The first paragraph only confirmed her worst imaginings.
Lady Sophie Gordon, divorced daughter of the impoverished Earl and Countess Gordon, was employed by the Grant family as companion to the heir to the Grant fortune, sixteen-year-old daughter Jennifer, but it would seem Maximilian Grant and Lady Sophie are the ones having 'fun' together'!
Tears clouded her vision at the insulting tone of the article, and she found she couldn't see to read any more. Not that she wanted to. People didn't actually read this awful rubbish and believe it, did they? she inwardly wailed. Brian, how could you? she choked inside!
'Tacky doesn't even begin to describe that particular publication,' Maximilian rasped with obvious disgust. 'I won't even classify it as a newspaper, because it doesn't even attempt to print news, only gossip—erroneous gossip at that!' he added hardly.
Sophie blinked rapidly, forcing herself to read the rest of the article. It was nothing short of libellous—although it cleverly did just fall short of that! It implied that her role as companion to Jennifer had just been a smokescreen from the first, that Sophie was in fact Maximilian's latest mistress. Brian couldn't be ambitious enough to write lies like this—could he...?
'One of the young nurses at the hospital saw the photographs, recognised me as the new patient, and thought I would love to see myself in print!' Maximilian told her grimly. 'Naturally I telephoned the owner of the newspaper as soon as I had read the damned thing,' he continued remorselessly, his gaze cold on Sophie. 'He told me that they had attained their information from a "reliable friend of the family",' he bit out tautly. 'Your family, I believe!'
She swallowed hard, feeling ill at the details of her private life the newspaper had padded the story out with—her poor but titled parents, her disastrous marriage to Malcolm. The implication seemed to be that, because of her family's straitened circumstances, Lady Sophie maintained her life in society by the support of her rich lovers. Rich lovers! My God, there had been no one in her life since Malcolm, and he had been her husband, not her lover, and he certainly hadn't been rich. But the implication was there, none the less.
'Oh, Brian...' she groaned weakly.
'Burnett, yes,' Maximilian confirmed knowingly, his gaze glacial. 'Or were you in this together?' His eyes were narrowed.
Sophie's head snapped back as if she had been struck. 'What...?'
'What a damn fool I've been!' Maximilian shook his head in self-disgust as this idea took root and grew— out of all proportion as far as Sophie was concerned! He thrust his hands into his trouser-pockets—as if the dangerous impulse to choke the life out of her hadn't completely passed. 'I was actually starting to—I believed you were what you seemed to be,' he scorned self-derisively. 'I even felt sorry for you, which was why I—'
‘I don't need your pity!' Sophie snapped out of the stunned disbelief that had held her in its thrall since reading that newspaper. Who did this man think he was? Just whose reputation did he think had been ripped to shreds by that stupid newspaper, anyway? He had come out of this just looking like a rich man using a young woman until he tired of her, whereas she— But, of course, Maximilian didn't think she had a reputation to lose. The arrogant—! ‘I am exactly what I seem to be, Mr Grant.' She threw the newspaper down, angry colour blazing in her cheeks, freckles standing out lividly, her eyes a deep sparkling green. 'It's all a question of what you perceive!' Her whole body was tense with anger. 'You may have been hurt in the past—I really have no idea why you're so cynical and judgemental—but what I do know is, you're far from the first person to be hurt— or disillusioned. My husband married me for my title, and made no secret of that fact once we were safely married. He gambled away what little money we did have, and turned violent when I tried to stop him. But I don't hate or distrust all men because of what Malcolm did to me—'
‘I don't hate and distrust all women either!' Maximilian defended scathingly.
'No?' Sophie gave him a pitying look. 'You certainly don't like any of us very much, not even your own daughter—'
'Leave Jennifer out of this—'
'Jennie,' Sophie cut in firmly. 'She prefers to be called Jennie, but you don't even seem to care!'
His mouth was a thin, angry line at the rebuke. 'I don't give a damn what she "prefers" to be called; her name is Jennifer!'
