Kingsley Baby Trilogy: The Hero's Son\The Brother's Wife\The Long-Lost Heir (39 page)

Jake shrugged again. “For power, what else? From all I’ve ever heard about Iris Kingsley, that’s what she’s always craved more than anything else. She must have been pretty bummed out when Edward, her only son, went against her wishes and decided not to run for more than two terms as governor.”

Hope winced. “Livid was more like it, according to Andrew. He once told me that after Edward made his decision, Iris didn’t speak to him for almost two years, even though they were living in the same house. She blamed Pamela for Edward’s downfall, and generally made everyone’s life miserable. Then one day, she just sort of snapped out of her bitterness and started pinning all her hopes on Andrew.”

“Who, as you’ve pointed out, had absolutely no political aspirations. She must have seen the end of the Kingsley dynasty coming for a long time, but then a man claiming to be Adam turns up and suddenly there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.”

“But what if he’s not Adam?” Hope asked.

“Maybe it doesn’t matter to her. Maybe the fact that he looks like Andrew is enough. As long as the Kingsley power is restored and the dynasty continued, maybe it doesn’t matter to her who this man is. Think about it for a minute, Hope. Why didn’t she want him investigated?”

“What you say makes a certain kind of twisted sense,” Hope admitted. “But, Jake, there’s no way she would have had anything to do with Andrew’s death. You have to know that.”

“And I’ll concede that point. Reluctantly,” Jake said, but Hope could see how much he relished the possibility that Iris was somehow involved in all this. “But what if the Grayson Commission didn’t contact her until after Andrew’s death, when she was vulnerable and lonely and needed something to focus on other than her grief? Iris Kingsley is a very complex woman, Hope. I don’t think we can afford to lose sight of how powerful she is, or how much that power means to her.”

“Jake—”

“I know how you feel about her.” He stared at her across the table. “I know she’s always been good to you, and you feel a certain amount of loyalty to her. I can understand that. But we have to keep an open mind. We have to consider all the possibilities. I thought that’s why you hired me. To find out the truth about Eldridge, no matter where that truth leads me.”

“I did. And you’re right. We do have to consider all the possibilities. Only—”

“Only what?”

She glanced at him accusingly. “Do you have to enjoy all this quite so much?”

He leaned across the table. “Admit it. You like it, too. It’s fun being part of the hunt.”

“You call being hit over the head and tied up in a burning warehouse fun?” she demanded.

“It has its moments.” He sat back and eyed her with amusement. “You know, you’ve got a real flair for police work, Hope. Who would have thought it?”

She would have retorted that she certainly did not have a flair for police work, that she still had nightmares about Pratt’s Dobermans chasing them through the woods, but just then the platters of food arrived, along with a stack of paper napkins.

The succulent aroma of barbecued pork ribs stirred hunger pangs in Hope. After the serious nature of their discussion, she was surprised to find she even had an appetite, but she and Jake both attacked their meals with gusto.

When they were finished, they had not only an alarming pile of bones stacked beside their plates, but an equal number of napkins. Eating ribs was a messy business, and Hope had enjoyed every minute of it.

“I’m stuffed,” she groaned. “I can’t believe I ate so much.”

“You can afford it.” Jake gave her an appreciative glance. “I’ve been thinking you’re a little on the skinny side.”

“Oh, really? I’m the exact same size I was when I first met you,” she informed him. “And I don’t recall any complaints back then.”

Suddenly, in the midst of their playful sparring, a memory of something Jake had said to her the first time they’d made love shot through Hope.
“You’re so perfect,” he whispered. “Everywhere I touch. Here.” He kissed her neck. “Here.” His hand cupped her breast. “Here.” His fingers skimmed down her stomach. “And here…”

Hope’s eyes lifted to meet Jake’s, and in that instant, she knew he was experiencing the very same memory. The remembered sensations wove a bond of intimacy between them, making Hope wonder what it would be like to be in Jake’s arms now, having him explore all the erotic places he’d once known so well.

I’ve missed you,
she thought suddenly, with an intensity that stole her breath away.
God, how I’ve missed you.

“Mrs. Kingsley?” said a voice at Hope’s side.

Reluctantly Hope tore her gaze from Jake’s and glanced up. The woman was an acquaintance whose name Hope couldn’t recall, but she remembered having met her at a dinner party Iris had given before Andrew died.

