Guardian to the Heiress - By Margaret Way Page 0,2
offered a full partnership. It could be no more than his due.
He’d had plenty of experience picking the ones who would go to the top. Nevertheless he’d had Hunter thoroughly investigated. He had come up trumps in all departments. Hunter was chosen to guard Carol’s money and her interests until she turned twenty-one the following August. God knew, Hunter was young himself, but he had been when he’d started to make his mark. Hunter was his man.
Carol was family more than anyone else. Carol was Adam’s daughter, Adam’s only child. Adam had planned on more children, only life had cheated all three of them—most of all his sad, sweet Elaine. It was his turn now to cheat the gathering Vultures.
In his very last moments, Selwyn Chancellor was rewarded with another vision of his granddaughter, the last time he had seen her. Had she looked across the busy city street, she would have spotted the luxury car but she had been too busy chatting to one of her girlfriends, a fellow university student he had seen her with several times. She looked so beautiful, so vital, and beyond that so happy, a sense of peace had settled on him. He had always blamed himself—at least in part—for the way things had turned out, but now he felt a burden was lifted from his shoulders. He trusted Damon Hunter to look after Carol’s best interests and he wasn’t a man given to trust.
He had to be hallucinating—his poor head was so sick and muddled—but he fancied he saw his little Elaine come to stand at the end of his bed. His immediate reaction was to hold out his hand.
“Is that you, Elaine?” he whispered, straining upwards.
She didn’t speak, but she drew nearer, like the spirit appointed to take care of his soul.
His vision grew clearer. It was Elaine. She was shining, a silver haze surrounding her. He wasn’t afraid; he was eager to join her.
Selwyn Chancellor reached out to take his wife’s hand.
A farewell to arms.
CHAPTER ONE
DAMON HUNTER WAS placing some files into his briefcase when Marcus Bradfield walked through the open door of his office, an attempt at a solemn expression on his handsome, fleshy face. Oddly enough, the extra padding in his cheeks lent him the air of a middle-aged cherub. “Bit of news.”
Damon broke off what he was doing, directly meeting his boss’s gaze. “Don’t tell me—Selwyn Chancellor’s dead.”
“Exactly right.” Bradfield sank heavily into one of the armchairs in front of Damon’s desk. Bradfield was an affluent man, born of wealth, well-respected, a leading light of the city’s elite. His grandfather, Patrick Bradfield, had been one of the original partners who had founded Bradfield Douglass. “Maurice rang me.” A faint smile spread across Bradfield’s face. “He did his best, but he didn’t sound all that grief-stricken.”
“Difficult when you’re glad,” Damon commented briefly. He had no time for Maurice Chancellor. Ditto for Champagne Charlie, the son Troy. “Why didn’t he ring me, as well? I’m handling the will.”
“Maurice likes to deal with the top people, Damon,” Bradfield said with a smirk. “Selwyn Chancellor has employed this firm for many long years. I’m a full partner. You’re still an associate. Am I right?”
“And I’m quite sure there will be a full partnership on offer in the near future,” Damon countered, knowing it to be true. He had brought a lot of new business to the firm. In fact, he was gaining a reputation in the City as the can-do guy. “I still say he should have rung me, after he rang you.” He held firm. “That was the correct thing to do.”
“Poor man was in shock.” Bradfield gave way to a wry chuckle. “I said I’d tell you.”
“Not good enough! Did he tell you he’d contacted Carol Emmett, his niece? The family may have been estranged for years, but clearly she must be told.”
“Didn’t mention young Carol.” Bradfield waved that one away. “Why would he? He hasn’t acknowledged her since the big rift. Now there’s a beautiful girl. Met her a number of times. She darn nearly charmed the pants off me.”
“You wish.”
“Okay, so I’m getting on, as my dear wife never fails to remind me. Bit wild, young Carol, I hear.”
“Just young,” Damon clipped off, thinking Carol Emmett not only looked a handful she was bound to be one. “She has to know.”
“I dare say the old man remembered her?” Bradfield gave Damon one of his guileless stares.
“He did that.” Damon kept his face neutral. “She was his granddaughter.”
“He paid