His Lordships Daughter (20 page)

“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!”

“Y
ou 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.”

“Wel
l! 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 th
ink 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 on
ly be a couple of minutes.er,
Ms
Inchcape-Gore. Perhaps you would care to take a seat.” She indicated to a comfortable seat.

Phyllipa thank
ed 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 g
rateful?” her
eyes twinkled.

“If ther
e
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!”

C
hapter 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, s
o, 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 do
or 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 wh
at 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.