The British Billionaire Bachelor, Act Two

by Maggie Carpenter

  “But you were married?” Simon surmised.

  “Exactly, to a wonderful lady. Being a Duke brings with it, or did then, certain expectations when it comes to finding a spouse. Mildred is a fine woman, and while I have always held great affection for her, it was your mother that brought glory into my life. So, yes, I was married, with two young girls, and of course your mother was married. Regardless of our circumstances, the powerful attraction between us took hold. We met often, and then, miraculously, one day, fearfully and emotionally, she told me she was pregnant.”

  “My gosh. How could that have happened?”

  “Birth control never even occurred to us. She had believed her doctor, but when I arranged for her to see a colleague of mine, it became apparent her physician had been wrong. Very wrong. It was likely the inability to conceive had been due to some problem with your adoptive father.”

  “This is incredible,” Simon declared.

  “We both wanted you desperately, so we came up with a plan. Over the next month your mother created issues with your father, then told him she needed a break, and persuaded him to allow her to travel to America for an extended holiday. Your father is a decent chap, and was at the height of his career at the time so he probably welcomed the separation. When you were born I was there, Simon. I held you in my arms. It was one of the happiest days of my life. I had a son. You.”

  Simon saw him recalling the emotion of the moment, and feeling the heat return to his own throat he reached for his tea, downing it in one gulp.

  “I made sure I was on your official birth certificate, so when the time came your birthright would not be questioned. We returned, traveling separately of course, and I was able to create sham adoption papers. You stayed with Prudence, your mother’s best friend, for a month, though your mother spent time with you every day and I would visit whenever I could. She told your father she was determined to adopt. He finally agreed, and she simply brought you home, along with the forged documents.”

  “Why didn’t you stay in touch, just a distant friend even?” Simon asked, not understanding why a man who obviously cared so much about him, had cut off the relationship.

  “That had been the plan, but as you grew, well, look in the mirror.”

  “Ooooh,” Simon breathed, staring at him.

  “The family resemblance was remarkable, but it always has been with the men of the tribe. It became impossible, but I never stopped seeing your mother”

  Simon poured himself more tea, attempting to process the story. Harry remained quiet, allowing his words to digest.

  “So,” Simon began, “you’ve been getting ready to tell me? Why now?”

  “Excellent question. Your mother and I agreed we would wait until my daughters were settled into their own lives, and you were established in yours, and she was ready to tell your father. There have been times in the last few years that I had planned on stepping forward, but my eldest daughter has had some health issues so I had to keep postponing. When I received inquiries from that detective you hired, it was heartbreaking that I couldn’t respond. My only solace was knowing it wouldn’t be long before I’d be able to tell you myself.”

  “I honestly don’t know what to say,” Simon frowned. “It’s all, just, well, rather wonderful in some respects, and in others–”

  “I have loved you and thought of you every day, and have proudly followed your path,” Harry stated firmly. “When I was forced to put this house on the auction block, and found out you were one of the bidders, I cannot tell you how elated I was.”

  “That’s why my offer was accepted? You were the one deciding.”

  “Yes. As long as I was able to clear the accounts, the bank didn’t care who bought it. It is your rightful home Simon, and had I not been such a foolish man it would have been willed to you.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course. This was always going to be yours. Always,” he declared. “You found me this morning by chance, yes, but I have often stopped there and stared up at this house, happy in the knowledge it was in your hands.”

  “Does your wife know about, um, everything?” Simon asked.

  “I told her recently, and much to my surprise she was relieved. She told me she knew I’d been carrying a secret and wished I’d told her years ago, and she was grateful that I’d held the family together. It was all very civilized, but then, that’s how our marriage has always been. Very civilized.”

  “And mother and you? What happened?”

  “As I said, your mother and I have never stopped seeing each other. I told you, she was, and is, the love of my life. It’s been difficult at times, but we resigned ourselves to our secret lives for the sake of our respective spouses and my girls.”

  Simon leaned back in his chair, gazing up at the coffered ceilings. He knew there were more questions, but he couldn’t think of them, the astounding information was consuming his head and his heart.

  Thank God I have Belle, he thought, the thought of wrapping himself around her, losing himself in her warmth, offered him an indescribable comfort.

  “If I may,” Harry began, “I would give you only one piece of advice.”

  Shifting his eyes down, he stared across at the man for whom he’d been searching for so many years, now understanding why the private detective had been stymied.

  “Yes, please,” Simon replied, already feeling a bond with the man, an unexpected familiarity and kinship. “I am anxious for it, for anything, everything you have to tell me.”

  “Simply this,” Harry began. “Marry the woman you love. The woman who haunts your thoughts, who makes you crazy, who brings you joy with her smile, and the woman you want at your side when you wake every morning. Don’t let pride, ego, anything or anyone stand in the way of that. When you find her, fight for her. Don’t let miles, or families or anything else interfere. I know you have a reputation, and that’s fine, but–”

  “Stop,” Simon interjected, rubbing his temples, the image of Belle sleeping upstairs, swirling around in his head. “The timing of this is nothing short of extraordinary.”

  “You’ve found her? The one?” Harry inquired, raising a wise eyebrow.

