The British Billionaire Bachelor, Act Three (18 page)

“See? You’re in the perfect position to help me,” Hardcastle pressed.

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” Joseph said softly. “I’ll see if I can find something. If I can do it easily, if it doesn’t involve searching too much, I’ll do it.”

“Great, old son!” Hardcastle exclaimed. “Great.”

“I’ll have a poke around when the staff is having their dinner,” Joseph promised.

“If you find something or you don’t, call me on this number,” he said, pulling out the same notebook Joseph had seen at The Ivy. “I’ll be waiting to hear from you. Doesn’t matter the time.”

Taking the torn off piece of paper from Hardcastle’s hand, Joseph thought it had been almost too easy, but sometimes life was like that, and he hoped this was one of those times.

W
hile Joseph was playing hard to get with Darren, Lucinda had become restless, and after calling to have a housekeeper attend their room, she decided to explore Simon’s house.

She’d wandered down several empty hallways, up and down some stairways, and initially she’d found her self-guided tour interesting, but then a lightbulb had lit up in her head; she wanted to see Simon and Belle’s suite. Retracing her path she found her way back to her room, and as she had hoped the housekeeper was still there, busy dusting the furniture.

“Excuse me,” Lucinda smiled.

“Yes, Miss Somers?” the young woman answered.

“Belle asked me to get something from her suite. Would you be able to direct me?”

“Yes, of course. Take the elevator to the third floor, and it’s the second door on the right. You can’t miss it. Large, white, double doors. You’re in luck. Miss Somer’s assistant, Theresa, she’s there at the moment. She and Henry are the only ones with keys while Mr. Sinclair isn’t in residence.”

“Ah, that’s probably why Lucinda chose to call me just a minute ago,” Lucinda lied. “Thank you.”

Hurrying down the hallway, she rode the elevator to the third floor and walked quietly down the thickly carpeted hallway to the tall white doors the housekeeper had described, and gently pushed down the ornate brass handles; to her great delight they opened.

Peering through the narrow crack she didn’t see anyone so slipped inside, and moving quickly across to the windows, her adrenalin pumping, she darted behind the heavy curtains on the far side of the room.

Waiting silently, the minutes ticking by, she was beginning to think Theresa had carelessly left the door unlocked, but then she heard a noise. Risking a furtive glance she saw an attractive young woman heading towards the double doors, and ducking her head back, Lucinda waited until she heard the door close.

Sighing heavily she stepped from her hiding place and took in her surroundings. It could have been the living room of a five star hotel suite. Wandering through the lavish appointments, she made her way to what she assumed was the bedroom door and pushed it open. A gigantic four-poster bed, in an extraordinarily spacious room, took her breath away; she’d never seen anything quite so sumptuous. There were two doors on either side, and she assumed they led to his and her closets and bathrooms. Choosing the one closest to where she was, she found herself staring inside a closet the size of her condo bedroom.

“Wow, Belle, talk about a home run,” she exclaimed.

Wandering through the dresses, suits and shirts, she found many with their tags still attached, but the prices had been either blacked out or ripped off. Bags and shoes were neatly lined up and perfectly displayed, and the center island had a large bouquet of fresh flowers.

“Jeez, you’re not even here and you have a floral display?”

Curiosity getting the better of her she opened the drawers, finding lingerie, socks and T-shirts in the first two, but the third drawer revealed something far more interesting; an old cardboard box that suggested personal and private treasures.

Carefully pulling it out, she sat on the floor and removed the lid. Nestled inside were several hard cover books with no titles, and frowning, she opened the one on the top; it was Belle’s journal from years before.

“Oh-my-God,” she declared slowly, “this is awesome.”

Quickly skimming the pages, she read about Belle’s relationship with a man named Jason, and shook her head, grinning broadly.

“What a naughty girl you are,” she giggled.

While she knew pouring through Belle’s personal notes was an atrocious invasion of privacy, her joy overwhelmed her sense of decency and she was having far too much fun, but when she found the book recounting their time in London, the more she read the more conflicted she became.

