The British Billionaire Bachelor, Act Three (2 page)

“Looks like we got some Saturday mail,” he commented, moving across and picking them up. “There’s one for you.”

“Really? I wonder who…oh, no, I hope not,” she groaned, and taking the envelope from his hand, she cringed. “It is. It’s from my mother. Will she ever get with the times and send emails?”

“Aren’t you going to open it?” Simon asked, as she threw it back on the table.

“Nope, not tonight. I already know what it says, and I’m too tired and feel too yummy to read anything from her. I’m going to bed,” she sighed. “Can’t you leave yours too?”

“Absolutely,” he smiled. “You’re quite right. I’m sure there’s nothing there that can’t wait until morning.”

Ten minutes later the lights were out and they were snuggled close, the gentle sound of returning rain splattering against the windows.

“I’ll never get tired of that sound,” she sighed, “especially when I’m listening to it laying next to you.”

“I don’t love the rain like you do,” he yawned, pulling her into his body, “but I do love you next to me like this, and that’s my something I’ll never get tired of,” he said softly.

“What wonderful words to take to sleep with me,” she purred, and closing her eyes, she began to drift away.

Her head in his shoulder, he stared up at the ceiling, the ghostly light of the clock on his nightstand sending charcoal shadows above his head.

I know you want to help with this Hardcastle thing, but I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Belle Somers, and there is no way you’ll be putting yourself at risk
.

B
elle woke to his warm hug, and opening her eyes, found him sitting on the side of the bed dressed in a navy three-piece suit.

“You’ll crinkle if you hug me like that,” she sleepily remarked.

“A crinkle or two won’t hurt, besides, it’s worth it,” he smiled softly.

“Are you leaving?”

“I am, but I’ll be back to have lunch with you.”

“Okay. Be safe,” she purred.

Leaning over he kissed her on the cheek, and watched as she closed her eyes to return to the land of nod. Belle needed the extra sleep to recover from their time in the country, more specifically, their hours in the dungeon, and quietly leaving the room he headed off to begin in his day.

It wasn’t until midmorning that she finally rose, calling down to the kitchen for a pot of tea and some toast to tide her over until lunchtime. She loved it when Simon came home to join her for the midday meal. He was usually in business mode, his crisp manner not only a turn-on, but a reminder of the time they’d first met at the Hotel Bel Air in Beverly Hills.

He’d been so striking with his sharp, scrutinizing blue eyes, and had someone told her in those early days that she was going to end up engaged to the famous and eligible bachelor, Simon Sinclair, she would have suggested they call the men in the white coats to take her away.

But she was! And she was deliriously happy!

Showering slowly, and donning a warm, comfortable casual top and pants, she ambled into the living room. The fireplace was already flaming and the light breakfast had been laid on the table by the window. She smiled as she saw crumpets were also on offer, and she wanted to hug the kitchen staff; they always went that little bit further.

As she walked by the coffee table, her mother’s letter stared up at her, and sighing, she decided to read it as she consumed a hot crumpet with butter and honey, the proverbial teaspoon of sugar to help the medicine go down.

She poured the tea, took a sip, buttered and honeyed her crumpet, and sighing again, ripped open the envelope. Glancing at the text, the first thing she noticed was that it was mercifully short, only a couple of paragraphs, but when she began to read she discovered it was not good news.

Her first impulse was to throw it in the fireplace and pretend she hadn’t received it, but then her mother would call and that would mean a conversation. As much as she loved crumpets and honey she couldn’t stomach another bite, and sipping her tea, she stared out at the misty London day.

Why can’t they just leave me in peace. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear Lucinda was stalking me. First Los Angeles, and now here.

The letter announced that Lucinda was flying to London for a two week holiday, requested that Belle show her the sights, and since Simon lived in such a large home, asked if he would be kind enough to accommodate Lucinda during her stay.

Finishing her tea, she began to pace up and down, and unable to settle she decided to take a walk. Simon would be home around noon, and wanting to be calmer when he arrived, she stuffed the short note in her pocket, grabbed her trench coat and brolly and headed out, taking the back stairs in lieu of the elevator. As she strode through the large foyer and walked out the front door, she texted Theresa, her assistant, that she was taking a walk and would return shortly.

