The Nanny and the Millionaire. Линда Гуднайт

The Nanny and the Millionaire - Линда Гуднайт


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hallway. ‘The old schoolroom’s in here, love.’ She opened the door, inviting Marissa to enter.

      ‘This has been here a while,’ Marissa observed, gazing around the large room.

      ‘Since the house was built.’ Olly nodded. ‘Quite a few little McMasters have studied here. Holt among them. Think you’ll be happy here?’

      Marissa smiled. ‘Indeed I will! I’m very grateful for this job, Olly. It means I can have Riley with me I’m happy already!’ The room was a little on the sombre side—nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a touch of colour—but in perfect order. The walls were lined with bookcases filled with books, well thumbed for the most part, some even dog-eared. A large blackboard was set up near the windows. What looked like the original desks and chairs of some dark golden timber stood in neat rows, ten desks in all. Two marvellous globes on stands caught the eye, terrestrial, celestial.

      ‘Does Georgia do her lessons here?’ Marissa asked. If she did there was no sign of it.

      ‘Miss Lois prefers to conduct the lessons down in the Garden Room,’ Olly said. Was that the merest trace of disapproval in her voice? ‘If I might divulge a little secret—just between you and me—not many lessons are going on. I best warn you if Holt hasn’t already done so, little Georgy is a bit of a handful.’

      Marissa spoke without thinking. ‘I would never have thought so with a father like that?’

      ‘Meaning?’ Olly’s sparse eyebrows shot up.

      ‘I can’t imagine anyone with the temerity to step out of line.’

      Olly laughed. ‘Holt can cope with anything and does, but Georgy would break anyone’s heart.’

      ‘She wants her mother.’ Marissa had great sympathy for the motherless little girl.

      ‘She wants a mother,’ Olly corrected. ‘Tragically her mother didn’t want her. Georgy is only little but she knows this. Abandonment is at the heart of her problems. You’ll be the one to understand.’

      ‘Oh, I do, Olly.’ Marissa’s blue eyes misted over. ‘I’m hoping the children take to one another.’

      ‘Don’t expect results right away, love,’ Olly warned. ‘Come on now. I’ll show you your rooms. They’re across the hallway. Riley can have the room next to yours,’ she said. ‘If you like them, I’ll have them aired and the beds made up.’

      Both rooms had lovely views of the rear gardens, though she realised all the rooms would have a view and wonder of wonders there was a fenced swimming pool. ‘That’s not a mirage is it?’ Marissa asked, her eyes on the sparkling turquoise water. Swimming would build Riley up and help his condition. She was a good swimmer herself. She had made the University swim team. To the right of the pool was an open sided pool house with an orange terra cotta tiled roof. The stout pillars that supported the roof were wreathed in flowering morning glories. She could see sofas, tables, dining chairs, comfortable chaises. Great!

      ‘Used all the time, love,’ Olly told her casually. ‘It’s there to be enjoyed. You’ll have plenty of time to yourself. Holt’s father had it built for Holt and the girls.’

      Marissa had to confront her lack of inside information. ‘He has sisters? Forgive me, but I only met Mr McMaster today.’

      ‘Seems he took a great liking to you,’ Olly observed laconically.

      ‘I wouldn’t say that exactly—’ Marissa shook her head, not believing he had ‘—but he did want to help us.’

      ‘That’s Holt.’ Olly shrugged. ‘He has two sisters, Alex—Alexandra—three years older married to the Steven Bailey, merchant banker turned politician, some say Prime Minister in waiting, and Francine, two years younger, a dedicated career woman, finance, not as yet married. Holt’s father died in a tragic accident on the property not long after Holt was married. His mother remarried last year. She now lives in Melbourne, but she visits often.

      ‘Holt’s grandmother, Catherine, has never left Wungalla for any length of time since she came here as a bride. There have been many trips, of course. She has family in England but this is her home. She won’t be parted from Holt or Wungalla. Holt is his mother’s maiden name, by the way. He was christened Douglas Holt McMaster, but the Douglas never took. It was his uncle Carson, his mother’s brother who started calling him Holt. He has the Holt dark eyes and that distinctive widow’s peak. He must have told you he was divorced?’ Olly looked Marissa right in the eye.

      ‘He mentioned it briefly,’ Marissa said. ‘I can’t believe my good fortune, Olly. These rooms have everything we could possibly want.’

      Olly’s expression softened. ‘You don’t have to dash down the hallway to get to the bathroom, either, love. Each bedroom and there are twelve have been fitted with an en suite’ She made a moue with her mouth as she said it. ‘The rooms were big enough to allow for the renovations. If you want to make your surroundings a bit nicer there are things galore out in the storerooms. Such a lot of stuff overflowed from the house. I’m sure Holt won’t mind if you pick out a few things. We aim to keep you happy.’

      Marissa felt a knot in her throat. ‘More than that I want to make everyone else happy,’ she said. ‘I love teaching. Riley picks up on everything so quickly.’

      ‘Maybe Georgia can learn from that.’ Olly’s breath ended on a sigh.

      ‘I expect Georgia knows how to swim?’ Marissa took another peep at the glittering pool.

      ‘Some hope!’ Olly said. ‘She hates the water.’

      ‘That’s hard to believe,’ Marissa said, much surprised. ‘I thought everyone loved the water. Riley is a great little swimmer for his age. Once Georgia sees him enjoying himself in the water she might feel differently.’

      ‘Don’t get your hopes up, love. Ah, this will be Hal with your luggage.’ Olly went to the doorway, waving a hand.

      Hal duly arrived, putting the two pieces of luggage down, then he turned and looked at Marissa. ‘You haven’t got much here have you, girlie?’ He sweetened the remark with a smile.

      Olly elbowed him hard in the ribs. ‘No need for you to worry about that, Hal.’

      ‘Only remarkin’.’ Hal’s voice took on an aggrieved note. ‘You’re such a tartar, Olly!’

      Olly couldn’t stop herself from giving him another hard nudge.

      ‘Actually I have plenty of clothes, Hal,’ Marissa said. ‘Only they’re in Brisbane where I come from.’

      ‘You and the boy?’ He gave her a sort of conspiratorial wink.

      Marissa took it as yet another sign of misconception. ‘Riley is my little brother.’

      Hal flashed a quick look at Olly. ‘Whatever you say, miss. You sure don’t look like anyone’s mother, a delicate creature like you. How come you talk so fancy?’

      ‘Unlike you, Hal Brady, Marissa had a good education,’ Olly said sternly. ‘Now off you go. The garden calls.’

      ‘Got my runnin’ shoes on already.’ Hal grinned. He sketched a quick salute, then made his exit.

      ‘Real old woman is Hal,’ Olly muttered, her face slightly heated. ‘But he means well. Just to keep you goin’, I’ve got a pile of Fran’s things stored away. She doesn’t wear them anymore. You’d be of a size. She’s very slim, though she’s taller than you, darn near six feet. All the McMasters are tall. I’ll pull a few things out for you later on.’

      Marissa felt touched but embarrassed. ‘I can get through until Mr McMaster takes me shopping, Olly. He said he would.’

      ‘Why let perfectly good things go to waste? Fran sure doesn’t need ‘em. She’s a regular clothes horse. Besides, didn’t you tell me you had to


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