Kingsley Baby Trilogy: The Hero's Son\The Brother's Wife\The Long-Lost Heir (40 page)

From their expressions, Hope couldn’t tell who knew what. It was maddening. Why couldn’t Victor just tell them what
he
knew? Why put them through all this?

Because Iris wants her night,
Hope thought.
And Iris always gets what she wants.

As if reading her thoughts, Iris said, “Come sit by me, Hope.” She patted the sofa next to her.

Hope, very much aware of Pamela and Jeremy watching her, moved across the room and sat down. Iris smiled in approval. “You look lovely tonight. Doesn’t she, Michael?”

“Incredible,” he agreed, his dark eyes mocking Hope.

Without warning, Iris lifted her hands and unfastened the heavy necklace from around her neck. Hope watched the sliding sparkle of diamonds and amethysts as Iris captured them in her hand. “There,” she said, holding the necklace in her palm. “These would be wonderful with your dress.”

Hope’s hand flew to her throat. “Oh, I couldn’t. They looked so beautiful on you.”

“Nonsense. I’m an old woman. I have lots of necklaces. I want you to have this.”

For some reason, it seemed important to Iris that Hope accept the necklace, and it was just as important to Hope that she did not. She shook her head. “You told me once this necklace was a gift. I couldn’t possibly take it.”

Iris sighed. “Very well, then. At least wear it tonight. You can return it to me in the morning.”

It seemed a harmless enough request, but one Hope was still reluctant to grant. The necklace was yet another tie to the Kingsleys. However, Hope had little choice in the matter now. Iris was already reaching to fasten it around her neck, but then she stopped and said, “Michael, would you, please? My eyes aren’t what they once were.”

Michael took the necklace from Iris and stood. He gazed down at Hope expectantly, and she rose also, standing with her back to him. He draped the sparkling jewels around her neck, his fingers caressing her nape as he struggled with the clasp. A chill shot through Hope. She glanced up to find Jeremy’s eyes not on her, but on the necklace. Then his gaze lifted, and she saw in those pale depths an emotion that looked very much like hatred.

Michael’s finger slid along the bare skin of her neck. “There,” he murmured. “Now, you’re perfect.”

“This night is perfect,” Iris declared, watching Hope and Michael approvingly. “One I’ve dreamed about for a long, long time. Three generations of Kingsleys, all together again at long last.”

“Careful,” Michael warned, reclaiming his seat beside her. “Victor hasn’t told you what the DNA results are yet.”

Iris lifted her hand to Michael’s cheek. “He doesn’t have to. I know who you are. I’ve known all along.” She turned, encompassing the whole group with her smile, but her gaze zeroed in on Hope. “There’s only one thing that could make me happier at this moment. If there were a fourth generation to carry on the Kingsley name and tradition.”

Hope’s heart plummeted. Surely Iris wasn’t still entertaining thoughts of her and Michael producing a Kingsley heir together. Hadn’t he told Iris what she’d said? That as soon as everything was settled she was leaving?

Victor came up beside Hope. “Will you excuse us? I need to speak with Iris for a moment.”

“Of course.” Hope moved away as Victor sat down beside Iris and started talking to her in a low tone. Michael got up, also, and went over to engage Edward in conversation, while Pamela and Jeremy watched, as usual, from a distance.

Hope walked to the French doors and stared out. Something moved in the garden, and her heart leaped in alarm. Then she recognized the shadow. Glancing over her shoulder, assuring herself that everyone was preoccupied for the time being, she opened the door and slipped out into the softly falling twilight.

At the edge of the terrace, out of sight of anyone inside, she called softly, “Jake?”

“Over here.”

She moved toward his voice, finding him in the deeper shadows of the garden. He wore jeans and a T-
shirt, and his hair was damp, as if he’d just come from the shower.

For the longest moment, he stared down at her. “God, you’re beautiful.”

Hope touched the necklace with her fingertips, feeling the thud of her pulse against her throat. Strange after all this time that Jake could still do that to her.

“I used to see you this way sometimes when I’d be here visiting Pop. I’d watch you come out of the house, wearing something that cost more than I made in a month, and I’d think how perfect you looked. How much you belonged in a place like this.”

