Billionaire Flawed 1(212)

Our family has a reputation, and you seem to be doing you best to destroy it, Oscar added.

I'm only trying to find a wife, you despicable man, Andrew thought. Georgina, his lovely wife, had died while giving birth to Sarah and her loss had utterly destroyed him. Left to bring up three young children he had been out of his depth. After two years, he'd decided to look for a new wife, but he'd found it impossible to find someone as beautiful and talented as Georgina. In his quest, he'd invited many women to his house, all of whom proved to be less than suitable. Unable to find a wife to match Georgina, the process had turned Andrew into something of a sexual predator, with little regard for women and their feelings. Now he'd abandoned all hope of finding a new bride and was playing the field unashamedly.

Andrew had no trouble in attracting women. Georgina had always worried that he was far too handsome and that he would be seduced by some wanton woman. He was tall and had dark brown hair. Women were attracted by his eyes, which were an unusual color of turquoise blue. They also loved his sense of humor and his gentle and relaxed nature.

Father, I am looking for a wife, as I have told you on so many occasions. As I haven't found anyone suitable, my search will go on. Andrew sat back in the armchair and crossed his lean legs.

If you carry on like this, I will disinherit you. You are a disgrace. How is the search for a new governess coming along?

I am interviewing candidates at the moment, Andrews replied.

Indeed, Oscar said sarcastically. Is that what you call it. Well, you'd better find one and fast.

Andrew got up and left the small study. As he walked down the corridor filled with paintings of his ancestors he bumped into a maid called Susan. As quick as a flash, he pulled her through the drawing room door and closed it behind him. Susan, when will you give yourself to me? I cannot wait to make love to you, he said taking her in his arms.

Susan liked Andrew and was perfectly willing to let him have his way with her. But she was terrified of Oscar and his wife finding out, and banishing her from the house with no reference. Mr. Andrew, you know I like you, give me some more time, she said as his hands wandered over her buttocks.

Alright, but I want you very soon, don't forget.

Andrew went on his way again down the long corridor and into the entrance hall where he put on his coat. It was April and still bitterly cold. The Hammonds had a tradition. The heir to the family fortune always lived in the Lodge. The Lodge was a smaller house than Thorpe Hall but nonetheless contained sixteen bedrooms. It was located at the other side of the garden. Andrew took the flagstone path, which was slippery after a shower, and looked up at the Lodge house. It was painted white with a navy blue front door, and white painted windows. There were two stone lions on either side of the front door, and the door-knocker was a brass eagle.

Daddy, Sarah shouted as she toddled across the black and white tiled floor to meet her father.

He lifted her up. And what have you been up to while I have been talking to grandfather?

Playing with Benji.

Benji was the family Golden Retriever, and Sarah had learned that if you threw a ball, he would run after it and bring it back time after time.

Don't go tiring him out Sarah. Benji doesn't know when he should stop.

Where is Mrs. Patterson? he asked his youngest daughter.

She's in the kitchen with Agnes and John.

Andrew went into the large family kitchen and saw Agnes and John sitting at the pine table rolling dough. Mrs. Patterson, the cook and housekeeper, was patiently watching over them. She was in her mid-forties and married to the gardener, a huge man who after years of bending to remove weeds from the immaculate flower beds had developed a terrible stoop. She was a superb cook and not one of the family complained about anything she put in front of them. She looked like a cook, she was rotund and wore her hair up in a large bun.

Mrs. Patterson, would you please prepare the guest bedroom, I have a visitor from tomorrow.

Mrs. Patterson nodded. How many was that this year? she asked herself.





Julia glanced at her parents grave and wiped away a tear. It had been two years since the accident and Julia had been to see them every day since. Her father had told the coach driver that he thought one of the horses was lame, but he hadn't listened and in excruciating pain the horse had tried to free itself. The coach was off the road and into a deep gorge. There were no survivors. As she always did, she kissed her hand and put it top the stone before she began the walk back to her Aunt’s house.

Aunt Isabella lived in a cute little manor house in the village of Tunberry, West Sussex. It was a typical English village. It had a green with a maypole, two inns, and a fourteenth-century church. It was the kind of place where everybody knew each other. When Julia arrived back at her aunt's, she walked up the garden path and entered the house via the front door. There was a smell of fresh bread and tea. She took off her coat and bonnet and hung them up. She was about to go into the kitchen when she heard her aunt talking. When she heard the other person, she cringed. It was Mrs. Mallinson, the village gossip.