His Lordships Daughter

by de'Ville, Brian A

  For a few moments her father smiled at her in sympathy. “I gave you the name of two companies. “Locotrend” and “Kristex” have you moved on them yet?”

  “I’ve got that in hand.”

  “Good.” Her father said. “Let me wish you well in that direction.”

  She smiled. “Actually, I feel quite confident. There is nothing quite like an offer that is difficult to refuse, is there?”

  Her father chuckled “You’re learning fast !”

  Suddenly, the butler was standing by her side with eyebrows lifted.

  “Break out the champagne Bradford.” Ordered his Lordship “And kindly inform cook my daughter is in for lunch.”

  “Yes!” Phyllipa murmured as the butler left the room. “But then I have to go out. I have a few loose ends to clear up.”

  “Perhaps you will keep me informed.” The newspaper rustled almost angrily. “Things are getting very interesting.” Her father admitted. “Pity about Steven though, Sultan is going to miss him!”

  Chapter 17

  In the cosy lounge of the “Bulls head” the soda water and ice were already waiting for Phyllipa. June watched expectantly as her friend made herself comfortable. And take a sip of her drink.

  “That is nice and cold.” Phyllipa said.

  “I haven’t seen much of you today.” June hazarded.

  “I don’t work for SG Packaging anymore.” Phyllipa explained shaking her head and looking at the Tag Heur on her wrist. “I cleaned my desk out at precisely ten o’clock this morning.”

  Her friend’s face showed astonishment. “What the hell’s going on?”

  “I was sacked!”

  Steven’s secretary’s head up shot up in the air. “You don’t mean it?”

  Phyllipa shrugged. “I do mean it. It was his accountant who whispered things in his ear and he wouldn’t listen to my side of the story. So he gave me, what is colloquially called, the elbow!”

  June shook her head in dismay. “Just after you left this morning, he banged off out and didn’t return. Did you see his face? It looked to me as if he had gone ten rounds with a Rottweiler.” Picking her gin and tonic from the table, she noticed Phyllipa’s knuckles. They were scuffed and the skin had been damaged on her right hand. “Where did you learn to box?”

  “At school in Switzerland!” she chuckled. “In my “Stay Alive” class!”

  June choking on her drink, started to giggle with her, quietly at first but then it got louder as she looked into her friend’s face, until both were engulfed in paroxysms of bubbling laughter. Phyllipa dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief as she fought to control her emotions, whilst June just flung back her head and bellowed.

  “I certainly needed that.” Phyllipa gasped. “It’s the loveliest thing that has happened to me today.”

  “Men can be such stupid bastards!” June, recovering from her outburst kicked off her shoes and watched them disappear under the bar.

  Her companion sighed “It’s not all Steven’s fault. If someone standing on the moon looked at what was happening at SG, I am pretty certain they would have been in his corner. On paper, it all looked very dicey and Steven only has my word that I am not after his company.”

  June lifted her glass again and swallowed half the contents. “O.K” she waved her arms about expansively. “If you are going to blame yourself, let us call this the “Hate Phyllipa Week” and it is all your fault. She waggled a finger at her friend. “But you didn’t know that Clive’s father was going to start playing silly buggers did you?” she lifted her eyes to the ceiling as if seeking a heavenly audience. “And what price honesty and trust?” she shouted loudly, causing the barman to look at them, expectantly. “If Steven loves you as I think he does, then he should take your word about your motives!”

  Phyllipa looked sad at her friend. “Love and business are strange bed mates!”

  “And how about the bet?”

  “That has gone well. I lost it!”

  “You have lost that as well!” she confirmed, bristling with indignation.

  “Yes!” she sighed. “I have already proclaimed my father the winner.”

  “Does Steven know about the necklace bet?”

  “I have never told him, I didn’t think that would be fair.”

  “Well! In the circumstances , don’t you think you should?”

  “Definitely not! In retrospect, perhaps I could have handled things a little bit differently.” Picking up her soda water she drained the glass and banged it on the table.

