The American Heir(20)

"If it doesn't inconvenience you and the new duke, I'd like to suggest we go on as before." He gave me a hopeful look.

I took that to mean he was highly private and independent. He didn't   relish the thought of me, or Riggins, intruding in his personal domain.

I nodded softly. "That sounds good to me."   





 

There was a pair of chairs near the fireplace. He offered me one, as   well as tea and refreshments. I took the chair and declined   refreshments. He took a seat in the chair opposite me.

I hesitated. "Actually, I lied. Partly, anyway. I wanted to talk to you   away from the castle about more than the state of your home."

I paused again, trying to frame my words. "I came because you and your   family have been on the estate for all of the late duke's reign. And   I … I'd like to get to know him through your recollections." I took a deep   breath. "This is strictly in confidence, but I recently discovered  that  he was my great-grandfather. It was a shock, but a pleasant one. I   found documentation in his personal effects. I don't want to betray  any  more family secrets."

Fortunately, Bird didn't push for details. Or even appear more than   passingly curious. I was suddenly glad for his quiet nature and apparent   aversion to gossip.

"But I'm hoping you can help me. I feel like you knew him better than anyone."

If Bird was surprised, he didn't show it. Instead, he smiled largely and   laughed loudly. "As you're the very image of the first duchess Helen,   your news doesn't surprise me." He didn't quite wink, but it was clear   what he meant. He could imagine how it had gone between the Dead Duke   and Helen, and circumstances that could have led to me being the Dead   Duke's granddaughter.

Bird studied my face. Finally, he nodded approvingly. "I didn't know the   duchess, of course. I only know her from her pictures in the castle.   But there's something about the late duke in you. It's not obvious at   first glance, but if you look closely, it's there."

I grinned back at him. "You don't know how happy that makes me. I'm glad to hear it! I think so, too. Tell me everything!"

He shuffled in his seat. "Everything's a tall order, madam."

I laughed. "It is, isn't it?" Especially since he wasn't really a talker   to begin with. "Start with your memories of him as a boy. I heard he   didn't like children."

We spent a pleasant half-hour reminiscing about Bird's boyhood and   growing up on the estate with the Dead Duke at the helm. All the   memories of the Dead Duke were pleasant ones, as far as I could tell. At   the very least, Bird filtered his memories to share only the nice ones   with me.

I was hoping he'd tell me about China.

"He loved the estate and the game. Very concerned about the game and proper management of it," Bird said.

I nodded. "Yes. I've heard that from others. He even sent you to China twenty years ago or so to learn some new technique?"

Bird tensed. "Yes. Indeed, he did. I was there nearly a year."

"I've never been to China," I said. "Was it wonderful?"

"It was. And it wasn't." He looked almost heartbroken. "My son was born in China. The duke was very helpful during that time."

My senses went on high alert. "Is that his picture on the mantel?"

"It is."

"I'd love a closer look. Do you mind?" I started to get out of my seat.

Bird jumped up and grabbed the picture, handing it to me with a proud look on his face.

It was a different photo from Will's profile picture. A younger Will. "He's very handsome. I heard he's away at university?"

Bird nodded.

"You must be proud."

"Bursting." Bird smiled.

Holding the picture, I turned to study Bird. "I have a sister about his   age. She's adopted. From China." I told him the name of the province  Sid  was from.

No great surprise registered on his face. Just the mild look of someone who realizes they have something in common with you.

"That's where we were. Very pretty. Parts of it, anyway."

I nodded, smiling. "I'd like to see it sometime." I paused again,   preparing my money shot. "Her birthday's coming up." I rattled it off.

"That's the same as my son's." Again, he spoke with only mild surprise and no apparent suspicion.

"It's an odd coincidence, isn't it?" I said, trying not to sound like I   was accusing him of something. "Both of them having the same birthday   and being born in the same province."

Bird laughed more heartily. "Not so much. There are a lot of people born in China every day, Your Grace."   





 

To my disappointment, he didn't look guilty of hiding a thing. That my   sister was Chinese and born on the same day as his son in the same   village meant nothing to him.

It was clear he'd about talked himself out. I left his cottage shortly   after. As I approached the maze, I swore I saw a figure dart into it.   The hairs stood up on the back of my neck. Damn that Sherlock Holmes and   his hounds of Baskerville for putting scary thoughts into my head. I   was pretty sure no great big dogs were following me. But I had the sense   that someone was.

I brushed it off as my imagination. Since the pregnancy announcement,   Riggins had tightened security around the castle. The odds that a   vagrant or stalker would be able to hang around the castle grounds   unnoticed by our security team were slim.

I hurried back to the safety of the castle and the pleasant surprise of Riggins waiting to take tea with me.

He had a devilish look in his eyes as we sat side by side on the sofa in   the drawing room and dined on British scones, which were much cakier   and less sweet and rich than American scones. As a baker I took a   professional interest in the differences. Slather them with enough jam   and clotted cream and that made up the difference.

We discussed our day. I left out the part about being frightened as I walked by the maze. I wasn't even sure I'd seen anything.

He told me he'd hired me a press secretary of my own, someone to manage   my appearances and handle my social media and any situations like  Rose's  leak to the press. It was sweet of him.

Every time I looked at Riggins, which was constantly, my heart squeezed.   I wanted him to want to stay with me forever. I wanted tender words of   love. And hot words of passion. I wanted to laugh with him. Lie with   him. Love him. For the rest of our lives.

If this baby was a girl, I had a better chance of that. For a while, anyway. But we needed a boy.

As always, the tea was delicious. The look in his eyes as we finished was better.

"What?" I asked coyly. I was pretty sure what.

"You have a crumb on your lip." He leaned forward and kissed me. "We haven't done it in the drawing room."

"No, we haven't," I said, and slid into his lap. We still had dozens and   dozens of rooms to go. "It's a rather obvious choice, isn't it?"

"But highly dangerous." He kissed my neck and played with my hair.

"As dangerous as the poison garden?" I ran my fingers through his hair.

"Infinitely more dangerous. Someone might walk in to clear away our   tea." His lips travelled down my neck to the tops of my breasts.

"Bring it on."



The ice between us was truly thawed. If there had been any doubt about   where Riggins would sleep, it was over now for sure. He slept in my bed   that night. And all the nights after for a blissful week and a half.

We went to London to the theater. We toured the countryside and made   plans for the estate. I even got him to look at baby things. But he   couldn't stay in England forever. Flash needed him. He was called back   to Seattle. He pressured me to go with him. But two days before we were   supposed to leave, I got a bout of hyperemesis gravidarum, severe   morning sickness that put me in the emergency room. I had to stay in the   hospital overnight.

Riggins was right there with me. He wouldn't leave my side. But it was   no way to bond. And there was also no way I felt like flying. The trip   from England to Seattle was just too long.

He delayed his departure a few days until I was stable. But on April   Fools' Day he went back to Seattle, leaving me in the capable hands of a   private nurse, and the ongoing throes of morning sickness.

I was relieved, in a way, to see him go. I didn't want him to see me in   this horrible sick state, constantly throwing up. It was debilitating.   And embarrassing. And not conducive to romance or making him fall in   love with me. I slept. I ate cream crackers, as the British called soda   crackers. I threw up. I tried endless remedies. I prayed I'd be one of   the lucky ones and the morning sickness would peak at some point  between  nine and thirteen weeks, as my doctor said usually happened,  and not  last the whole forty.