‘There’s just one thing,’ he said as he stood up to escort Brooke to the door. ‘Mr Hart would like you to start here on Monday morning. It’s extremely convenient having you living at the Lodge. He’ll be moving into the Dower House over the weekend and initially you’ll be working from there….’
‘But the place is practically derelict,’ Brooke told him. ‘It’s been empty since our last tenants left and that’s three years ago.’
‘We’re moving in a team to check it over today. Just as long as A … Mr Hart can have a terminal set up linked to our main computer he can work, although I believe he intends to supervise the renovations here himself. You don’t think you’ll find that too painful?’ He was making a last ditch attempt to dissuade her from taking the job, without being seen to do so, Bill acknowledged, but Brooke shook her head. ‘Sentiment of that kind is something I can’t afford right now,’ she told him simply, extending her hand to shake his. On her feet, she was an inch or so taller than he was himself, Bill thought ruefully, beautifully composed, and coolly remote; the thought of what Adam could and probably would do to that fragile shell of hauteur made him cringe in anticipation of her pain, but there was nothing he could do about it, and for the first time since he had come to work for Adam, he found himself almost actively disliking him.
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