From her sister’s point of view, Lucinda was all her mother cared about, leaving Belle alone to find her own way through a very difficult transition, and when she read about Furio, and the emotional goodbye Belle had to endure alone, the tears began spilling down Lucinda’s face.

And it got worse.

The journals covering the years leading up to the family’s move to London offered detailed descriptions of Lucinda being an absolute hellion, a holy terror, a devil child, given to outrageous tantrums and fits of temper, and a mother who refused to admit her youngest daughter was simply a spoiled brat.

Had she really been so terrible? Was she still? Is that why she constantly tested her boyfriends? Her directors? Her agents? Joseph was the only man she’d ever met who had responded with as much vigor as she had put out. Was that why she was so in love with him?

Leaning back against the island she realized her back was cramping and her knees were stiff, and it abruptly occurred to her that she’d become so engrossed in the diaries she’d lost complete track of time.

“Shit. How long have I been here?” she exclaimed, staring at her wrist, only to discover she’d left her watch on the nightstand in her room.

Diligently placing the books back in the tattered box, hoping she’d kept them in the order in which she’d found them, she slowly stood up, stretched her back, and slid the box back in its resting place. Moving as quickly as her stiff muscles would allow she made her way back to the bedroom, hoping there’d be a clock on the bedside table. There was. She’d been reading Belle’s journals for the last two hours.

“Shit, shit, shit!” she shouted, stamping her feet. “I’ve gotta get out of here,” and dashed into the living room and across to the double doors.

I’ll tell him I went shopping and didn’t find anything, no, I can’t do that, I’m not all damp and frazzled. I’ll tell him I went wandering through the house and got lost. That’s it, that’s perfect.

Reaching the doors she pushed down the handles and pulled, but they didn’t budge, and staring at them frantically she couldn’t see a visible lock anywhere.

“Shit, shit, shit, how could that be?”

Peering closely she noticed an area of the brass plate that had a line around it, and she discovered it slid sideways, revealing the keyhole, but she had no key.

“I don’t understand this! Why would you have a lock that works backwards?” she bellowed, then it dawned on her that Theresa had simply locked the door behind her when she’d left, and Lucinda would need a key to get out.

Desperately she ran to the room she’d not yet explored, the salon, a second, much smaller living room, with a more intimate feel, but she didn’t care about the furniture or why the room even existed; it had a door. Racing across she pushed down the handle, finding it too was locked, and she realized with dismay that she’d have to call Henry to let her out.

Maybe I can pick the lock. I’ve already been gone two hours, what’s another thirty minutes?

Deciding that was the best course of action, she ran back through the bedroom and into Belle’s bathroom, opening cabinets, searching for something she might be able to use to get the blasted doors unlocked.

What Lucinda didn’t know, was that the house was in an uproar looking for her, and Simon’s foot was pressed on the accelerator racing back to Belgravia to aid in the search, Goldie happily ensconced in the back seat. Much of the journey had been made in silence, Simon concentrating on the road and Belle not wanting to distract him, but as they reached the outskirts of the city and Simon eased up on the gas pedal, Belle broke the quiet.

“I knew she was going to get herself in trouble,” she remarked quietly. “I just knew it.”

“Yes, you did,” Simon agreed.

“I thought Joseph wasn’t going to let her out of his sight?”

“He had the meeting with Hardcastle and he couldn’t take her with him, but he did tell her to stay put,” Simon replied.

“That was his first mistake. That’s like waving a red flag at the proverbial bull,” Belle groaned. “I just hope she’s okay.”

“You said yourself she can be scatterbrained. I bet she’ll wander in the house any minute,” Simon declared, trying to reassure her.

But Simon was worried too, and though he knew he was being paranoid, he couldn’t deny Darren Hardcastle was weighing on his mind. He couldn’t imagine the man would kidnap Lucinda Somers, that would be crazy, wouldn’t it?

Shaking himself, realizing it was a ridiculous notion, he took a deep breath and calmed himself. Lucinda was simply being Lucinda, and he had no doubt the headstrong young woman had lost all track of time and was probably just out walking. It was also entirely possible she was pulling a stunt just to garner some attention, and if that was case she had succeeded.