“I thought that was you,” the woman said with a satisfied smile. “I was so sorry to hear about Andrew. What an awful time you must have had.”

“Thank you,” Hope murmured, resenting the intrusion in spite of herself.

The woman threw Jake a curious glance. “He was so handsome,” she said almost pointedly, as if she’d somehow sensed the heat flashing between him and Hope. “Such a charmer. I can’t imagine how much you must miss him.”

“No,” Hope replied. “You really can’t.”

“Well, it was good to see you again,” the woman said reluctantly, as if she wasn’t quite ready to leave. As if she might retrieve a bit of juicy gossip if she hung around long enough. “Please give Iris my regards.”

Finally she drifted away, leaving Hope and Jake alone, but the moment of intimacy was gone, shattered once again by the intrusion of Andrew’s ghost.

* * *

H
OPE WAS INFORMED
as soon as she got home that Iris wanted to see her. She went straight up and knocked on Iris’s door, then entered when she heard Iris call out to her.

Dressed in a beaded, royal purple evening gown and seated arrow-
straight on her favorite chair in her sitting room, Iris looked as queenly as Hope had ever seen her. She beckoned to Hope with a hand heavily bejeweled in diamonds and amethysts, looking for all the world like a woman who would be presiding over a state dinner in a few hours rather than the family’s evening meal.

“You look wonderful,” Hope said. “What’s the occasion?”

“We’ll get to that in a moment.” She motioned Hope to the settee across from her and waited until Hope had settled herself before she spoke again. “There is something quite important I wish to discuss with you, but first, tell me what you’ve been up to, my dear. I haven’t seen much of you lately. How have you been occupying yourself?”

An alarm sounded inside Hope. Had Michael told Iris about her and Jake’s investigation? Possibilities flitted through Hope’s mind. Should she pretend ignorance? Flat-
out deny it? What would Jake do?

Then it came to Hope. Jake would try to turn the situation to his advantage. He would try to gather as much information as he could, maybe even go on the offensive and use the element of surprise to observe Iris’s reaction.

“You have a flair for police work, Hope.”

Let’s hope you’re right,
she thought.

She glanced up at Iris and smiled. “Actually, I’ve been doing a bit of research lately. There’s an organization I saw mentioned somewhere—I don’t remember exactly where—that’s aroused my curiosity. I’ve been trying to learn more about it.”

“What organization is that, my dear?”

“An underground political group called the Grayson Commission. Have you ever heard of it?”

Something flashed in Iris’s eyes, a glint of recognition before she quickly suppressed it with a look of mild curiosity. “I don’t believe so. But then, the Kingsleys have never been interested in subversive movements. Our political views are very open and straightforward, and for the most part, in tune with mainstream America. Tell me something, my dear.” Her eyes glittered like sapphires as she eyed Hope for a long, silent moment. “Is this Grayson Commission something Jake McClain dug up for you?”

Hope’s heart thudded against her chest. So much for the offensive. She should have known better than to try to match wits with Iris Kingsley. “How long have you known?”

“That you’d hired Jake to investigate Michael?” Iris’s smile was as cool as frostbite. “Almost from the beginning. You didn’t really think you could keep it from me, did you?”

Hope rubbed a temple with her fingertips. “Look, I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have gone behind your back like that, but I felt it was something I had to do. I was worried about you. I still am. But if you want me to move out, just say the word. I’ll understand.”

Hope realized a part of her wanted desperately for Iris to say,
“Yes, that’s exactly what I want. Pack your bags, Hope, and don’t come back.”
Then her obligation to Andrew’s grandmother would be alleviated. She could leave with a clear conscience. But instead, Iris gazed at her fondly, the frost melting from her smile. “My dear, that is the last thing I want. You are a part of this family, Hope. You’re a Kingsley. Don’t ever forget that.”

“But…you aren’t angry with me?”

“Angry? For caring whether a grief-
stricken old woman might be duped by a devious impostor?” Iris’s expression hardened. “You are the only member of this family who had enough guts to go against my wishes and hire an investigator. And while I may not agree with your choice, I can’t quibble with your motives. Angry with you? If anything, my admiration for you has grown. As has my gratitude. You did exactly what I would have done in your place.”

