His Housekeeper's Twin Baby Confession
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Abby Green
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HarlequinPROLOGUE
CARRIE TAYLOR WAS too numb to be nervous about her job interview for a very prestigious job as a live-in housekeeper in London. She wasnât even sure how sheâd been deemed a suitable candidate, considering her hospitality experience didnât stretch beyond working in three-star hotels in Manchester.
Clearly, going by the fact that she was in a detached Georgian mansion in one of Londonâs most exclusive neighbourhoods, this was very much on another level. But her desire to move to London and the fact that she could start straight away because she had no ties might have had something to do with it.
No ties.
Emotion threatened to break through the numb barrier sheâd pulled around herself in the last six months. She forced it down again. Not here...not now.
She would have time to lick her wounds and heal if she could just settle somewhere far away from where sheâd been. At least physically, if not emotionally.
She diverted her mind from her recent traumatic past and tried to focus again on the interview. There was no way she was going to get the job. And that assertion was somehow a little liberating. A stream of considerably more glamorous and undoubtedly more experienced women had gone in before her. And one man in a three-piece suit.
They werenât wearing cheap high street clothes. Carrie plucked at her shirt, trying to straighten it. Her jacket and skirt didnât even match, but they were the same colour so that would have to do. There was a hole in her nylons, but she was hoping it wasnât visible. Sheâd lost almost a stone in weight in the last six months, and she really should have bought a new outfit, but sheâd literally had no time to waste before coming to this interview.
The recruiter had said, âI wonât lie, itâs a long shot, but nothing ventured nothing gained, eh?â And then heâd asked curiously, âAre you sure youâve never heard of Massimo Black, Lord Linden? Heâs the Earl of Linden.â
Carrie had shook her head, already mentally adding up how much the train ticket to London would cost. âNo, should I have?â
The recruiter had just said, âNo reason in particular, I guess...â But heâd looked at her as if she had two heads.
Carrie wondered about that now. The man was undoubtedly wealthy. And an earl, and a lord. Maybe he was in politics? She couldnât take her phone out here and look him up. She cursed herself for not doing it on the train when sheâd had a chance. Wasnât that what people did ahead of big fancy job interviews? They swotted up on the employer?
She imagined him to be elderly and very posh. White hair? Booming voice? The other people up for the job had certainly walked out of his office looking a little shell-shocked. Maybe he was very formidable.
âMiss Taylor?â
Carrie stood up so fast her bag fell to the floor. Flustered, she answered, âThatâs me,â as she bent down to pick it up.
The stern-looking assistant swept her up and down with an icy gaze and Carrie fought not to let it affect her.
âLord Linden will see you now. This way, please.â
She followed the young man back through the jaw-dropping reception hall, with its classic black and white tiles and a marbled staircase leading up to the first floor. There was a huge round table, polished to a high gleam. In the middle was the biggest vase sheâd ever seen, with a stunning display of exotic blooms.
She was so distracted by the grandeur that she nearly ran into the manâs back when he stopped abruptly outside a door. She stepped backwards. She wanted to check her hair to make sure it was still pulled neatly into its bun, but she didnât dare under his exacting gaze.
The assistant knocked and a deep voice answered, âCome in.â
For some reason a little tingle went down Carrieâs spine. The door opened and the man stood back to let her by. Carrie walked in, and for a second the sun was in her eyes, so all she could make out was a very tall, broad shape by the window.
Then she took another step and she could see. She heard herself suck in a breath. The first thing that came into her head was: Young, not old. And the second thing was that sheâd never seen anyone more beautiful in her life. He was like a Greek statue brought to life.
Thick dark blond hair, swept back from his face. Strong jaw. Firm mouth. Powerful physique. Every line of his face and body screamed power and privilege and something far more disturbing. An earthy sensualityâan innate sexiness that sheâd never experienced before.
He was saying something, but Carrie couldnât actually hear it for a moment. She tried to pull herself together. But she was shaken. This was the first time anyone or anything had pierced through the numbness in her body. And heart.
âIâm sorry, what did you say?â
Massimo Black, Lord Linden, curbed his irritation. âI said, please take a seat.â
The woman who had just entered was looking at him as if sheâd never seen a man before. He was used to slightly less obvious reactions. Maybe his assistant had been wrong when heâd said, before he went to summon her, âThis is the last one, boss, and apparently sheâs never heard of you.â
That had made Massimo sit up. It was rare for him to meet anyone who didnât know him and his lurid life story: inheriting the vast Linden wealth and his fatherâs title of Earl of Linden at only eighteen, after the premature scandalous deaths of his parentsâhis mother of a drugs overdose at their family country pile after a debauched party and his father only a few weeks later, while piloting a helicopter with his latest lover. And then the tragic death of his beloved younger brother, who had inherited the destructive gene from his parents, in spite of Massimoâs best efforts to keep him on a straight path.
