The Marquis And The Mother-To-Be

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Prologue

Excitement gripped Carissa Day as she followed the real estate agent through an overgrown garden toward a rambling house. The pleasantly weathered timber walls, bay windows and shingle roof made the building look at ease in the rain-forest setting. The prospect of living twenty minutes’ drive from the nearest town only added to its charm, she decided.

“Are you sure about the price, Mr. Hass?” she asked, concerned at how close she was to losing her heart. The lodge so exactly fitted her dream of the bed-and-breakfast place she wanted to establish that she had to remind herself it wouldn’t be a picnic. Taming the garden alone would keep her busy for some time.

“I’m quite sure,” the agent said in his elusive accent. “This used to be a country retreat for a wealthy family, but it hasn’t been used for two years. The owner died nine months ago after a long illness, and the new owner instructed me to sell it off. He’s in the Carramer Royal Navy and away a lot, so doesn’t want to be encumbered by a country house.”

“Who was the owner?”

Hass hesitated before saying, “It was someone called de Valmont. He willed the property to his nephew, my client.”

She had met the agent by chance at the Monarch Hotel in Tricot, where she had based herself so she could look at a property in the area. She had told the agent that she was Australian and had lived in Carramer when she was fifteen with her brother and diplomat father. She had never visited this area, but the name of the former owner was familiar. “Aren’t the de Valmonts part of the royal family?”

The agent looked away. “A lot of Carramer families claim royal connections.”

She thought of the de Marigny brothers she had known when she was a teenager. They hadn’t claimed to be royal. They were the real thing. Mathiaz was a baron and Eduard was a marquis. For a time, she had believed she was in love with Eduard. Even now, a flutter in her stomach accompanied the thought of the handsome young royal.

He wasn’t the reason she had chosen to return to Carramer after her father died, she assured herself. Long over that teenage crush, she was only interested in the house’s royal connections as a potential attraction for visitors.

Hass led her along a gravel path to a back door. “The house comes with many of the original furnishings and fittings.”

“That will help. Most of my possessions are in storage.”

His eyes gleamed, and she regretted letting him see how interested she was in the house before she had set foot in it. “Of course it needs a lot of work,” she added, trying to sound like less of a pushover.

“The condition of the house is reflected in the price, which is negotiable.”

She was pleased to hear it. Even at a bargain price, she would be straining her budget to buy the lodge. Hass had confided that the new owner was willing to provide a mortgage with generous terms. But after paying the substantial down payment Hass had named, she wouldn’t have much of her inheritance left for redecorating.

She noticed that the agent was having trouble with the lock, which was broken. He gave her an apologetic smile. “The keys have been lost. That’s why I’m taking you in through the kitchen.” Seeing her frown, he added, “There are sturdy bolts on the inside for nighttime security. If you decide to buy, there’s a locksmith in Tricot who can fit new locks for you.”

“I’ll look into it.”

So much for objectivity, she thought. She was already sold and they both knew it. She must have had a premonition about the lodge, because she carried a bank check for the deposit in her purse, having taken Hass’s advice and withdrawn the money before making the inspection. Now she had seen the place, she hated the idea of anyone else snapping it up.

She didn’t try to pretend that she wasn’t delighted with the inside of the house. The old-fashioned kitchen was large with a scrubbed timber table in the center, perfect for preparing the home-cooked meals she intended to offer guests. Beyond was a dining room with a vaulted, timber-lined ceiling, a comfortable living room with old but elegant furniture arranged around a massive stone fireplace and five bedrooms in two wings off a wide gallery hallway. Three of them had en suite bathrooms with traditional claw-footed baths and brass fittings.

As Hass led her back along the hallway, Carissa inspected the portraits lining the walls. “These look like originals.”

“They are excellent reproductions, aren’t they? They come with the house.”

As they returned to the kitchen, she took a deep breath. “How negotiable do you think the new owner is willing to be?”

Chapter One

Eduard de Marigny, Marquis of Merrisand, wondered if he could recognize the terrain well enough to set the helicopter down on the landing pad behind Tiga Falls Lodge. Over two years had passed since his last visit, and he hadn’t piloted his own chopper then. The estate had belonged to his uncle, Prince Henry, and they had driven in a royal cavalcade from Perla, capital city of Valmont Province, a hundred and sixty miles away by road.

Strange to think of the house belonging to him now, Eduard thought, looking down at the rambling timber building nestled in the greenery. Eduard couldn’t honestly say he missed old Prince Henry, who had ruled the province with an iron hand. Eduard’s cousin, Josquin, had succeeded Henry as Crown Regent until the heir, Prince Christophe, came of age. Josquin managed to do an excellent job of running the province while being far easier to get along with than Henry had been.