  June laughed. “We all do things differently with the assistance of that loveable know all, Hindsight!” she pointed out. “And before I forget to tell you, a continuation order arrived from Kristex this morning.”

  Phyllipa showed interest. “Over what period?”

  “I think the exact wording was for the “Foreseeable future” they said they liked our product, and our price and congratulated us on our delivery.”

  “Steven thinks my family own Kristex.”

  June’s eyebrows shot up “And do they?”

  “Only the half of it.” She admitted, almost apologetically.

  Her friend dived into her handbag and started straightening her face. “I think it is diabolical what he has done, but, from where I am standing, he is deeply in love with you and I don’t think he is going to walk away from that. He is not that sort of guy, not where his heart is concerned.” She snapped the clasp of her handbag shut. “Mark my words. He is going to start mending fences!”

  “That will take two of us.” Phyllipa rose to her feet. “At the moment, Steven Grant is history! If anyone should want me I’ll be at Rosewood.”

  June wiggled her toes. “One other thing before you go, Leslie Shaw of Locotrend will be delighted to see you anytime tomorrow morning.”

  Her friend’s eyes brightened. “Now that is good news, thanks June.”

  “I don’t suppose you are going to tell me what this is all about?”

  “A laywoman’s retaliation!” Phyllipa snapped, a hard glint in her eye. “In short, revenge!”

  June shrugged her shoulders as she crawled under the table looking for her shoes.” It sounds fascinating, but if you do need any help I’m at the end of the phone.”

  Chapter 18

  The receptionist at Locotrend Limited looked at Phyllipa then perused the business card. “Mister Shaw will only be a couple of minutes.er, Ms Inchcape-Gore. Perhaps you would care to take a seat.” She indicated to a comfortable seat.

  Phyllipa thanked her, then picking up a magazine, turned the pages, but her mind wasn’t on the contents. She was thinking about her ex boss, Steven Grant. Seven times he had telephoned her last night and seven times she had refused to take his call. Eventually she knew she would but just not yet. She wanted to sort her conscience out before that. It was nothing to do with him using nettles on her or the ensuing episode. It was the name he had called her, the name he had shouted at her “A blue blooded whore!” that rankled, it had dug deep into her heart and lay there like a ton weight.

  “Ms Gore!?” her thoughts were interrupted by a middle aged man wearing large floater glasses. “I’m Leslie Shaw!” he announced, introducing himself. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Perhaps you would come through to my office.” she got to her feet, shook the proffered hand and followed him through to a large room where she made herself comfortable.

  He sat behind a huge desk and adjusted his glasses, a little awed by her presence. “We are quite intrigued by your visit. Although we have never met formally, we do, of course, know of you. Your family’s generosity with the charities precedes you…” he stopped speaking as a cup of coffee was thrust into Phyllipa’s hand. “Sugar?” the receptionist asked, looking hard at their guest.

  “No Thank you!” Phyllipa stared at Shaw. “I was thinking of making a rather larger than usual to one of your pet charities.” She sipped her coffee.

  A large smile erupted on Leslie Shaw’s face as his hands massaged each other. “
What can I say to such kindness? We are so grateful.” He took his glasses off. “At the moment it’s a hard slog attracting funding, what with the recession and unemployment. Er… are we talking a nice round sum, Ms Gore.”

  Phyllipa smiled. “We are talking six figures Mister Shaw.”

  “Please! Call me Leslie.” Nervously, putting his spectacles back on his nose again, he trembled slightly as the magic figures started jumping through his abacus mind. “I can never think of words other than thank you and bless you! We are very grateful!”

  “How grateful?” her eyes twinkled.

  “If there is anything my company or i can do for you or your family, you only have to ask.”

  “Well! There is something.” She stared into his eyes “As you probably know, my father, Lord Hemingham and myself own a small merchant bank. It’s a very private affair, but we are gathering together some first class accounts.” She smiled again causing Leslie Shaw’s heart to miss a beat. “I suppose I am really touting for business. It is no secret that your company have banked with the Imperial for the last twenty five years or so and I was wondering whether you would care to give us a try? Purely on a trial basis of course. We can assure you a first class service and I am positive we could put together a better deal than your present bankers.”

