The Boss and His Secretary

Taryn made her way down to the village of Knights Bromley the following morning. As she had anticipated, her stepmother was far from thrilled at the idea of having to do her own housekeeping. But, her word given to her aunt, no amount of pressure would make Taryn go back on her promise.

Mrs Ellington was there at the big old house to meet her when she arrived, and stayed long enough to go through the many notes she had thought to make, and to introduce Taryn to her temporary employer.

And Osgood Compton was, as Mrs Ellington had told her aunt, a true gentleman. Within hours of Mrs Ellington leaving, Taryn was feeling more and more at home.

By the time half a week had gone by she was feeling as relaxed and as if she had known him all her life. At the end of that week she felt it had been the most tranquil week she could ever remember. Osgood Compton was a sprightly gentleman, for all his eighty-two years, and with a lively mind to match.

Her duties for her new and temporary employer did not stop at housekeeping, however. Osgood Compton, albeit with the company of a walking stick, liked to walk. His walking stick was not his only companion on his mile-long expeditions either. And, as one week turned into two, Taryn would often look up from what she was involved with and find him standing in the doorway.

‘Any chance of you dropping what you’re doing?’

And Taryn had no problem at all in dropping what she was doing. So they walked and, since he liked to talk too, they chatted about all sorts of subjects. He had been an engineer of some note before his retirement, and seemed delighted that she knew the names and actions of the various engineering implements he mentioned.

In a very short space of time Taryn began to feel quite an affection for him, and knew she would look back on her time with him with pleasure when her two weeks were up.

But, as matters turned out, Mrs Ellington’s daughter was diagnosed as requiring immediate surgery, and she rang Mr Compton to ask if he would mind if she had another four weeks off. He, of course, being the gentleman he was, told her to take as long as she needed.

‘Dare I ask you to put up with me for another month?’ he asked Taryn.

‘I love it here,’ she told him simply. ‘Another month will be fine.’

‘It will just be for one month, I promise,’ he replied, and, with a beaming smile, ‘Perhaps you’d better ring the agency and let them know?’ he suggested.

Later that night Taryn heard him making his own phone call to his daughter, who was married to an American and lived in the States. He and his daughter were in fact in frequent telephone contact with each other, and Taryn felt it was a very loving relationship.

For a brief sad moment she wished that her father might show her a little more affection than he did. But that was not his way, and she soon brightened when, as she passed the open drawing room door, she heard Mr Compton telling his daughter of his good fortune in exchanging one gem of a housekeeper for an absolutely diamond one.

While Taryn felt that that was quite something of an over-the-top exaggeration, it nevertheless made her feel good to hear him say what he had.

Taryn later rang her home, and heard the joyous news that her stepmother had found a new housekeeper. From that Taryn guessed that there was no need for her to hurry back.

The weather over the following weeks was more often than not glorious, and, her temporary employer decreeing that it would be criminal to spend their days indoors, he urged Taryn to make picnics. She needed little urging—any chores that didn’t get done during the day she could catch up on during the evening.

And so the days passed, which would see her scurrying around in the mornings and then taking leisurely strolls to some picnic spot. Occasionally they stopped to quench their thirst at the village pub and, on one most memorable time, even indulged in a game of darts. All in all, they spent some very pleasurable summer days.

As the end of her six weeks in Knights Bromley came to a close, Taryn was still of the view that she would not be going back to Mellor Engineering. But she now felt more ready to take on work in an office environment. She had needed this break, she realised. Had needed this time away in order to get herself back together again.

She must now think of making a career for herself. She was ready for it. She determined that the first thing she would do on Monday morning would be to get down in earnest to finding that career job. The second, having had a respite from her cold and at times alien home, would be to find herself somewhere else to live.

Her determination to do either had to be put on hold for a while, she discovered, when the very next day Mrs Ellington rang to say that her daughter, although doing well, had taken a step backwards in her recovery and she was reluctant to leave her. ‘Do you think you could stay on for another week or two?’ she asked. ‘I know Mr Compton thinks the world of you.’

What could she say? Taryn thought the world of him too. And Mrs Ellington’s daughter had been having a terrible time of it. ‘Don’t worry about a thing,’ she replied. ‘You’ve spoken to Mr Compton?’

‘He still insists I take as long as I need. But I think he’s feeling a bit awkward about asking you to stay on. Apparently he gave you his word that you would leave at the end of this week.’

‘I’ll go and tell him now that it would suit me better to stay on,’ Taryn assured her, and a much relieved permanent housekeeper—who was, after all, a mother first and foremost—went back to looking after her daughter.

