Penny Jordan Collection: Just One Night Read Free

something about watching the process, of seeing
these once grand homes rising phoenix-like from the ashes of their own neglect,
that touched a chord within her. She could well understand what motivated Lloyd,
and she suspected that, ironically, it had been that long-ago conservation
scheme she had worked on under Ran’s supervision which had awakened within her
the awareness of how very important it was to preserve and care for—to protect —a landscape and its architecture, which had
ultimately led to her sharing Lloyd’s passion for their task.
    However, Sylvie’s responsibility as an employee of the Trust
included a duty not just to share Lloyd’s enthusiasm but to make sure as well
that the Trust’s acquisitions were funded and run in a businesslike manner, and
that the Trust’s money was used shrewdly and wisely and not wasted or
squandered—a responsibility which Sylvie took very seriously. No project, and
certainly no bill, was too small for Sylvie to break down and scrutinise very
carefully indeed, a fact which caused the Trust’s accountants to comment
approvingly on her attention to detail and her excellent bookkeeping.
    It had been pointless for Lloyd to protest when they had been
renovating the Venetian palazzo that he preferred
the red silk to the gold which Sylvie had favoured.
    ‘Red is almost twice as expensive,’ she had pointed out
sternly, adding as a clincher, ‘And besides, the records we’ve managed to trace
all indicate that this room was originally decorated in gold and hung with gold
drapes...’
    ‘Then gold it is, then.’ Lloyd had given in with a sigh, but
Sylvie had been the one who had been forced to give in to him a few weeks later
when, on their departure from Venice, Lloyd had presented her with a set of the
most exquisite and expensive leather luggage crafted as only the Italians could
craft leather.
    ‘Lloyd, I can’t possibly accept this,’ Sylvie had protested
with a small gasp.
    ‘Why not? It is your birthday,
isn’t it?’ Lloyd had countered, and of course he had been right, and ultimately
Sylvie had given in.
    Although, as she had told her stepbrother defensively at
Christmas when Mollie had marvelled enviously at the luggage, ‘I didn’t want to accept it but Lloyd would have been hurt if I
hadn’t.’ She’d added worriedly, ‘Alex, do you think I should have refused...? If
you...’
    ‘Sylvie, the luggage is beautiful and you did the right thing
to accept it,’ Alex had reassured her gently. ‘Stop worrying, little one,’ he
had commanded her.
    ‘Little one’! Only Alex ever called her that, and it made her
feel so...so protected and safe.
    Protected and safe? She was an adult, a woman, for heaven’s
sake, and more than capable of protecting herself, of keeping herself safe.
Irritably she dragged her attention back to the file she was holding.
    ‘You don’t approve, do you?’ Lloyd demanded, shaking his head
ruefully. ‘Just wait until you see it, though, Sylvie. You’ll love it. It’s a
perfect example of...’
    ‘We’re already very close to the limit of this year’s budget,’
Sylvie warned him sternly, ‘and—’
    ‘So what? We’ll just have to increase this year’s funding,’
Lloyd told her with typical laid-back geniality.
    ‘Lloyd,’ Sylvie protested, ‘you’re talking about an increase of
heaven alone knows how many million dollars... The Trust...’
    ‘I am the Trust,’ Lloyd reminded
her gently, and Sylvie had to acknowledge that he spoke the truth. Even so, she
gave him an ironic look to which he responded by informing her loftily, ‘I’m
just doing what I know the old man would have wanted me to do...’
    ‘By buying a decaying neoclassical pile in the middle of
Derbyshire?’ Sylvie asked him dryly.
    And she was still shaking her head as Lloyd told her winningly,
‘You’ll love it, Sylvie...I promise you!’
    Cravenly Sylvie was tempted to tell him that she was far too
busy and that he would have to find someone