by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)
A week ago, before all of Leo's tests were complete, Nick might have vehemently disagreed. But without being able to point to a specific physical cause, he couldn't very well refute or even dispute what Sarah was telling him. As a scientist, he hated not having answers. As a father, he felt suddenly helpless and adrift.
Those emotions must have been written across his face, because Sarah reached out and put her hand in his, then squeezed gently.
"I'm going to help him, Nick. I promise you. Please trust me."
At the moment, he didn't see that he had much choice.
Sarah left the kitchen and headed for Leo's room to see if she could be of any help packing. When she'd last been in there, Leo had crammed so many toys in his suitcase that there was no room for his clothes.
His grandmother showed deep affection for and infinite patience with the child, which heartened Sarah and further convinced her that this trip was not only a good idea, but could turn out to be therapeutic for the little boy. And Edith Davis-Finch had been pleasant enough to Sarah in her capacity as nanny without seeming genuinely warm.
"I do believe we're packed," Mrs. Davis-Finch said when Sarah entered the room.
"That's good." Sarah watched Leo stuff just one more teddy bear into the open suitcase.
"I'd like a word with you, Sarah," the woman said quietly. "In private, if you please."
"Sure."
Sarah had been just about to request a word in private herself to give Mrs. Davis-Finch a few suggestions about coping with Leo's silence. Both grandparents seemed distressed about his condition. She didn't want them to push him too hard or actually demand that he speak. The resultant frustration and stress could have devastating long-term effects.
Without disclosing her true identity as a psychologist, Sarah had explained to Mrs. Davis-Finch that there was nothing physically wrong with Leo, that he was getting the very best professional help, and his problem would undoubtedly be cured within a few weeks. The woman seemed rather baffled by it all. Well, Sarah couldn't blame her. She was a bit baffled herself.
She bent now to help the boy jam the poor teddy bear into the suitcase beside his Ernie doll, his soccer ball, and his bright red CD player.
Then, quickly closing and zipping the case before he was inspired to put something else inside it, she said, "Leo, your daddy is in the kitchen. I know you want to give him a great big hug before you go."
He hugged her first, then went dashing down the hall toward the kitchen.
Edith Davis-Finch perched on the edge of Leo's bed. "This is for you, Sarah." She reached out and pressed something into Sarah's hand.
It turned out to be a hundred dollar bill. Sarah blinked down at the round face of Ben Franklin.
"I don't know if your predecessor, Estella, told you about the little arrangement we had with her," the woman said, "but my husband and I would like to continue the arrangement now that you're our grandson's nanny."
"Arrangement?"
"Yes. In return for a gratuity each month..." She gestured toward the bill in Sarah's hand. "Estella was kind enough to keep us informed of our grandson's activities. We're so far away, you know, and we see him so infrequently. The regular news just helps to ease our hearts and minds."
"I'll be happy to do that, Mrs.Davis-Finch," she said, handing the money back. "This isn't necessary. I'm sure Dr.Chiara or Lady Satherwaite would be only too happy to..."
Edith Davis-Finch cut her off. "I'm afraid you don't understand. As concerned grandparents, my husband and I expect to be kept informed about everything that goes on here in Leo's house. Not just with the boy. With everything and everyone."
Ah. All of a sudden Sarah got it. Estella had been spying on Nick and his aunt, ratting them out to the in-laws for a hundred bucks a month. Or more. The hundred-dollar bill was probably just the opening bid of Mrs. Davis-Finch's nasty negotiations.
Now, more than ever before, Sarah wanted to get her hands on this Estella chick.
She was tempted to keep the money just to spite Leo's grandmother. But she handed it back with a curt, "Sorry. I don't have time for stuff like that. I'll be happy to send you detailed reports about Leo, though, and lots of pictures."
"We could offer you more," the woman said. "We could make it worth your while."
"No, you couldn't," Sarah said. "Excuse me. I'm going to check on Leo."
She found them in the kitchen—father and son— feeding each other ketchup-drenched French fries.
