Harvard kept his eye on the room as they spoke, ensuring no one was close enough to overhear them. “With Rachel going undercover, we had to clear her immediate family. It would have been too complicated otherwise.”
“Find anything interesting while you were digging around in our lives?”
“You sing Barry Manilow in the shower.”
Jonathan’s face turned beetroot. “How on earth do you know that?”
Harvard chuckled. “Rachel told us.”
“My sister will be the death of me,” he said, before muttering, “If I don’t get her first.”
“There are seven members on the partial board, aren’t there? And fifteen on the general board of directors, which includes all family members with shares. Is that right?”
“Not quite.” His lips quirked. “There are eight on the partial, and sixteen on the general. You’re forgetting Rachel. As of Monday, she’ll be working at TayFor, and she still has her shares, which gives her a say in the company. Father was on both boards, but he retired after his heart attack last year. Now he’s only the chairman of the general board.”
“And the largest shareholder.” Something Harvard had flagged as a possible motivation for the theft of industrial secrets. Perhaps the thief wasn’t driven by greed, but rather by feeling slighted at the power Roger Ford-Talbot wielded. That was why he’d asked his team to keep an eye out for family members who held a particular grudge against Rachel’s father. So far, nothing had come up. But they were still digging.
“Yes,” Jonathan said. “Father is the largest shareholder by far. Uncle Theo would have been second, but he kept losing wads of his shares in his divorces—until he wised-up and had them written into a prenup. Now his first wife, Aunt Anne, has more shares than he does and more power within the board.”
“How does Theo feel about that?” Harvard glanced over at the man.
Theo kept himself in shape and took pride in how he dressed. From his gray hair to his polished Italian shoes, he was every inch the sexy silver fox the tabloids liked to call him. And apparently, he was just as shallow as they reported too.
Jonathan snorted. “I’d say he misses the money, but he doesn’t particularly care about his first two wives having more of a say in the company than he does. Theo doesn’t exactly relish the responsibility that comes with privilege.”
“How much access does he have to the research and development department at TayFor?”
“You don’t suspect Uncle Theo, do you?” Jonathan looked more bewildered than affronted. “I don’t think he has the patience to pull off something like this.”
Harvard shrugged. “Just doing my job.”
“Everyone in this room is related to me. I grew up with them. It’s hard to think that someone here might hate us enough to try to destroy us.”
“I don’t think it’s about destroying the company,” Harvard said. “This kind of crime is usually about the money.”
“And that’s another thing.” Jonathan gestured to the room. “Do any of us look like we’re hurting for cash? We make a good living from TayFor. Some of us also have inheritances behind us. What would be the point in risking it all to get more?”
“Greed doesn’t need to be logical,” Harvard said. “It’s nasty and dirty, and it doesn’t care who suffers because of it. Greed is always hungry, and no amount of feeding satisfies it.”
“I don’t understand.” Jonathan thrust a hand through his hair, and Harvard suspected that the man really didn’t.
A streak of honor ran straight through him. One that had prompted him to set up the charities the company ran on the side and kept him fighting to make drugs cheaper for those who needed them. There was a lot to like about Rachel’s brother.
Harvard slapped a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get these introductions over with.”
Jonathan nodded and headed off in the direction of the fireplace, where two of Rachel’s male cousins stood glaring at their father as he pawed his new, young bride.
Chapter Four
“So, you’re the chap who nabbed our Rachel,” Preston Talbot said once they’d been introduced. “You’re a brave man.”
The eldest of the two brothers was in his late thirties and had inherited his playboy father’s good looks. His blond hair was thick and wavy, his chin strong, and his physique that of a man who played lots of sport. If Harvard remembered his research right, Preston was a tennis player. In fact, he could have turned pro if he’d wanted. Instead, he’d gone into the family business as the company lawyer. Unlike his father, Preston had been happily married for fifteen years.
“You know what they say,” Harvard drawled. “Fortune favors the bold.”