The drizzly day enveloped her, and like a cool shroud of comfort, it immediately began to soothe her hot and angry soul. Simon would agree that Lucinda could stay, because that’s who Simon was, and if she told him that under no circumstances did she want to be under the same roof with the bad-tempered, prima donna, he would find a way out of it, but then she’d be the recipient of a temper tantrum from her mother, which she simply could not abide.

Belle didn’t wish to be estranged from her family, and in her heart she loved them, all of them, but their constant indulgence and endless pandering of Lucinda drove her mad.

Walking through the park, umbrella up, she recalled the days as a teenager when she would wander the streets and stroll through the parks, just as she was doing now. The moment she’d stepped off the plane she’d felt at home. There was nowhere else she wanted to live, except perhaps at Chastworth Hall, where, despite its grandeur, she felt equally at peace.

I swear I’ve lived here in another life, she mused, as she meandered past the park benches. Everything has always felt so familiar.

The stroll achieved her goal, and by the time she returned home, though her hair was wet and stringy and she looked quite bedraggled, she felt better. As she walked into the house, dropping her brolly in the stand by the door and pulling off her wet coat, Theresa bustled up to meet her.

“Mr. Sinclair just arrived,” Theresa declared, taking her coat. “Your timing is perfect, well, kind of,” she grinned, taking in Belle’s disheveled state.

“Thanks, Theresa. He’s seen worse,” she twinkled.

Theresa laughed, and carrying the coat, disappeared down the hallway to shake it out somewhere other than on the polished floors and expensive carpets.

Belle hurried to the elevator, riding it to the second floor, and the small, intimate dining room where she and Simon had their meals. Walking quickly down the wide corridor, she entered to find Simon pouring coffee from a large French Press.

“Belle, what happened to you?” he asked, taking in her shaggy state.

“Sorry, I got some news this morning and I had to take a walk.”

“You don’t look bad, just a bit weathered,” Simon chuckled, “you know, from the weather?”

“Oh, very funny,” she quipped.

“Truthfully you look sexy as hell. If I didn’t have to go back to the office…” he murmured, walking towards her. “Lord, Belle, you are wet. You’d better go and get changed. You’ll catch a cold.”

“I’m fine,” she replied testily.

“Ah, no, you’re not fine. You’re cold and wet and in ill humor, so I assume this news is not good?”

“No, not good,” she replied, shaking her head, “and I apologize if I was abrupt.”

“Please go up and change, you can tell me all about it when you get back. As I said, I don’t want you catching a cold.”

“Okay, but here, read it for yourself,” she sighed, and as she handed him the crumpled note, she felt an unexpected shiver. “You’re right, I do need to get into something dry and warm. I’ll be right back.”

Simon watched her march away, and sitting back down, opened the scrunched up piece of paper. As he read the news his mind began to race, and when Belle returned, clean and dry and looking more like herself in spite of the frown that still crossed her brow, Simon was wearing the smile of the cat who ate the canary.

“What?” she asked. “You look as if you just closed a deal.”

“This,” he replied, waving the note in the air.

“I don’t understand! That news is making you happy? I can’t stand the thought of Lucinda being here, but if I refuse my mother will have a cow. I can’t win.”

“Belle, this is brilliant,” he exclaimed.

“Brilliant? There’s nothing…wait…what’s going on in that extraordinary brain of yours?”

“It’s perfect. It’s absolutely perfect. Your sister’s visit is a godsend,” he declared.

“Um, no, she’s a Devil Child,” Belle retorted, rolling her eyes. “Would you please tell me what you’re talking about.”

“Joseph. I’m talking about Joseph. I’ll have him come over here posing as Lucinda’s chauffeur, tour guide, hand-holder, whatever. He’s the ideal person to be my front man.”

“But, Lucinda is my sister. That’s a connection to you,” she protested.

“Yes, but one that can work in my favor,” he exclaimed. “Joseph isn’t on my payroll yet. We’re still in the process of setting up Sinclair Holdings in the U.S., so he’s been clerking at the law firm. Even if Hardcastle does a background check on Joseph he won’t find anything. The fact that he’ll appear to be a mere chauffeur for your sister positions him perfectly.”