"I think they're ready to go," she said.
She saw the smile on Nick's handsome face evaporate, and she was aware of the effort he made to get just a portion of it back.
"You're going to have a wonderful time, Leo," he said, picking up his son and hugging him hard. "I wish I could come with you."
The boy's eyes lit up then, so much so that his father immediately knew he had made a mistake.
"I wish I could, but I can't. I'll be far too busy at the hospital. But next summer you and I will go back. Just the two of us."
Leo was nodding enthusiastically when his grandmother appeared in the kitchen doorway.
"We'll be off now, Dominic," she announced coolly.
With his son still in his arms, Nick said, "Hello, Edith. How are you? And Roger?"
"Fine," she answered, her gaze flicking to her watch. "If we don't leave right this minute, I'm afraid we'll miss our flight."
After one final long, hard hug, Nick set his son down on the ground. "I love you, Leo," he said softly as the child skipped toward the door.
From his seat on the terrace, Nick kept an eye on the sunset while he tried to ignore the slamming of the taxi doors on the other side of the house. Sarah was right, he told himself. It was good for the boy to get away for a few days. Leo had always longed to go to Disneyland. He'd said it often, when he was speaking. Nick had had every intention of taking him, but...
He watched Sarah walk around the side of the house, her gaze riveted on the sunset, a nostalgic smile clinging to her lips.
"They're gone, I take it," he said.
"Oh. I didn't see you there. Yes, they're gone." As she passed behind his chair, her fingers lightly touched his shoulder. "He'll be fine, Nick. He was so excited."
She was all slim grace and long legs as she slipped into the chair next to his. Nick leaned forward for the bottle of wine he'd brought outside. He picked up the extra empty glass, splashed some of the burgundy into it, and handed it to Sarah.
"Thanks," she said.
"To Leo," he said, raising his own glass.
"And to Mickey Mouse," she added with a little laugh. "Do you know that I grew up in California and I've never once been to Disneyland? Isn't that sad? How could I have been so deprived?"
"I can't imagine. Even I've been there."
"Really? When?"
"When I was in medical school in the States. I went to the one in Orlando, Florida on spring break. I can't claim to remember more than a few hours of the trip, though. Most of it was seen through an alcoholic haze, I'm afraid."
She laughed again. "How utterly American. No wonder you speak English so well."
"I have my aunt to thank for that."
"Oh, that's right. I forgot. How is she, by the way?"
"Fine," he said, taking another sip of his wine. "I'm ninety-nine percent convinced the old girl's faking."
"Faking!" Her eyes widened considerably. "Why in the world would she do that?"
Nick leaned forward for the wine bottle and splashed a little more of the dark burgundy into his glass. "I have a theory, if you'd like to hear it."
"Absolutely."
"I think my aunt wanted the two of us to be alone. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't be at all surprised if she'd known about the Davis-Finches and their Disneyland excursion all along, and somehow conveniently forgot to mention it to me."
"Why?" Sarah asked again, eyes still impossibly wide, unimaginably green.
Her face was tinted rose in the reflected light of the sunset.
There were golden highlights in her hair. The woman was absolutely lovely. Unless the wine was having a greater effect on him than he imagined, Nick thought he'd never seen a woman quite so beautiful.
Why indeed would his Aunt Honoria, the clever and relentless but heretofore unsuccessful matchmaker, seek to strand the two of them together? After more than four years of finding fault with nearly every eligible female in the kingdom of Montebello, had Lady Honoria Delphinia Satherwaite finally deemed the imported Sarah Hunter worthy of her precious nephew?
He shook his head. "I don't have a clue," he murmured, suddenly a bit overwhelmed by the prospect of courting a woman again after all this time. He'd been married for two years, widowed and celibate for another four and a half. To say he was out of practice was an understatement. To say he was afraid was probably closer to the truth. Scared to death, in fact.
He would have laughed if he hadn't felt like such an inept fool. Instead, he drained the wine that remained in his glass and reached for the bottle again.