  “I believe I have,” Simon replied.

  “Believe, or know?” his father pressed.

  “Know,” Simon sighed. “She’s upstairs right now.”

  “I see. You’re right. The timing of my advice is astonishing.”

  “Yes, astonishing, like finding you at the bottom of my, or rather, our driveway,” Simon remarked, then smiled. “but as for ‘the only piece of advice,’ somehow I doubt that. I’m sure you have many pearls of wisdom to share.”

  “You might be right,” Harry smiled back. “If you’ll allow it.”

  “I will welcome it.”

  Simon paused, a fresh frown crossing his brow.

  “What is it?” Harry asked, seeing the unspoken question.

  “I was just wondering, what do I call you?” Simon asked, staring at him intently. “It doesn’t feel right to call you Harry.”

  “What did you call your adoptive father?”

  “Dad. I called him Dad.”

  “Perhaps, when you’re comfortable, you could call me father, or pata even,” Harry suggested, then quickly added, “or whatever feels right to you,”

  “Heavens,” Simon sighed, the idea sending another wash of sentiment through his heart. “Sorry, I’m all over the place. I’m sitting in front of my father. It’s just all so unbelievable, and my marvelous mother, is my real mother. I was conceived in love, and have always been loved by both of you, and I have always felt at home here because it is my home, my heritage, and–”

  The unexpected gush of emotion that washed over Simon was a bolt from the blue, and as it took hold, the impossible-to-control tears racked his body. Harry raced to his son’s side, and pulling him up to his feet, held him, hugging him with decades of unspoken love.

  “Yes,” he declared, sobbing with his own pent-up emotion. “You ar
e my son, and I have loved you and missed you and wanted to be with you since the day you came into this world.”

  Belle had been surprised at the late hour when she finally awoke, and after staring in disbelief at the clock, she found the note from Simon on his pillowcase. She showered and changed, thinking he must surely be waiting for her, and while she generally rode the elevator up to their room, she liked walking down the stairs, enjoying the feel of the smooth wood bannister under her fingertips. As she neared the ground floor she heard voices and hurried her step. Waking down the hallway, she saw Simon standing at the open front door with a man who looked familiar. As she approached she realized why. The man looked strikingly similar to Simon.

  “Belle, what perfect timing,” Simon declared. “I have some amazing news.”

  “Can I guess?” she asked, breaking into a broad smile.

  “If you like,’ Simon replied, “but I don’t think your uncanny radar will work this time.”

  “It’s not that difficult and no radar involved. I mean, you look so alike. You have finally met a relative? An uncle perhaps?”

  “Prepare yourself for a shock, Belle,” Simon declared, thinking how his father had said those very same words to him just a couple of hours before. “Belle Somers, I’m delighted to introduce you to my father, Harry, the Duke of Chatsworth.”

  “What!” she exclaimed, completely astounded. “Sorry,” she immediately apologized, “such a great pleasure, Sir,” she beamed, shaking his hand enthusiastically, then impetuously leaned forward, kissing him on the cheek and following it with a hug. “What a brilliant thing.”

  “Yes, it is rather brilliant,” Harry smiled. “What a delightful young woman you are, and so pretty.”

  “Oh my goodness,” she blushed. “Thank you. Gosh, a real, live Duke.”

  “So is he,” Harry remarked, gesturing towards Simon. “He’ll inherit the title.”

  “Yes, so you’d better do as you’re told, or I’ll have your head cut off,” Simon laughed.

  “You’re name isn’t Henry and you’re not a King, so I consider that an empty threat,” she responded.

  “Perhaps, but Dukes have other rights so I’d watch my step,” he winked.

  Little butterflies did their dance, the wink bringing them to life, serving as a reminder of the salacious activities the night before. She dropped her gaze to the ground, fearful her eyes would betray her decadent thoughts.

  “So, father, now you have a set of keys,” Simon stated, returning his attention back to Harry, “and the staff will be notified. Come and have a wander whenever you want, and next time Belle and I come up I’ll hold you to your promise.”

  “Done, and thank you. Mildred will be thrilled to visit the old homestead. It’s been delightful to meet you, Belle, and I look forward to spending more time with you.”

  “I wish you didn’t have to go,” Belle replied, “and I can’t wait to spend more time with you too.”

  Simon shook his father’s hand, gave him a quick hug, and walked him outside. Harry stepped into his Mercedes, and with a final wave disappeared down the driveway.

  “Simon, what an extraordinary thing. You must tell me the whole story,” Belle demanded the moment he stepped back inside.

  “I will, on the drive back. Right now you need to have a quick breakfast and we must hit the road,” he declared.

  “Simon, I’m absolutely thrilled for you,” she proclaimed, with a soft but serious smile.

  “Thank you,” he sighed, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her. “I’ve been dying to do this all morning. I’m so glad you’re here.”

  He closed his eyes, burying his face in her hair, feeling her warmth, her heart, and her welcoming body as it melted into his.

  “We really need to go,” he declared, finally pulling away. “Breakfast is all set up on the buffet. I ate with father so you go ahead and I’ll pack up our things.”

