The Burlington Manor Affair

by Saskia Walker

  Mrs. Amery watched Carmen taking the view in. “Don’t worry, the bed hasn’t been left made up this way all these years. Don’t think that. I remembered it was your favorite coverlet so I retrieved it from storage and had it dry cleaned yesterday. I wanted you to feel completely welcome and at home again.”

  Carmen rested her hand on the housekeeper’s shoulder. “I appreciate that. The room looks lovely.”

  Mrs. Amery nodded. “Mr. Rex has requested a specific menu and he’s asked for dinner service as soon as you’re ready.” She glanced at her watch. “I could arrange it any time after seven, if that suits you?”

  Carmen glanced at her watch. “Seven would be ideal. I’ll take a walk down to the lakeside, then grab a shower.” Carmen sensed the housekeeper’s curiosity about the ongoing arrangements for the manor, even though she was obviously attempting not to ask outright. Had Rex filled her in on the ownership issue? He surely must have. “This situation must be difficult for you. Rest assured you won’t lose your job. I won’t allow him to sell to a stranger. It’s my intention to buy Rex out.”

  “I appreciate your reassurance, Miss Carmen....” Mrs. Amery wasn’t surprised; instead, she looked skeptical.

  Carmen knew that look. “But?”

  “Well, Mr. Rex has been here for the past two days, organizing things for your arrival, and he is settling in nicely. I’d go so far as to suggest he seems glad to be at home.”

  Mrs. Amery always did have a soft spot for Rex—but then who didn’t, the man was charm personified, and he knew it—and the housekeeper had been disappointed when he walked away from the house and all it stood for. She was obviously harboring some secret hope that he would change his mind and the Carrutherses would continue to be the custodians of Burlington Manor for another generation, and more.

  Carmen offered her a sympathetic smile. “If that’s the case, he would have returned before now. I know you’d love to see Rex take responsibility for the place, but I’m afraid it won’t last. I will, though.”

  Mrs. Amery nodded while assessing Carmen thoughtfully.

  “Is that any help?” Carmen added. The housekeeper had a practical, reserved relationship with her employer and the family, but she spoke her mind when encouraged to do so. The intervening years hadn’t pushed that aside. Carmen was glad of it.

  “Perhaps it was his father that he fell out with, not the house,” Mrs. Amery eventually commented.

  That was something Carmen hadn’t considered. She took a moment to absorb the implications. It could well be the case, which put her plans on shaky ground. If Rex did want the house, then this could be a bigger battle than she thought. “If that’s true, it’s a rather sad indictment of Rex’s relationship with his father.”

  “If there’s anything I’ve learned in all my years in service, it’s that father and son relationships are often difficult enough without the additional responsibility of a large family estate.” Mrs. Amery plumped the pillows and cushions on the bed as she spoke. “It can be overwhelming for a young man growing up, especially in the modern world. Rex made a lot of effort after his parents divorced, but in the end he had to forge his own path.” She turned back and smiled. “I suppose he might be reconsidering, now that he’s got a bit more maturity to him, but you’re right. He has other responsibilities. I’ll try to keep an open mind.”

  Carmen nodded. “As soon as we reach an agreement, you and the other staff will be the first to know.”

  “There aren’t as many staff as you might remember. Aside from Mr. Amery and myself, we’re down to four others now, three of them part-time.”

  “My goodness, how on earth do you manage?”

  “They’re good people, and Rex’s father had their loyalty.” She nodded at the window wistfully. “The grounds were always the priority. First impressions. He always cared what people thought of the place, even if he didn’t have the funds to do as much as he’d hoped.”

  It was enlightening. Carmen wondered what personal funds Rex might have to fall back on. Once he’d broken with his father’s expectations he’d used his Oxford University degree to set up a business of his own, managing an elite team of engine designers producing parts for racing cars. As far as Carmen knew, that gave him a fair turnover and access to an enviable lifestyle, but nothing extraordinary in terms of disposable income. Then again, maybe she didn’t know enough about the racing industry. She had a business degree but the company she knew best was the one she’d inherited from her mother. Objet d’Art sold interior furnishings—classy, arty, but ultimately functional objects—for the everyday home.

  Mrs. Amery tested the bell pull. “I’ll leave you to it, but do call if there’s anything you need.”

  It wasn’t until Mrs. Amery left her alone that she circuited the room and noticed something had been left on the winged armchair that stood in the square bay window. Curious, she stepped closer. It was a box. She lifted the lid. Inside, a sheer black garment was folded in tissue paper. At first glance, it looked beautifully designed. Acting on instinct, she lifted it.

  “I believe you’ll find it’s the right size.”

  Carmen flinched. She dropped the sliver of fabric back into its box. That voice of his, it was like a trigger on her libido. How could that still be, after all these years? Turning on her heel, she stared across the room at Rex. He was standing in the open doorway, one shoulder resting up against the frame as he watched her.

  “You can’t be serious.” She gave a dismissive laugh. “I don’t need you to choose my clothes for me.” She shrugged out of her jacket and threw it across the chair, obscuring the offending item completely.