'No, I can see that you don't care,' Sophie scorned, shaking her head. 'But I wouldn't worry about that too much, if I were you—if you do!—because it really isn't going to matter for too much longer.'
His eyes were narrowed to icy slits now. 'What the hell is that supposed to mean?'
'Work it out for yourself, Mr Grant; you seem to think you know all the answers!' Sophie was breathing hard in her agitation, pushed beyond all reasonable limitations; Maximilian had insulted not only her motives but her integrity.
He glared at her. 'Jennifer's actions are none of your business.'
'She deliberately gave you garlic at dinner last night because she knows it makes you ill!' Sophie told him exasperatedly. 'That amounts to much more than a childish prank. Either you have to talk to Jennie about what she's doing, or someone else does—'
'None of this,' he cut in impatiently, indicating the newspaper, 'has anything to do with Jennifer. And she is no longer any of your concern, either,' he added hardly.
No, Sophie had already gathered that much. Not that she would have wanted to stay on here now. Far too much had been said for her to be able to remain anywhere near Maximilian. But whether she went or stayed made no difference to the fact that the situation between Jennifer and her father was taking on much more serious implications than was safe, for either of them.
'She is yours, though,' Sophie tried once more to reason with Maximilian, in more controlled tones this time; losing their tempers with each other wasn't achieving anything. 'Believe what you like about me.' She shrugged. 'Every other woman, if you want to. But don't shut Jennie out. She loves you very much.'
'I told you—' he looked at her with cold disdain '—my daughter is none of your concern.'
Sophie's anger was fading now, and in its place was a deep sadness. Was Maximilian's judgement so warped by his blindness towards Jennie that he couldn't even see what he was destroying? Obviously it was. And he was pushing her away too—because he had sensed that she too was coming to love him? Possibly. Although, from what he had said, his own responses to her had been because he 'felt sorry for her'! Which was the last thing she wanted from him. Even his contempt was preferable to his pity!
'Take another look at that newspaper, Maximilian,' she advised scornfully. 'And think who really comes off the worst in it! My God, Brian may have been stupid and hurtful, but you're being even more so.'
Maximilian continued to look at her coldly. 'Thankfully, your opinion means little or nothing to me,' he dismissed scathingly.
He deliberately meant to wound—and he succeeded; more, perhaps, than even he could know. 'But apparently your horse Gracious Lady is very important to you,' she said dully. 'And that's the story Brian didn't write.'
Maximilian's head snapped back suspiciously. 'What do you mean?'
She shrugged, having nothing else to lose now; she was definitely leaving here this time. 'I've already told you that he knows Gracious Lady is a racehorse.'
'So?' Maximilian bit out abruptly, eyes narrowed.
Sophie sighed at this stubbornness in refusing to see what she was trying to say. 'So what is a racehorse doing here?' she said wearily.
'None of your damned—'
'I'm not the one who cares, Maximilian!' she cut in exasperatedly. 'Are you so wrapped up in your own sense of indignation, over a newspaper story we both know is absolute rubbish, that you can't even see what I'm trying to point out to you?' She glared at him. 'I don't care whether you have a string of racehorses actually living in your house with you, if that's what you want, but Brian was deeply intrigued by the fact that you have Lady here—'
'Then he can stop bei
ng "intrigued",' Maximilian's mouth twisted scornfully. 'Because she isn't here any more!'
'Not—But...?' She looked at him dazedly.
The horse had been here yesterday—hadn't it? Of course it had, she rebuked herself, it had been in the horse's stall that she and Maximilian had almost— Where was the horse now? When had she been taken away? How? What on earth was going on?
She realised she was getting as bad as Brian for nosing into things that didn't concern her, but at the same time the horse's sudden disappearance was very curious.
'Sophie?' Maximilian returned mockingly, his gaze challenging.
Her cheeks became flushed at his taunt. 'I'll go and get my things together—'
'I'm surprised you managed to unpack them from the last time!' he derided harshly.
'Yes,' she accepted dully. 'My time here does seem to have been—eventful.'
