Read His Lordships Daughter Online
Authors: Brian A de'Ville,Stewart Vaughan
“Th
ey all drank themselves silly
.
. e
very last
one of them. They were bored
out of their mind
s and bored to death.”
There was silence for a moment broken only by the rustling of the newspaper which her father was still intent on reading. “No one is stopping you doing it.” He went on “It’s just that the family would rather you stayed with the status quo.”
His daughter bent her head and kissed his cheek. “Family?” she qu
e
ried, a wry
smile on her beautiful face. “There is only you and I left. Like it or not we are a two-some, Father.”
Lord Hemingham, put his newspaper aside
and looked at Phyllipa. “thanks
to that drunken lot up there.” He said sarcastically, waving his hand at their forbears on the walls, “you have your own money and your trust fund comes of age when you do. You can do almost anything you wish. Travel the world, if you would rather.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. I have already been around the globe four times.”
“Five times is considered normal at our level.” Her father said.
Phyllipa shook her head. “No thanks. I want to do something useful.”
“You cou
ld get married and make your fa
ther a happy man.”
His daughter frowned. “I don’t wish to get married. I am not in love wi
th anyone and I am only twenty two
years of age.”
“Your mother married
me when she was seventeen.” He
said, softly and Phyllipa caught the faint catch in his voice as he cleared his throat to hide his emotion. He still hadn’t managed to lose the pain caused by her mother’s death in a car accident some fourteen years earlier. “Well,” she said, quickly, in an effort to lose the subject. “When I meet the right man, there will be wedding bells.” Her head shook almost wildly. “But, not until then.”
“and what about
Clive?”
“What about Clive?” She asked.
“He’s
right for you,
He’s stable, dependable, and he’s got the right pedigree.
“And they are the essential ingredients for a successful marriage, are they?” she asked.
“They would be a respectable start.”
“What about love?”
Her father shrugged his shoulders
. “I’m sure that Clive loves you.” He answered.
A frown shadowed Phyllipa’s face. “Well I don’t love Clive.” She reported firmly. “And, I still think I would be better off doing work of some sort.”
“If it’s a small manufacturing company that you require, I’ll get you one.”
“I don’t want to own one. I would just like to work in one.”
He
sighed and rustled his
paper again. “Alright!,
if you wish to work then by all means, work. But, let me remind you once again, Phyllipa, it is not the family’s way of
doing things”,
a faint smile crossed
his face. “Something tells me you won’t stick it for very long.”
“No?”
“No.”
Phyllipa knew he was putting down a challenge. He had finally accepted she would do some work or other, so had changed the ground rules to suit himself. It went with the family logo, “Virtue by Chance.” “Good old father!” she murmured to herself. Now it was a tantamount dare. He was throwing down the gauntlet, knowing full well his daughter would pick it up.
It was an old family tradition
!
S
he looked
at him with a teasing smile on her face. “If it’s going to be a bet, then we’d better discuss the stakes.”
Henry Inchcape-Gore looked at his daughter straight in the eye. “Your grandmothers diamond necklace, if you stick it
out for twelve months.”
No chopping or changing, Phyllipa. One job, one company, one year. Agreed?”
her
eyes narrowed as she studied the odds. It sounded simple but she knew it wouldn’t be. There were lots of if’s and
buts’
in the deal. Studying her father’s face again, she hoped to read something which would tell her what he was up to, but, it was expressionless. Inwardly she was delighted that she got her own way at last. Of course she could have done what she wished without consulting her father, but she had no intentions of falling out with her only parent as she loved him dearly. Also she was rather surprised at the size of the ante. It wasn’t just a diamond necklace which grandma had
left;
it was six strands of cabochon sapphires, diamonds and black pearls
.
A prize worth winning!
Making an instant decision she suddenly accepted the bet.
“Done!” she exclaimed kissing her father’s cheek again, sealing the wager. “Now, it’s time for a shower and a change.” But, her father stopped her.
“One moment! We both know what you get if I lose. What we don’t know is what I get if you lose?”
Phyllipa stopped in her tracks. “Of course….” She whispered to herself….”I should have known.” Turning she faced her parent. “If I lose I promise to be married within twelve months. This is what you want. Isn’t it?”
The 14
th
Lord Hemingham smiled and nodded his head agreeably. “That is exactly what I want, but, just one other thing, Phyllipa. In your search for the right man, should you lose, please leave my staff alone.”
Phyllipa started in surprise as her memory shot back a notch. It had been three years since her dalliance with Miller, the Estate Manager, but she still recalled the incident with pride. Moved or pushed, he had since long gone, but there were some things in her life that refused to be forgotten, and he was one of them. She smiled as she remembered his actions that day. Actions which had logged themselves indelibly in her carnal register. “One day, perhaps….” She whispered to herself as she looked at her only parent again. “That remark is completely uncalled for, Father.” She cried. Disapprovingly, marching from the room.
Steven Grant, Managing Director and sole owner of S.G Packaging, looked around the Despatch Department and frowned. It was Monday morning and the place looked as if a bomb had hit it. There were half finished orders, half-filled skips, and rubbish of all shapes and sizes lying everywhere making progress through the print floor difficult. What should have been a neat and tidy all-purpose activity was an untidy all-purpose mess. “What the hell’s going on?” he muttered angrily. “Where is all the staff?” pushing his way through to “Packing”, he grabbed hold of the supervisor. “What’s wrong with dispatch?” the supervisor scratched his head, then shook it. “We have no staff, Mister Grant. The guy on the section phoned in sick this morning.”
