The Secret Heiress

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The Secret Heiress Page 24

by Bethany Campbell


  “Use that heavy silver one,” Andrew suggested.

  “And you, I suppose,” Louisa said to Andrew, “will be the president of the federation, and my grandson-in-law. I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at her. Well, you come from a strong line and should sire some very handsome great-grandchildren for me, and I want lots. Hear me?”

  Reynard gave Andrew a sideways look. “I suggest you follow her suggestion, mate.”

  “I hear, and I will obey,” smiled Andrew, gazing at Marie.

  Louisa drew back, but took Marie’s face between her hands. “And if you choose to, you will always have a place here, a home. For I see you, indeed, as my Fair Child, miraculously restored to this Fairchild, who does not deserve you, but who is delighted to have found you.”

  The two women kissed, and Marie knew Louisa meant what she said. And she was flooded with happiness and a feeling of completion like none she’d ever known. She thought how bereft she’d been in February, consigning Colette’s ashes to the blue waters of the harbor, how alone she’d felt.

  Oh, Mama, she thought, do you see this, know this? When you were gone, I thought everything was gone. But it wasn’t. You told me where to look.

  You’ve given me a place to belong and people to care for, a whole new life.

  Thank you, Mama. Thank you. I love you so much. And your brother, too. He got me here, Mama. You both got me here.

  PART FIVE

  Australia, The Hunter Valley

  May and June

  Epilogue

  The story broke sensationally across Australia: Jacko Bullock had intricate ties to organized crime, and he used them to try to gain power and land in the Hunter Valley, and to destroy anyone who opposed him. He’d tried to throw blame on Louisa to keep anyone from suspecting an outsider of the crimes at Lochlain.

  Federal investigators, state investigators and informants had enough evidence to swiftly arraign and indict him. And so, instead of vast tracts of land, Jacko found himself in a small, barren-looking cell.

  His gang ties kept unraveling further and further, until the investigation turned into one of the largest in the history of Australian organized crime. Feeney, Chalk, Ollie and others were arrested, and more criminal links were uncovered each day.

  The racing world was scandalized as the story grew bigger and reached ever further, even to corrupt law officers and politicians.

  But the media made no mention of Reynard. Within a week he had disappeared from Hunter Valley without so much as a goodbye. He’s back at work, Marie thought.

  Andrew, now running unopposed, was a shoo-in, and when he made his acceptance speech after the election count, Marie was at his side. He lifted her hand high, announcing she’d consented to marry him. She wore a modest diamond engagement ring.

  Andrew’s inauguration ceremony took place two weeks later, with all the Preston family brought together for the first time in years. Louisa, of course, insisted on hosting a lavish celebration for the Prestons and friends from the Australian racing community.

  And she was also determined to out-gala the gala she’d thrown for Jacko Bullock.

  This time caterers came from both Newcastle and Sidney, and she somehow even enticed Francois back to do appetizers.

  Once again the party rental people swarmed over the front lawn, setting up silky-looking white tents, tables covered with snow-white cloths and white wicker chairs. Florists placed bouquets on every table, and festooned the stage and each tent with garlands of tropical flowers flown in from Darwin.

  This time there were only six enormous inflated kangaroos in digger hats staked to the ground, but there were also six inflated American eagles with Uncle Sam hats. Six white poles flew the Australian flag, six more the American flag, and also rippling in the breeze were the flags of New South Wales and Kentucky.

  A playground was erected for the younger children—and there were many. For the first time, Marie met Andrew’s fabled family, his grandfather Hugh, his parents, the sweet-faced Jenna and the sterner Thomas.

  She was welcomed to the family enthusiastically by Andrew’s younger sister, Melanie, and Marcus, her darkly handsome husband. She met Andrew’s youngest brother, Robbie, his wife Amanda, and their two sons. And lastly she met the middle brother, the solemn-eyed Brent, his beautiful English wife, and their eight-year-old twin girls.

  There were also cousins and second cousins and old friends, and an aunt and uncle, as well as Louisa’s newly recognized family: Megan and Dylan Hastings, Patrick Stafford and Bronwyn and Wesley.

  The evening’s weather was perfect, the small orchestra onstage played everything from Bach to the latest love ballads, and Louisa had even hired a pair of brightly colored hot air balloons to take guests up to float nearer to the stars.

  The elderly Hugh Preston seemed to find Louisa rather fetching, and flirted with her with verve, but she was not tempted. He was also interested in buying a share in her new favorite horse, Tons O’Trouble. And that, thought Louisa, might indeed be something to talk about with the feisty old fellow.