'Eventful!' he echoed with disgust. ‘I should never have let Jennifer talk me round into letting the two of you stay on here in the first place! If I hadn't I wouldn't have—' He broke off abruptly, his mouth a thin line. 'Was it all an act, Sophie?' He frowned. 'Did you and your boyfriend just want a story?'
'He isn't my boyfriend!' she defended heatedly. 'And I told you, he didn't even write the real story—' It was her turn to break off abruptly this time as a knock sounded on the door, immediately followed by Sean's entrance.
The older man looked at them with narrowed, questioning eyes, Maximilian pale and accusing, Sophie equally pale as she felt sick with reaction.
A dark frown settled over Sean's brow. ‘There's a telephone call for you, Sophie,' he told her. ‘I wouldn't have disturbed the two of you,' he added with a challenging look in Maximilian's direction as the younger man opened his mouth to issue a cutting remark at being interrupted in this way just because Sophie had a telephone call. 'But the young man was most insistent that be had to speak to you now.'
Young man...? Brian. It had to be. As she had intended talking to him herself once she left here, his call had saved her the bother of tracking him down. Her mouth tightened as she thought of exactly what she wanted to say to him.
'Your boyfriend obviously telephoning to warn you,' Maximilian drawled scornfully as he too realised who her caller was. 'He's a little late!'
'Warn her about what?' Sean frowned. 'Max, Davies reported to me that you left the house with Sophie at two o'clock this morning.' He looked questioningly at his friend and employer. 'Does that have anything to do with your conversation with Sophie now?'
Maximilian's mouth had tightened at the mention of last night. 'Only indirectly,' he grated. 'I should go and take your telephone call, Sophie,' he drawled with hard derision, his gaze coldly dismissive. 'And warn him the Lady story is definitely not for printing,' he added harshly as Sophie reached the door.
She glanced back at him, his face hard and uncompromising. She had no doubt he would turn Brian's ambitions into dust if the other man should dare to write that particular story! She felt a shiver of apprehension down her own spine at the icy threat emanating from Maximilian. She, she knew he was saying, would do well to heed the warning as much as Brian.
But she didn't know what the mystery was surrounding Lady's presence here. Didn't want to know it either!
‘I’ll tell him,' she nodded dully. 'Goodbye, Sean,' she added huskily, having come to like the older man even in the short time she had known him.
'Goodbye?' he repeated dazedly. 'But I thought—'
'Leave it, Sean,' Maximilian rasped harshly, giving the other man a silencing frown.
'But, Max—'
‘I said leave it!' he bit out between gritted teeth.
'You can take the call in the study, Sophie,' Sean told her vaguely, still obviously completely puzzled by what was going on.
She looked at Maximilian's unyielding face, at the coldness in his eyes for her, and gave a choked cry before running to the door and leaving the room. She loved Maximilian, and he hated her. Oh, God...!
She was shaking very badly by the time she reached the study, and it took her several minutes to calm down enough to be able to pick up the telephone receiver and talk to Brian.
But he was in such a panic himself, over what had been printed in the newspaper, that he didn't seem to notice Sophie's emotional state, desperate for her to realise the story the newspaper had printed this morning was not the one he had given them, that he had given them something else completely.
'All that garbage about you and Grant,' he added disgustedly. 'I couldn't believe it when I opened the newspaper this morning and saw what they had printed about the two of you.'
'Let's hope no one else believes it either,' Sophie told him flatly, filled with utter despair at having to part from Maximilian in this way.
'Grant is going to be so— Maybe he won't see it?' Brian suggested hopefully.
'He's already seen it,' Sophie told him drily.
For a moment Brian seemed thunderstruck by this, then, 'And?' he prompted in a hushed voice, obviously dreading her answer.
'He's going to have it framed and put on his bedroom wall—how do you think he feels about it, Brian?' she said exasperatedly.
'Er—angry?'
'Furious,' she confirmed unsympathetically. 'Murderously so,' she added shakily, sure that, if Sean hadn't interrupted them in the way that he had, Maximilian might just have given in to the temptation he had been fighting for so long, and actually strangled her!