“Well put one of your people in and get the place cleaned up.” The MD retorted, peevishly, turning to go, but the supervisor stopped him. “I have no-one I can spare, Sir.”
Steven sighed. Monday morning was not his favourite time zone. “O.K., I’ll see to it.” Crossing to a wall telephone, spoke to June, his secretary. “Get onto the employment agency,
immediately
.” He instructed. “Remind them what century we are in and tell them we need a cleaner, soonest. O.K?” taking his jacket off, he rolled up his sleeves and started straightening up the section. Working solidly for well over an hour he was stooping to lift a heavy bale of paper, when a small neat paid of brogue shoes walked into his vision and stayed there. Slowly looking up, his gaze took in expensive jeans and the cashmere sweater and into the nicest smile he had ever seen. He was so startled he staggered slightly and lunging forward in an effort to stay on his feet inadvertently grabbed the visitor’s waist. Quickly he released his hold.
“Forgive me. You took me by surprise.” Steven apologised, his eyes till firmly fixed on her face.
Phyllipa looked at him almost carefully. She had a soft spot for six feet something men. Especially if they were handsome. “I didn’t mean to. I’m looking for Steven Grant.”
“You’ve found him.”
“The Employment Agency sent me.” Phyllipa explained. “I believe you have a vacancy?”
“For what?”
She looked at the paper in her hand. “One cleaner.” She read “S.G Packaging.”
Steven shook his head and looked her up and down again. “I don’t quite think it is the sort of thing that would suit you.”
His visitor looked around her “Perhaps you will let me be the best judge of that.” She retorted.
“O.K,” Steven waved his hand in the air, indicating the section. “It’s all about keeping this place clean. This is where everything that we produce goes out. The position is yours if you want it?”
S
he
smiled again and stuck out her hand in greeting. “You’ve got yourself a cleaner. My name is Phyllipa Gore.”
Steven looked at her, astonished. Something was going on that he didn’t quite understand, but he did need a cleaner. He took the offered hand. “Welcome aboard! What do we call you?” Phyllipa lo
oked straight into his eyes. “Ms
Gore!”
The Managing Director rolled his sleeves and put his jacket back on. “I’ll leave you now to get on with things. Wander around and get the feel of the place. You may actually like working here. Now and then it gets a bit hectic and I occasionally get bad tempered, but by and large we’re a friendly crowd.”
Phyllipa’s eyes were still on his face. “Why do you get bad tempered?” she asked, innocently.
The Managing Director tried holding her gaze but losing it after about two seconds, looked around as if seeking assistance. “It was just a metaphor.” He explained, looking a trifle confused.
“You seemed pretty definite.” Phyllipa insisted.
Steven massaged his chin with his hand and
his eyes narrowed slightly. “ok
.
So, I
shall try my hardest not to get angry. Will that suit you?”
Phyllipa smiled. “Admirably. Thank you.”
Walking back to his office the Managing Director was deep in thought about his latest employee. He wasn’t quite sure if he had done the right thing in employing her. “She doesn’t belong here.” He kept telling himself.
“She just doesn’t belong here!” sitting at his
desk;
he pressed the intercom button and spoke to his secretary.
“Did
Ms
Gore pass through your office on her way to Despatch?”
“She did.” June answered, “But don’t ask me who she is because I don’t know, what I do know is that is not a cleaner.”
“Thank you, June.” Her boss shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, flicked the intercom off, and then started reading the morning mail.
Phyllipa and her father were just finishing dinner in the dining room of their large mansion. “Roselands!” large and imposing it nested in fifteen hundred acres of prime agricultural land. It was really too big but habits die hard and Phyllipa enjoyed their space.
“How did your week go?” Henry Inchcape-Gore asked his daughter.
Phyllipa sipped her wine and watched Bradford, the butler, carrying the coffee and brandy to the table.
“Alright.”
“Just Alright?”
Phyllipa replaced her wine glass on the table. “It was a bit strange at first. But then, first impressions of something new, generally are, aren’t they?”
“I wouldn’t know.” Her father replied “As I have told you before, what you are doing is not a family trait.”
“We print cartoons and things like that. It’s very colourful and I love the smell of the varnish.”
“Are you enjoying it?” he asked, sipping his brandy.
“Not at the moment, Father. But, I will.” A slow smile eased across her face. “Oh yes, I will.”
“I’m glad. I don’t like to think of you doing anything if your heart is not in it.”
Phyllipa put down her napkin. “I’ve had a busy day and I’m rather tired. Will you excuse me,
Father?
”
Her father nodded. “Of course, but don’t overdo things, Phyllipa. Not even for a bet.”
She no
dded, kissed him goodnight, and
walked through the house to her own suite. Situated in the west wing
of the building it was rather remote, but this is how she liked it. Quiet and undisturbed. She had hardly got through the door when two strong hands encircled her breasts from behind pulling her body into a hard muscular male contour. Turning, she kissed the dark haired man, then dropping her hand, fingered his testicles through the cloth of his striped business suit. “
You
are early, tonight, David.” She said, ecstatic that his penis was growing stiffer under her knowledgeable handling. David nodded. “I couldn’t wait to see you.” He explained, rapidly stripping off his clothes, eagerly watched by Phyllipa, who then stood quite still whilst her friend removed her own clothing, layer by layer.
Not that there was much of it, b
ecause there
wasn’t.