Free Until He Met Meg by Sami Lee Page B

nasty.’ Meg experienced a moment’s horror at the thought of the perennially cranky old woman getting any nastier. ‘That young man has been through enough, the last thing he needs is another gold-digging witch to dig her talons into him.’
    ‘I hope you don’t think that I fall into that category,’ Meg began, feeling her shoulders square as she met the other woman’s prickliness. ‘I have no interest in catching Bry — Mr Carlton’s attention in any way other than as an employee. And I’m not the kind of girl who can just hang around loafing all day. So if there’s ever anything you’d like me to do to help you, Mrs Dunkirk, say the word.’
    The doorbell rang. To prove her assertion that she would help the housekeeper out wherever she could, Meg said, ‘I’ll get it,’ and sailed out of the living room toward the foyer.
    She opened the door to a pile of tastefully wrapped boxes so high they obscured the face of the delivery person. All Meg could see was layer upon layer of pastel wrapping paper, gauzy ribbon and a clipboard and pen held out to one side. ‘Delivery for a Miss Lacy.’
    ‘For me?’ Meg thought there had to be some mistake until it occurred to her the delivery might be addressed to her on behalf of Phillipa. She took the clipboard and indicated the delivery person should place the boxes on the table in the foyer. The man waited while Meg signed the bottom of the form he’d handed her, then left with a wordless nod.
    ‘Well, aren’t you going to look inside?’
    The gruffly issued question came from Mrs Dunkirk, who was now standing behind her eyeing the boxes with as much speculation as Meg.
    ‘They must be for Phillipa.’
    ‘They came addressed to you.’ She stepped forward to lift the lid on the box sitting on top of the pile. A moment later the older woman gasped and stepped back.
    ‘What is it?’ Meg asked, stepping forward to look inside the box. What she saw made it clear the delivery was not for her charge after all.
    A woman’s blouse lay folded neatly inside, the eggshell-white material so tasteful and fine-looking Meg knew it had to have cost as much as a week’s salary, in her terms. Moving the box aside, Meg opened the second box to find a finely tailored pair of black slacks.
    ‘There has to be a mistake.’ She lifted the lid on all the boxes. They were filled with clothes, clothes so exquisite Meg was afraid to touch them. She picked a garment up nonetheless, holding it against her body with tentative fingers. The blouse was beautiful and she could see it would fit her perfectly.
    Her heart dropped. She would never get the chance to wear it. For if these clothes had come from the person she thought they had, the only person who could have sent them, then they definitely had to go back where they came from.
    The look on Mrs Dunkirk’s face when Meg looked up confirmed the fact. The woman watched her as though she were a lioness defending the perimeter of her lair. ‘So you don’t have your eye on Mr Carlton then?’
    ‘I don’t…I didn’t know about this. I didn’t ask…’
    The housekeeper wasn’t there to hear Meg’s sputtered denials. She had already left the room in a huff, muttering all the way and drawing her own conclusions.

Chapter Six
    Later that afternoon Meg was on her hands and knees, scrubbing the grouting between the tiles in the upstairs shower, when she felt Bryce’s presence in the bathroom doorway a second before he spoke. ‘I could have sworn I left this bathroom in a clean state this morning,’ he said with some amusement lighting his voice. ‘You don’t have to invent work, you know.’
    Meg continued to scrub at the miniscule spot of mould she had discovered in the corner of the shower, her vigorous actions fuelled by the memory of the housekeeper’s mistrusting glare. ‘Actually I’m getting a jump on Mrs Dunkirk’s work for tomorrow. She thought I didn’t mean it when I said I’d help out around here. That I wasn’t