Fortune's Secret Husband. Karen Smith Rose
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Ella said with a frown. “His sister, Rachel, who uncovered the connection and confronted their dad, is sure their father is hiding something. Ben wants the truth. He has seven siblings who want to know about their roots, whether his father wants to deny the past or not. Thanks to you, he located Keaton Whitfield, who’s his half sibling.”
In one of those quirks of fate, Lucie had already known Keaton, an architect in London. He’d designed a house for one of her mother’s friends, and he and Lucie had run into each other at a few parties. He was what the Americans would call a stand-up guy. When Ben had asked for an introduction to him, she’d readily complied.
“Hasn’t he located anyone else who might be related?” Lucie asked. Apparently Ben’s father had had several affairs.
“Right now he’s on the trail of Jacqueline Fortune, who may or may not be his paternal grandmother,” Ella revealed.
“This is a mystery unraveling before our eyes,” Viv said with enthusiasm. “I can’t wait for the next installment.”
Brunch was full of more Fortune stories, including the party Kate Fortune had planned for her ninetieth birthday. Lucie, Viv and Ella kept their voices low because Kate Fortune’s residence at the Silver Spur Ranch near Austin was still a secret, except to the Fortune family. In the past, Kate had been the target of blackmail and kidnapping attempts. Now, looking for an heir for her company and not wanting media attention about it, she intended to keep her presence in Austin quiet.
When Lucie checked her watch, she saw the day was moving ahead without her, and she really had to get on with looking at properties. After goodbyes to Viv and Ella, she called the real estate agent who was advising her. They agreed to meet at the first location on Lucie’s list and then tour the others together afterward.
By late afternoon, while Lucie sat in the car on her way back to her apartment, she was quite discouraged. None of the spaces had seemed quite right. She was becoming more and more sure that she might also have to help find satellite locations for the actual kids’ programs themselves—summer lunches, music, art, sports. Building a community center might be a possibility, unless the foundation could find already established and deserving programs to fund.
Barry pulled up in front of her apartment building. She was tired and all she wanted to do was soak in her tub. After she climbed from the car, Irv came to meet her at the curb. That was unusual, since the doors had an electric sensor.
He said quickly, “Just in case you wanted to get back in your car and go in the other direction, I wanted to warn you, the man who was here this morning is waiting at my desk.”
Lucie stood at the curb and peered through the glass doors into the lobby. Her heart began to beat in triple time. The man at Irv’s desk was Chase Parker. She couldn’t tell exactly how much he’d changed from when he was twenty-one. After all, he’d be thirty-one now. But she could tell he was still as tall and straight-shouldered. The Western-cut jacket he wore fit him impeccably, his black jeans and boots just as much so.
He turned toward her now, and that tilt of his Stetson told her some of the young man still remained.
“It’s fine, Irv. Apparently he has some business with me, and I have to see what that is.”
She squared her shoulders, forgot her fatigue and started forward to meet her past head-on.
Lucie walked through the glass doors and approached Chase, thinking his dark hair was still the color of the finest imported chocolate. His dark brown eyes seemed to take in everything about her all at once. Even in that wonderfully cut jacket, she could tell he was more muscular than he’d been at twenty-one but not too bulked up. He was long and lean and still looked like everything good about Texas.
Before Lucie took another step toward the unknown, she turned to Irv who’d come in behind her. “Not a word of this meeting to anyone, not anyone.” After all, Irv knew Chase’s name from the business card. If the press associated their names, if reporters started digging, a new scandal could erupt.
“Not a word, Lady Lucie. You know you can count on me.”
“Thank you, Irv. You don’t know how much I appreciate that. Was that reporter around here at all today?”
“I didn’t see him...or the news van.”
She nodded and stepped up to Chase. She felt as if all her composure had slipped away, though she knew that was crazy. After all, she’d practiced that her entire life.
With that stiff upper lip Brits were accused of having, she said simply, “Chase?”
“You’ve grown up.” His gaze traveled over her suit, seemed to linger on her tiny waist, then idled on her long, straight brown hair. She wondered if he could see all the questions in her hazel eyes. She wondered if he had any idea of what seeing him again did to her—increased her heart rate and brought back vivid pictures of the two of them together, but, most of all, squeezed her heart until it hurt.
He nodded to the corner beside the elevators that was away from the doors, Irv’s counter and everyone else for the time being. She walked with him and stood beside a potted palm.
Before she could ask a question, he inquired, “Do you know how hard it is to track you down, even though you and your family and your stories are spread across the tabloids?”
Lucie was flummoxed. So he’d kept up with articles in the tabloids as if they were true.
He went on. “I thought you were in London. Then I found out you were in Horseback Hollow. After consulting a PI, I learned you were here in Austin, where my father’s company is located. If you only knew how much time I wasted—”
After all these years, he was acting as if seeing her was an emergency. “My life is full of people and activities, as I imagine yours is.”
“I don’t globe-trot. I was beginning to have visions of my traveling to some developing country to see you.”
“Would that have been so bad?” she asked, sensing his agitation but still not understanding any of it.
He took off his Stetson, ran his hand through his thick hair and shook his head. “None of that came out right. I read the stories about your work with orphans and refugees. I know you and your mother are selfless in your cause. But I had to find you.”
“Why such urgency?”
“Because...” he started. He leaned close and lowered his voice to a whisper. “We’re still married.”
Chase felt as if he’d been kicked in the gut. Lucie Fortune Chesterfield was even more beautiful now than she’d been at seventeen. That glossy, dark-brown hair and those expressive hazel eyes... He remembered the dimple that only appeared when she smiled, but she wasn’t smiling now. She looked worried and upset and very pale.
She confirmed some of his conclusion when she warned him, “Come up to my apartment so no one overhears us or sees us.”
She was obviously worried about information getting into the wrong hands. He knew the paparazzi hounded her family. Put an earl in your background, or a sir, as in Sir Simon Chesterfield, her father, and the press thought the whole world wanted to read about you. Maybe they did.
Lucie pressed the elevator button with an impatient finger as she snuck a glance at him. He wanted to smile at her, but he had a feeling this was no smiling matter.
“We’ll get it worked out,” he said in a low voice.
Chase had been twenty-one and a group leader when he and Lucie had secretly married in Scotland. There, at seventeen, Lucie hadn’t needed permission. However, another member of her tour group had caught them disrobed in Chase’s hostel room and reported them. Chase’s father had swooped in with a lawyer and confidentiality agreements with promises of an annulment. Everyone had been sworn to secrecy.
When