This was going too well, Hope thought uneasily. Iris was up to something.

“Well, now that it’s all out in the open,” Iris said briskly, smoothing an invisible wrinkle from the skirt of her gown, “tell me, what has Jake learned about our Michael?”

“Several things, actually,” Hope answered vaguely, uncertain how much she wanted to reveal to Iris at this point. She remembered Jake’s warning that they mustn’t discount Iris’s power or her willingness to use it.

Iris toyed with a diamond ring on her finger. “Has he found anything that proves Michael is anyone other than who he claims to be?”

“No,” Hope admitted reluctantly.

“Anything that proves he is not Adam?”

“No.”

Iris smiled. “Then I don’t want to know anything else. You’ve told me all I need to know. And tonight, all
your
questions will be answered.”

“What do you mean?” Hope demanded, a feeling of dread slipping over her.

Iris’s eyes sparkled with undisguised excitement. “Victor called. The DNA tests are back. He will announce the results after dinner tonight. In a few short hours, everyone will know, as I already do, that Michael really is a Kingsley. He
is
my grandson.”

The stage was set for drama, Hope decided as she descended the stairs later that evening. Iris had put out the word that dinner would be a formal affair and everyone was to dress accordingly. Hope had chosen a lavender Vera Wang, very simply but exquisitely cut, that she’d worn only once before. She’d pulled her hair back into a French knot and secured it with a diamond clasp, her only adornment other than the diamond studs in her earlobes.

The Kingsley gardens and hothouses had been raided to provide dozens of lavish floral arrangements. The sweet, heady aroma of spring flowers filled the air, contrasting sharply with the dark feeling of dread that had been growing inside Hope since Iris’s announcement earlier.

Tonight they would find out who Michael Eldridge really was.

Hope felt a flutter of apprehension in her stomach. How would the revelation affect her? she wondered. Or would it?

She wished that Jake could be there with her when she heard the news, but that was impossible. Jake would never be invited into the Kingsley home, and even if he was, he would be expected to use the rear entrance. Hope had the strongest desire to go through that back door herself, walk through the gardens to the cottage and find Jake. Ask him to take her away from all this—and she would never look back.

But she knew she couldn’t do that. For her own peace of mind, she had to see this thing through. With any luck, she would be leaving this house in the near future. And she wouldn’t be coming back.

As usual, everyone had gathered in the library for predinner cocktails. Hope wavered in the doorway, using the opportunity to study those already present. Iris, of course, she’d seen earlier, but the effect of her gown and jewels had not faded. The soft lighting in the library caught the beading of her dress and the ornate diamond-
and-
amethyst necklace at her throat, casting a rich glow over her features.

Michael was at her side, as attentive and solicitous as always and looking as if he had been born to wear the tuxedo that fit his trim physique to perfection.

Seated on Iris’s other side was Victor Northrup, his silver hair gleaming in the soft light, his formal attire unmistakably Armani.

Edward sat across from them, also formally dressed, but a sad parody of Victor’s elegance and Michael’s magnetism. He nursed a drink, probably not his first, and it struck Hope suddenly that he had more to gain or lose from the outcome of the evening than anyone else. He had already lost two sons and now, by unforeseen circumstances, one of them may have returned to the fold. What kind of emotional upheaval had Michael’s arrival in their lives caused Edward? And what effect would it have on him if Michael were to just as suddenly vanish?

For the first time in a long time, Hope felt a rush of sympathy for her father-
in-
law. His drinking had always disgusted her, but now she saw so clearly how the tragedy thirty-
one years ago might have made him turn to the solace of the bottle. His three-
year-
old son had been kidnapped from his own home, and as a result, public sympathy for the Kingsley family had been so great that Edward had been elected governor several months later in a landslide victory. The guilt from capitalizing, even inadvertently, on his son’s tragic disappearance must have been devastating.

“Hope,” Iris said, spotting her just inside the doorway. “Now, we’re all finally here.” Her dark blue eyes raked the room, acknowledging in her own way everyone present. Her gaze warmed when it rested on Hope, beamed when she turned to Michael, softened fondly as she patted Victor’s arm, saddened when she looked at Edward, and then, very subtly, hardened when it fell on Pamela, dressed in pristine white, and Jeremy, who leaned an elbow against the fireplace and stared at Michael.