“But you were wrong,” Hope said softly. “This isn’t me. The gown, the jewels, all the trappings of wealth. I tried to pretend I belonged here. At first, I even managed to convince myself this is what I wanted. But deep down, I knew I could never really fit in here. That I didn’t even want to.” She reached down and took his hand, drawing their linked fingers up to her cheek. “I’m a cop’s daughter, Jake. I should have been a cop’s wife.”

His eyes closed briefly. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that?”

“Too long,” she whispered.

He loosened his fingers from hers and drew his knuckles down her cheek. “When all this is over…”

Her throat knotted. “I know.”

He said nothing else, just stared down at her with a look that captured her breath. Words were not needed, but the emotion flowing between them was almost a tangible thing.

“I’d better get back inside,” Hope said with a sigh. “Someone may come looking for me. I’ll be in touch later to let you know what happens.”

“You do that,” he said, his gaze dark and intense. “Because I’ll be waiting.”

* * *

D
INNER WAS A CAREFULLY
orchestrated affair, but Hope couldn’t quite figure out Iris’s strategy behind the seating arrangement, although she knew there must have been one. Iris was at the head of the table, with Edward on her left and Michael on her right. But instead of placing Hope on Michael’s right, as she’d expected and feared, she found herself seated between Edward and Victor Northrup.

Across the table, Pamela was to Michael’s right, with Jeremy on her right, and every time Hope looked up, she found Jeremy’s pale gaze upon her. What was he thinking? she wondered. Did he already know, as Jake suspected he did, who Michael Eldridge really was? Were Jeremy and Pamela responsible for bringing him here?

The courses were served and removed as the meal wore on, and Hope hardly remembered the taste of anything. She knew the food was delicious, though, because Iris wouldn’t have it any other way. The sauces would be rich and creamy, the soup aromatic and savory, the lamb succulent and tender, the asparagus and rosemary potatoes fresh and seasoned to perfection. And the bottles of wine would have been carefully chosen from Iris’s own private cellar to complement each course.

“You aren’t eating much tonight,” Victor commented, when yet another of Hope’s plates had been removed virtually untouched.

She shrugged. “I had a late lunch.”

Victor lifted his wineglass and examined the contents. “I was afraid you might have been offended by Iris’s not-
so-
subtle comment about propagating the Kingsley line.”

Hope blushed. “Iris has always wanted a great-
grandchild. She’s never made any bones about that.”

“Yet you and Andrew never complied. I’ve always wondered why.”

Hope shrugged, having no intention of getting into her and Andrew’s private affairs with Victor, no matter how close he might be to the family.

“Iris is very fond of you, you know. She thinks of you as a granddaughter. I’m sure she’d like nothing more than to keep you in the family.”

Hope glanced up at him. Had Iris said something to him about her wishes for Hope and Michael?

“I’m very fond of Iris as well,” Hope said. “But I intend to move out of this house as soon as possible. My husband is dead. It’s time I get on with my life.”

“You could do that here,” he replied. “Andrew’s estate left you very little, but if you continue on at the mansion, you wouldn’t have to worry about your future. Iris would make sure you never wanted for anything. And all you’d have to do…” He trailed off, gazing at her curiously. “Well. It’s a little premature to be thinking long-
term, isn’t it? I haven’t announced the DNA results yet.”

The back of Hope’s neck prickled with unease. He may not have made the announcement yet, but she thought he’d just given her a significant clue as to how the tests had turned out.

* * *

T
HEY RETURNED TO THE
library after dinner for coffee and for the Big News. Hope glanced around the room, trying to ascertain whether anyone other than Victor knew for certain what the outcome was, but no one gave himself or herself away. The identity of Michael’s conspirators—if he had them—remained a mystery.

Finally, Iris set aside her cup and nodded to Victor who rose and took center stage near the fireplace. He removed an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket and unfolded the contents.

“I’ll spare you Dr. Wu’s technical jargon,” he said, “and get right to the point. According to the extensive tests performed on the blood samples provided by Michael and posthumously by Andrew, Dr. Wu has concluded that the DNA is as close a match as is humanly possible to determine. The only way that these two blood specimens could not belong to identical twins is if the same donor provided both samples. And we know that didn’t happen. The blood was collected and sent from three separate locations—Michael’s from Dr. Tremayne at his clinic, Andrew’s from his private physician at Mercy General Hospital and from the Shepherd police. Therefore, it is Dr. Wu’s conclusion that Michael Eldridge is Adam Kingsley.”