‘You’re sure?’ Osgood Compton asked when she told him, his lovely beaming smile surfacing for all he tried to hold it down.

On Saturday, well aware by then that her employer liked to have a nap at some time during the afternoon, Taryn wondered if he might like to sit outside and have his tea. She had made his favourite cake only that morning.

She was in the act of taking a tray of china out to the garden table when the sound of a car coming up the drive drew her attention. So far as she knew Mr Compton was not expecting visitors. That was not to say, however, that his visitors would not be welcome.

Though as she watched the long sleek, this year’s model car halt outside the main entrance door, Taryn left what she was doing and hurried outside to it, her protective instincts to the fore. There was only one visitor, she saw, but if this person had accidentally called at the wrong address then she did not want him or her disturbing Mr Compton’s nap by ringing the doorbell.

She arrived at the driver’s door just as a tall, dark-haired man, somewhere in his mid-thirties, was getting out. He saw her and stiffened—absolutely thunderstruck.

Taryn stared at him. ‘Who…?’ she began, seeing no reason at all why this man should be staring at her every bit as if he knew her from somewhere.

‘What the blazes are you doing here?’ he demanded, to her utter astonishment.

His attitude had rattled her. ‘Do I know you?’ she snapped hostilely. But straight on the heels of that came a spark of recognition. He was dressed in shirt and trousers now, which was perhaps why it had taken a minute or two to sink in. But she had seen him before, and that time, about two months ago now, he had been immaculately suited and had been carrying an expensive-looking briefcase.

She did know him. Shock washed over her. If she was not very much mistaken he was the man who had been in the lift that day she had reeled out of Brian Mellor’s office! This man was, in fact, the man she had that day been rude to!

He had demanded to know what the blazes she was doing there. But what on earth was he doing here? Taryn thought it was time she found out!

CHAPTER TWO

WHERE it had taken up to a minute for Taryn to recognise the man, and to recall where she had seen him before, he, it seemed, with barely a glance to her face, blonde hair and trim figure, had at once recognised her. Even though she too had been business-clad at that time.

With his, ‘What the blazes are you doing here?’ still ringing in the air, she felt at a distinct disadvantage. It was more than time she asked him the same question. ‘We aren’t expecting visitors,’ she told him pointedly.

‘Aren’t we?’ he rapped, clearly not liking the fact that she had taken upon herself the role of the occupant’s Rottweiler. And, not deigning to wait for her reply, he, without more ado, strode past her, making for the door she had just come from.

Taryn chased after him. ‘Who are you?’ she challenged his back.

She thought he was going to ignore her, but he halted and turned about. ‘Do I take it that you’re the incomparable Taryn the phone lines between here and New York are full of?’

Her eyes widened in amazement. ‘You know—?’ She broke off. Osgood Compton’s daughter lived in New York. ‘You have the advantage,’ she said, getting her breath back.

‘Jake Nash,’ he supplied. ‘You’re my great uncle’s temporary, looking-to-be-permanent housekeeper?’ he questioned toughly.

‘I intend to leave as soon as Mrs Ellington is able to come and take over,’ Taryn replied crisply. And as this Jake Nash, somehow happening to be the antagonistic great-nephew of a true gentleman, again made for the door, ‘Mr Compton will be having a nap,’ she stated quickly, adding reluctantly, ‘If you’d like to come with me to the kitchen I’ll make you a cup of tea.’

He seemed to hesitate, as if about to demand who did she think she was, to be giving orders to a member of her employer’s family. But he stood back after a moment to allow her to go in first. ‘That might be a good idea,’ he conceded.

He seemed to know his way to the kitchen, but no sooner were they there than she was realising why he had thought it might be a good idea. For in no time, ignoring her suggestion that he take a seat at the kitchen table while she set the kettle to boil, Jake Nash, standing and leaning his tall length against one of the kitchen units, was in there straight away, with one question after another.

‘You are my uncle’s housekeeper?’ was the first of many.

‘Temporary—and ready to go as soon as his permanent housekeeper’s daughter is well enough to be left, and her mother returns,’ Taryn answered.

‘That’s a definite?’

‘What does it have to do with you?’ she asked snappily, starting to feel more than a touch niggled at his sauce, and giving up all pretence of making this man a pot of tea. ‘You’re not my employer,’ she stated, when she could see from the raised eyebrows that he was a man who just wasn’t used to being answered back.

‘It seems you’ve been making yourself more than useful in the short time you’ve been here?’ he said curtly.