign appeared.

Butterflies wrestled in his belly as he turned the car into his driveway. His pulse quickened as he jumped from the car and bounded up the steps to the front door. As he put the key in the lock a mouthwatering aroma assaulted his nostrils. He followed the trail into the kitchen. Ellie bobbed up from behind the kitchen counter, causing his already racing heart to skip a beat.

‘That was good timing! I was just about to dish up. You’re much later than you said.’

‘Traffic jam,’ he said absently, his eyes following her every move. She reached to get a couple of plates from the cupboard and passed them to him.

‘Your PA called about an hour ago.’

Ah. He’d forgotten all about Nic, and had left the office without telling her.

‘She said she will not be coming back into work until you ring and tell her she is no longer Mrs McGill—whatever that means!’ said Ellie, searching for the oven gloves and finding them in the dishwasher.

Mark reckoned an apologetic lunch somewhere nice would probably help. And maybe a big bunch of flowers. Nicole’s bark was worse than her bite, and he didn’t know what he would do without her. His stomach complained noisily, returning him to the present.

‘What’s for dinner?’

Ellie opened the oven door and stood back from the blast of hot air before she reached inside to remove a scalding-hot earthenware dish. She looked very pink as she stood straight. If it wasn’t for the heat from the oven, he could have sworn she was blushing.

‘Shepherd’s Pie.’

Mark almost dropped the plates he was holding.

‘Thank you,’ he mouthed to the ceiling, before following her to the table.

Ellie was in the chemist’s in the village, picking up some supplies, when her mobile rang. The caller ID told her it was Mark, and she took a steadying breath before she punched the button to answer.

‘Hello?’

‘It’s me. Are you busy?’

Ellie looked at the tube of toothpaste, a box of plasters and the hand soap in her shopping basket. ‘I’m in the village shopping, but I’ll be finished in a few minutes. Do you want me to come straight back?’

‘Yes. I’ve got a bit of an emergency on my hands.’

And, without explaining anything further, he rang off. Ellie stared at the phone. Very mysterious. She quickly paid for the items in her basket and hurried back along the lane to Larkford Place, cutting through the gardens to make her journey quicker.

When she reached the back door and entered the kitchen she found it all quiet. Guessing Mark must be in his study, she dumped her shopping bag on the counter, prised off her trainers and socks—it was too hot for shoes—and headed off to find him.

He was sitting behind his desk listening to someone on the other end of the phone when she poked her head round the half-open door. She coughed gently and he motioned for her to come in and sit down, still listening to whoever it was on the line.

She sat in the small but rather comfortable leather chair on the opposite side of the desk and waited, noticing as she did so that the colour of her painted toenails clashed with the rug. He finished the call without saying much but ‘mmm-hmm’ and ‘bye’, and replaced the phone carefully in its cradle before looking at her.

‘I have an idea to run past you. I hope you don’t mind?’

Ellie shook her head. Although she was a bit puzzled as to why Mark would want her help with what was obviously a business problem.

‘I’m due to fly to Antigua at the end of the week and my PA, vital to keeping me organised during what is likely to be a chaotic few days, has come down with the flu. I need someone to fill in for her.’

Ellie studied her toenails again. Tangerine really didn’t go with the aubergine shapes on the abstract rug.