Still, Henry had kept their branch of the royal family on its toes, insisting that titles and protocol were strictly observed. He had approved of his nephew joining the Carramer Royal Navy, especially when Eduard had gained his commission, but the old prince had disapproved of the informality Eduard permitted among the men under his command.

Eduard wondered what Henry would have made of the Australians he’d met during the last few months while he was seconded to the Australian Navy, on exercises off the coast of Queensland. On duty, military protocol had been observed, but off duty, he had been Ed, or “your lordship” when the Australians wanted to poke fun at him, which had been often.

Now he was home for a few weeks at least, he intended to spend his accumulated leave at the lodge, assessing his future. His brother, Mathiaz, had offered him a government position, but Eduard didn’t see himself as the administrative type. Tiga Falls had beckoned and with it, some serious decision-making to be done.

He spiraled in on the position of the landing pad, almost lost among the trees from this height, but gradually he made it out behind the lodge. A crosswind buffeted the small craft, so Eduard orbited until he was sure of a safe landing, then took her in.

The helicopter settled gently, and Eduard stayed in the pilot’s seat until the rotors stopped spinning. He half expected Henry’s staff to rush out to meet him, but they had either retired or taken up other positions with the family when the lodge was closed up after Henry became ill. Mathiaz had offered to send staff to open things up, but Eduard preferred to take care of himself for the time being, having acquired the habit in the navy.

“Does the word security mean anything to you?” his brother had asked pointedly.

“I didn’t have minders in the navy. I don’t need them at the lodge.”

Mathiaz hadn’t liked Eduard going off into the wilderness without at least one member of the Royal Protection Detail in attendance, but he hadn’t insisted. Eduard looked forward to the solitude, having had little enough of it in his life, either as a member of the royal family or in the military.

He hefted his duffel bag over his shoulder and climbed out of the helicopter, looking around with satisfaction. Henry couldn’t have left him anything that pleased him more. He decided to go inside and look around first. There was plenty of time to bring the rest of his stuff in later.

The key he tried to insert into the front-door lock didn’t fit. He frowned, trying some of the other keys. None of them worked. With a snort of annoyance, he walked around to the kitchen door, coming up short at the sight of a car parked behind the house. Had Mathiaz sent someone anyway?

On closer inspection, Eduard found the vehicle unlocked. It was a few years old and looked barely road-worthy. The only clue to the driver’s identity was a straw sun hat trimmed with silk flowers lying on the front seat. Curious.

The key he tried in the kitchen-door lock didn’t work either. Experimentally, he turned the handle and to his surprise, the door swung open. What was going on here?

He had expected the place to smell musty after being unused for more than two years, but the air was surprisingly fresh. If he hadn’t known better, he would swear he could smell baking. Just as well he didn’t believe in ghosts, because the place was starting to seem haunted.

The ghost was young and female, he decided, as he ducked under a row of lacy undergarments hanging from an improvised line in the kitchen. Evidently she hadn’t gotten around to haunting the lodge’s laundry yet.

The kitchen was vast, as befitted the size of the lodge. He saw no sign of the ghost herself, but evidence of her presence was everywhere, not only in the line of laundry, but also in the washed plates and cup neatly stacked beside the sink.

He left his bag in the kitchen and made his way along the gallery hallway to the bedroom wings. This part of the lodge was also occupied, he found to his annoyance. The novelty was fast wearing off, as he saw that someone had made herself at home in the room he usually preferred. It looked out onto the distant hills, although the view was obscured by overgrown trees now. He planned to attack them while he was here.

Evidently his ghost liked the room for the same reason he did, because the drapes were drawn right back and the window was open, letting a ginger-scented breeze into the room. Whoever his ghost was, she was tidy, and had good taste in bedrooms, although she was fairly lax when it came to security.

He froze as a hard cylindrical object bored into the small of his back and a female voice said, “Don’t move. I have a gun and I know how to use it.”

Returning to the lodge after her walk, Carissa Day heard the helicopter before she saw it. She watched it swoop low then disappear behind the tree line, heading toward the township of Tricot on the other side of the river. She wondered what had brought it here.

She hoped there wasn’t a medical emergency in the town. When she had made an appointment with the local doctor soon after she arrived, he had explained that urgent medical cases had to be flown to the hospital in Casmira, some fifty miles south. He had plainly disapproved of a foreigner taking up residence so far from help when she was pregnant.

She had told him that apart from being plagued by morning sickness, which he’d assured her would pass as her pregnancy progressed, she was fine.

“Is your husband joining you?” he had asked.