The American Heir(16)

But my breath caught at the sight of the clandestine shot of me kissing   Riggins on impulse at the reception and the caption that read, A duke   very much in love with his pregnant duchess.

Throughout my life there had been pictures so beautiful or true or   intriguing that I wanted to step into them and bring them to life.   Photos that filled me with fantasy or longing for something that would   probably never be. Pictures of hot guys I'd never date. Love so strong I   was sure I'd never feel it. Families so perfect, how could they ever   exist?

Improbably romantic embraces. Tropical locales where no one could feel a   care. Photos of my parents like I'd never seen them-young, healthy,   happy, and in love. Looking at them brought up a welling longing in me   that was hard to put into words.   





 

This simple photo was the worst of them all. I immediately understood   the reporter's misperception. In that picture, Riggins loved me. It was   clear from our pose, his posture, and the expression on his face. That   picture was exactly the way I wanted my life to be, with that caption. I   wanted my duke to love me.

But nothing in that picture was real. It was only faked.

I laughed, nervous I'd give myself away. "Leave it to the press to   create a fairytale." I glanced away from it and pointed to the lingerie   on my pillow. "Will you put that in the safe for me today?"

His face clouded over briefly. He nodded. "First thing."

I smiled a little too brightly. "Good. Thank you. I have a busy day planned. How about you?"

"Same." He raised an eyebrow. "What's on your agenda?"

"I have to see a man about a possible illegitimate daughter."

Riggins' expression froze. "Haley. Don't. Leave Bird out of this."

"How can I? He must know something. He was in China when Sid was born.   That can't be coincidence." I smiled at Riggins and sat on the edge of   the bed next to him.

He shook his head. "And he's a white guy, don't forget that." He shook   his head. "So he must be Sid's bio dad. Is that the logic?"

"I'm not going to accuse him of anything. I'm just going to pop round   his cottage and see if he's happy with it. Maybe suggest it could use   some updating. A little remodeling or refresh might be in order-"

Riggins covered my hand on the bed with his. "He's a private guy. You'll only embarrass him."

I frowned. "What would you have me do, then?" I felt my anger and   frustration rising. My moods were mercurial, scuttling over me like   wisps of clouds in the sky. I was easily upset. "With Sid's health in   the balance?"

"Let me help you. Like I promised. Let me hire a private eye to look   into what Bird was doing in China and see if there's any connection. I   know someone who's discreet. Thorne might be able to add a few clues   that will help us. Let's look into things further before you start   throwing accusations of fatherhood around." He squeezed my hand.

Why hadn't I thought of that? My heart swelled with affection for him.   There went another of my rapidly changing moods. This one was sappily   happy that he remembered his word. And that we were on the same team for   this one.

"That would be … sweet of you." I smiled at him, wanting him to take me in   his arms. "But I need to meet him, anyway. It's my duty as duchess." I   leaned toward him. "You wouldn't want me to be remiss in my duties,   would you?"

He smiled back. "Absolutely not. Just behave yourself."

"Meaning?"

"You know what the hell I mean."

He got up to take his shower, leaving me to read the article about our   announcement of our pregnancy and stare at that picture. Yes, in that   picture he definitely loved me. If only I could believe that the camera   really didn't lie. Because if it didn't, he was hiding his feelings  from  me. And maybe from himself. And there was hope for us yet.



I took a quick breakfast in the dining room, where the buffet had been   pared down at Riggins' request. Actually, I agreed with him. These days I   preferred toast for breakfast. Toast and Duke of Witham tea. It was  one  thing that always appealed to me. Though recently I'd been taking  it  without sugar.

I left instructions with Mrs. Rees and her crew on which cleaning tasks   were my top priority. And told Gibson my plans for the day. "I'll be  out  running errands this morning. This afternoon I'll be stopping by  Bird's  cottage for a brief visit and inspection. I've asked him to meet  with  me there. I'll take my tea around four."

I had an important errand to run. I knew perfectly well how to drive,   but not on the wrong side of the road. And not in one of the expensive   cars that belonged to the castle. The thought of driving one made me   nervous. I ordered a car service to pick me up on the road in front of   the castle. I didn't want Riggins to know what I was up to, and the walk   would do me good.

On the way to meet the car, I stopped by the Ghost Tower. It was tall,   gray, and foreboding. And locked tight. Riggins had said he and the   security guard had locked it last night. He appeared to be right.   





 

It looked imposing and impenetrable. I had seen a light there. I hadn't   imagined it. And ghosts didn't typically use lights, did they? Or shine   so brightly they glowed like a candle?

The building gave me the creeps. I hurried on and met my car just as it pulled up. "Glenrose Abbey," I told the driver.



Riggins

I was sleeping with my wife. And damn it, against my better judgment, I   wanted to do it again and again. I got that idiotic grin on my face   every time I thought about her.

Before our lives together could continue, I had to put my suspicions,   all of them, to rest. I called Thorne and arranged a meeting with him in   London. Then I called the security firm and security expert I kept on   retainer and laid my concerns out to them. I also arranged a meeting   with a private investigator in the London office of a well-respected   international firm.

Finally, I called up an old friend and asked a favor. I needed a   recommendation for a social media expert to manage Haley's social media   presence, appearances, and meetings with the press. No more leaving her   to the foraging dogs of publicity. She needed someone savvy to handle   things for her. If another story like the leaked pregnancy one popped   up, we needed to be on top of it.

Phone calls finished, I went to the Ghost Tower. It was less frightening   in the daylight. And still locked tight. I walked around it, playing   detective and looking for footprints and evidence. There had been too   many people wandering the grounds. The area was covered with footprints   in all shapes and sizes. And the cleanup crew had done a fucking   fantastic job of cleaning up. There wasn't a cigarette butt or gum   wrapper in sight.

I cursed beneath my breath. If what I suspected was true, I was dealing   with someone highly intelligent and skilled at not being seen.

I let myself into the tower and flipped on the light. It was gloomy even   in broad daylight. The floors, which had been covered with a fine  layer  of dust until recently, were marred with the footprints from last  night  of both myself and the guard. As closely as I studied them, I  couldn't  find any trace of a third pair of footprints. The dust didn't  allow for  leaving distinct enough markings.

The best I could say was that if a third person had been in the tower   last night, he was about the same shoe size as either the guard or me.   There were no other signs that anyone had visited. Short of having a   forensic team fingerprint the whole place, an exercise in futility, I   was pretty sure, there was nothing more I could do. Maybe what Haley had   seen was simply a trick of the light. But what light? How much light   was there at midnight?

Haley had to have been mistaken. I hoped like hell she was.



Haley

Glenrose Abbey, the Earl of Colchester's estate, was grand on the   outside. But not nearly on the scale of Witham House. The difference in   our ranks and financial status was blatantly clear. As it had been for   hundreds of years, my family still outranked and outshone Rose's. Even   the grounds, though beautifully manicured, were a miniature version of   ours. It was clear that family property had been sold off to keep the   estate going.

Glenrose Abbey was open for tourists April through September, Tuesday   through Saturday. There was a posted sign at the entrance to the drive.   In a few short weeks, paid visitors would be crawling all over the   grounds. But now the estate was as quiet as the private residence it   used to be all year long.

My car pulled to the front. The driver gave me a hand out. I asked him   to wait for me. Unannounced visits could be such nasty surprises. I   wasn't a fan of them, personally. I preferred to be neither the   recipient nor the giver of them. I nearly lost my nerve. Imagining Sid   laughing and encouraging me to master my inner bitch was the only thing   that kept me going.