'Oh, God!' Brian groaned. 'I'll come and see him, try to explain—'
‘I wouldn't,' Sophie warned. 'Not unless you want to be his first victim!'
'But—'
'Just leave it, Brian.' She sighed wearily. 'And steer your ambition in some other direction than the Grant family,' she added firmly. ‘I have to go now, Brian,' she added hastily as he would have protested again. 'I'll give you a ring in a few days.' She rang off quickly, before he could object further, or probe too deeply into Maximilian's reaction to the newspaper; if he were to realise Maximilian had ordered her from the house because of it, because of what he suspected was her part in attaining the story, she didn't doubt that Brian would insist on coming out here himself to explain things to Maximilian. She knew, better than anyone, it seemed, that it would achieve nothing, and that it would only delay her departure. And she very badly needed to get away from here now.
Jennie's bedroom door stood open as Sophie passed on the way to her room further down the corridor, a half-packed suitcase open on the bed...
Sophie stopped in the doorway, watching Jennie as she moved about the room putting more things inside the case. 'Going somewhere?' she finally prompted lightly.
Jennie spun round guiltily, her relief immense at seeing it was only Sophie who stood there. 'Back to school.' She shrugged dismissively. 'Some of the other girls were staying on during the holiday anyway, and I think it might be safer if I go and join them.' She gave a pointed grimace.
'Jennie, it really was a prawn that made your father so ill,' she gently reassured the young girl.
'But don't you see? The intent was there!' Jennie groaned self-disgustedly. ‘I wanted to make him sick because he was being so mean to me all the time.'
'But it wasn't you who—'
'It doesn't matter, can't you see?' Jennie looked at her pleadingly, her eyes filled with tears. 'I love my father, Sophie, and I-'
'I'm very glad to hear it.' Maximilian spoke softly from just behind Sophie, causing her to turn and face him with a startled gasp. 'Because I happen to love you too— Jennie,' he added gruffly.
Jennie just stared at him, dumbstruck by his admission—and his use of the diminutive of her name that she preferred and which he had steadfastly refused to use.
Sophie looked at him too, but warily. His manner towards Jennie seemed to have softened, but that was no reason to suppose she was included in this sudden gentleness. In fact, she had every reason to believe he never wanted to see her again!
As he e
ntered the bedroom fully Maximilian's gaze narrowed on the half-packed suitcase that lay on the bed. 'What's this?' He frowned at his daughter.
She flushed uncomfortably. 'I thought it might be better, for everyone,' she added breathlessly, 'if I just went back to school.'
Maximilian pulled a face. 'For me, you mean.' He shook his head. 'My God, Sean was right, I've made a complete mess of this whole business! You've decided to go back to school, Sophie is leaving—'
'What!' Jennie gasped, looking at Sophie questioningly.
'—and so is Sean,' Maximilian continued, as if Jennie hadn't made the interruption.
'Sean is...?' Jennie was obvious stunned. 'But—but he's been with you for years! Why on earth would he want to leave?' She frowned.
Maximilian grimaced. 'Because of you.'
'Me?' Jennie echoed, looking more puzzled than ever.
Sophie could guess exactly why Sean had told Maximilian he was leaving; the older man was obviously very fond of Jennie, considered her part of his family, and he deplored the way Maximilian treated her as much as Sophie did! Had someone finally got through to Maximilian—had Sean's decision to leave actually shocked him into seeing sense? She certainly hoped so!
'Jennie.' Maximilian looked at his daughter with eyes softened to a grey-blue. 'I—there have been complications during this school holiday that—'
'So I'm a "complication" now, am I?' the oversensitive Jennie pounced heatedly. 'That's just another name for a nuisance. Well, you needn't worry any longer, because I'm going!' She threw some clothes into the suitcase.
'Jennie—'
'And you needn't worry that you'll be alone once Sophie, Sean and I have gone,' she scornfully cut across her father's gently reasoning tone, looking out of the window on to the driveway now. 'Because Aunt Celia has arrived to keep you company!' She looked across the room at Maximilian with defiant challenge.
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