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Authors: Joan Johnston

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Epilogue

S
he should never have doubted the duchess could do what she'd set out to do, Emily thought as she viewed the tableau before her from her seat high up in the stands. There sat Harry Lassiter in his wheelchair on the sidelines of a Har-Tru tennis court at the Lassiter Academy. Flick stood by his side, talking animatedly—no doubt using big words—to her grandfather.

Kristin and Max had been husband and wife since a ceremony in London the day after the Gentlemen's Singles Championship match at Wimbledon. Steffan had been Max's best man, having been cleared of all involvement in his mother's plot with Veronica to assassinate the president. The plot had been confirmed by emails exchanged between Irina and Veronica which they'd attempted to erase—unsuccessfully—from the hard drives of their computers.

The newlyweds stood at the back of opposite ends of the court. Each was shouting instructions to a student as the youths slammed a ball back and forth with amazing speed and accuracy.

“Down the line,” Kristin instructed her student.

“Crosscourt!” Max advised his. And then, “Too short.”

“Move in! Move! Drop shot!” Kristin said.

Kristin's player hit the ball with perfect touch, so it stopped dead on Max's side of the net before the player Max was coaching got anywhere near it. Emily could hear Max saying to his player, “You have to push off with that back foot. And finish your swing! He couldn't have hit that shot if you hadn't left your ball so short. It's all about footwork and follow-through.”

Emily would have thought Kristin would be complimenting her player for his terrific shot. Which she did, for the first five seconds. Then she said, “You can't drop the ball and stand there like a stone. You need to get yourself positioned for whatever return might come back at you. Everyone isn't going to miss. Follow the ball toward the net.”

“They look happy, don't they?” the duchess said from her seat beside Emily. “I know Flick is happy.” The duchess smiled and said, “She told me so this morning. In fact, she's
deliriously
happy. She was quick to inform me she didn't mean the first definition of the word—
mentally disturbed
. She meant the second—
frenzied excitement
.”

Emily smiled. The child was a delight. She viewed the scene below them and agreed, “Yes, Your Grace, they do look happy.” But people weren't puppets. They couldn't be made to do anything they didn't want to do. In this case, Kristin and Max had a previous relation
ship and a child together. It made sense that they would end up living happily ever after.

However, later today, she and the duchess were taking a plane from Miami to Hong Kong, where Her Grace planned to try out her matchmaking skills with a son who had no known attachments with a specific woman. How was the duchess going to succeed with Riley, when there was no woman waiting in the wings with whom he had a previous relationship and a child?

Emily thought the trip was ill-conceived, and dangerous, considering how taxing it would be to fly, even first class, from Miami to Hong Kong. But she'd had no success trying to talk the duchess out of her plan.

Emily's phone rang and she was immediately the focus of all eyes on the court. She'd been warned ahead of time that cell phones weren't allowed. But she was waiting for a report from Warren & Warren Investigations about exactly where Riley was in Hong Kong, so she'd left it on.

Emily rose and said to everyone on the court, “I'm so sorry.” She answered the phone to stop it ringing, said, “I'll be with you in a moment,” into the phone, then held it against her chest as she said, “Please excuse me, Your Grace. I've been waiting for a call—”

“Of course, Emily,” the duchess said. “No need to explain. Go.”

Emily left the stands, moving so hurriedly she was afraid she'd trip and go sprawling. She stopped away from the court, in the shade of a palm tree, and said breathlessly, “Emily Sheldon speaking.”

“Emily?”

The voice sounded familiar. But the phone number wasn't. “Lydia? Is that you?”

The girl on the other end of the line sobbed. “I'm in trouble, Emily.”

“Where are you, Lydia? Are you all right? Do you need help?”

“No one can help.”

Emily felt a shiver run down her spine. She looked back at Her Grace, who would be devastated if anything happened to her youngest child. Then she thought of the one person she was certain could help, if anyone could. “I'll call Oliver and—”

“Not Oliver!” Lydia cried. “I don't want him to know.”

“Calm down,” Emily said. “I won't contact Oliver, if you don't want me to. Tell me where you are.”

“Rome,” Lydia said.

“Are you in danger?”

“Not exactly,” Lydia said.

“What does that mean?” Emily asked. She had only a few hours left before their flight to Hong Kong to resolve Lydia's problem, whatever it was. She didn't want to involve—and upset—the duchess. Despite the feelings she knew Her Grace's children had toward their mother, Emily loved her employer. And it was her job to keep the duchess's life as stress-free as possible.

Emily's British accent was clipped as she asked, “Are you in danger, Lydia? Or aren't you?”

Lydia half sobbed, half laughed and said, “Only from Mother. She's going to kill me when she finds out what I've done.”

“The duchess loves you, Lydia. There's nothing you can do that she won't forgive.”

“Really?” Lydia said. “What do you think she'll say when she finds out I've lost the Ghost of Ali Pasha.”