“Good one.” Preston lifted his glass in salute.
“Life with Rachel certainly won’t be boring,” his brother, Marcus, said.
Unlike Preston, Marcus had not only inherited his father’s looks, but also quite a bit of his natural charm. As manager of the research and development department at TayFor, he often used that charm to negotiate government grants and private funding. It was a position that put him close to the information being stolen and high on Benson Security’s list of suspects.
“No,” Harvard agreed. “Life definitely isn’t boring with Rachel.”
There was only a year between the brothers, and they were very close. Partly because of the slight age difference, and partly due to having to deal with their father together.
They had three younger half-siblings: two sisters from their father’s second wife and a brother from his third. Wives four and five hadn’t produced any offspring. But it was still early days for wife five.
Unlike Preston, Marcus was already on marriage number two. And if the Benson Security research was correct, his eye had started to roam yet again.
“I see you’re working your way through the cousins.” A feminine voice had them turning to see a tall, svelte blonde sashaying toward them, champagne flute in hand. “So I thought I’d come introduce myself too. The three Talbot brothers—our grandfathers—started the company. Which really makes us second cousins, not first. But it would be tedious to say that all the time, don’t you think?” She held out a perfectly manicured hand. “Samantha Talbot, delighted to meet you,” said TayFor’s marketing director. Unlike her cousins, Samantha was very happily single and seemed to have a thing for younger men.
Harvard recognized interest in a woman’s eye when he saw it, and as soon as he’d finished shaking her hand, he put some distance between them.
“Where’s Rupert?” Preston waved his empty glass at one of the waiters discreetly doing the rounds of the room. “He was supposed to be here—and at work yesterday.” Preston didn’t even glance at the young man who took his glass. “Gin and tonic,” was all he said.
“Rupert’s my younger brother,” Samantha told Harvard before addressing Preston. “He’s gone to Paris for the weekend with his latest fling. Didn’t he tell you?”
“No.” Preston was clearly irritated at the news. “And it isn’t a matter of telling me; he’s supposed to request time off, not just take it whenever he feels like it.”
“I don’t think Rupert understands how employment works.” Samantha sipped her champagne. “You know this is the first proper job he’s ever had. He’ll eventually get the hang of it. To be fair, he does seem quite serious about getting to know the company now that he’s come into his shares.”
Marcus caught Harvard’s eye. “I suppose Rachel’s told you that every direct descendant of the original three brothers inherits shares in the company on their thirtieth birthday. Of course, I don’t think the grandfathers thought there would be quite so many children when they came up with their plan. In a few years, the board will be overrun with Father’s ex-wives and kids.”
“You’re exaggerating,” Preston said. “There are only two of his ex-wives on the board. He discovered prenups after he divorced for the second time. Mainly because I shoved one under his nose and demanded he
sign it. It’s a miracle Father has any income to live off at all.”
“I’m just grateful that wife number four didn’t get any shares from their divorce.” Samantha shuddered. “Can you imagine having to take someone called Honey seriously in a meeting? Honey? I mean, honestly. And that wasn’t even an assumed name; her parents actually chose it.”
“Not as bad as Sasha Darling.” Marcus grimaced. “Stepmother number five picked her own stage name and kept it when she married Dad.”
“Stepmother number five is the same age as your younger sister,” Samantha said with barely hidden glee as she smoothed a hand down her pink satin sheath of a dress. “At lunch last month, Sasha Darling asked me where I’d gone to school. I said Oxford, and she said, ‘Is that a comprehensive in Slough?’”
“It’s best all round if you just don’t talk to her,” Marcus said. “I smile and nod. Then run at the first opportunity. It’s mortifying that our father married a stripper who’s barely out of her teens. The only upside is that he did it in Vegas and didn’t make us attend.”
