At The Millionaire's Bidding

‘Did your appointment go well?’ Robert Carrington enquired sardonically.

Dave, who was no fool, merely said, ‘Very well, thanks. But you were asking how I’d feel about something?’

With a spurious air of confidence he strolled round the desk and, watched by the other man, took the chair Eleanor had vacated for him.

After giving Dave time to get seated, and her time to sweat a little—she felt sure—Robert Carrington said, ‘Yes…As you’re aware, with this job, one of the main stumbling blocks was the length of time it would take to travel between London and Little Meldon each day. Well, that problem has been partially solved…’

As she waited tensely, wondering what he was up to, his eyes caught and held hers. An unmistakable challenge in their tawny depths, he continued smoothly, ‘Miss Smith has agreed that she would be quite willing to live at my home, Greyladies Manor, while the work is in progress…’

His words brought a shock of surprise and, mentally reeling, she wondered why he had lied.

Common sense told her she should be grateful that he had let her off the hook, but the last thing she wanted was to have to live under his roof.

And somehow he must have guessed as much.

So had he presented it as a fait accompli merely to force her hand?

Cocking an eyebrow at her, he waited for her to say something. When she bit her lip and stayed silent, he turned to Dave and went on, ‘I was asking Eleanor how you would feel about living there?’

‘Then you’re giving us the job?’ Dave burst out eagerly.

‘That all depends. To enable the work to be completed as quickly as possible, I’d like you both to be on the spot.’

As Dave opened his mouth to argue, Robert added, ‘If you’re prepared to meet me on this, all well and good. If you’re not…’

He left the sentence hanging in the air, but the threat was plain.

Eleanor looked at Dave, unconsciously holding her breath.

Plainly torn, wanting to tell this arrogant so and so where to get off, but knowing they needed the job, he hesitated. It was perhaps twenty seconds before he agreed reluctantly, ‘I suppose if that’s what you want.’

‘It is.’

‘Okay.’

‘In that case, how soon can you start?’

Regaining some of his cockiness, Dave went into his spiel, ‘As it happens, you’re lucky. Our next job has been put on hold, so we can make a start as soon as you want us.’

Glancing up unwarily, Eleanor felt herself grow hot as she met Robert Carrington’s green-gold eyes once more and read the mockery in them.

‘Then suppose you come down to Greyladies tomorrow afternoon?’ he suggested briskly. ‘Unless you prefer to keep your Saturdays and Sundays free?’

‘We’re quite used to working weekends,’ Dave told him, ‘so that’s no problem.’

‘Good. Then you’ll have time to get settled in and size up the job before Monday…

‘One of the things we haven’t touched on so far is price. When you’ve seen where I want the new office, and I’ve explained what I have in mind, you can no doubt work out a rough estimate of how much it’s going to cost.’

‘I’ll be glad to. Oh, and as you’ve mentioned money, when we start placing orders for equipment we shall need some cash up front.’

Pulling out a cheque book and putting it on the desk, Carrington suggested, ‘Say ten thousand?’

‘Ten thousand will do fine.’

Dave’s voice was casual, but Eleanor knew it was a great deal more than he had expected.

The financier wrote the cheque and passed it to him, before asking, ‘You have some transport?’

‘Yes, we have our own van. All we need are a few directions so we can find the place.’

‘When you reach Dunton Otterly, take the road to Little Meldon. Greyladies is about half a mile south of there.

‘Simply follow the main street through the village, and carry on until you come to Grave Lane on the left. The entrance to the manor is about five-hundred yards down the lane, on the right.’

‘Got it.’

‘You’ll see a gatehouse and some tall, wrought-iron gates. Jackson will open them for you.’

Slipping his cheque book and pen into an inside pocket, Robert Carrington rose to his feet.

Dave stood up too, clearly intending to shake hands across the desk, but the older man gave him a perfunctory nod, and held out his hand to Eleanor.

Each time he’d touched her it had been like a small electric shock, but seeing no alternative, she braced herself and took it.

A mocking gleam in his eye, he said, ‘Thank you for your time, Miss Smith. I do hope you think it’s been worth it?’

He was as smoothly abrasive as pumice stone, she thought vexedly.

Without waiting for an answer, he released her hand and moved to the door. ‘I’ll expect you both sometime tomorrow afternoon.’ He sketched an ironic salute, and was gone.

Feeling limp, totally wrung out, Eleanor stood and listened to his footsteps receding down the uncarpeted stars.

‘Well done, kiddo!’ Dave flourished the cheque. ‘How did you manage to persuade him?’

‘I didn’t persuade him,’ she admitted.

‘So what did you have to promise him?’

‘Nothing. The only thing he seemed set on, was that we should stay at Greyladies.’

His ill-humour returning, he said resentfully, ‘Well I hope he’s damn well satisfied. It’s going to be hell stuck in the country in some crumbling old manor house.’

Dave hated the country, she knew. He always said it got on his nerves. A city boy through and through, he was only really happy when there were pavements beneath his feet and a snooker hall handy.

‘We’ll no doubt be relegated to the servants’ quarters and forced to eat with the staff…’ He pulled a face. ‘But as that’s what his lordship’s insisting on, we don’t have much choice.’

‘Can you make a guess as to how long the job might take?’ she asked.