Kathryn Ross – Tycoon's Choice: Kept by the Tycoon / Taken by the Tycoon / The Tycoon's Proposal (страница 16)

Tempted, Madeleine hesitated. The thought of spending the holiday alone in a hotel wasn’t particularly appealing, and, now that she’d splurged on a first-class ticket, money was even tighter than she had anticipated.

‘Well, I…I wouldn’t want to intrude on your family over Christmas.’

‘My dear, of course you wouldn’t be intruding…Though, as a matter of fact, George and I are flying up to Scotland first thing tomorrow morning. We’re staying with our son and daughter over Christmas and the New Year.’ Her excitement evident, she added, ‘They have a brand-new baby boy, and both George and I are looking forward immensely to seeing our latest grandson.’

Then, getting back to practicalities, ‘Our being away from the hall will give you breathing space, and also a good chance to settle into your flat. What do you say?’

It would be ideal in some ways, Madeleine thought, though it would leave her with Mrs Rampling’s other son and his family. Unless they too were going away?

But even if they weren’t, she needn’t feel she was intruding. The flat was self-contained, so she could keep herself to herself.

‘In that case I’ll be happy to, if you’re sure that arrangement suits you, and your son won’t mind?’

‘Quite sure. That’s all settled, then.

‘Mary Boyce, the housekeeper, will have everything ready for you, and if you can tell me your flight number and what time you’re due to land, we’ll send Jack, Mary’s husband, to pick you up.’

‘Thank you.’ Madeleine gave her the information.

Sounding warm and friendly, Mrs Rampling added, ‘Do make yourself at home. Though it will be January before we actually meet, I’m looking forward to it. Have a good flight.’

‘Goodbye, and thank you again.’

Relieved and excited, Madeleine quickly called Eve to give her the good news and thank her.

‘What are friends for?’ she asked. Then, with more than a hint of uncertainty, ‘But are you sure you want to give this a shot? After all, you don’t really know what you’ll be letting yourself in for.’

‘Hey, everything’s arranged. Don’t try and talk me out of it now. It’s much too late.’

Then curiously, ‘You seemed to be all in favour earlier. Why have you changed your mind?’

‘At the time I was quite convinced it was in your best interests, but now I…I can’t help having second thoughts.’

‘Don’t worry, I’m sure everything will be fine.’

Still sounding anxious, unlike herself, Eve said, ‘I just hope everything turns out all right. But if it doesn’t work, you can always come to us, you know. We’ll manage somehow.’

‘Thanks,’ Madeleine said gratefully.

‘Now, don’t forget, if you’re not happy with the situation, let me know straight away.’

Chapter Five

AFTER a technical fault that made the big jet almost two hours late getting airborne, the flight was smooth and uneventful.

Madeleine could never sleep on planes, and after so many disturbed nights she was feeling shattered by the time they landed.

The formalities over, she changed her dollars into pounds and, bearing in mind the warnings she had received, slipped half the money into her handbag and the other half into her flight bag.

Both bags on her shoulder, she was heading for the exit when a uniformed chauffeur approached her and queried, ‘Miss Knight?’

Wondering how he had managed to pick her out of such a crowd, she answered, ‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘Mrs Rampling asked me to meet you.’

‘I’m sorry you’ve had to wait so long.’

‘That’s all right, miss,’ he said politely. ‘When I discovered the flight was running late I used the time to get some breakfast. Now, if you’ll come with me, miss, the car’s waiting outside.’

She willingly surrendered the unwieldy baggage trolley and followed his short, thick-set figure out to a sleek grey limousine.

It was a bitterly cold, curiously still day, with a sky that gleamed grey and pearly, as iridescent as the inside of a mussel shell.

After the warmth of the terminal, Madeleine found herself starting to shiver in the bleak air. But with a speed and efficiency she could only admire she was installed in the luxurious car, and her luggage stowed away.

The comfortable seats were covered in soft fawn leather and it was pleasantly warm. Almost before they were clear of the airport, lack of sleep catching up on her, her eyelids began to droop and she slipped into a doze.