“You must think we’re terrible snobs,” Preston said to Harvard, appearing a little shamefaced at the conversation. “The truth is, we have nothing against the girl. It’s just the cliché of it all. Our sixty-year-old father married a twenty-year-old stripper. It’s straight out of a bad Hollywood movie, and we’re related to it.”
“I disagree,” Samantha said. “I am a terrible snob and I own it. It takes a lot of effort to be this elitist, and I feel I should get the credit for the time I’ve put in.”
Harvard couldn’t help his chuckle. “Then well done. That was the perfect level of snobbish disdain.”
Samantha pretended to take a bow. “At last, some recognition,” she said before sipping her champagne.
A walking stick jerked out and nearly tripped Rachel on the way to the bar.
“Gran, are you trying to kill me?” She frowned at the slender octogenarian, who was seated on the ornate high-backed chair she always claimed when she visited. As usual, her clothes would have given Grace Kelly a run for her money, her snow-white hair was fashioned into a tasteful chignon, and her lips were painted the faintest shade of sparkling pink.
“Darling girl, if I were going to kill you, I wouldn’t do it with this cane. It’s my favorite.” She poked at an upholstered stool. “Sit down and tell me all about this man you’re marrying.”
Rachel knew an order when she heard one, and seeing as her grandmother was the only person on the planet she took them from, she sat. “What’s there to tell? He’s American, he’s a former spy, he’s beyond smart, and he looks like that.” She pointed over at him as she did her best to avoid lying to her gran. “Who wouldn’t marry him?”
Mary Prudence Talbot was clearly suspicious. She gave her granddaughter the considering glare that only a dowager countess could pull off. Rachel tried to appear innocent. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a look she’d ever been able to do well.
“I suspect there’s more to this than meets the eye,” her grandmother said. “I’ll get the information out of you eventually.” Her eyes strayed back to Harvard. “Are you going to rescue him? The barracudas are circling.”
Rachel glanced over to where her cousins had congregated around her fake fiancé. “He can take care of himself.”
“Samantha’s trying to seduce him.”
“No, she isn’t. She’s just being Sam.” Which meant flirting with anything that had a penis.
“You’re very certain of your fiancé’s devotion.”
“Trust me, Harvard has no interest in anyone but me.” But definitely not for the reasons her grandmother envisioned.
“Are you going to bring him over here so I can meet him?”
“No. I have no idea what will come out of your mouth, and I think I’ll spare him the experience.”
Her gran put her hand to her chest. “I can feel some pain in the general vicinity of my heart. Might be an attack. Best not to exacerbate it by making me anxious.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Remind me again. When was the last time you had a heart attack? Oh, never. That’s when.”
“There’s a first time for everything. I do believe I’m feeling faint. You’d better call your mother over.”
“Oh, for the love of Prada, don’t involve Mother. She’s already causing enough trouble as it is.”
“Perhaps I’d feel better if I was distracted, say by a handsome American man…”
Rachel let out a sigh as she stood. “When are you going to grow out of this manipulative streak of yours? You don’t even do it very well.”
“And yet, it’s still effective.” She smiled serenely. “Do bring me a sherry when you return with your man.”
“Honestly.” Rachel let out a huff as she stalked to the bar. She asked them to deliver a sherry to her smug grandmother, then took the drinks she’d ordered for herself and Harvard and made her way back across the room.
“I hear you’re Rachel’s bodyguard,” Preston said, in a clear attempt to change the subject away from his father’s many wives.
“Yep. Have been for a few months now.” He went with the story his team had come up with when they’d first taken the job of investigating the thefts at TayFor.
“Why on earth does she need a bodyguard?” Marcus seemed genuinely bewildered as he knocked back his scotch. By Harvard’s count, that was his third since they’d started talking.
“Benson Security deals with some shady people. Rachel was in the wrong place at the wrong time and ended up on the radar of someone we’d rather didn’t know about her. I’m sticking close until the situation’s resolved.”
“In other words, Rachel managed to irritate the wrong person,” Marcus said with a guffaw. “No surprise there.”