  Leslie Shaw adjusted his glasses again and thought for a while. “It wouldn’t be difficult.” He finally said. “More advantageous terms do tend to concentrate the mind a little, don’t they?” he sipped his coffee. “I would have to discuss it with the board, of course, but I can’t see any problems there. After all, it is our money! Happily we don’t have to worry about overdrafts, thank goodness!” for a few seconds he went off the air again, and put his coffee cup back on the desk, while Phyllipa waited, her heart pounding a trifle faster than usual. She needed this account.

  “Yes! Why not.” He abruptly agreed, a broad smile on his face. “I’m a great believer in quid pro quo! In my business. I’ll send some of my people over and we’ll discuss terms and if it is favourable, the account will be transferred.”

  A look of pure bliss crossed Phyllipa’s face. “On the day of the transfer, I’ll send the charity cheque round by hand!” she pledged.

  The accountant smiled. “I shall look forward to it.”

  she stood up and thanked him, her face shining with satisfaction and Leslie Shaw couldn’t take his eyes off her. Fawning, he opened the door and almost scraped the floor with his old fashioned bow. “And thank you once again!” he said, for the sixth time, as he watched her trim figure disappear through the main doors.

  Turning, Phyllipa gave him a last smile. “You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours.” She whispered to herself as she walked to the car “And together we’ll scratch someone else!”

  Chapter 19

  November landed with freezing temperatures and indifferent weather. The wind howled across the front of Rosewood, flattening the countryside with its blustering effort. Phyllipa stood at one of the deep windows in the library, gazing at the wintery scene. She didn’t like high winds, they frightened the horses, got in their ears and blew the goodness from their feed. It was Saturday and immediately after breakfast her father had left to visit some friends, so, apart from the staff she was on her own. David had been with her all night and she was feeling satisfied but a little sore. Sighing, her thoughts turned to Steven again, shaking her head in disbelief at how things had turned out.

  Almost a month had passed since the row, but apart from him telephoning her at odd hours, that was it. She would not speak to him and she would not see him, but she did admit to herself that she missed him. He had been so much fun just to be with, let alone work with. Ever since first setting eyes on him, she had been comfortable with the guy! It was such a shame he had jumped to all the wrong conclusions about her.

  “Serves you right!” she shouted at herself, loudly. “Never let your bank balance rule your heart! Let these captains of industry find their own way!” she shrugged her shoulders and grimaced. “I was only trying to help!”

  Sighing again, but louder this time, she was about to leave the library when she noticed a rider less horse coming into view. Her eyes narrowed as she shuffled through her memory files. Surely, none of the animals were out in this weather? As the horse got nearer, Phyllipa saw the blackness of him as his silken mane stretched in the wind. “It’s Sultan.”

  She cried. Something was wrong! Knowing the horse would head for the warmth of its own stall, she ran through to the hall, grabbed an anorak and chased after him. The horse had bashed through the stable door and stood trembling. she tried to soothe him but his eyes were flaming and agitated. The great head was flinging itself in the air and his flanks were heaving as if under heavy strain. Then she noticed the cuts on his hindquarters and the bloody legs, and her heart turned over.

  There was only one person who could ride the horse, but he had not been near the estate since the fight! Or had he? Running to the other end of the building, Phyllipa checked the swinging approach road.

  Hidden from the house, Steven’s BMW was parked on the corner. Biting her lip in exasperation, she looked at the swollen sky. If he was out there and he was in trouble she would have to hurry. The storm was closing in!

  Knowing that Sultan would be alright, until they could get a vet out to him, she threw a hay bale into his loose box and waving her arms frantically, shooed him in, then bolting the door ran back to the house. The going would be tacky out in the country, she surmised, so she needed the Range Rover. But it wasn’t where it should have been causing her to swear out loudly. Her father must have taken it.