"Why don't I go in and warm up those hamburgers for us?" Sarah suggested.
"Good idea," he replied.
* * *
In the kitchen, while she counted along with the final seconds of the microwave timer, Sarah stared out the door that led to the terrace.
Two days ago, if anybody had told her she'd be watching the sun as it dipped into the darkening Mediterranean tonight, she would have laughed in that person's face. If anybody had told her that the same ravishing pink, gold and orange sunset would also be framing the most glorious man she'd ever seen in her life—a man called Sir Dominic—a knight, yet!—she would have laughed just before she said "Get outta here."
But there he sat in all his sunset-colored glory, left ankle resting on right knee, dark head tipped back, dark eyes closed, a wineglass dangling from his relaxed hand. What a picture. It belonged in Esquire ox GQ.
She was glad when the microwave dinged and called her attention back to burgers and the real world, where she suddenly found herself as a psychologist without a patient. It wasn't that she i couldn't use the extra time to do some additional research on mutism in children, but then she couldn't very well sit with her nose in a book or journal for twelve or fourteen hours a day. Not in fairy-tale Montebello, anyway.
As she arranged the piping hot burgers on the plates, Sarah decided that she'd rent a car and do some leisurely exploring of the beautiful island kingdom. If only Warren were here to...
Warren!
Good Lord. She'd meant to call him earlier today, but with all the unexpected visitors, it had completely slipped her mind. What time was it in San Francisco now?
Sarah glanced at the clock on the microwave. Okay. It was almost seven o'clock here, so that would make it... Oh, hell. What would that make it back home? Three or four in the morning was the best that she could figure. If she called her fiance at three or four in the morning, he was liable to have a heart attack before he ever got to the phone. She'd called him once a little before midnight and frightened him so badly he'd hyperventilated for fifteen minutes.
Or was it three or four in the afternoon? How could she be as intelligent as she was and not be able to get a handle on this time zone difference?
She decided not to call. Presumably her father had relayed her whereabouts to Warren. If not, then it wouldn't take him more than one or two phone calls to find out.
It was getting dark, so before she carried their plates outside, Sarah hit the switch for the terrace lights. The palm trees lit up and the pink blossoms on the azaleas were evident again. She kept forgetting she was in paradise.
"What a gorgeous night," she said, setting the plates on the glass-topped table and then sliding into a chair.
"Tomorrow should be even better," Nick said. "What would you like to do?"
"Do?" She had just taken a bite of her burger so the word came out muffled. More like Dpf.
"Well, I was sitting here thinking while you were in the kitchen, and it occurred to me that we're both out of jobs for the next few days. We might as well make the best of it."
"You don't have to entertain me, Nick. Honest. I have plenty of psych journals to keep me busy, and I thought maybe I'd rent a car and tool around the island a little. Maybe find a quiet beach, or something."
"I know just the place," he said.
"Oh, good. Where?"
His eyes glittered merrily. "It's in a very secluded spot. I'll have to show you."
Sarah was about to demur, but then a wicked thought darted through her brain. She wondered what Sir Dominic, the pirate's progeny, looked like in a pair of swimming trunks.
After all, she was a scientist, wasn't she? And any scientist worth her salt pursued her curiosity until she was thoroughly satisfied with the answer. Sarah couldn't imagine being anything but thoroughly satisfied with the answer to this question.
Even so, she shouldn't.
Should she?
Probably not.
Definitely not.
"I'd love to," she said even before she realized that her mouth was open.
Chapter 9
The next morning, on their way to the Lido—which was Montebello's fancy name for the kingdom's finest white sand beach—Sarah and Nick stopped by the hospital to check on Lady Satherwaite.
As the daughter and sister of physicians, it came as no surprise to Sarah that the moment they walked through the front door of the hospital, half a dozen people were vying for Dr. Chiara's attention. The husband of a patient collared him, wanting to know when his wife could leave the hospital. A nervous and very apologetic young man in scrubs needed some quick advice. A young candy striper with big gooey eyes apparently required her hunk fix for the day, and what better way to get it than accosting Doctor Hunk himself. An elderly woman in a robe and slippers offered Nick a rose.