Emily felt all the breath leave her in a whoosh. She couldn't draw another breath for a moment, in order to speak, so she remained mute.

“Emily? Are you still there?”

“What happened?” Emily managed to say at last.

“I lied to Oliver and told him I had Mother's permission to borrow the Ghost of Ali Pasha, so he arranged to have it delivered to me. I wore it to a charity ball last evening. During the night, someone stole the necklace from my hotel room.”

“You didn't have it in a safe?” Emily asked, not believing how irresponsibly Lydia had acted with what was a priceless piece of jewelry.

“I got back to my hotel room late. I thought—”

“Never mind,” Emily said, her mind racing. The loss was incalculable. Far worse was the pain Lydia was going to cause Her Grace, because of her deceit. “How long has the necklace been missing?” The longer the necklace was gone, the harder it would be to recover.

“I'm not quite sure. I didn't wake up until almost noon Rome time. I don't know what woke me up. I looked for the necklace on the table beside the bed, but it wasn't there, or around my neck—or anywhere! I couldn't believe it at first. I've looked for what feels like hours,” she said in a distraught voice. “It isn't here.”

“I wish you'd called me sooner,” Emily said. “Maybe, if the search for the thief began immediately, there
might be some hope of recovering the necklace before its loss was discovered by Her Grace. Please let me call Oliver—”

“No!” Lydia cried. “Please, please, Emily. Don't tell Oliver. He thought I had Mother's permission to borrow the necklace. He's the one who arranged to have it sent to me from the vault at Blackthorne Abbey. He'll get in trouble, too. I don't want him to know I lost it like this. Once I find it, I can apologize to Mother—and to Oliver—for being so careless. But not until then.”

Emily made a command decision. “All right. I'm going to call someone to come and help you find the necklace. His name is Sam Warren. He's a private investigator from Dallas. He's the very best, Lydia. He should be there early tomorrow morning. You can stop worrying, Lydia. If Sam can't find the Ghost of Ali Pasha, it can't be found.”

Lydia moaned.

Emily gave a shaky laugh. “What I meant to say is that Sam will find it. He's never failed on a mission yet.”

“Thanks, Emily. Let me know when his flight is arriving and I'll go meet it.”

“Oh, I don't think Sam will want your help, Lydia.” Or accept it, she thought.

“He doesn't have a choice,” Lydia said. “I lost the necklace. And I intend to be there when it's found.”

Dear Reader,

 

Welcome to the world of the Benedict Brothers! You met the American branch of the Benedicts in
Outcast.
In
Invincible
I've introduced the British branch of the family. I hope you come along for the ride as I explore the adventures of both families. Next up is Lydia's story,
Unforgettable.
I can't wait to see what kind of trouble the youngest Benedict gets into as she tries to find the stolen Ghost of Ali Pasha!

Meanwhile, if you'd like to read more about the historical Dukes of Blackthorne, look for my Captive Hearts series,
Captive, After the Kiss, The Bodyguard
and
The Bridegroom,
already in stores. If you want to read more about the modern-day Blackthornes in Texas, check out
The Cowboy, The Texan
and
The Loner.
There are fifty Joan Johnston novels and novellas out there to choose from, so have fun!

Be sure to sign up on the mailing list at my website,
www.joanjohnston.com,
if you'd like to receive a postcard or enewsletter when the next book is in stores. As always, I appreciate hearing your comments and suggestions.

 

Take care and happy reading,

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I want to thank Angela Bell, public affairs specialist in the Office of Public Affairs, Federal Bureau of Investigation, for her invaluable help with information relating to the FBI. If Kristin Lassiter seemed like the real thing, it's all due to Angela. Any mistakes are mine.

I owe a great debt of gratitude to my friend Sally Schoeneweiss, who is always there to talk me through the hard parts. She keeps my books front and center through her public relations firm, Talk Ink, Inc. You can find her work on my website,
www.joanjohnston.com.

Thanks to Caroline Applegate, whom I met on a plane on the way back from the Kentucky Derby. Caroline lost her husband to heart failure and shared facts about his illness that helped me to make Bella's heart failure more believable.

Last, but by no means least, I want to thank the team at Harlequin Books and MIRA Books, who take such good care of all their authors while making each one feel special, including Donna Hayes, Loriana Sacilotto, Craig Swinwood, Valerie Gray, Margie Miller, Margaret O'Neill Marbury and Linda McFall (my fabulous editor). Thank you all for the “just flat gorgeous” cover you created for
Invincible!

ISBN: 978-1-4268-7432-1

INVINCIBLE

Copyright © 2010 by Joan Johnston

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, MIRA Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

For questions and comments about the quality of this book please contact us at [email protected].

MIRA and the Star Colophon are trademarks used under license and registered in Australia, New Zealand, Philippines, United States Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries.

www.MIRABooks.com

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