“Do you think this could be purposeful?” he asked. “I mean, could she have decided to disappear for a couple of hours just to get everyone looking for her.”

“Yes!” Belle exclaimed immediately. “Yes, absolutely. I’ll bet that’s exactly what she’s done, and when she comes wandering in she’ll act all innocent and apologetic. Oh, for goodness sake, why didn’t I think of that?”

“If that’s the case…” Simon growled.

“If that’s the case,” Belle repeated, “I’ll be happy to hand her straight over to Joseph and let him deal with her.”

Belle’s phone chimed, and rummaging through her bag she saw it was Theresa.

“Hi, any news?”

“I think your missing sister may about to be found,” her assistant replied.

“You’re kidding? Where?” Belle asked urgently. “Wait, let me put this on speaker so Mr. Sinclair can hear you.”

Placing the phone in the holder on the front of the dashboard, she clicked the speaker button.

“Okay, go ahead, Theresa.”

“Apparently Ellen was cleaning up Lucinda’s room, and Lucinda asked for directions to your suite. I was there picking up your long parka, the black one, and it was just about the same time. I think Lucinda may have crept in while I was in your closet and now she’s locked inside.”

“She would, she would do something like that,” Belle proclaimed.

“We would have known sooner but it was a half-day for Ellen, and she left right after she’d finished in your sister’s suite. It just occurred to me to call her.”

“Thank God, you did,” Belle declared. “That’s exactly where she is, in our room. She’s probably trying to find a way out so she won’t get caught. Where are you, Theresa?”

“Just arrived back at your suite,” Theresa panted, “and Joseph and Henry are on their way. They’ve been going through all the vacant areas of the house, thinking she may have gotten lost.”

“Theresa, wait for them,” Simon interjected. “If Lucinda is in there she could slip past you while you’re in a different part of the suite.”

“Ah, you’re right, I’ll wait, they should be here any minute.”

“I’m going to choke that sister of mine,” Belle declared.

“You’ll have to take a number,” Simon growled.

“Joseph and Henry are here,” Theresa announced. “I’m unlocking the door now.”

The Range Rover had reached Central London, and Simon was controlling his impatience, not wanting to be stopped for speeding or running a red light, but it wasn’t easy.

“I can’t stand the suspense,” Belle whispered, “but I know she’s in there, and I’ll bet she’s hiding somewhere.”

“I’ll bet you’re right,” Simon agreed.

They could hear the sounds of conversation as Theresa and Henry entered the room, but Joseph, not underestimating his recalcitrant new lover, waited outside the door ready to nab her if she crept out of the room; if she was in the room, there was no way Joseph was going to let her sneak away.

Lucinda had heard the voices but they were muffled so she couldn’t discern what was being said. Looking around urgently she had seen an antique chest strategically placed near the door, and it had occurred to her that if she crouched down beside it, those entering would probably march right past and head off into the bedroom or the second living room. If she was lucky she could duck through the door without being seen.

Her plan had worked perfectly. Theresa and Henry had hurried by, Henry disappearing into the smaller lounge and Theresa into the bedroom. Lucinda had immediately darted past the chest and into the hallway.

Oh, thank God,
she silently cried, relief flooding her tension-filled body as she raced down the hallway.

“Going somewhere?”

Joseph’s voice echoed down the corridor, and Lucinda turned, the blood draining from her face.

“I think we need to have a little chat,” he smiled, walking towards her. “As a famous Cuban once said, you’ve got some ‘splainin’ to do.”

I
t was only a few minutes later that Simon and Belle arrived home. Belle immediately located Theresa, and with Goldie in tow they returned to the scene of the crime to make sure everything was in order. Simon, eager to talk to Joseph, texted him, asking that he meet him in the study immediately.

Joseph had taken Lucinda by the arm and marched her back to their suite of rooms, and was about to launch into his reprimand when his phone chimed and he read his summons.

“You, young lady, are going to stay here and wait for me, and since it’s obvious you cannot be trusted I’m going to lock you in,” Joseph declared.

“Jeez, you don’t have to do that. I’m not going anywhere,” she protested.

“No, you’re not,” he agreed, and striding from the room he closed the door, turning the key and taking it with him.