Free Angels at War by Freda Lightfoot

Mercy. Livia remembered being absolutely terrified of her father finding her there, knowing he might take the strap to her if he did.
    Now she smiled at the new incumbent, determined to look relaxed and unflustered, even though her heart was beating uncomfortably hard in her breast. How dare he call her to his office as if she were some recalcitrant child? But before she had the chance to formulate any sensible remark, he said, ‘I hear you’ve been stirring up dissent among the workers.’
    It infuriated her that he did not have the courtesy to greet her, or even to glance up but just carry on writing as if she was of no account.
    ‘We were in fact discussing a coming meeting, one with Mrs Pankhurst as speaker, which I mean to attend with Connie, Dolly, Stella and the rest.They’ve asked for my support and I shall give it,’ she said, with some degree of exaggeration.
    ‘Is this your latest campaign?’ Grayson asked, and he did look up then, glowering at her as if she were a schoolgirl brought before the headmaster for a ticking off. ‘I’m surprised you can find the time. I would’ve thought you had enough to occupy you, learning the new skills of shopkeeping, never mind taking up feminist arms against mere males.’
    Fury soared through her veins. ‘We women need to stand up for our rights.’
    ‘I’m sure you do,’ he mildly responded, as if she’d remarked that it would be wise to wear a warm coat tomorrow as the weather might turn chill.
    ‘I do assure you that I have done nothing wrong.’
    He carefully blotted the letter he’d finished writing, folded it and placed it neatly in a long envelope. ‘I believe I should be the judge of that, don’t you? Lecturing my staff at dinner without my permission, making promises that can’t be kept, doesn’t seem entirely appropriate for someone who has only been on the premises a matter of days.’
    Livia gasped. ‘I know some of these people. They were my father’s staff.’
    He smiled at her. ‘And now they are mine.’
    The very calmness of his tone was making her blood boil. ‘No, they are not yours! They belong to the store, to Angel’s. And as Josiah’s daughter and the true proprietress of this business, I have the right to speak to them any time I choose.’ She didn’t feel half so confident on this score as she sounded, but he wasn’t to know that.
    Grayson put down his pen, very slowly, upon the blotter. ‘Perhaps we should attempt to clarify one or two things from the start.’ He got up from behind the desk, and had the temerity to come and stand before her with his hands in his pockets, as if she were undeserving of proper respect. ‘I concede that in theory you do own this business, for the moment at least. In practice, since I have been appointed as manager, all staff matters are in my province, wouldn’t you agree?’
    Livia was trying not to look at him, or to notice how devastatingly attractive his grey eyes were as he regarded her with such chilling malevolence. She kept her gaze fixed upon the desk. There was a silver paper knife, a brass ink stand, and a set of shallow drawers in which she could see stacks of paper and envelopes. It was all very neat and orderly, not at all like in her father’s day.
    She lifted her gaze, ready to do battle, only to find her eyes on a level with a pulse beating at his throat. He wore a crisp white shirt openat the neck, the sleeves rolled up above strong bare forearms. Livia could scent the exotic tang of an after-dinner cigar, and there was the day’s shadow of bristle upon his chin. He gave the impression of a busy man who cared too little about himself, a man with nothing else in his life but work. Somewhere inside was a small regret that she couldn’t be the one to make him care for something other than business, but then if she didn’t oppose him and fight for this store, who else would bother?
    Nor must she ever forget that even though she’d decided against marrying Jack, for the