When she surfaced they were travelling along a quiet country road with skeletal trees on one side and an old lichencovered wall on the other.

Stifling a yawn, she sat up straighter and looked around her just as they reached a stone-built gatehouse with tall, barley-sugar chimneys and mullioned windows.

As they turned towards the entrance, a pair of black ornamental gates slid aside at their approach and closed behind them.

Rolling parkland stretched away on either side as they followed a serpentine drive that ran between high, mossy banks.

Hethersage Hall, hidden from sight until they had rounded the final bend, was wrapped snugly in a fold in the hills. It was a homely, rambling place, not at all stiff and starchy as its name suggested.

The walls were mellow stone, the roofs a natural slate. Half a dozen gables peaked and sloped at various odd angles, yet the whole thing had a charming symmetry. There were diamond-leaded windows and an oak front door that was metal-studded and silvery with age.

When the car drew to a halt on the cobbled apron and the chauffeur helped Madeleine out, the door was opened wide and a small, plump woman with curly grey hair appeared, smiling a greeting.

‘Miss Knight…I’m Mary Boyce, the housekeeper…Do come in out of the cold…’

Returning her smile, Madeleine followed her into a large wood-panelled hall with polished oak floorboards and dark antique furniture that glowed with the patina of age.

The huge fireplace was full of pine logs, and above the stone mantel there were green spruce boughs and spectacular swags of ivy and scarlet-berried holly. A bunch of mistletoe hung from a fine old chandelier, and a tall, beautifully decorated Christmas tree filled one corner.

Cheerful and garrulous, Mrs Boyce went on, ‘You must be weary. Goodness knows jet lag’s bad enough, but when there’s a long delay on top of that…!

‘Mr and Mrs Rampling send their sincere apologies that they weren’t able to greet you in person. They’ve gone to Scotland to spend the holiday with their son and daughter and their family.’

‘Yes, Mrs Rampling did explain.’

‘Well, now, if you’d like to come through to the living room…’

The living room was white-walled and spacious, with oak beams and casement windows that looked over a pleasant garden.

It was furnished with an eclectic mix of old and new—some beautiful antiques, a modern suite upholstered in soft natural leather, an Oriental carpet that made Madeleine catch her breath, and several paintings by Jonathan Cass. The sight of which gave her a pang. Rafe had owned several of Cass’s snow scenes.

When she was ensconced in a deep armchair in front of a blazing log fire, Mrs Boyce said, ‘I’ll get you something to eat while Jack takes your luggage up.’

Feeling too tired to eat, Madeleine said, ‘Thanks, but I’m not at all hungry. Though a cup of tea would be lovely.’

‘Then a cup of tea it is.’

By the time she came back with a tray of tea and homemade cake, made even more soporific by the warmth of the fire, Madeleine was having a serious struggle to stay awake.

Watching her stifle a yawn, Mrs Boyce put the tray down on a small oval table and, proceeding to pour the tea, said sympathetically, ‘You must be more than ready to get some sleep.’

‘I am tired,’ Madeleine admitted.

‘Well, as soon as you’ve finished your tea you can get your head down.’ Adding, ‘I’ll be back in a few minutes to show you round the flat,’ the housekeeper bustled away.

Madeleine was just finishing her second cup of tea when Mrs Boyce returned and queried, ‘If you’re ready?’ Then, in concern, ‘I’m not rushing you, am I?’

‘No, not at all, I’m quite ready.’

As she followed the housekeeper across the hall and up a graceful curving staircase with a griffin head as its newel post, she looked around her.

It was a beautiful old house, she thought, utterly charming and unpretentious, with its simple white walls and black beams, its polished oak floorboards and linenfold panelling.

At the top of the stairs Mrs Boyce turned left down a short, wide corridor, and opened a door at the end.

‘Here we are.’

The living room was warm and cosy with an old, gently faded rose-pink carpet, matching curtains and a comfortablelooking suite. On the mantel was a small chiming clock.

Though there was discreet central heating, a log fire burnt in a delightful little fireplace with a tiled surround and an elaborately carved fender. To one side, a basket was filled with pine logs and cones that gave off an aromatic scent.