A Nanny For Christmas

‘In the same way as you’re dealing with that light, I suppose?’ With infuriating coolness, he moved her gently out of the way, clicked the switch and the light stuttered on. He looked, frowning, at the old-fashioned flex supporting the central pendant. ‘Does that happen much?’

‘It’s temperamental,’ she conceded.

‘Perhaps it’s the effect you have on it,’ he murmured. ‘Does the kettle not work either?’

There was a silence, then Phoebe took a deep breath. ‘May I offer you some coffee, Mr Ashton?’ she asked grimly.

‘How kind of you, Miss Grant,’ he mocked. ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

So did I, Phoebe thought, seething as she went down the narrow passage to the kitchen.

She was totally aware of him, lounging in the doorway, watching her, as she filled the kettle and set it to boil. She had fresh coffee and a percolator, but instant would do for this occasion, she thought, getting down the jar and spooning granules into two mugs. Instant coffee and, hopefully, instant departure. Certainly she’d give him no excuse to linger.

But as she added the milk he’d politely requested, and stirred the brew, she had the uneasy feeling that he knew exactly what she was up to, and was laughing at her.

Jaw set, she led the way back to the sitting room, pausing in surprise to see that he’d kindled the fire.

‘I believe there’s a superstition that you shouldn’t tend anyone’s fire until you’ve known them for seven years, but I decided to risk it,’ Dominic Ashton drawled. ‘After all, we’re practically old acquaintances.’

Her heart skipped a panicky beat. ‘Not,’ she said, ‘as far as I’m concerned.’

His mouth twisted. ‘You don’t take many prisoners, Phoebe.’ He paused. ‘That’s an unusual and charming name. May I know how you came by it? Or is that another invasion of privacy?’

Phoebe looked at the flickering fire. ‘My mother was playing the shepherdess in an amateur production of As You Like It when she met my father,’ she said, her voice unconsciously wistful. ‘It was love at first sight.’

‘Even though Phoebe isn’t a very likeable character in the play?’

She was startled. ‘You know Shakespeare?’

‘I’m not a complete Philistine.’ Leaning back on the cramped settee, his long legs stretched out in front of him, he dwarfed the room. ‘Where are your parents now?’

Phoebe sank her teeth into her lower lip. Then she told him, ‘My mother died when I was a child. I—I lost my father just over six months ago.’

He closed his eyes for a moment. ‘Oh, God, I’m sorry. My facetious remarks about Serena were totally out of place.’

‘You couldn’t have known,’ she said. ‘Please don’t worry about it.’

‘Have you any brothers or sisters?’

She shook her head. ‘I was an only child.’

‘No relations at all?’ He was frowning.

‘My father’s sister is still alive,’ she said. ‘But we’re not close.’ She paused. ‘My father put all his energies into work after my mother—went. He was very successful, and eventually sold his business for a great deal of money. He should have been secure for life. He invested in a secondhand book shop, which he ran himself as a hobby. He was really happy, probably for the first time in years.’

‘And?’ he prompted when she hesitated.

‘Only someone persuaded him to play the stockmarket. He ended up owing enormous sums—debts he couldn’t possibly pay. We lost everything. The house, the shop, the furniture—it was all sold off.’

She shook her head. ‘My aunt seemed to feel that Dad had shamed the family name, and she wrote us off, even though he’d helped her husband out several times in the past.’

‘And she wasn’t prepared to do the same, and couldn’t live with the guilt,’ he said calmly. ‘It’s quite a familiar story.’

A story that she couldn’t believe she’d actually told him. It was something, like her grief, which she’d kept private, hugged fiercely to herself. She’d never confided in anyone. How had he, of all people, managed to break through the shell?

She gathered her defences. ‘What do you know about it?’

‘I come across similar cases all the time in my work. I’m a financial adviser—a troubleshooter, if you like. I go into companies, large and small, which have hit problems, and try and provide realistic solutions.’

‘I hope,’ she said, ‘that you don’t look at me in the same light.’

‘Certainly not,’ he said. ‘Your path is clearly strewn with primroses.’

‘Because,’ she went on, as if he hadn’t spoken, ‘I don’t need your charity.’

‘And I wouldn’t dream of offering it,’ he said coolly. ‘I’m very highly paid for what I do.’

‘Encouraging people at their wits’ end to get into more debt?’ she said bitterly. ‘Raising false hopes?’

He finished his coffee and set down his mug. He said slowly, ‘Your poor opinion of me seems to have all kinds of ramifications.’

‘We’re strangers,’ she said. ‘I don’t have an opinion.’

‘Lady, you could have fooled me,’ he drawled. ‘I’d say I was tried and condemned before you ever set eyes on me.’ He leaned forward, his grey eyes fixed on her face.

Today,’ he said. ’You did me a tremendous service. When we were at my house, I suggested that we make a fresh start. I’d still like to do that.’

‘Why?’ she asked baldly.

‘Because I want to be your friend.’ He spoke very gently. His eyes were gentle too, and his mouth curved suddenly in a smile without mockery. Despite herself, Phoebe felt a sudden pang of emotion akin to longing twist deep inside her. And it frightened her.

She said tonelessly, ‘That’s very obliging of you, Mr Ashton. But I have enough friends already.’

‘Indeed.’ He got to his feet. ‘Well,’ he went on, his face and voice expressionless, ‘that must make you unique to the rest of the human race. Then can I ask instead that you don’t consider me an enemy when we meet in future?’

Phoebe rose too. ‘It’s unlikely our paths will ever cross again, Mr Ashton.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that because I know Tara has her heart set on seeing you.’ He walked to the door, then turned. He said quietly, ‘Phoebe, please don’t allow your judgement of me to affect my daughter. That wouldn’t be fair. Good night.’

She heard the front door close behind him, and sank back onto her chair, aware that her legs were shaking under her.

‘And that’s not fair either,’ she whispered under her breath. ‘Oh, so clever, Mr Ashton.’

She couldn’t sleep that night, although she tried the usual anodynes of a warm bath and hot chocolate. She found herself tossing restlessly from one side of the bed to the other.

Dominic Ashton filled her mind, precluding all else.

She could hardly believe her own bad luck. On his own admission, he’d only been back at Fitton Magna a short time. If she hadn’t been offered that temporary job at the tea rooms, she might have moved away from West combe in complete safety, her peace of mind intact.