The Temporary Duchess: A Jet City Billionaire Serial Romance (The Billionaire Duke Series Book 3)

by Gina Robinson

  "You mean like The Little Mermaid?" I said. Sid had always loved that story. "We'd have to lose our tongue for that, I think. Love potions always have a steep price."

  "Yes, but is any price too high for true love?"

  I leaned my head against hers. "Can true love come from a potion or pill?"

  "I want you to be happy, Hale. I don't want him to break your heart. You're more sensitive than you give yourself credit for. The last thing I need is to finally get physically healthy, only to have you slide into depression.

  "I know you're trying to hide it from me. In fact, I think you're trying to hide it from yourself. But I've never seen you like this about any guy before. This is different. If Mom were here, I think she'd take one look at you and him and say he's the one, like she did with Aunt Kelly. Or, at least, you think he is."

  Aunt Kelly wasn't really our aunt, just a close friend of Mom's. I was surprised Sid remembered that. Mom had taken one look at Aunt Kelly with her new boyfriend of just a few days and blurted to Dad that Kelly was going to marry him. And sure enough, she was right. Mom had that sense about her. The love whisperer. What kind of superpower was that?

  For myself, I was glad Mom wasn't here to witness this. I was afraid of what she'd say and the warning she'd give me.

  "I'll be fine," I said with more confidence than I felt. "Don't worry. As soon as you're cured, I'll be perfect."

  She didn't know how close a cure might be.

  The week passed in a whirl and a blur. Liz and Jasmine were nearly deliriously happy for me, especially when I asked them to be bridesmaids in my Saturday wedding. I mean, really, how many chances do you get to be a bridesmaid to a duchess? And involved in such a high-profile wedding? The only downside was having to keep it quiet for now.

  I gave my notice to Sally at The Blackberry at the close of my shift on Monday, apologizing profusely, but saying this had to be my last day. After swearing her to secrecy, I told her about my engagement.

  "To Riggins, the new duke?" She was stunned.

  Which didn't say much about her confidence in me. The bakery had been full of rumors and the competition had been all over the news. I comforted myself by convincing myself she hadn't expected victory so soon. Or the wedding to be within the week.

  I also imagined she was relieved I was leaving. All the attention on Riggins and me overwhelmed the bakery and upset the regular clientele and relaxed atmosphere The Blackberry prided itself on. Yes, business boomed. But it was almost overpowering.

  "We wish you all the best," she said, gracious to the end, even though I was leaving her in a lurch. "You have to let us make your wedding cake. I'll insist on that! We're the best bakery in the city." She smiled with pride.

  "I'd love that," I said, hesitating. "But the wedding's Saturday. I'll understand if you can't work me in. I know how far you're booked ahead."

  "Nonsense! For one of our own, we'll make an exception." She leaned toward me. "And baking a duke's wedding cake—when will I ever get another chance at that? Baking a cake for aristocracy is on my bucket list. You can't deprive me of that.

  "How many guests are you expecting? And do you think Riggins will want at least one chocolate layer with mint filling? He seems very fond of our chocolate mint brownies. Maybe we should make a brownie groom's cake?"

  And so one thing, at least, was settled. Once I had a rough count of the number of guests.

  After I left the bakery, I hurried home, showered, and changed into one of my new Flashionista dresses. I wanted to look nice when we got our license. I didn't want to give Riggins any reason for second-guessing his choice.

  And there was a good chance we'd be recognized. My days of going out without makeup had already come to a close, I feared. From now on, I had to be more like Rose—glamorous and flawless, like I'd been Photoshopped in real life.

  I wrinkled my nose at the thought. Crap. I had to fix up before leaving the house—every single time from here on out. Or at least as long as I lasted as duchess. I took the bus back downtown to meet Riggins at the administration building.

  Marriage licenses were matters of public record. As soon as we applied for the license, it would be all over the news and social media. I had half a mind to post it myself, but given the situation, it seemed too obvious and self-aggrandizing. Another downside of marrying a titled billionaire—anything I said about it would look like bragging.