  Andrew and Marie announced their wedding date and that the ceremony would take place at Fairchild Acres. There was a champagne toast to them, and Louisa had planned an elaborate fireworks display to mark the occasion.

  But just when the cascading sparks and bright explosions were reaching their peak, Marie was overwhelmed and astonished to see Reynard.

  He seemed to appear from nowhere as if he were a wizard who had just quietly teleported himself. He moved toward her, shaven, even wearing a starched white shirt with his jeans. He looked so wonderful to her that she no longer saw the fireworks, barely heard them.

  He came to her, kissed her, and shook Andrew’s hand, telling him to take care of “his love, Marie.” He said he couldn’t stay long, it might be dangerous, but he wanted to give them an engagement gift. He pressed a box into Marie’s hand with an envelope. “I love you, chook,” he whispered gruffly. He kissed her, then disappeared, again as if by magic, into the crowd.

  Marie and Andrew drew off to the side by themselves and opened the letter from Reynard. He wrote that for his own protection, the NSW force was transferring him to another location far away, one that he could not reveal. He didn’t know when, if ever, he might see them again, but he hoped that someday he would.

  He apologized again for putting Marie in such a terrifying position, but said he had acted the scoundrel in order to catch greater scoundrels than himself. Still, putting her in danger was the greatest shame of his life. He hoped the truth that came to light from her jeopardy would make Australia a better place and racing more honest. Most of all, he hoped that she could forgive him.

  And, he wrote, he really had wanted her to claim her legacy from Louisa Fairchild. He’d had no intention of getting her involved in any machinations of the syndicate. When she and Andrew became attracted to each other, he’d been arrogant enough to think he could keep her out of trouble. He’d been wrong.

  As for me, I pray that a man may be a rogue, yet still have some decency in him. Set a crook to catch a crook, they say. I daresay I’ve done more in the cause of law and order than many an honest man, but then I’m a glib old rascal who always has an excuse, eh?

  If you have kiddies and speak to them of me, please don’t be too hard on your Uncle Reynard. Keep the item in the box for me. Next to you and Colette, it is what I am most proud of.

  May your lives be long and beautiful and blessed.

  Love always, Rennie

  With trembling hands Marie opened the box. In the velvet interior rested the Australian Bravery Medal, a heavy bronze disk ensigned with the Crown of Saint Edward. Marie immediately recognized it. It was most prestigious medal the government could bestow on a civilian.

  On a small piece of paper Reynard had written,

  This was given to me in a private ceremony for certain work I did concerning breaking up a drug ring in Sydney. This was REALLY awarded to me and I did NOT buy it in a pawn shop. I had to get shot
to get it. See my name engraved on the back, and the date, too.

  Marie turned the medal over. Rennie’s name was engraved on the award, and a date of three years ago.

  “I remember,” Marie said in a choked voice. “He was gone such a long time and we didn’t hear from him. Then we heard he was in a hospital in Sydney, but he was always evasive about what was wrong. Shot! And the Bravery Medal. My mother would have been so proud.”

  Then she noticed a PS. “By the way, I have a touch of tinnitus, but my ears are better than a bat’s. A great advantage in my line of work. It’s amazing what people will say when they think a man’s half-deaf.”

  Louisa appeared and said, “Did I see Reynard? I swore I did.”

  “He’s gone,” Marie replied. “He couldn’t stay.”

  “Humph,” grumped Louisa. “Didn’t even say hello to me. What an impossible fellow.”

  She stared off into the distance. “I don’t know if he was a good man with bad traits or a bad man with good traits, yet I rather liked him much of the time. She sighed. “Sometimes he made me wish I were thirty years younger….”

  “Why?” Marie asked.

  Louisa smiled almost to herself. “I think I would have tried to tame the creature. He needs a firm hand to bring out the best in him.”

  Andrew put one arm around Louisa, the other around Marie. He kissed Louisa’s cheek. “You might have been just the gal to do it,” he said.

  The three of them stood together staring off silently in the direction Reynard had taken. Marie held the medal cradled in her hand, tears rising in her eyes, straining to see him. But he was gone. She held the medal more tightly and looked upward.

  The last Roman candles flared, and the last showers of gold and silver and scarlet brightened the night and descended like falling stars.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-2549-1

  THE SECRET HEIRESS

  Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Bethany Campbell for her contribution to the Thoroughbred Legacy series.

  Copyright © 2008 by Harlequin Books S.A.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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