  Giving him a last squeeze, she stepped away and walked into the dining room, as hungry as she was curious. It would be a fascinating drive back to the city.

  Simon and Belle weren’t the only ones having an exciting and busy morning. At the house in London, Amaranth had been working feverishly, humming and whistling as she put the pieces of her scheme together.

  She had made three copies of the pages from Belle’s diary, printed additional prints of the photographs, adding even more, and had painstakingly cut out words from various magazines, pasting them on to a blank sheet of paper. That part of the process had been arduous and taken a long time, but finally finished she sat back with a satisfied smile reading her handiwork.

  I KNOW YOU ARE A PHONY. HERE IS PROOF OF YOUR ILLICIT LOVE AFFAIR. IF YOU DON’T LEAVE THIS HOUSE YOUR SECRET WILL BE REVEALED. YOU HAVE 24 HOURS TO VACATE.

  Putting together the pages of the diary and the photographs, then placing the note on top, she stapled the pile together and stuffed it in a large envelope. Typing ATTN: BELLE SOMERS on her computer, she printed it out and taped it on the front.

  There you are, you little yankee slut. That should take care of things. If you don’t want your dirty little secret to get out, you’d better leave. If you stay, I tell Simon, and you’ll be forced to leave. I win either way, and if you get worried and take a shot of vodka, so much the better.

  Picking up her keys, she placed the envelope under her sweater and headed off to the suite, being careful to go up the back stairs so no-one would see her. Letting herself in, she was moving across the room on her way to Belle’s closet when out of the corner of her eye, something caught her attention. A movement, a flash.

  She froze, her senses on high alert, listening carefully. She heard nothing, but turning her head, noticed the door to the salon was open, not completely, just a crack. Frowning, she crept across the room and cautiously peered through the narrow space.

  The room appeared to be empty, and heart beating, she pushed the door all the way open, peering around. There was nothing to see. Sighing heavily, she walked back across the living room and into Belle’s closet.

  Standing in the entrance, she saw the most obvious place to leave it was against the large bouquet of flowers on the center island.

  You won’t miss it here, you slut. I wish I could see your face when you read it.

  She felt elated as she stood the envelope against the vase. Soon the girl would be history and she, Amaranth Simington, would take her rightful place in Simon’s life. Lifting her chin, feeling powerful and in control, she strode from the closet, across the living room, and opening the door to the hallway, peeked cautiously before stepping out, closing and locking it behind her.

  In the salon, hiding behind the thick drapes, Theresa was still shaking. She was terrified of Amaranth, and though she was in the suite on the butler’s directive to make sure everything was in order for Mr. Sinclair’s homecoming, she didn’t want to run into the imperious social secretary.

  She waited a few more minutes, making sure the nasty woman didn’t return, then moved back into the living room. Nervously she opened the bar to check that it was fully stocked with the bottled water Mr. Sinclair liked, and decided on one last look around in Belle’s closet.

  The first thing she noticed was the envelope, and knew immediately it had been left by Amaranth. There was nothing unusual about it per se, except that the mail and deliveries were usually taken directly to Mr. Sinclair’s office.

  Shaking it off, she scanned the room, and finding everything in order, quickly left the suite.

  On the motorway home, Belle listened intently as Simon relayed the events of the morning, beginning with the chance encounter with the stranger parked at the end of the driveway who turned out to be his father. All thoughts of telling him what she had discovered about Amaranth became the last thing on her mind.

  “Simon, it’s fate. I mean, you just said yourself that you don’t ride there very much. I don’t believe in coincidences,” she stated firmly.

  Thinking back to the ‘one piece of a
dvice’ his father had offered, he nodded his agreement.

  “I’m beginning to think you’re right,” he remarked.

  “Did you find out how he lost the house?” Belle asked.

  “I certainly did. We talked about it for over an hour. I won’t bore you with the gory details, but the bottom line is, he was swindled. It’s a very sad story. His wife was his saving grace. He had tried to convince her to invest her money as well but she had refused. Thank goodness she did. They were able to land on their feet in a modest house not far from the manor.”

  “Gosh. That’s awful. Isn’t there anything he can do?”

  “Not legally,” Simon replied, a frown crossing his brow.

  “Am I detecting something?” Belle asked. “My radar is beeping.”

  “I told you I was looking for a challenge, a new mountain to climb. I had an idea this morning about getting into the professional show jumping world, and I still might do that, but before I head down that road I’m thinking I might find a way to get father his money back and put this conman out of business.”

  “Simon, that sounds perilous,” Belle warned. “I mean, aren’t people like that dangerous?”

  “Uh-huh, possibly, but so is risking millions upon millions of dollars building a skyscraper like City View.”

  “Maybe, but–”

  “Belle,” Simon interrupted, “it’s just a thought. I haven’t decided on anything yet so just relax. I have something much more important to talk to you about.”

  “Really, what’s that?” she asked, feeling more than a little intrigued.

  “How do you feel today, how is your beautiful backside?”

  “Oh, Simon,” she replied, feeling herself blush, “it’s very much aware that it was given a great deal of attention last night. Is that what you want to know?”

  “Partly,” he smiled, “and you? How do you feel about what we did, or rather, what I did to you?”