I gave Steve a panicky look, pulled my phone out of my pocket with a sinking feeling, and pulled up a picture of Rose. "Is this her?" I handed him my phone.
I liked Steve. He'd been with the bakery well before me, for over ten years. He'd been one of their success stories, a help-the-community project. He'd been homeless when the owners hired him and taught him how to bake. He cleaned up his life, got married, had a couple of children, and worked his way up to weekend manager.
Now, here he was giving me a sympathetic look. "That's her."
My pulse roared in my ears. She'd been in London yesterday. She must have hopped the first flight over.
"Who is she?" Steve handed my phone back.
"Lady Rose."
The waitresses—Mary and Stella—and Connie, the cashier, had arrived. I had everyone's attention now.
"Your long-lost relative?" Connie raised an eyebrow. "What does she want? In my experience, long-lost relations always want cash."
"Too bad for her. I don't have any." I shrugged.
"You have something better—a connection to a single billionaire," Stella said.
"Technically, so does she," I said.
Stella shook her head. "Maybe. But I'd watch her."
My coworkers stood in a row, looking like one long scowl. It was heartwarming that they were totally on my side on this one.
Sid thought I should fight. I hadn't thought I'd have to fight at the bakery.
"I wonder what she wants with me here?" I said. "She said she wanted to meet her only other living family. But she could have called first."
A low murmur of sympathy and indignation rippled through the bakery.
"She's trying to catch you off guard. Put you in the weak position." Even Mary was on my side. "She shows up here all dolled up—with the press in tow—knowing you'll be in uniform and out of makeup. That's low."
I had a moment of panic. I hadn't even brought my purse with me, just my wallet. I had no makeup on me other than a clear lip balm.
"What you want me to do?" Steve said. "Should I send her away? Tell her you're not in?"
Mary stepped between us. "She's not going to run like a coward." She turned to me. "You have to face this head-on."
Part of me was morbidly curious. The other part was furious at her. What did she want—a side-by-side comparison? Something to drive it home to the public just who the beauty was and who was the beastly baker? The gorgeous Brit and the unglamorous Yank?
She had to have gotten hold of the will. She had to know we were in a battle for more than a trinket from the late duchess. She must know that millions, a title, and the marriage of the century hung in the balance. The way she'd manipulated the media had to be part of her plan. She was setting herself up as the British contender for duchess.
I was suddenly thankful for Milia's training and makeover. I pulled my hairnet off and shook out my perfectly cut, totally fashionable silvery tresses. "Anyone have some mascara I can borrow?"
Connie gasped. "Your hair is gorgeous!"
Stella stepped forward. "Oh, I have something better, honey! I have a makeup kit in my bag."
Thank goodness for Stella's crush on one of our regulars, Earl. Yeah, the name was ironic now. He wasn't aristocracy like Riggins. He was a trucker. But because of Earl, she kept a healthy supply of makeup on hand to freshen up.
I grinned. "Bring it on!"
When we opened fifteen minutes later, I stood next to Steve as he unlocked the doors. I decided to face Lady Rose as myself, mostly fresh-faced. Just a touch of mascara, some blush, a little photo-ready foundation powder, a bit of pink gloss. Mary and Stella had insisted I wear one of the Blackberry Bakery aprons over my baker's whites. It was tied to show off my figure more than the boxy whites. And why not? With the bakery logo prominently displayed across my chest, the Blackberry would get some free promo. It was the least I owed them for the inconvenience.
But other than that, I was simply myself. Why should I let Lady Rose influence me? Yes, I would fix up for Riggins. But, ultimately, he would have to choose the type of woman who suited him. I refused to be fake. And thanks to Milia and her makeup lesson, I'd done a fair job of applying the natural look in makeup that was so popular. She'd told me to let my hair, which she'd called fabulous, take center stage. I hadn't believed her at first, but it was amazing how much confidence a good cut could give me.
The crush of reporters surged forward, calling my name. Cameras were running. Flashes went off. Standing calmly in front of them all was Lady Rose, smiling, waiting for her cue.
