A Royal Fortune. Judy Duarte
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As the back door squeaked open, Jensen glanced over his shoulder to see his mother stepping out and onto the porch. She was dressed impeccably in a simple forest-green dress and heels, her silver hair coiffed as though her personal stylist had accompanied her on the transatlantic trip to Dallas/Fort Worth and then the quick hop on a charter flight to Lubbock.
“Jensen,” she called. “What are you doing outside when the chill is so frightful?”
“I wanted some fresh air.” To prove the imaginary excuse, he took a deep breath, relishing the brisk winter breeze.
His mother, Lady Josephine, made her way toward him—no doubt concerned about him distancing himself from the others. But he was in Horseback Hollow, wasn’t he? And not out each evening at one of the many parties he’d attend if he was home in London.
Whether she believed it or not, he was actually trying his best to fit in with the numerous Horseback Hollow cousins who were gathered in the house, most of whom he’d only recently met.
His mother frowned—the first sign of distress he’d seen since her arrival in the provincial Western town.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“No, not at all.” Again he scanned the yard, taking in the barn, the new corral Quinn had built, the old-style windmill that creaked in the breeze. “On the contrary, I was just enjoying the scenery.”
“I see,” she said, yet her frown failed to lighten. “Are you disappointed about us celebrating together?”
His mother had always known she was adopted, but two years ago, she learned that she’d actually been a triplet. Her brother, James Marshall Fortune, had remained with his birth family. But the two baby girls, Josephine and Jeanne Marie, had been given up and raised in separate households.
“No, Mum. I’m not bothered. I was actually out here counting my blessings.”
And if truth be told, that’s exactly what he should be doing. He wasn’t a loner by nature, but he hated the melancholy that seemed to hover over him during the family get-togethers, especially those associated with the holidays. That’s why, at least in December, he preferred to stay in London, where the nightlife, parties and his many social obligations kept him busy and distracted.
She reached out and gave his arm an affectionate squeeze. “We truly have been blessed, haven’t we?” Her blue eyes twinkled, and a wistful smile chased away her frown. “I had a lovely childhood, although it was a bit lonely with no siblings. I still can’t believe I have a sister and brother—and so many nieces and nephews. Imagine, me—a Yank!”
As if on cue, little Kylie Fortune Jones, Toby and Angie’s youngest, popped her head out the door. “It’s time to open presents. Are you coming to watch, Aunt Joseph...iiine...I mean, Aunt Lady?”
His mother laughed. “Aunt Josephine will do just fine, love. And we’ll be right there.”
The title of lady had been honorific, but many of the local Texans were excited to have “royalty” in their midst and tended to make more out of it than Jensen or the rest of the family liked. The press and paparazzi did too, often referring to him and his siblings as sirs, lords or ladies, when neither of their parents’ titles had been inherited.
“Isn’t Kylie precious?” Josephine said. “I love having young children around again, especially at Christmas.”
His mother had always begun her holiday preparations—the shopping, as well as overseeing the decorating and baking—on the first of December. In fact, she’d gone above and beyond to make the holidays happy for all of them.
“I’m glad you can spend this time with your sister,” he said.
“So am I.”
Still, he found it impossible to explain to an outsider. His mum, who’d grown up on a country estate in England with all the things money could buy, was staying with her newfound sister Jeanne Marie and her husband in a modest ranch house—and clearly delighted with the arrangement. You’d think she was in a five-star hotel with a full staff to cater to her every need.
To be honest, Jensen was a bit surprised by her swift acclimation—culturally speaking. But she was clearly happy. And for that reason, he was happy for her, too.
“Amelia was asking about you,” she said.
At that, Jensen’s brotherly instincts kicked into full throttle. “Is everything okay?”
“She’s fine—other than the usual discomforts to be expected during the ninth month. She asked me to find you because it’s nearly time to open the gifts.”
Relieved, he nodded. “I’ll be right in.”
He expected his mum to re-enter the small, two-story house that was busting at the seams with family, leaving him a moment or two longer to relish the quiet.
Instead, she lingered and said, “I wish your father were here.”
Jensen’s grip on the pocket watch tightened. Sir Simon had been a loving husband and father, and they all missed him terribly.
She sighed, then added, “He would have been a wonderful grandfather.”
Jensen slipped his arm around her and pulled her close to give them both comfort. “You’ll be a smashing grandmum, too.”
Her eyes glistened. For a moment he feared she would cry and dampen his spirits even worse, but when a smile stretched across her face, he realized grief hadn’t made her teary.
“I can hardly wait to hold that baby,” she said.
“I’ll just be happy when it gets here—and happier if we can keep the bloody photo hounds at bay. They’ve been sniffing around for a story—or rather, hoping to make up one.” Fortunately, Jensen had become adept at avoiding them.
“I do wish you’d come into the house, son. This is the best Christmas I’ve had since... Well, in years. And I want you to share it with me.”
She’d been devastated when his father died and she’d lost her soul mate and the love of her life.
Jensen slipped the gold watch back into his pocket and took her by the arm. “Then let’s go inside.”
They entered the house through the service porch and headed into the kitchen, where they found his sister making another batch of eggnog. With her long, dark brown hair and doe-like brown eyes, Amelia had always seemed a bit lithe and fragile to him—but more so now that she was due to give birth within the next month or so.
She turned and, upon seeing them, smiled. “Oh, good. Now we’re all here.”
Well, not all of them. Her once slender waist was as big as the globe in the library back home, reminding Jensen that soon there’d be one more Fortune to add to the world—albeit with the Drummond surname.
“Can I help you with that?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you. I’ll tell everyone they can begin passing out their presents now.”
Jensen took the bowl and made his way to the living room, which was filled to the brim with relatives, every chair taken, others forced to stand or to find room to sit on the faded rag rug. But apparently, he was the only one who’d found himself on edge.
Jeanne Marie Fortune Jones, who resembled his mother in looks, but not in style, was just as bright eyed and happy as his mum to have the family together. Her husband, Deke, stood by her side, somewhat stoic but with the hint of a grin tugging at his lips.
Their children were all here. Stacey Fortune Jones, along with her fiancé, Colton Foster, kept a close eye on her daughter Piper, who was toddling around the Christmas tree and trying to keep up with her older cousins.
Liam and his fiancée Julia Tierney were posed next to Quinn’s upright piano. Jensen suspected someone would suggest they sing a round of Christmas carols