After standing by patiently for fifteen minutes, Sarah finally excused herself.
"I'll meet you in your aunt's room," she said, and hopped into an elevator to the private sixth floor, where she had to pass through yet another metal detector and identification grilling before being allowed entrance to the royal wing.
She didn't really mind preceding Nick in order to have a few minutes alone with Lady Satherwaite because she wanted to ask a few questions about the former nanny, Estella. When she entered the room, which was more like a posh hotel suite than any hospital room that Sarah had ever seen, Nick's aunt was just finishing her breakfast.
"Come in, Sarah, dear. How lovely to see you this morning. Would you care for a cup of coffee? An English muffin?"
"No, thanks." Sarah took the breakfast tray and put it on a table before she perched on the foot of the bed. "You're looking well rested this morning."
"Ha! No thanks to the nurses and interns who insisted on prodding and poking at me all night long." The big woman gave a snort. "I don't know how they expect anyone to get any rest at all in this place. It was like Paddington Station. No sooner had one person left than another took his place."
Sarah chuckled softly, then she leaned forward and raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Rumor has it, Lady Satherwaite, that you're malingering."
"I?" The woman's hand, minus rings and bracelets now, jerked upward and splayed out over her gigantic bosom. "Malingering? Who dared to say that? What wicked beast would ever accuse me of such a thing?"
"Your nephew," Sarah said.
"Really."
"Uh-huh."
Honoria Satherwaite's mouth twitched in a grin. "And does my wicked beast of a nephew have any sort of theory as to why I might want to malinger here?"
"Yes. As a matter of fact, he does." Sarah bit down on a grin of her own.
"And that theory would be...?"
"To ensure that we would find ourselves alone. I think he smells a bit of matchmaking."
"Why! The very idea."
"I told Nick he must be wrong," Sarah said with her tongue firmly planted in her cheek. "I told him you'd never do anything so underhanded."
"Quite right, my dear." Her grin widened. She winked one pale blue eye. "Is my little scheme working?"
Sarah laughed out loud. "No. And it isn't going to, either."
Lady Satherwaite's smile turned upside down and the creases in her forehead suddenly multiplied.! "Oh, dear. Is there someone else? Someone back! home in California? I must admit that possibility never entered my mind. Although I don't know why it wouldn't have, a young woman as attractive as you. Is it too late for Nicky? Are you already spoken for? Are you already wildly in love with someone else, Sarah, dear?"
For a moment Sarah didn't know what to say. It was true that she was spoken for, but as for being wildly in love with someone, namely Warren Dill... Well, no, that wasn't the case. Still, that didn't mean that she wasn't engaged to be married. She doubted if Lady Satherwaite, the obvious romantic, would understand the situation. After all, hardly anybody did.
"No, I'm not wildly in love," she replied, leaving it at that before changing the subject. "Do you feel well enough this morning for me to ask you a couple of questions about Estella, Leo's former nanny? I won't if you're not up to it."
"I'm well enough to know when I'm being distracted," she said with a laugh. "What do you want to know about Estella? She wasn't a particularly interesting young woman, although she did strike me as fairly competent. And Leo seemed to enjoy her well enough. At least he didn't dislike her. Nicky let her go because he wanted more private time with Leo."
"Actually, I'd like her name and address so that I can speak with her myself. I hope to find out a little I more about the night of the fire." She narrowed her gaze as she added, "And the murder, which no one bothered to tell me about."
"Pish." Lady Satherwaite clucked her tongue. "No one wanted to worry you unnecessarily. It has nothing to do with poor Leo, I'm quite certain."
"Nevertheless, I'd still like to ask Estella a few questions. May I have her address?"
"Bring me my handbag. They stashed it in a drawer somewhere over there."