The Burlington Manor Affair

Intrigued by the idea, Rex nodded. “I’ll take your advice, thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

Why did that sound so good, getting away from the house together? Because the bloody house was a nuisance, a millstone. Originally it had been a way to get to Carmen, but now her loyalty to it was making him hate the place. She’d admitted she did want to sleep with him when she’d returned, but the house was still her biggest concern, going forward. It was as if she was in agreement with his theory about burning out the old flame when he was beginning to doubt it would ever burn out. It made him resent the estate.

Someone entered the kitchen from the hallway and Rex turned expectantly, assuming it was Carmen.

It was Mrs. Amery. “Ah, Mr. Rex. Is there anything specific you want me to do here while you’re away this week?”

Rex had the urge to say he didn’t give a toss about the house. The house could rot in hell for all he cared right at that moment. Carmen was his only concern. He paused and looked at the woman who anchored their home when no one else would.

She looked at him searchingly. Mrs. Amery needed to be given instructions, to be made to feel useful.

Nodding, he tried to look appreciative. “Is there something you think is important to schedule in soon?”

“Well, your father wouldn’t let me into the library to give it a proper clean, called it his stronghold or some such nonsense. The place could do with a good airing, at the very least.” She brushed an invisible piece of dust from her shoulder.

The barely withheld relish with which she anticipated the task was most amusing. If she’d been told to keep out, she’d have hated that. Rex had only stuck his head in there for a moment on his return, when he was reacquainting himself with the place. “Absolutely. I noticed the place was sinking under the weight of old papers.”

Mrs. Amery nodded approvingly. “In that respect, your father was an absolute hoarder.”

“If you can start shredding any of the more mundane estate account paperwork that’s more than five years old, that would be very helpful. Keep anything that is historically important, but I’m aware my father kept every invoice, every receipt, and we don’t need to know the milk bill for twenty years past.”

“That’s exactly my feeling. I’ll begin right away.”

When she disappeared a split second later, Rex looked at Mrs. Summerfield. “Keen or what?”

She laughed. “It drove her to despair that she wasn’t allowed in there.”

“I’m surprised she waited for me to give permission.”

“She’s very strict about protocol, especially so with her own performance as head of the staff. And she was loyal to your dad. He spent more and more time in there, too, after Sylvia’s death.” She stopped talking quite suddenly, as if she regretted mentioning Sylvia’s death. “Skimmed milk?”

“If we have it.”

She beamed. “We do.”

Rex was busy eating his breakfast when Carmen eventually appeared in the doorway. Her damp hair clung to her head, making her look elfin. Cautiously she smiled his way.

What a mystery she was.

He noticed that she closed her left hand around her right wrist for a moment before she walked past him to get to her seat. He reached out and stopped her, grabbed her hand and gave her wrists a quick examination. He’d kept her bound for two hours the night before. Two hours, while he observed her, stroked her and then talked to her about her sexuality—until she begged him to fuck her and he could resist no longer.

Seeing no signs of injury, he was relieved. He drew her hand quickly to his mouth and kissed it on the soft skin inside of her wrist, then gestured at her seat so that she could continue on her way before Mrs. Summerfield noticed their interaction.

But Carmen didn’t move. She stood still and stared at him, lips slightly parted, eyes bright.

Instantly he wanted her again.

* * *

REX STUDIED CARMEN across the polished pine table in the snug at the local pub. Mrs. Summerfield’s idea had been a good one. Carmen seemed more relaxed here in the Woolpack than she did at the manor. Was it the genial atmosphere or was it because there were other people milling about? Or was the tension up at the house due to the fact she still wasn’t sure of him and his intentions regarding selling her his share? She wanted it badly, and mostly he was teasing her, but he didn’t want to give up the option too soon because right now it was the only thing enabling him to be close to her. Much as he hated to admit it, he might never see her again once he signed the place over.

“This was a really nice idea,” Carmen said.

“I can’t claim full responsibility. Mrs. Summerfield suggested it.”

“Oh, really?”