“Don’t blame her,” Samantha reprimanded. “She can’t help how she is.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my sister,” Jonathan told her.
Samantha shrugged. “That’s what I meant.”
Marcus held up his hands. “We all know that Rachel delights in offending everyone she meets, why pretend otherwise?”
“She doesn’t delight in it,” Samantha said. “As I already told you, she simply can’t help it.”
“Oh, but I can.” Rachel stepped up beside Harvard. She handed him a drink, making him grin. “I got you your usual, darling. Sorry it took so long, but I got waylaid by Grandmother.”
Preston and Marcus gaped at him as Samantha started to giggle.
“Your usual is a strawberry daiquiri?” Jonathan asked.
Harvard took a large gulp and managed to quash the resulting shudder. “Can’t get enough of the stuff.” He draped an arm around Rachel’s shoulders. “Thanks, honeybunny.”
Her cousins and brother all worked hard to stifle their laughter as they looked anywhere but at Rachel, who stared at him with the promise of death in her eyes. Harvard made a mental note to Google more annoying pet names for her as soon as he got home.
“Let me see the ring,” Samantha gushed, taking Rachel’s hand.
To Harvard’s surprise, she didn’t tug it free. Instead, she sighed as Samantha admired her engagement ring.
“Platinum and diamond.” Samantha arched an eyebrow at him. “Very chic setting too. Your man has good taste. And deep pockets for a bodyguard it would seem.”
Rachel extracted her hand. “I do hope you aren’t being so crass as to question how he could afford it.” Her eyes narrowed at all of them. “Because that would be beneath you.”
Damn, she was glorious. Harvard tugged her to him, earning himself a frown of disapproval. “Rachel’s worth every penny I spent.” And wasn’t that the truth?
“Rachel,” Preston said, obviously over discussing her ring. “Who did you insult to earn a bodyguard?”
Rachel didn’t miss a beat. “The South American drug cartel that blew up Father’s private plane.”
Jaws dropped.
“Are you crazy?” Marcus said at last.
“No.” Rachel calmly sipped her red wine. “Just very angry. I promised Father I’d return it in one piece, not thousands.”
“And now you can’t go anywhere alone because your life is in danger.” Preston shook his head at her. “You’ve become reckless. I’m not sure being involved with a security company is good for you.” He glanced at Harvard. “No offense intended.”
Harvard inclined his head at him. “None taken.”
“I don’t think it’s all bad,” Samantha said, her eyes on Harvard. “After all, it did get her a bodyguard and a fiancé. I’m actually quite jealous. I think I need to get a bodyguard too.” Her eyes widened. “It just occurred to me that you’re paying your fiancé to take care of you. How very liberated.”
If anyone else picked up on the double meaning of her words, it didn’t show. From the look on her face, you would assume she was innocent enough and that any subtext had been a mistake. But her eyes told a different story. Her eyes stayed on Harvard. And they were tinged with desire.
“Have you two set a date yet?” Preston asked.
“No,” Rachel said at the same time as Harvard said, “Preferably soon.”
Jonathan laughed, while Harvard waggled his eyebrows at his supposed fiancée. She wasn’t amused.
“Oh, do let me pick the bridesmaid dresses,” Samantha pleaded. “I’d just die if I didn’t get the right color for my complexion.”
“We wouldn’t want that,” Rachel said dryly. “Who said you’re a bridesmaid anyway? Last I checked, the bride got to choose.”
“Of course, I’m going to be one of your bridesmaids. Possibly your only one.” She arched an eyebrow at Rachel. “We all know how good you are at making friends.”
“Point taken,” Rachel said. “I’ll allow you to act as a bridesmaid.”
“And the dresses—assuming you manage to find more than one bridesmaid? We both know I have better fashion sense than you. Otherwise you would have ducked out of our seasonal shopping sprees years ago.”
“Fine, but the dresses better not upstage the bride.”
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