"Haley?" Her face lit up. She pulled me into a ferocious hug. So much for British reserve. Maybe she thought it was the American way.
She smelled like expensive perfume to my vanilla behind the ears. I hadn't wasted my sexy perfume on a workday at the bakery. Mary had been the one to dab me with vanilla and dust me with cinnamon. "The way to a man's heart," she'd said. Never mind the man wasn't in residence right now.
"Cousin!" Lady Rose pulled back and held me by my elbows, taking me in. Or sizing me up.
She was taller than I was. Most people were. She had startlingly large, bright brown eyes that sparkled with good humor. High cheekbones. Full, smiling lips that belonged in a glossy ad for lipstick. The kind of teeth that showed a lot of gum, but were perfectly straight and very white. A pleasant voice highlighted by a cultured accent. Her energy was almost catching.
"This is brilliant. I'm gobsmacked to finally meet my real flesh and blood."
To my surprise, she sounded like she actually meant it as she explained who she was and how glad she was to meet me.
She turned me to the cameras with her and leaned down, pressing her cheek against mine. "What do you think? Do you see a family resemblance?" Her teasing laughter was like a tinkling bell over the buzz of speculation around us.
We looked nothing alike. She was a thin, reedy brunette with dark eyes and all the prominent features men liked and women envied. I was like a small, silvery pixie washed in moonlight.
My phone began playing the ringtone I'd set for Mr. Thorne. Of all the bad timing.
Chapter 3
Riggins
The appearance of Lady Rose changed the game. And not in my favor. If she was authentic, she'd just sealed my fate. I had to marry either her or Haley. The odds were stacked against finding a way to get Lady Rose and Haley to refuse to marry me. Staying single was becoming an expensive and dangerous proposition.
I trusted Haley with our secret arrangement. Could I trust Lady Rose? I was beginning to believe Thorne was right—how many more women would pop up and make the claim they were related to the late duchess? Especially if the terms of the will became public?
I pictured the lines to buy lottery tickets when the jackpot got high and knew the answer. I was running out of time.
I had three weeks to get married. If Lady Rose wasn't who she claimed to be, I needed to know now. I called my private investigator and got his team on the case. There was no reason I should trust Thorne implicitly.
I wondered, briefly, what the ramifications were for marrying a woman I mistakenly thought fulfilled the terms. Did even Thorne know? Had the Dead Duke considered the scenario? Considering Lady Rose as a candidate for wife was a risky move.
And yet…
Maybe it was the safer play. I couldn't get Haley out of my mind. Couldn't stop aching to see her smile again. To hear her laugh. To taste her lips. It would have been too damn easy to fall for her. Too easy to hurt her in return. To drag both our hearts down a path of no return and no recovery.
Generally, marrying for love was preferred. The problem was time. I had no fucking time. None to find out if this was love. Or lust. Or loneliness. Or just nostalgia.
Maybe it was better to hedge my bets and go for the opportunist I believed Lady Rose to be. No heartaches. Just business. An airtight marriage contract. One heir. We part ways. No messy breakup. Just an amicable divorce. As long as she got her money and her title. And I got an heir
and a duchess qualified to be a duchess. One who could teach me the ropes. Raise my son and heir to love his heritage and become the next duke. A duchess who looked like the kind of cool woman I was known for dating. The ice queen whose heart was never in play. The casual fling.
Could a year or more of marriage and a child together be considered a casual fling?
I had a choice. A limited choice, admittedly. But an important choice to make. A chance at love? Risk my heart? Lose my head over a woman? Or a pure business arrangement I could exit unscathed? I drummed my fingers on my desk.
I owed it to myself and the dukedom to check Lady Rose out. Even as I made up my mind to ask her out, I felt like an ass. What would Haley think?
I looked Lady Rose up online. She was everything Thorne had said. Her smile lit up the pages of her social media profiles. She was elegant. Stylish. Damn, she would be a good spokesman for the Flash brand. She had a following. If Lady Rose shopped at Flash, she would influence others to follow. And since our expansion plans had the UK in our crosshairs, that was a point in her favor.
