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his inheritance was free and clear of every other Harcourt before considering what it involved and what was best done about it.

      In the meantime, Ashley had to decide what to do about Cliffton. Outright rejection of his mission probably meant he would have to return to England to report failure, and she wouldn’t see him again unless she followed. That scenario had no appeal whatsoever.

      Ashley had never felt so drawn to know more about a person. Cliffton was, without a doubt, the most fascinating man she had ever met, and she didn’t want him to drop out of her life before she had the chance to…well, explore possibilities.

      He was special. Far too special to be a butler. Maybe a short sojourn in Australia might show him other ways of life that could be far more rewarding than being a butler, yet she could probably only keep him with her if she appeared to be considering the proposition, perhaps needing some persuasion from him to make up her mind.

       For as long as it takes…

      That suddenly became a highly seductive little phrase.

      Taking her years with Roger and his mother into account, Ashley had no problem in reasoning that the Harcourt family did owe her some recompense, and Cliffton clearly didn’t mind being her butler for a while. He would be very handy to have around if Gordon Payne decided to carry through on his threats. That could be classed as helping to settle her affairs.

      In fact, she could find lots of business that would need settling before she could even consider uprooting their lives and going to England with William. What about William’s schooling and leaving all his friends behind? There were many difficulties and obstacles to overcome, and in all good faith, serious matters that would prove quite impossible to resolve in the end. Cliffton would eventually come to see that, and no blame would attach to him for failing to accomplish what was expected of him.

      It was only fair to give his mission a chance at succeeding.

      Even if it was mission impossible.

      Ashley had to smother a huge upsurge of elation at this highly satisfactory conclusion. She lifted a hand to her temple, rubbing at it in a distracted fashion, covering any telltale expression in her eyes as she said somewhat faintly, ‘This is all a bit of a shock.’

      ‘Forgive me, madam.’ Cliffton was at her side in a flash, gently steering her into the lounge. ‘Thoughtless of me to regale you with all this when you’ve had no time to recover from that nasty encounter. Such incidents do sap one’s energy.’

      There was absolutely nothing wrong with Ashley’s energy. Cliffton’s light grasp on her elbow gave it a remarkable boost. She caught a whiff of some tantalising aftershave lotion and wished she was wearing perfume and a more alluring outfit than a business suit. One of the wonderful chiffon gowns that Ginger Rogers used to wear floated into her mind.

      At Cliffton’s direction she sank into an armchair. He whizzed a footstool under her feet, plumped up a cushion and slid it behind her back for extra comfort, pulled out one of her set of three occasional tables and placed it within easy hand’s reach, then straightened up and smiled benevolently at her.

      ‘A cup of tea is always soothing, madam. Or perhaps, since it’s after five o’clock, a glass of sherry? Sherry is more fortifying. On the other hand, a gin and tonic can have an elevating effect. I am at your service, madam. If you’ll tell me what you’d like…’

      Ashley had a mad urge to ask for slippers and a pipe! She sternly reminded herself this was not a game to Cliffton. He was doing what he was trained to do, and her best course, at the moment, was to accept his offer graciously. ‘A cup of tea would be lovely. Thank you,’ she said with a grateful smile.

      He left her before Ashley thought to give directions to the kitchen and where to find everything. Further consideration assured her that Cliffton would have no difficulty finding his way around. This was hardly a butler-size house. The kitchen was at the end of the hallway and was of a fairly standard design. Making a cup of tea did not present a problem.

      Finding living quarters for Cliffton did.

      Although there were three bedrooms, the third was used for storing William’s sporting equipment and housing whatever hobbies had captured his interest. Model aeroplanes and ships took up most of the shelf space, and a work table was currently covered in miniature soldiers, which he was painting in preparation for a replay of the Napoleonic Wars.

      A divan bed, shoved against one of the walls, and no cupboard space at all, did not constitute a suitable room for a guest who would be staying longer than overnight. The spare twin bed in William’s room didn’t present attractive accommodation, either. Which left her room, and it was utterly ridiculous for her to move out and offer the master bedroom to the butler.

      It suddenly struck her that she should have asked Cliffton for some credentials instead of accepting his story at face value. The man was a stranger, for heaven’s sake! His sheer panache had bamboozled her into being totally unbusinesslike. She had better correct that as soon as he reappeared. Or maybe she should be checking on him right now instead of letting him have the run of the house. What if…

      The front door banged open and William came pelting inside, pulling himself to a halt as he caught sight of Ashley through the doorway into the lounge. He looked flushed and excited.

      ‘Hey, Mum! Where’s…’ He stopped as he took in the cushion at her back and her feet on the footstool. ‘Have you twisted your ankle or something?’

      ‘I’m just relaxing,’ she said, feeling a flush sweeping up her neck as though she’d been caught in a compromising position.

      ‘Oh! Okay!’ William dismissed the incomprehensible in favour of imparting the exciting news that had brought him in. ‘You should see the great car Mr. Cliffton came in. It’s a smashing Rolls Royce. The chauffeur said it’s a 1987 Silver Spirit. How about that?’

      Ashley’s mind boggled again. The wayward thought came to her that it would have put Gordon Payne’s nose further out of joint at seeing a Rolls Royce outshining his Daimler. Not to mention a chauffeur!

      Fortunately William didn’t require a reply. Cliffton arrived on the scene bearing the silver tray and tea service that Roger’s mother had given to them as a wedding gift.

      ‘What are you doing with that?’ William asked bluntly, as astonished as Ashley was. Cliffton must have dug it out of the bottom of the dresser where it had resided untouched, apart from cleaning, for many years.

      ‘Your mother is feeling poorly. I am serving her tea,’ Cliffton replied with unruffled decorum.

      William looked wide-eyed at Ashley. ‘Are you sick?’

      Her cheeks blossomed with hot colour. ‘I’m recovering fast,’ she answered.

      ‘You don’t need me then?’ William asked.

      ‘No. I’ll be fine in a minute.’

      ‘Right!’ William looked relieved and turned quickly to the butler. ‘You’ll be staying for a bit, Mr. Cliffton?’

      ‘Yes. I’ll be staying as long as—’

      ‘Great!’ William cut him off and offered his most appealing face. ‘Would you mind if my friends had a turn at sitting in your car? They wouldn’t hurt anything. The chauffeur could let them in and out. I promise they’ll be good.’

      Cliffton set the tray down on the occasional table and eyed William consideringly. ‘How much do you intend to charge?’

      William grinned at the quick understanding. ‘Only ten cents each. Ten dollars with a photo. Can I borrow your Polaroid camera, Mum?’

      ‘Ten dollars!’ Ashley gasped in shock.

      ‘Think, Mum,’ her son advocated earnestly. ‘This will be a once-in-a-lifetime photograph, a memory they’ll be able to pull out of a photo album in years to come to show they really did drive a Rolls Royce. A photo of that value can’t go cheaply.’

      William

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