Wife by Wednesday (11 page)

Samantha seemed to gather the information, process it, and then kick out a solid assessment. “But there is someone I need to worry about, isn’t there?”

He wanted to lie, but couldn’t. With Sam, if felt wrong to let white lies begin and possibly wedge between them. “My cousin. He’s on my short list of people who might have planted those cameras in your home.”

“You’re kidding?”

“I wish I was. Howard stands to inherit a hefty sum should our marriage fail.”

“I take it the two of you aren’t chummy.”

“Barely tolerate each other is a better description. He stays at Albany as often as he can manage. My mother is too kind to send him away.”

“Why don’t you?”

“I’m not there enough to care. Though now that will change.”

“How so?” Samantha said.

“My mother has the right to live in the house until the estate turns over to me next year. It’s understood that once I took a wife, she, you, would take on the duties of Duchess and my mother would move to the smaller estate on the grounds.” He didn’t expect Sam to take all this in and understand it. But he wanted her to grasp most of it before they left for Europe.

“I don’t think I’ve done enough research on your family home. I assumed Albany Hall was a convenient name for a manor house. Something you British used to make things grander than they are.” Samantha played with a lock of her hair as she spoke. Her eyes kept drifting toward the sea.

“Once you see Albany Hall, you’ll understand my reluctance to choose a bride.”

“Hmm, you know, something has bothered me since we met.”

“What’s that?”

“Why don’t you have a British accent? You grew up there, right?”

Memories of hearing his father scold him for not speaking properly chased around in his head. Blake did everything he could to go against his father’s wishes, right down to speaking American English and not the Queen’s English.

“I spent summers at Albany when I was in boarding school. Every chance we could, my mother took my sister and I here to the States. I immersed myself in American culture.” Blake noticed the fog bank drifting closer as his mind drifted with it. “I rebelled against my father on many levels.”

“Do you think that dissension between the two of you prompted him to make it more difficult to collect your inheritance?”

Blake gave a curt shake of his head. “My father had to have the last word. Even in death.”

“Was he that awful in life?”

“My father was a typical British Royal. Old money filled his pockets and awarded him with the ability to be a pompous jackass whenever he wanted. He married my mother knowing he’d be unfaithful.” He remembered the first time he’d seen his mother crying over his father’s infidelity. A British tabloid splashed his father’s face over the cover with a woman ten years younger on his arm. That was when the trips to America began to shape Blake’s life. “He thought he was entitled to walk on people.”

“Why didn’t your mother leave him?” The softness in Samantha’s voice forced Blake’s attention away from the sea. Her bright green eyes watched him through lowered lashes, as if she were an intruder carefully trying to avoid detection.

“I don’t know. Money, probably. They never spoke of divorce. They lived separate lives most of the time. After my sister was born they stopped sleeping in the same room.”

“So was your hatred for how your father treated your mother what pushed the two of you apart?”

Did he really hate his father? Blake never put such a strong word to his emotions. He didn’t like the man, no doubt about that. “My father wanted me to be just like him. ‘Go to school, get an education, but don’t think you have to work more than a day a week.’” Blake let his father’s accent bleed into his mockery.

A sad smile spread over Samantha’s face. “So your rebellion was to make your own fortune.”

Blake sat taller. “I funneled my allowance into stock in the shipping company I now own. Halfway through college, I made my first million. My father was furious.”

“He wanted to control you,” Samantha said. “He couldn’t do that if you were a self-made man.”

Blake stared at his wife and had an overwhelming sense of pride. He couldn’t remember anyone every diving this deep into his past and concluding everything so perfectly. Samantha listened and truly heard what he said. “Exactly.”

“Tell me then, why work so hard to hold onto his money? It isn’t like you need it.”

“I considered walking away. But my sister, who only knows the lifestyle we were raised in, and my mother for that matter, don’t deserve to have their life ripped away. Not to mention we’re talking a hell of a lot of money.” He laughed, trying to put the somber walk down memory lane behind them.

Samantha appeared to simmer on the information for a few minutes as the last rays of the sun sizzled into the ocean.

“You know something, Blake?” she asked, her eyes left his and stared into the fading sun.

“What?”

“I’m starting to think you’re more martyr than mercenary.”

He huffed out a laugh, reached over, and took her hand in his. “This coming from a woman who married me to secure her sister’s care.”

Samantha snapped out of her haze and squeezed his hand. “Oh, no. Jordan.” She started to push up from her comfortable position.

“What is it?”

“It’s Saturday. I forgot about my weekly visit with my sister.” Samantha pulled her hand out of his. “I’ve got to go.”

“Isn’t it too late?”

Samantha waved his question away. “Of course not.” She sent him a curious glance. “Do you want to come with me? See where all your money’s going?”

Blake had a dozen things he should have been doing instead of revealing his past to his wife. He didn’t want to do any of it. “I’d love to meet your sister.”

“This place is amazing.” Eliza spun full circle in the middle of Blake’s formal livingroom. “I can’t believe you didn’t jump at living here the minute you guys came back from Vegas.”

“It didn’t feel right.”

“But it does now? What’s changed?” Eliza flopped down on an overstuffed sofa and crossed her legs.

Samantha lowered her voice even though the cook was busy preparing their lunch and the maid was upstairs doing god-knows-what. Blake needed to spend the day in his office, which left Sam with little to do. “We’re getting more comfortable together, I guess. The security here isn’t something I could manage in Tarzana.”

“You got that right. That Neil guy is kinda scary if you ask me.” Eliza walked around the bulky man when he met her at her car.

“He doesn’t say much.”