There was also something satisfying to be said about thwarting the Dead Duke's carefully crafted plans.
Lady Rose couldn't be blackmailed by the Dead Duke into marrying me the way Haley could. But from what I saw, I was sure she could be bought. Though I doubted she could be bought out of marrying me.
The question was—how to get in touch with her? Thorne would know. But I had to make it look less calculated. I checked my calendar, thinking I could just squeeze in a quick trip to the UK. I could take her out. See where it led. Keep it quiet. If it didn't work out, Haley would never have to know.
I logged onto one of my social media accounts and looked her up. Would she accept a friend/follower request from the Duke of Witham? I smiled to myself. Until a selfie of Haley and Lady Rose together in the Blackberry Bakery popped up. And I saw it was trending.
Haley was holding a cup of coffee and a donut. Lady Rose had a cup of tea and a scone. The caption read, Me and my American cousin. Aren't we cute? #longlostrelatives #funfunfun
Haley
As much as it killed me, I let Mr. Thorne's call go to voicemail. It wouldn't look good to answer it right in the middle of this surprise family reunion with the competition. I could just see myself being pictured as a self-obsessed bitch who was always on her phone. So I smiled sweetly for the cameras and went along with Lady Rose's media blitz.
Did anyone else wonder, like I did, just how genuine she could be traveling with an entourage of reporters? And yet at the same time, the horde of reporters seemed part of who she was. As if she enjoyed them and couldn't imagine life without them. They were like breath for her.
"Just pretend they're not here," she whispered to me in her gorgeous British accent. "Aren't they precious? They follow me everywhere."
To my surprise, they stayed outside when Lady Rose came in.
"They aren't coming in?" I asked.
"Not if they know what's good for them."
I frowned in their direction. "Just how long will they stay out there?"
"Until I leave. But don't worry. They won't bother us."
They already had.
Lady Rose staged us at a table near the window like two stereotypes where the paparazzi could get clear shots of us through the glass. Me with coffee and donuts. Lady Rose with tea and scones.
Personally, I liked tea and scones. Especially our currant scones. And wouldn't have minded having one. But it was a better photo op if we each represented our respective countries' tastes. It would look so much better in an Instagram photo, according to Rose.
"I'm so happy I found you. To have a relative, really!" She touched my arm and beamed.
"But you have a bunch of siblings, don't you?" I said, puzzled by her pleasure.
"Oh, tons, really. My father has been married so many times it's almost scandalous. And he always manages to reproduce with each new wife. Except my mum, of course!" She laughed at her little joke. "But I mean a blood relative. Someone who shares my family traits."
I nodded, not having the heart to tell her our blood was very distantly genetically linked. And only if she was genuine.
"I have a sister." I didn't understand Lady Rose's insistence on finding a blood relative. Or how a distantly related stranger like me could add anything to her happiness or sense of wellbeing or belonging.
I told her all about Sid, beaming while I did. I was always proud of my sister. "You'll have to meet her while you're here." What was I doing?
Then I realized I needed Sid's opinion of her. Needed Sid's advice. Needed Sid to win her over and suss her out.
"Of course. Lovely." Lady Rose nodded. She smiled at me, almost sadly. "You don't understand, do you? About me needing to find my bio family?"
I shook my head.
She sighed—beautifully, I might add. Gently dramatic. "My birth mother's dead."
"So's mine."
"But you knew her."
I nodded. "But she was also the woman who raised me, and she's gone."
Lady Rose didn't concede my point. There was no way to win an argument with her about this.
"I'm sorry for intruding on your life and surprising you like this. I couldn't help myself. Once I found out about you, I had to meet you immediately. I don't want to be too much of a pain. But I want so badly to get to know you while I'm here."
And maybe horn in on my inheritance?
"How long are you here?" I asked.