  Making a sudden decision she got in her own car and backed it out of the garage onto the road. A sudden burst of wind smashed into the side of the Aston Martin making her grasp the steering wheel more firmly. Driving the vehicle slowly through the riding lanes that she and her ex boss used to use, her eyes scanned the open spaces, searching and checking. Twice she had to skirt fallen trees bought down by the screaming blasts of snow carrying air. She could see nothing, but her heart she knew that Steven was somewhere out there. The Aston Martin crept along, a curtain of snow and sleet dropped like a white sheet across the fields and her spirits sank a little. Stopping the car to get out, she gazed around only to find that visibility was just as bad out in the open as it was sitting inside. Looking up at the racing jumble of overloaded clouds, her hands thumped the side of the vehicle in pure frustration at not being able to find what she was looking for. , climbing onto the bonnet of the car and standing on its roof, she wiped snow from her face whilst her eyes searched around the countryside, causing her to grunt with satisfaction as familiar land marks came into view.

  Jumping to the ground she opened a farm gate and drove her vehicle carefully through the thick mud into a large open field. She wanted to check the ditch at the bottom, many times she and Steven had jumped their horses there. It was one of their favourite gallops.

  The ground was sticky, even though the car made short work of its task, she could feel the wheels slipping and skidding as the engine growled with disapproval. Nearing the ditch she stopped and got out, her eyes speedily taking in the gale ripped oak which had fallen across the grassy banks of the trench. It was really a soak away to trap surface waters running from the fields. In summer it would be dry but in winter was prone to flash flooding. Today was no exception! Walking the full length of the dyke, she was just about to return to the car when something fluttered and caught her eye. Immediately stopping, she stared at the flood, but it just shimmered and glinted back. A burst of wind battered the surface, denting the water, pushing the ripples against the bank. Then she saw the torn sleeve of a riding jacket. Stepping onto the fallen tree, she slowly edged herself further across the swollen fosse. The trunk was wet and greasy and she had difficulty in maintaining her balance, but, precariously she neared the opposite bank. Placing her feet carefully, she was just bending down when Steven’s pain filled face stared back at her. The
shock of seeing him nearly knocked her from the tree. Staggering back in alarm, she managed to keep herself from falling into the water by straddling the trunk with her legs.

  “Dear god!” she said loudly. “He must have been knocked from his horse!” she spoke to him but only his eyelids quivered. Bending as far as possible she caught hold of his collar, trying to pull him into the comparative safety of the bank, but he hardly moved. Then she saw his left leg, trapped under the fallen tree!

  Removing the anorak from her shoulders, she pushed it under his head and tied the sleeves to a small hanging branch, lifting his head clear of the rising water. Steven opened his eyes and gazed at her.

  “Your blue blooded whore at your service sir!” introducing herself, a hard glint in her eye, as, wobbling dangerously, she managed a small curtsy.

  The wind hurled flurried snow at them. Steven stared at her, the pain in his eyes deepening as he shook his head. “I’m sorry!” he whispered, “My leg is broken, you will have to move the tree!”

  Carefully moving back to the bank, Phyllipa nodded and for a few minutes stood there looking at her task. There was no time to go looking for help. The water level was rising by the second. Returning to her car, she opened the boot hoping there may be something which would help her with the tree. She didn’t really know what she was looking for, but she got quite excited at the sight of a length of rope. It was old and covered in oil, but with a little bit of luck, it may do the trick. The only other thing which was in there, in addition to the spare wheel, was a foot pump.

  Taking the rope, she tied it to the tree, then backing her car close to the edge of the trench, hitched the loose end to the tow bar at the rear of the car. Starting the engine, she slipped it into second gear, easing the vehicle slowly forward, carefully taking up the slack of the line, but the wheels started spinning on the sodden grass, skidding the car sideways. Pumping the accelerator, asking for more power, the car suddenly shot forward, but was immediately braked as the frayed end of the rope flew through the air. Cursing, she saw it had broken. Shaking her head in dismay she inspected the tree, it hadn’t moved!