“He didn’t say anything to me. Just stared at me.”

“Blake insists he’s harmless to those who aren’t messing with him.” Samantha found herself in one of the Queen Anne chairs facing her friend. The soft silk pantsuit she wore drifted over her skin and made her feel like she wasn’t wearing anything at all. With the extra time on her hands, Sam took more time getting dressed in the morning, more time preening for her day.

When Blake joined her at Moonlight, Samantha was faced with the full force of her marriage to a man as rich and handsome as her husband. He charmed the staff and won more than a few smiles from Jordan. Ever since Jordan’s stroke, her ability to express her needs had been difficult. Expressive aphasia was what the doctors called her condition. Sam often finished Jordan’s sentences to keep her sister from being overly anxious and frustrated. Blake seemed to understand the situation and worked hard to ask yes and no questions and avoid subjects that would bring on stress.

Yet when they were working their way out of the home, Blake found an administrator and like a switch, his charm turned off and the business side of him shone through. He wanted to know about security in the home. How did they keep Jordan safe from strangers walking into her room? Who was by her side when it wasn’t mealtime? A rapid stream of question he could have asked Samantha were fired off and answered before she could interrupt. His sincerity over her sister’s care and safety kept Sam from being upset with him. Yet after they’d left the home he started to question Moonlight’s ability to care for Jordan, and Samantha became defensive.

“It’s the best home for people in Jordan’s situation. Most homes are geared for older, Alzheimer’s-type patients. Moonlight specializes in younger patients with developmental problems.”

“Why not care for her at home?”

Of course, that would have been ideal, but Samantha couldn’t afford that kind of round the clock, in-home care. She’d tried to do it on her own but failed. Blake had realized how upset the conversation was making her and had dropped the subject.

“I’m glad Neil is on your side. I wouldn’t want to be that man’s enemy,” Eliza said, snapping Samantha out of her thoughts. “So, what are we going to do with Alliance?”

She’d given a lot of thought as to how to proceed with her business. The fact was, taking on the role of being Blake Harrison’s wife was going to take up the majority of her time and leave her jet setting all over the globe. As it was, her passport had arrived first thing that Monday morning and she and Blake were arranging their departure for early Wednesday.

“I have a proposition for you.” She waited until Eliza turned her eyes to her before starting. “I’ve worked too hard to lose everything I’ve worked for with Alliance, but I’m obviously going to be unavailable over the next few months.”

“I thought you guys were going to live on different continents.”

Sam shook her head. “Our original plan isn’t going to work like we’d hoped. In light of the bugs and surveillance cameras, we think it’s best to stay close to each other.” Samantha’s mind shifted to Blake’s proposal. He hadn’t pushed her to sleep with him since their time in her bathroom, but he’d sent her several heated glances and sexy comments to let her know he still wanted her in his bed. As it was, Samantha slept in the room beside her husband’s and they told the staff that she wasn’t feeling well. The excuse was lame, but no one commented about it.

“Where does that leave Alliance?”

“What would you say to coming in as my partner?”

Eliza’s eyes widened and a smile formed on her lips. “What would that look like?”

“I’d need you to do some of the field work.” They both knew that meant Eliza would need to attend gatherings where women searched for rich husbands, high profile events where those with money played. Socializing was the best way of gathering prospective clients. Word of mouth worked better than any ad in the paper. “Karen already agreed to introduce you to some of her old friends to set you up.”

“Karen is the one who runs Moonlight, right?”

The knockout gorgeous blonde who Blake didn’t look at twice. Sam nodded. “When you have a new contact, fax the information to me and I’ll start the background on them. I can initiate that anywhere in the world. What I can’t do is meet with people until my time becomes my own again.”

“When do you expect that?”

“A few months. Maybe sooner.”

Eliza seemed to juggle the new prospect in her mind. “I guess it would be bad form to be talking about temporary marriages after your Vegas wedding to Blake. People might ask questions.”

“It wouldn’t look good. I’ll place things in your name so it looks like I’m your employee.” Because any lawyer worth a damn would figure it out otherwise.

“You’d do that?”

“I trust you. And when I offered a partnership, I meant it. If things become too difficult for you when I’m away, we’ll hire a temporary secretary. If things pick up, we’ll hire a full time one. We’ll split the profits down the middle and while I’m playing Duchess, I’ll pay for the expenses.”

Eliza’s eyes lit up. “As in fancy dresses and dinners with clients?”

Samantha laughed. “I’m sure we can come up with a reasonable budget.”

“I’m not sure what to say?”

“Say yes.”

“But this is your baby. You’ve worked hard and I’m new on the scene.”

Uncrossing her legs, Sam sat forward and placed a hand over her friend’s. “You helped me when times were hard and never bitched when money was tight.”

“You offered me a room at your house. Kinda hard to bitch when you let me live with you for nothing.”

Sam waved her off. “I may have started this business, but it’s taken both of us to get it where it is today. I don’t trust anyone else but you, Eliza.”

The slow movement of Eliza’s head ended in a full nod and a smile. “How can a girl say no to that?”

“Good.”

“Mrs. Harrison?” the cook called from the entryway to the living room.

“Yes, Mary?”

“Your lunch is ready. Would you like it in here, or should I leave it in the dining room?”

Eliza’s sly smile told Samantha how impressed she was. “We’ll take it in there. I hope you’ll join us.”

Mary’s eyes widened in alarm. “Oh, no, I couldn’t do that.”

Samantha and Eliza both stood and walked toward Mary. “Oh, yes, you can,” Sam laughed as she spoke. “I don’t expect you to cook lunch then eat alone.”