Regency Pleasures. Louise Allen

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      “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.

      The prince looked relieved. He indicated a pretty dark-haired woman of about Sarah’s age, who had come to stand beside them. “This is Marie. She will serve as your personal attendant while you’re here.”

      Which wouldn’t be very long if Sarah had any say in it, she thought as she greeted Marie. The longer she stood in the shadow of the breathtaking château, the more she believed that Josquin must be mistaken. The prince’s research might have been thorough, but he would have to depend on advisers and investigators. Their information could have been wrong. It would be sorted out soon, then she and Christophe could go home.

      There was no holiday. Belatedly she realized that the check she had received as spending money was as much a sham as the prize she had supposedly won. She would have to return the money to Josquin, although she had no idea how she was going to manage it.

      “What if this turns out to be a mistake?” she asked.

      He made a gracious gesture. “Then I will be the one who made it. You are welcome to remain at Valmont as a guest of the royal family for as long as you choose. It is the least I can do to make amends, if a mistake has been made.” His tone said he doubted it.

      Relief swept through her. Until now, she hadn’t realized how much she had counted on this vacation to give her the chance to regroup. Although it had been her choice and she wouldn’t change it for anything, bearing Christophe alone hadn’t been easy. Her grandmother’s legacy wouldn’t last much longer. Soon she would have to return to work.

      Her former job as assistant manager of an art gallery had been kept open while she was on maternity leave. With a baby to consider, she couldn’t work the long, sometimes unpredictable hours she’d done previously, so she had been forced to hand in her resignation. She had intended to use her vacation time to plan her future.

      “Thank you,” she said, her tone betraying her relief.

      The prince inclined his head. “You’re welcome. Shall we go in now?”

      A butler held one of the carved double doors open for her and gestured deferentially for Sarah to precede him.

      Sarah found herself standing on a floor made of Italian travertine inlaid with granite. A coffered ceiling stretched twenty or more feet above her head. At one end of the cavernous hall was a wide, curving staircase.

      Sarah had been surrounded by beautiful possessions all her life, but had seen nothing like Château de Valmont. “This is amazing.”

      “This is one of the finest houses in Carramer.”

      “I can believe it. Now I’m convinced you have the wrong person.” Her son couldn’t possibly be the heir to all this.

      “Then I shall have to convince you otherwise.”

      “If it means living in such a magnificent place, I don’t mind you trying.”

      At the excitement in her voice, he smiled. “The château stands at the center of a very large estate which is home to several members СКАЧАТЬ