“It does?” she asked, slightly perplexed.

“It does,” he replied. “Hardcastle will want to get the better of me because I’m wealthy, and using someone who will appear to resent me for the same reason will play right into his hands. I just have to continue keeping my heritage quiet. If he finds out who I am it might put him on alert.”

“That doesn’t worry me a bit,” Belle replied. “I’m still not sure I’m Duchess material.”

“I’ve told you before,” he smiled, “if there was ever an American woman who is Duchess material, it’s you Belle Somers.”

“If you say so,” she giggled

“I do, but you need to sit down and have some lunch,” he said firmly, returning to the table to finish his meal.

“Speaking of such things, I’ve never asked how I’m supposed to address you,” she grinned, standing next to him.

“Now you’re just being cheeky,” he scolded.

“This is true, but it’s still a fair question,” she pressed.

“Let’s see, if you were a stranger in formal circumstances, you would refer to me as, Your Grace, but if you’re across my knee, which could happen any minute now, then you would call me what you have always called me at such times, which is, Sir.”

“Your Grace, I like that,” she mused. “Should I curtsy when I say it?”

“Do I need to spank you to get you to sit down and have some lunch?” he asked, staring up at her and shooting her ‘the look.’

“No, no, I am still sufficiently tender from last night, thank you very much.”

Hurrying to the buffet, she piled some baked fish, mashed potatoes and carrots on her plate, and settled across from him.

“Simon, in all seriousness, is this visit from Lucinda really going to help you?”

“Help me? Belle, it’s the answer to a prayer,” he replied.

“Then I’ll do whatever I have to,” she said softly. “I’d do anything for you, Simon, even have my spoiled brat sister in this house.”

“Don’t worry, you and I will be at City View, and I’ll make sure Joseph keeps her busy,” Simon assured her, “and I’ll have Ian McCarthy and a couple of his guys stay here for added security. Lucinda is a celebrity, and rambunctious fans need to know she has serious protection.

“We will? That works,” she smiled, “but poor Joseph.”

“I wouldn’t worry about Joseph,” Simon grinned. “I have a feeling he’ll be able to handle Lucinda.”

S
tanding in the elaborate conference room of the law offices of Silas Montford, Joseph Cardinelli was sporting a very large smile. While he enjoyed working at the law firm and was eager to become involved in Simon’s company when it opened its doors, the prospect of flying to London in Simon’s private jet and becoming involved in a cloak and dagger scheme to right a reprehensible wrong, was a truly exciting prospect. That he would be posing as Lucinda Somers’ bodyguard and chauffeur made the offer even more intriguing. The three days he’d spent with Lucinda after Belle and Simon had left the country, had been an eye-opening experience.

Belle had warned him. She had told him Lucinda was stunningly beautiful, but a spoiled drama queen who was impossible to manage. He had assumed some of Belle’s cautionary words were due to sibling rivalry, or the sometimes difficult relationship that occurred between sisters, but he couldn’t have been more wrong.

Lucinda was mercurial at best, one minute sweet and amenable, the next, hurling abuse at a waiter who didn’t bring her coffee quickly enough. After three days of driving her around and showing her the sights, while he was relieved to see the last of her, there was a part of him that wished he could have spent more time with her, uncover who she really was and what made her tick. For all her high maintenance bluster, Joseph suspected a very kindhearted young woman lived inside the glamorous starlet.

Though demanding and moody, he had found her witty and bright, and he imagined she could manipulate her way into, and out of, just about anything. He had kept up with her highly publicized antics in the show business newspapers, watching her rising star rocket skyward. Having just completed her first starring role in a major motion picture, he assumed the two week vacation was for her to rest and regroup, though he couldn’t see Lucinda resting for more than five minutes; the girl he’d spent three days with had been a whirling dervish.

Hearing the conference room door open interrupted his thoughts, and turning, he saw it was Silas Montford.

“Just finished speaking with Simon,” Silas announced. “Quite a mission you’re about to undertake.”

“Apparently,” Joseph nodded. “I hope I can pull it off.”

“Simon’s right, you’re the perfect man for the job. You can think outside the box, your mind is fast and sharp, and you have great instincts, but you have something else that will serve you well,” Silas smiled.