  “Of course you don’t, but I rather enjoyed the task, and this arrangement is about getting what we both want, isn’t it?”

  “Grow up, Rex.” She had to keep her cool with him. His presence in her room, where she’d had so many foolish fantasies about him when she was a young woman, didn’t make that easy. Nor did the way he looked.

  Worn black jeans outlined the angles and planes of his hips and thighs. A charcoal, long-sleeved T-shirt was snug across his shoulders and chest but fell loosely below, emphasizing his fit physique. He strolled closer to her.

  “You’ve already made ridiculous demands on how this will proceed and I gave you my terms. We discuss it this weekend, as adults. I’m a grown woman now, not some dizzy teenager you can push around and play games with.”

  “I liked that dizzy teenager.”

  It wasn’t what she expected him to say and she was taken aback.

  His gaze covered her, blatant curiosity in his expression. “And I’m not pushing you around. I admit I did tease you back then, but as I recall you seemed to love it.”

  Forthrightness wasn’t a characteristic she remembered in Rex. In fact, he’d often been a mystery to her, oscillating from a chilled, confident young man to a secretive, sullen stranger who stormed out of the house, or arrived back at it with war wounds from fights he’d got into, something that made Rex’s father angry in a way they never witnessed at other times.

  How did he know that she loved his teasing, though? And why did he remember so much? Bristling at the intimacy—at the direct references to the pull between them as teens—Carmen shook her head. “Dictating what I wear isn’t pushing me around?”

  Rex shrugged. “It was meant as a gift, that’s all.”

  Carmen met his stare as levelly as she could. His expression made her feel as if she was letting him down, a response that baffled her. I shouldn’t care if he’s disappointed in me. How the hell did he do it? That wasn’t what this was about. No, he was playing games, teasing her. He’d just got even more clever with it since they last spent time together.

  “We came here to thrash out an agreement, didn’t we?” Just the way he said that was so suggestive.

  Carmen braced herself. “I agreed to come
here and discuss it as adults.”

  “You knew I had certain demands.” He lifted his eyebrows slightly. It was an almost imperceptible movement, but it inferred so much.

  “I would prefer a monetary exchange. I stated my case already.”

  “We’ll see.” Breaking eye contact, he turned and strolled away.

  Carmen watched his broad shoulders as he headed to the door. He was devilishly handsome, even more so than he’d been as a younger man. The intervening years had given him a weathered, sharp look that suited him well. And his physique was breathtaking. The desire to see him naked thrust itself upon her out of nowhere, uninvited and unwelcome, yet fatally arousing.

  He turned back at the doorway. “Wear the dress for me, Carmen. Call it a gesture of goodwill.”

  Before she had a chance to respond he left her, but the instruction held her attention as surely as if he put his hand on her waist and commanded her.

  “Damn you, Rex.” She paced to the bedside table and unlatched her watch, flinging it down there as if she could unburden herself of this age-old desire for him just as easily.

  Attempting to get her thoughts on the right path she paced up and down, reasoning with herself. She was here as a businesswoman in order to negotiate a monetary exchange for property. She willed herself to focus on that. It seemed futile, though, what with Rex stalking about as if he owned the place outright—and her included. Then there was the fact she was here in the wildly romantic room where she used to conjure images of him to satisfy her teenage lust.

  Returning to the bedside, she plonked herself down on it and gave a resigned sigh. Everything was the same. She turned to look at the wall behind the headboard. Even though she’d dismissed him from her dreams, all through the intervening years she’d been plagued by an image, a remembrance. It was her hand against that wall—her hand, reaching for Rex.

  She’d gone to bed that way often when they were younger and Rex was at Burlington Manor. When he was home from university and he’d retired to his room she was next door. Their private spaces were only inches apart. Strung out by his presence—so close, so solid, yet so unobtainable—she knelt on her bed, closing on the wall, imagining it was him she was touching as she laid her fingers on the surface.

  It was more than a wall. It represented an unremitting barrier between her and the man who filled her thoughts. Yet the surface of the wall received her touches and her kisses, and it witnessed her lying back on her bed with her legs open, masturbating while she thought of him on the other side of that barrier. Watch me, her brazen teen self had demanded as she strummed herself to orgasm. Watch me and want me.

  Carmen didn’t want to think that way now. She was too cautious, too wounded, to beg for what she wanted. But she still wanted him all the same.

  “Stupid woman,” she whispered to herself.

  She glared at the wall, thought of the man whose room was on the other side of it and vowed not to let herself fall under his spell. He could have any woman he wanted. She didn’t want to be part of Rex Carruthers’s vast casualty list. A trail of broken hearts lay in his wake. She was not going to be one of them.

  CHAPTER THREE

  CARMEN DARTED DOWN the service staircase and headed out to see the grounds and clear her head. The walk, a refreshing shower and a change of clothes helped her feel more fortified for the onward negotiations. As she headed to the dining room she reminded herself this was a business venture and should be handled just like a meeting to negotiate terms, something she might undertake on a normal weekday.