  If Riggins had just been a regular guy, would I have posted the exciting news on my social media? Absolutely! But if that were the case, we'd be in love and the marriage would be genuine, a real commitment. Not a temporary business arrangement. So maybe it was only hypocrisy that was stopping me from making the announcement.

  The administration building was your basic government office building. Hard to find, even though I got off at a stop not far from it. Even still, I almost missed it and walked right by. I had to Google walking directions on my phone and double back. Then I realized there was a bus stop right in front of it. Like, duh. If I'd ridden one stop farther. Nerves, I thought.

  I was so anxious, and praying I wasn't late, I barely noticed my surroundings as I stepped inside and looked for the elevator. I had the impression of food, a cafeteria, people eating. But just an impression. My head was elsewhere as I took the elevator to the licensing office.

  Riggins was waiting for me as I came off the elevator. His face lit up when he saw me. I almost collapsed with relief. Until that instant, I hadn't thought I'd been worried that he'd be a no-show. Let's just say my insecurities ran deep. He was so hot. So successful. So desired. And I was just me.

  So far, so good. No reporters or paparazzi around.

  He kissed me lightly. But passionately enough that my heart skipped a beat. It was a natural thing for a groom to do. And smart of him to act the part, in case anyone was looking. But it surprised me nonetheless. And pleased me beyond reason. I was a complete sap.

  He took my arm and smiled into my eyes. "You look nervous."

  "Oh, really?" I laughed, an embarrassing, girlish titter. I made a note to develop a mature, sophisticated chortle or something more duchesslike in the future. How did duchesses laugh? Or did they just smile patiently at everything?

  "That obvious?" I took a deep breath. "This is a big step."

  "Not thinking of backing out?" His eyes danced, completely lacking in worry or insecurity. He was clearly teasing.

  Looking at him, I knew I would never have the strength to step away from this. No, I wanted to marry him. Way more than I should have, especially given the circumstances. "Aren't you nervous?"

  "Not yet." He took my arm.

  I believed him. And wished I had his confidence. I both consoled myself and tortured myself by thinking it was probably easier to be calm when your heart wasn't at stake. When it really was only a business transaction to you. A temporary blip in your life.

  We got in line. I couldn't help glancing around anxiously, like I expected the press to jump out from behind a potted palm or something.

  I eyed the line, looking at the other couples around us. There were some grumpy-looking people, which didn't bode well for the potential longevity of their future marriages at all.

  The woman behind me looked as nervous as I was. She seemed to be ignoring her groom behind her. Sensing a sympathetic soul, I turned to her. "Getting a marriage license is nerve-racking, isn't it?"

  "I wouldn't know. I'm here getting a license for my dog." She glanced at her watch. "And if they don't hurry, I'm going to have to run out and feed the meter."

  Riggins squeezed my hand and stifled a laugh behind his other hand.

  "What are you laughing at?" I bumped him playfully. "Did you know this line is also for pet licenses? That's how the county categorizes marriage licenses, as equally important as pet licensing?"

  He cupped my chin. "But you are my pet, aren't you, darling? And it makes a certain kind of sense—we're all being collared and put on the choke chain one way or the other."

  I ro
lled my eyes. "Shut up."

  He laughed again. "You'll also notice we're in line with a lot of irritated people paying their property taxes." He juggled his hands as if he was weighing something. "Pet licenses, property taxes, getting married—why not lump them all together?"

  The woman in front of us turned around and smiled. "If you wanted a dedicated marriage-license-only window, you should have gone to Kent and the Regional Justice Center for your license. They do them separately there." She studied us and frowned slightly, like we looked familiar and she was trying to place us.

  My heart stood still. Until she said, "You're such a gorgeous couple!" It was her turn at the counter. "Good luck to you!"

  When it was our turn, the clerk handed us an application to fill out and told us to skip the line and bring it back to the window when we finished. We sat next to each other on a hard bench.

  "Are you afraid we'll be caught?" I whispered to Riggins.

  "We'll almost certainly be found out sooner or later."

  I bit my lip and turned my attention to my form. My hand shook as I filled it out. Riggins' hand seemed steady. I stole a peek at his form as he filled in his social security number.