There were no gasps or sputters of amazement. No one looked shocked, or even mildly surprised, and this in itself was astonishing to Hope. Not Iris’s reaction, of course. She’d made it clear from the first that she had no doubt about Michael’s identity.

But neither Jeremy or Pamela showed the slightest bit of surprise or even concern about the announcement, and Hope had to wonder again if they were the ones who had found Michael—Adam, she corrected herself—and brought him here. And to what end?

But if Jeremy and Pamela’s reaction was troubling, Edward’s response to the announcement was deeply moving. He sat quietly for a moment, as if it took him a bit longer than the others to take it all in, and then, setting his drink aside, he covered his face with his hands and wept.

Hope’s heart went out to him. She stood near his chair and wondered if she should go to him, try to comfort him. But Michael beat her to it. He rose swiftly and crossed the distance to Edward, kneeling beside him.

“It’s okay,” he said, as if soothing a child. “I’m home now. Everything will be all right.”

He lay his hand on Edward’s shoulder, but he was looking up at Hope. And he was smiling.

It was nearly midnight before Hope was able to slip out of the house and make her way through the gardens to Jake’s father’s cottage. She still wore the lavender dress, but she’d removed Iris’s necklace and locked it in her jewel box before she left. Now she wished she’d thought to throw on a sweater. The night chill had fallen as heavily as the darkness.

She paused outside the door to the cottage, hesitant to knock for fear she would disturb Jake’s father. Finally, however, she rapped her knuckles as softly as she could against the wood, hoping that Jake would still be up and waiting for her.

The door opened almost instantly and he drew her inside. The warm coziness of the cottage wrapped around Hope like a downy blanket. She shivered, not from the cold, but from the way Jake looked at her.

“Is your father sleeping?” she asked quietly.

“He’s not here. He drove down to Oxford this afternoon to be with his sister. She’s having knee surgery tomorrow. He’s going to stay down there and take care of her for a few days.”

Hope glanced around the tiny living room, as if to dispute Jake’s words. “So…we’re alone?”

“Completely.” He reached out and drew his hand down the bare skin of her arm. Hope shivered again. “Don’t you want to know what happened tonight?”

“Dying to.” But his eyes told her he wanted to hear something else.

“The DNA tests proved that Michael is Adam. He really is a Kingsley.”

“Well,” Jake said, “we thought that might be the case.”

“I guess everyone else did, too. No one seemed surprised by the news.”

“Maybe because at least some of them already knew.” He paused for a moment, then tugged her ever so slightly toward him. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

“What?”

“Andrew is really dead, Hope.”

She drew a long breath. “I know.”

“You aren’t married anymore.”

“I know that, too.”

“We’re both free.” He cupped her face with his hands, gazing deeply into her eyes. “And now I think it’s time I kiss you.”

She smiled, her heart hammering inside her. “You’ve already done that.”

“I mean,
really
kiss you.”

“Oh…”

There was no time to say anything more because he bent swiftly and captured her lips with his, and Hope knew instantly what he meant. The other kisses they’d shared had only been preludes to this.

She closed her eyes, yielding to the temptation, letting the sensations sweep her away on a tide of romance and passion and the promise of what was to come.

Jake’s lips possessed hers. His tongue invaded her mouth, conquering her resistance. And then, as the heat built inside her, she conquered him, kissing him, touching him, whispering to him words she’d never thought to say aloud.

They somehow made it to his bedroom—the same room he’d had as a boy, with the window that looked out on the Kingsley mansion. A pang of sadness whispered over Hope as she thought about Jake gazing out that window, seeing her from a distance, thinking she belonged in a house where he would never be welcome.

He saw her tears in the moonlight and raised himself on one elbow to stare down at her. “What’s wrong?”

“When I think about what we had…all those wasted years…”

He wiped away her tears. “Don’t look back, Hope. Not on those years. Think about what we had before, what we shared. It’s still there. We didn’t lose it, we just misplaced it for a while. The fact is, I love you. I’ve always loved you.”