"As long as it takes! A few days. A week. A month. I'm dying to see Seattle," Lady Rose said. "And visit all the historic spots—where the late duchess lived. The family business. It's still in existence, isn't it?" She sighed. "Isn't this lovely. You and I should go around together! That's a brilliant idea."
I bit my tongue, resisting the urge to ask if the camera crew would be tagging along, too.
As much as I hated to admit it, Lady Rose had natural charisma and charm. She captivated the customers who managed to wedge in to the bakery and stare at us.
The bakery only held forty people maximum. Steve shot me concerned looks. Publicity was good for business. But so were customers. And lack of customers meant losses, not gains.
"I'd love to take you sightseeing," I lied. I would love to escape.
"We should check out the old Wares estate, Wareswood Castle." Her eyes glowed. "Did you know? It's a bed and breakfast now. And wedding venue. You can rent it out for events, obviously. Wouldn't it be fun to poke around it? We might find some clues to the late duchess!"
I had been surprisingly uncurious about Helen. I'd been too busy contemplating an arranged marriage with a billionaire to think much about her. And worrying about Sid.
"A castle? Here in the States! Isn't that delightful?"
"Fascinating."
Apparently Helen had lived like a princess before she became a duchess.
"Yes, a beautiful castle with a striking love story," Lady Rose said, with a dreamy look in her eyes.
I couldn't tell if she was really a romantic, or just faking it. Customers had settled around us and were glomming on to her every word.
"Wareswood Castle, just south of Seattle. It's nestled on a small, private lake on over two hundred acres. The grounds are dotted with old-growth Douglas firs. It was built in 1909 by Helen's lumber baron father for his bride, her mum."
She leaned forward toward me and set her scone down. "But he didn't just build it. He purchased a four-hundred-year-old Elizabethan manor in England. Dismantled it. And had it shipped, brick by brick, to Seattle to be used as the building material for his new Tudor Gothic castle. Which was designed by one of the most famous architects of the day, Kirtland Kelsey Cutter. Isn't that romantic? Wouldn't it be smashing to have a man build a house like that for you?"
I nodded because she seemed to expect it, but my expectations for a home had always been much more modest. And besides, I already owned one with Sid.
Lady Rose smiled, looking almost self-conscious.
"Listen to me! I sound like a travelogue. But I haven't told you the best part. The manor Mr. Wares bought in England was one of the country homes belonging to the then-current Duke of Witham's family. He sold it to Mr. Wares to save the dukedom from the rakish ways of his gambler father.
"Isn't it both beautiful and fitting that years later, Helen Wares married the new Duke of Witham and her money again saved it from ruin? It's fate."
Like Rose snagging Riggins for herself and bringing everything full circle? How much did she know? And how could she know it?
Lady Rose was captivating, damn her. And a great storyteller. I sat with my mouth hanging unattractively open while all the patrons of the Blackberry were straining to hear her tale.
She laughed sweetly and demurely, like a true lady, while I cursed myself for not making time to find out more about Helen.
"You must love history," I said, lamely.
"I do. Do you also know that the castle is reportedly haunted?" She nodded, agreeing with herself. "Reportedly by Helen's mum, Grace, who couldn't bear to leave it when she passed because of the love it represented. She's buried on the grounds in sight of the castle. You and I need to go on a ghost hunt. And reassure her all's well with her line today."
At that moment, I didn't think I could convince a living person all was well with me, let alone a ghost.
"Britain's Got Roots discovered all this when they traced my ancestry back to Helen's. As my nearest living relative, and hers, I thought you'd want to know."
I was about to say my sister Sid was also her living relative and would like to know, too, when Lady Rose's phone, which sat on the table next to her plate, buzzed. She glanced at it. Her face lit up. "I just received a friend request from our mutual distant relative by marriage, the Duke of Witham." She winked so sweetly and seductively, there was a collective sigh from the diners in the café.
They were Americans! They were supposed to be on my side. But apparently the British invasion had begun.
My heart sank. My smile froze on my face as I watched Lady Rose accept Riggins' request. She set the phone down with her long, slim fingers, elegantly manicured.