  This sounded really dumb, but at that moment I realized that divorce or not, child or not, we would be irrevocably linked forever whether we wanted to be or not. I would know the intimate details of his life, like his social security number, forever. Or until my memory failed. Whichever came first. And he would know mine. Think of the damage I could do with that knowledge. If I were the evil type, of course.

  Back at the clerk's station, Riggins paid the license fee in cash. I had another heart-stopping moment when the clerk looked over the form to make sure we'd filled everything in properly. I couldn't imagine she'd miss who Riggins was.

  "You must love this job," I said to distract her.

  She glanced up at me with a quizzical expression.

  "Seeing all the couples getting married—isn't that fun? Wondering what they see in each other and how they chose each other. How they met. It's a fascinating people-study opportunity."

  Her face lit up. She chatted for a minute about how nice, in fact, that was. She didn't always get to work marriage licenses. Sometimes she had to work the property-tax-only line. And that was no fun at all.

  She finished her job and handed us our license. "Congratulations and best wishes! You look so happy together. So perfect." She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "You're going to be part of the fifty percent of marriages that make it. I have a sense about these things. I'm rarely wrong."

  She couldn't know how wrong she was or how much false hope she'd just given me.

  As we walked away from the counter, Riggins whispered in my ear, "Nice work distracting her back there."

  "I think we got lucky not being recognized." Yes, sometimes I was too modest.

  We'd each managed to sneak into the building separately rather well. But leaving the building, we weren't so lucky. Reporters and paparazzi evidently liked to hover around the administration building looking for juicy stories. Or maybe, more likely, someone had recognized us and tipped them off. They followed Riggins around all the time anyway, just for sport. He'd managed to ditch his tail on the way to the admin building, but they'd caught up to him somehow. However they managed to find us, they had.

  As we walked out of the building, cameras flashed around us. Riggins grabbed my hand and shielded his eyes with the other. I was grinning, stupidly happy. I probably should have tried to mask my feelings, but I simply couldn't. Oh, well. It sold our act. If only Riggins never saw it, I'd be fine.

  "Riggins! Riggins!" one of the guys shouted at him. "What were you doing here?" He glanced at me. "With one of the duchess contenders. You chose the American! You applied for a marriage license, admit it! When's the big day?"

  "How do you know we haven't just bought a puppy together and come for a license?" Riggins laughed and hustled us into a waiting car.

  "It has to be within sixty days! The license is only good for sixty days. We'll find out." The reporter clearly wasn't buying the puppy story. "Why the rush? Didn't you meet less than two weeks ago? Is there something we should know?"

  The driver shut the car door, muffling the rest of the reporters' questions.

  Riggins squeezed my hand. "Let the games begin."

  I smiled shakily and told him about Sally's offer to make the cake. "How many guests are we expecting?"

  That evening, we made all the national entertainment shows. Sid, Liz, Jasmine, and I huddled in front of the TV with a bowl of popcorn to watch the media circus.

  "The Americans have won another battle against the British Empire. Haley Hamilton, the American descendent of the late Most Noble Helen Annette Duchess of Witham, has secured the new Duke of Witham's offer of his hand in marriage after what was reportedly a weekend away at Wareswood Castle with both contenders for the title in attendance and engaged in battle for the duke's attentions.

  "Tonight there are thousands upon thousands of disappointed young women on both sides of the pond as their duchess dreams come to an end with the announcement of his engagement made by the duke's PR team late this afternoon. The new duke and his bride-to-be were caught coming out of the King County administration building around four Pacific Time this afternoon.

  "Speculation about when and where the wedding will take place has been running high. The duke is keeping the details of his impending nuptials quiet. But we do know that according to Washington State law, the license is only good for sixty days.

  "Lady Rose, the other rumored candidate for the job, was unavailable for immediate comment. But she tweeted that she was very happy for the couple and looks forward to being counted among their close acquaintances and helping her American relative adjust to being part of the modern British aristocracy.

  "On another of her social media accounts, Lady Rose said, 'I have no doubt cousin Haley will be a most gracious, kind duchess.'

