The Diplomat's Pregnant Bride. Merline Lovelace
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to convey that same conviction to the ferocious woman about to skewer him with her cane.
“As I’ve discovered in our brief time together, Duchess, your granddaughter has her share of faults. So do I. Neither of us have tried to deceive the other about those faults, however.”
“What you mean,” she countered with withering scorn, “is that neither of you made any protestations of eternal love or devotion before you jumped into bed together.”
Jack refused to look away, but damned if he didn’t feel heat crawling up the back of his neck. Wisely, he sidestepped the jumping-into-bed issue. “I’ll admit I have a lot to learn yet about your granddaughter but my sense is she doesn’t lie. At least not about something this important,” he added with more frankness than tact.
To his relief, the duchess lowered the cane and leaned on it with both hands. “You’re correct in that assessment. Gina doesn’t lie.”
She hesitated, and a look that combined both pride and exasperation crossed her aristocratic features. “If anything, the girl is too honest. She tends to let her feelings just pour out, along with whatever she happens to be thinking at the time.”
“So I noticed,” Jack said, straight-faced.
Actually, Gina’s exuberance and utter lack of pretense had delighted him almost as much as her luscious body during their weekend together. Looking back, Jack could admit he’d shucked a half-dozen layers of his sober, responsible self during that brief interlude. They hadn’t stayed shucked, of course. Once he’d returned to Washington, he’d been engulfed in one crisis after another. Right up until that call from Switzerland.
The duchess reclaimed his attention with a regal toss of her head. “I will say this once, young man, and I suggest you take heed. My granddaughter’s happiness is my first—my only—concern. Whatever Eugenia decides regarding you and the baby, she has my complete support.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less, ma’am.”
“Hrrrmph.” She studied him with pursed lips for a moment before delivering an abrupt non sequitur. “I knew your grandfather.”
“You did?”
“He was a member of President Kennedy’s cabinet at the time. Rather stiff and pompous, as I recall.”
Jack had to grin. “That sounds like him.”
“I invited him and your grandmother to a reception I hosted for the Sultan of Oman right here, in these very rooms. The Kennedys attended. So did the Rockefellers.”
A distant look came into her eyes. A smile hovered at the corners of her mouth.
“I wore my pearls,” she murmured, as much to herself as to her listener. “They roped around my neck three times before draping almost to my waist. Jackie was quite envious.”
He bet she was. Watching the duchess’s face, listening to her cultured speech with its faint trace of an accent, Jack nursed the hope that marriage to her younger granddaughter might not be such a disaster, after all.
With time and a little guidance on his part, Gina could learn to curb some of her impulsiveness. Maybe even learn to think before she blurted out whatever came into her mind. Not that he wanted to dim her sparkling personality. Just rein it in a bit so she’d feel comfortable in the restrained diplomatic circles she’d be marrying into.
Then, of course, there was the sex.
Jack kept his expression politely attentive. His diplomatic training and years of field experience wouldn’t allow him to do otherwise. Yet every muscle in his body went taut as all-too-vivid images from his weekend with Gina once again grabbed him.
He hadn’t been a saint since his wife died, but neither had he tomcatted around. Five women in six years didn’t exactly constitute a world record. Yet the hours he’d spent in that Beverly Hills penthouse suite with Gina St. Sebastian made him come alive in ways he hadn’t felt since…
Since Catherine.
Shaking off the twinge of guilt that thought brought, Jack addressed the woman just coming out of her reverie of presidents and pearls.
“Please believe me, Duchess. I want very much to do right by both your granddaughter and our child.”
Those shrewd, pale eyes measured him for long, uncomfortable moments. Jack had faced cold-blooded dictators whose stares didn’t slice anywhere as close to the bone as this white-haired, seemingly frail woman’s did.
“You may as well call me Charlotte,” she said finally. “I suspect we may be seeing a good deal of each other in the weeks ahead.”
“I suspect we may.”
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must help Sarah prepare to depart for her honeymoon.”
After Sarah changed and left for the airport with Dev, Gina escorted her grandmother and Maria down to the limo she’d ordered for them.
“I’ll be a while,” she warned as the elevator opened onto the Plaza’s elegant lobby. “I want to make sure Dev’s family is set for their trip home tomorrow.”
“I should think that clever, clever man Dev employs as his executive assistant has the family’s travel arrangements well in hand.”
“He does. He’s also going to take care of shipping the wedding gifts back to L.A., thank goodness. But I need to verify the final head count and see he has a complete list of the bills to expect.”
The duchess stiffened, and Gina gave herself a swift mental kick. Dang it! She shouldn’t have mentioned those bills. As she and Sarah knew all too well, covering the cost of the wedding had come dangerously close to a major point of contention between Dev and the duchess. Charlotte had insisted on taking care of the expenses traditionally paid by the bride’s family. It was a real tribute to Dev’s negotiating skills that he and Grandmama had reached an agreement that didn’t totally destroy her pride.
And now Gina had to bring up the sensitive subject again! It was Jack’s fault, she thought in disgust. Their confrontation had thrown her off stride. Was still throwing her off. Why the heck had she agreed to meet him for lunch tomorrow?
She was still trying to figure that one out when the limo pulled up to the Plaza’s stately front entrance. The driver got out to open the door but before his two passengers slid into the backseat, the duchess issued a stern warning.
“Don’t overtax yourself, Eugenia. Pregnancy saps a woman’s strength, especially during the first few months. You’ll find you’re more fatigued than usual.”
“Fatigue hasn’t been a problem yet. Or morning sickness, knock on…”
She glanced around for some wood to rap. She settled for wiggling a branch of one of the massive topiary trees guarding the front entrance.
“My breasts are swollen up like water balloons, though. And my nipples ache like you wouldn’t believe.” Grimacing, she rolled her shoulders to ease the constriction of her tight bodice. “They want out of this gown.”
“For pity’s sake, Eugenia!” The duchess shot a glance at the stony-faced limo driver. “Let’s continue this discussion tomorrow, shall we?”
Nodding, Gina bent to kiss her grandmother’s cheek and breathed in the faint, oh-so-familiar scent of lavender and lace. “Make sure you take your medicine before you go to bed.”
“I’m not senile, young lady. I think I can manage to remember to take two little pills.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Trying to look properly chastised, she helped the duchess into the limo and turned to the Honduran native who’d become a second