Massimo pushed all that aside.
So far none of the candidates for housekeeper had impressed him, in spite of their more than adequate CVs and references. So he didnât hold out much hope for this one, who came with none of that.
The womanâhe checked her name...Carrie Taylorâsat down gingerly on the edge of a chair. Massimo wondered why she was sitting like that, and looked down and saw she was tugging at her skirt, as if to pull it over her knee. He saw a flash of pale skin. A hole in her tights.
Massimo felt something stir in his blood. Awareness. He immediately scoffed at himself. For this scrap of a thing? Because she was a scrap. Her clothes hung off her, and she looked as if she needed to be sent to the sun for a few months, to put some colour in her cheeks.
Her blonde hair was pulled back in a bun, but tendrils were trying to escape. Her face at first glance was plain enough, but as Massimo took a seat opposite her and watched her looking around the room he could see fine bone structure, a straight nose, and a surprisingly lush mouth. Her eyes were huge, and very green. Unusual.
She looked at him then, and Massimo had to use all of his control to stop himself reacting.
He looked down at her file. âIt says here that youâre widowed?â He looked back up just in time to see her flinch slightly.
âYes.â
His conscience pricked. He knew what it was to lose someone you loved. The pain of his brotherâs death nearly ten years ago was still vivid.
âIâm sorry. It was recent?â
She avoided his eye. âSix months ago.â
âIt also says here that youâre available to start right away and are available to live in?â
âYes.â
Massimo felt curious now, about this woman who had travelled all the way from Manchester to apply for a job that she really had very little hope of getting.
He asked, âWhat makes you think youâd be qualified to take on a job as housekeeper of this house?â
He saw her draw in a breath and her breasts rose under her shirt, fuller than he would have expected. He diverted his gaze up, once again incensed to be caught like this.
Affected like this.
She looked at him now, her gaze direct. Her voice was soft but clear, with a surprising hint of steel. âI know I donât have any fancy university qualifications, but Iâve been working since I was sixteen.â
âIs that when you left school?â
She lifted her chin. âYes.â
Massimo couldnât help but admire her defiance.
She said, âI started working in a local hotel, making beds and cleaning bathrooms, and I made it all the way up to become manager by the age of twenty. I hired staff, managed them, and was responsible for ensuring the smooth running of...everything really.â
Massimo put down her file and sat back. He found that he could well believe it. The unmistakable pride in her voice impressed him. She didnât have an academic qualification to her name, but she had more experience in her little finger than any of the other candidates heâd just met. Who had all been as dull and boring as he might have expected.
He said, âSo my question now is, why leave all that to come and manage one house in London?â
She avoided his eye again. A shadow passed over her face. âBecause I have no ties and I would like a change. I want to gain experience in the private sector.â
Massimo had a sense that there was more to it than that, but he resisted pushing. Then he made a split-second decisionâvery unlike him.
He said, âYouâre hired. One monthâs trial. My outgoing housekeeper will be on hand for a week, to show you the ropes and get you acquainted with how we run things here. How long do you need to pack up and move down?â
She looked at him, her eyes wide, dazed.
âYou mean it?â
He nodded. He was fascinated by the colour coming into her cheeks. Pink. His blood grew warm. He doused it with ice. This woman would be his housekeeper. Out of bounds. If she accepted the job, from this moment on he would not allow her to affect him again.
âUm... I just need a day or two... I could be back here after the weekend?â
Massimo stood up and held out his hand. âPerfect, my assistant will give you any help you need with packing and moving.â
Carrie couldnât quite believe what had just happened. She stood up and her legs felt shaky. She put out her hand to Lord Linden and he took it, engulfing her in heat. His touch was like an electric shock, zapping through her body and blood.
She told herself it was the shock of the job offer. And because he was so charismatic and impressive. And young. Sheâd have to be made of stone not to be affected by a man like this.
She pulled her hand back and somehow managed to get out, âThank you for giving me this opportunity. Iâll make sure you donât regret it.â
A wave of relief went through her to think that she could move away from all the grim reminders of her life up to now. She could make a new start. In a new place. Heal herself. And maybe some day move on with her life again.
Lord Lindenâs gaze was hard to look away from. It was very dark. Hard to read.
Good, she told herself. She did not want to be reading this manâs emotions. He was her boss, and there was too much at stake to be allowing him to affect her in any way. Emotionally or physically.
âThank you,â she said again, and vowed to make sure that he would have no reason to regret giving her this chance.