  "How's that for being a gracious, classy loser? It's enough to make us almost wish Lady Rose had won the title…"

  Our house was surrounded by reporters waiting to snap our picture and trying to interview us. Riggins once again sent his security team over to keep them and other curiosity seekers at a safe distance. Our poor neighborhood was overrun. I felt sorry for our neighbors and was apologetic about the inconvenience. And worried about Sid, Jasmine, and Liz. Would all this die down after the wedding? Or had I inadvertently destroyed the privacy of their lives, too?

  The rest of the week passed in a blur of wedding planning, dress fittings, meetings with lawyers, and signings of prenups.

  Mr. Thorne met with me privately and handed me a generous advance from the estate. "For the bride's share of the wedding expenses, as instructed by the late duke. He wanted his heir to have a wedding befitting of his status, even if the wedding was small and put together quickly. The late duke realized the necessary wedding would be out of your budget."

  Maybe I should have been insulted, but I took the money without too many scruples. Why shouldn't the Dead Duke pay?

  I panicked on Friday when I realized I didn't have a ring for Riggins. How was I even going to afford one? Especially one good enough for a duke and a billionaire?

  I called Kayla.

  "Calm down. Don't worry. I'll refer you to our favorite jewelry store. Make a private appointment and take Riggins with you. Let him pick his ring and get it sized."

  "But the cost—"

  "In cases like these, it's traditional for him to pay for his own. He knows your budget is limited, when his is basically unlimited."

  "But I can't—"

  "You can. And if you won't, you can always take a loan out from Riggins and pay it back when you come into your inheritance. Your late great-aunt left you something, didn't she?"

  I took a deep breath. "Yes." Several hundred million. Once I produced an heir. Like that was going to happen.

  "Okay, then. There you go."

  But I
wasn't satisfied with letting Riggins pay. I called Mr. Thorne. "I need an advance on my money. Enough to buy Riggins a wedding band."

  Mr. Thorne laughed. "You've used all the wedding money already?"

  "No, of course not. I want to buy Riggins a ring with my money, not the Dead Duke's. Can you get some for me?"

  I could hear the smile in Mr. Thorne's voice. "Your request sounds fair enough to me. I'll see what I can do."

  So less than twenty-four hours before my wedding, and just a few hours before our rehearsal dinner, we met at the jewelry store and picked out a simple platinum band for Riggins. And I paid for it with an advance on my settlement for producing an heir. Was I getting in too deep? Being too prideful? Maybe. But I didn't care.

  I was deliriously happy. Happier than I ever remembered being and determined to live in the moment. A month from now, a year, maybe, this fairytale would all be over. For now I had to enjoy it and worry about replacing the money later.

  I'd worry about everything later. Later, after Sid was cured.

  Chapter 4

  Haley

  I'd passed the test—the non-pregnancy test, anyway. The wedding was on.

  Dressed in a strapless organza, hand-beaded, dropped waist, lace ball gown that cost more than I made in a year, I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling plate glass windows of Riggins' waterfront mansion, staring into his eyes, pledging my troth. A sash was tied at my waist, pinned with a large, beautiful organza flower. I was so nervous, I felt like it was breaking me in half. My world was splintering into my regular life before Riggins and my extraordinary life after marrying him. From obscure to under the spotlight.

  I was in the middle of my transformation from commoner to duchess. From single maiden to married matron. From honest person to world-class liar. What do you call a woman who marries strictly for business? Kept? Or was that only for mistresses?

  And was I really that woman, even though my motives were pure?

  I had insisted on being married by a layman. I wasn't particularly religious, but that wasn't why. Something about vowing to remain married until death do us part before God and a clergyman, when I knew for certain we'd soon be divorcing, seemed too hypocritical and reckless. Sacrilegious. Like courting disaster. It was bad enough I was pledging it in front of friends and family. And so we were being married by a justice of the peace Riggins found for the occasion. God's laws may be immutable, but the law of the land was fluid and subject to interpretation. I felt more comfortable bending it and lying to it.