Regency Pleasures. Louise AllenЧитать онлайн книгу.
had found herself an apartment, supporting herself through her pregnancy and afterward with money from a trust fund left to her by her maternal grandmother. She and her grandmother had loved one another dearly, and she was glad her grandmother had died without knowing that they weren’t related by blood after all. Sarah hadn’t been in touch with her adoptive parents since she left, and she wondered with some bitterness, if they preferred it that way.
She took a sip of the champagne, feeling the bubbles tease her throat. She felt foolish worrying about what Rose and James would think of her behavior now, when she hadn’t told them about her pregnancy. In any case, the man at her side wasn’t a complete stranger. The soldier at the customs hall had called him Your Highness, and she’d bet that this car wasn’t made available to just anyone. “It occurs to me that I should have asked to see some identification,” she said.
The prince’s deeply carved features relaxed into a look of amusement. “Perhaps my driver’s license will do?”
“I didn’t know princes had them.”
He sighed, suggesting that he had had this conversation more than once before. “We put our pants on one leg at a time just like everybody else.”
Don’t even go there, she warned herself, as images of the prince getting dressed in the morning sprang to her mind. He was a means to an end, finding out who she was. Once he told her what he knew about her background, their paths might never cross again.
Strange how disappointing the notion felt, although she told herself it was to be expected. He was a member of the Carramer royal family, for goodness’ sake. Once he had fulfilled whatever duty he had toward her, he wouldn’t involve himself with the personal concerns of an ordinary citizen, assuming she was one. She couldn’t suppress a feeling of anticipation at the prospect. For nearly two years after finding out that she was adopted, she had wondered where she fitted in. She had never considered that she might belong somewhere other than in America.
“Why are you taking such an interest in me?” she asked, giving voice to the thought she had suppressed since he singled her out for attention. “I’m not some royal love child, am I?”
“Are you always so persistent?” he asked, an edge in his voice.
Her throat dried. She had asked out of a perverse wish to provoke him, not because she thought that it could be true. Now she felt the ground shift under her again. What was so terrible about her background that he evaded her questions?
She twisted sideways, fixing him with her most imperious glare. He might be royal but she had been brought up as the daughter of wealthy parents. She wasn’t intimidated by him, and it was time he knew it. “I insist that you tell me what you know about my background.”
He seemed unmoved by her anger. “You’ll have your answers very soon. We have arrived at your accommodation.”
The car swung past a sentry box, a uniformed guard saluting as they drove between black wrought iron gates bearing enameled crests. The car continued along an avenue of ancient trees, through which she glimpsed palatial houses, suggesting that they had entered an exclusive enclave.
Before she could ask Prince Josquin, the car came to a halt beneath a sandstone portico. The building behind it was enormous, at least four stories high and spreading out in two wings for the length of a city block. By craning her neck she could make out a blue and jade flag fluttering from a mast atop a crenellated tower. Suspicion gripped her. “This doesn’t look like a hotel. It looks more like…”
“Château de Valmont,” the prince cut in smoothly. “Welcome home.”
Chapter Two
She stared at him, feeling her jaw drop. “Home? You can’t be serious?”
“Do I look as if I am joking?”
He looked…he looked amazing, she thought, aware that his bombshell didn’t stop her from thinking about him in those terms. She had a feeling His Highness could dominate any woman’s thoughts without really trying.
But she couldn’t accept his suggestion that she had any claim to this astonishing place. Whoever her birth parents were, if they had belonged here, they wouldn’t have borne a child in America and given her up for adoption. The château and the vast estate around it looked as if they had sheltered generations of one family. Such tradition wasn’t easily set aside.
Before she could voice the questions crowding her mind, the car door was opened by a uniformed servant who bowed to her. “May I assist you with the infant, madame?”
Until she knew more about why she was here, she wasn’t trusting her son to anyone’s care but her own. “Thank you, I’ll take him myself.”
“As you wish, madame. I will have someone attend to your bags.”
While the servants bustled about, she lifted Christophe out of the capsule. He stirred and gave her a heart-stopping smile, showing off his solitary front tooth. “You had a good rest, didn’t you?” she said, smiling back at him. Not for Christophe, the worry about what this was all about. As long as he was warm, dry and fed, and she was within his line of sight, he was content.
As she held him against her cheek, he gurgled happily and thrust his fingers into her mouth. She kissed them, feeling almost overwhelmed by love for him. As long as they had each other, everything would be all right, she told herself, as she had so often since he was born.
She became aware of Prince Josquin’s thoughtful gaze on her. She turned to him. “Christophe still needs feeding and changing.”
“Everything you and the baby might need has been anticipated,” he assured her.
“By whom? For what purpose?” She sighed impatiently. “I know, you’ll give me the answers soon.”
Josquin took her free arm, his gesture indicating the hovering servants. “There’s no need to make a scene. No harm will come to you or your child.”
She jerked her arm free. “You think this is a scene? Wait until you see what a real scene looks like.” She tightened her hold on Christophe and faced the prince, tigress with cub bracing herself to take on full-grown male tiger. Her stance made it clear that, at need, she would take on the world to protect her child. “We’re not going any further until you give me a good reason why we should.”
A scowl marred his even features, suggesting that no wasn’t a word he was accustomed to hearing. After a thoughtful pause, he said, “Because your son is the heir to everything you see around you.”
She felt the color drain from her face. “He’s what?”
“He is Prince Henry’s sole male heir.”
“If it’s true, it would make my baby…he would be…” She couldn’t bring herself to force the word out.
Josquin did it for her. “He is Prince Christophe de Valmont.”
Josquin saw the moment when her knees threatened to buckle. His strong arm came around her, supporting her and Christophe. She shook her head slightly to dispel the mist tugging at the edge of her thoughts. “There must be some mistake. We’re American citizens. How can my son be the heir to anything in Carramer, far less a prince?”
“I understand this is a lot to take in. That’s why I wanted to break it to you in a more appropriate fashion.”
“Would any way make a difference when you have such news? Are you sure?”
Josquin inclined his head. “Too much is at stake for my inquiries to have been anything but meticulous.”
They would have been anyway, she assumed. Josquin didn’t strike her as a man who did anything by halves. She was far from convinced that the château was her son’s birthright, but for his sake, she had to find out. “We’ll come inside, for now at least,” she said, keeping a tremor out of her voice with an effort.