  When she entered the dining room Rex was already present and engaged in conversation with Mrs. Amery, who was standing by. He wore an open-neck white shirt and black trousers, and looked casual and dishy and seemingly perfectly relaxed as he lounged back in his chair at the head of the table—the captain’s seat, the place where his father had always sat. It hadn’t taken him long to assume that position, which annoyed her.

  As soon as she entered the room, however, his eyes lit. His gaze covered her and he nodded approvingly when she saw that she’d followed his suggestion and worn the dress.

  Self-conscious, Carmen’s fingers went to the elegant ruff, a small stand-up collar at the back of her neck. The dress was a beautiful design, a clingy halter neck that was simply cinched at the waist. The skirt was scalloped above the knees at the front, and slightly below at the back. It fitted perfectly.

  Rex stood up, skirted the table and pulled out her chair, his moves subtly charming. “Beautiful. The dress becomes you.”

  All of this conspired to make her feel churlish about her initial resistance to the offering.

  “Miss Carmen.” Mrs. Amery nodded. “Leanne is going to bring dinner in. Her duties are in housekeeping, but she’s very eager to meet you so I said she could stay on.”

  “That’s lovely, thank you.” Carmen moved slowly toward the offered seat. Even as she tried to speak normally to the housekeeper, she was aware of Rex’s presence and the persuasive touch of his hand on her forearm as she sat down.

  When she took the seat he strode over to an ice bucket that was set on the side table and lifted up the bottle of champagne that was chilling there. Carmen noticed that he strolled about with ease, as if he’d never been away, and yet he’d been away from the house many years more than she had.

  “Is that all right with you, Mr. Rex?”

  “Mr. Rex?” Rex repeated. “Call me Rex, please. I’m not my father and I don’t expect the same level of formality he did.”

  Mrs. Amery folded her hands together decisively, but looked at him fondly. “I was trained into service when I was sixteen years old. It would be very hard to change now.”

  “Give it a go, just for me.”

  Why was he even bothering? Carmen wondered. He wouldn’t be here long.

  “I’ll try.” Smiling, the housekeeper left the room and returned moments later with a woman in her late teens.

  Once she’d put the tray onto the sideboard, Mrs. Amery introduced her colleague.

  “Leanne Whitworth,” Carmen repeated. “Your dad is the postmaster in Beldover?”

  Leanne nodded.

  “I remember you helping him out behind the counter when I used to live here. You must have been about twelve at the time?”

  “That’s right, miss. I’ve worked here at the manor since I left school.”

  “How lovely it is to see you again.” Carmen was genuinely pleased and studied the girl while she and Mrs. Amery arranged the serving plates on the table.

  “Say hello to your dad for me,” Carmen added as she finished up.

  Leanne beamed. “I will.”

  As they were about to leave the room, Rex spoke. “Mrs. Amery, you can finish up for the night now.”

  “Thank you. I’ll see you both in the morning. Cook is semiretired now and only comes as and when needed, but she’ll be here for you tomorrow, bright and early. She tends to arrive at seven. I’ll be here by seven-fifteen.”

  When the door closed behind them, Carmen realized the implication. Shortly, they would be totally alone in the house together. She began to regret she hadn’t arrived earlier, so that she could have taken charge of the arrangements. Things were more likely to remain neutral and manageable if there were other people around.

  “You’ve got a better memory than me,” Rex commented after the two women had gone.

  “I was here more often.” When she glanced up at him, his presence filled her consciousness.

  “True.” He lifted the champagne bottle out of the ice bucket, looking down at her as he peeled the foil. Once he’d removed the cage, he held the cork and twisted the bottle slowly. His hands were strong, somehow even more solid than she remembered. The intervening years had given just enough muscular bulk to his tall lean frame. The white shirt he wore was open at the neck, an
d the bare skin of his chest at this collarbone drew her attention. There was no doubt about it, Rex Carruthers had matured well.

  He popped the cork and, with consummate grace, filled two flutes. When he returned to her side and offered her a glass, he was close enough that she could smell his cologne.

  “Thank you.” She accepted the drink and sipped from it quickly.

  He didn’t move away. Instead, he held out his glass to hers. “Here’s to the weekend, the first of several we’re going to share here at the old homestead.”

  The look in his eyes was so suggestive that she wondered how she could even begin to think of this as a business negotiation. She was right back there, back at the point where he used to come home from university and she was desperate to see him—wildly aroused when he flirted with her, and bitterly disappointed when he walked away.

  Carmen gripped her glass tightly. Reluctantly she moved it just enough to clink against his.

  When he lifted the glass to his mouth, she couldn’t resist watching him. When he swallowed, she watched the strong column of his neck. The very look of him stimulated her. That unwelcome reaction made her doubt she could play house for even an hour, let alone several weekends.

  Reeling her thoughts in, she attempted to switch into business mode.

  “It feels strange to be in the old place again.”

  “It does.” He set about serving food for her, which surprised her. “A bit too much like coming home for my liking.”