The Scandalous Heiress

She paused at the doorway and took a deep breath. After her confrontation with Joseph, he understood her reluctance.

His aunt rose as they entered the room. Her warm smile greeted them. “Clay. And you must be Meg.”

“Mikki,” he said, with deliberate emphasis, “I’d like you to meet my aunt Alicia.”

“No, no. She’s Meg. I can tell.” Alicia shook her head. His aunt wanted Michelle to be Megan Hawthorne almost as much as Richard. Alicia had never forgiven herself for failing to stop the kidnapping, and the family had never allowed her to forget. As if she could have overtaken two burly men with the help of one scrawny eleven-year-old. “Look at her, Clay. She’s only gotten prettier.”

Mikki looked to him for a response.

“Yes, she’s pretty, I suppose.”

“Well, don’t choke on the words,” she said for Clay’s benefit and offered her hand to Alicia. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Hawthorne.”

“Please call me Alicia. Your father will be down any moment. The doctor told him to slow down, but he wouldn’t allow you to greet him in his bedroom like some invalid.”

“He hasn’t been well?” Mikki asked.

Alicia shot a stern glare at her nephew. “You didn’t tell her about her father?”

Clayton shook his head. “The subject never came up. Mikki shows a remarkable lack of curiosity about the Hawthorne family tree.”

“You flatter me,” Mikki said. “There’s nothing remarkable about it. You’re not convinced that I belong here. Why should I dare to assume I do?”

Alicia smiled sadly. “My Clayton is far too conservative and serious. He thinks everyone has an ulterior motive.”

Mikki blew a puff of air, lifting the wisp of bangs on her forehead. “That’s not conservatism. It’s paranoia.”

“Only if I’m wrong,” he said.

A moment later Clayton watched in astonishment as Richard made his grand entrance. His slow, shuffling steps implied a frailness that hadn’t been evident earlier. For some reason, he seemed to want to appear more weak and helpless than he actually was. Who was this charade for? Mikki, or the rest of the family?

“Hello, Michelle. I’m glad you accepted my invitation.” Richard extended his hand in a greeting.

Mikki touched him lightly, as if afraid of hurting him. “Thank you.”

“I trust the plane ride was uneventful.”

Clayton couldn’t stop the grin twitching at the corner of his mouth. From liftoff to landing, the trip had been an ordeal for her.

She glowered at him, then returned her attention to Richard. “It was fine, thank you, sir.”

“Please, call me Richard.”

A lull in conversation followed. Both Mikki and Richard seemed at a loss for words. They looked relieved when dinner was announced.

A relief that was shortlived once the rest of the Hawthorne clan descended on the dining room.

Mikki nervously twisted the napkin in her lap. A cold supper took on a whole new meaning. The verbal barbs moved around the table faster than the main course. Most were directed at her, coated in syrupy sweetness meant to sound like polite conversation. William and Joseph, flanking her like a pair of granite book ends, launched a subtle attack of patronizing questions apparently trying to trap her into revealing something incriminating.

Through all the carryings on, her glance kept returning to the patriarch at the head of the table. She searched for similarities between them, and she suspected he was doing the same. He hadn’t stopped staring at her since their introduction. His drawn face lifted in a smile from time to time. She wondered how Richard Hawthorne would be affected if this did turn out to be some elaborate hoax perpetrated by her stepfather.

“So, Mikki... May I call you Mikki?” Joseph’s arrogant grin mocked her.

“Sure, Joey. May I call you Joey?”

William snickered. “Charming, Clayton. Wherever did you find her?”

“In New York,” Clayton replied drily.

“The least you could have done is dressed her up a little better before you passed her off on Uncle Richard.”

“That’s enough, William!” Richard’s rigid tone silenced the room.

Conscious of her simple clothing in the presence of all the designer suits surrounding her, Mikki squirmed in her seat.

“Forgive me, Uncle. I just can’t stand to see another hustler building up your hopes. After all this family has given him, I’m surprised that Clayton would be a party to it,” William said.

Mikki shot a sideways glance toward Clayton. Despite an almost surreal control, his gray eyes sparked with fury. The undercurrent of tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife.

“Michelle is our guest,” Richard said. “Show her respect.”

Mikki checked her watch. How much longer would this dinner take? Certainly Clayton didn’t expect her to spend the night in this house. She’d never thought to ask.

The conversation changed to business, giving her a moment of reprieve and putting Clayton on the receiving end for a while. William and Joseph wore their resentment of Clayton like a banner. The only ray of light was Alicia.

Clayton staunchly defended any hint of a nasty comment directed toward his aunt. Despite their bitterness, the brothers seemed to fear their stepcousin. Unfortunately, that left her as the target for their mudslinging once again.

“So, Mikki. I understand you’re a waitress in a diner. That can’t pay very much.” Joseph’s cool politeness masked an accusation.

“It pays the bills.”

“But not on a house like this, I’d wager,” William chimed in.

“I wouldn’t know. Would you?”

Apparently she’d struck a nerve. William’s face darkened. He finished his glass of wine and rose unsteadily. “I’ve had enough of this penniless street urchin.”

“Shut up,” Clayton growled through clenched teeth.

“No. If she’s Meg, I’m the king of England.”

“There is no king of England,” Mikki said.

“And Megan Hawthorne is dead. Why won’t you all just accept that?” William yelled.

Richard, shaking slightly, dropped his fork on his plate. “No. I won’t accept that.”

“If you’re so sure, Uncle, then she shouldn’t object to a blood test.”