Fortune's Prince

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  Feeling foolish, Amelia studied the cards for a moment. Contracts were certainly something to avoid. “Do they cover international calls?”

  “Yeah.” The girl looked over her head when a jangling bell announced the arrival of another customer. Then she tapped one of the cards. “That one’s the best value for your money,” she provided as she backed away. “I’ve gotta get back to the register,” she excused herself.

  “Thank you.” Amelia looked at the display. She wasn’t going to use her credit card. Just the cash. Which meant, for now at any rate, she needed to use it wisely. She chose the card the girl suggested and flipped it over, reading the tiny print on the back. Not once in her life had she ever needed to concern herself with such details.

  She carried the phone and the card back to the register, but stopped short at the sight of the young blonde woman standing there with the clerk.

  Ophelia Malone.

  Amelia ducked back in the aisle with the cell phones where she couldn’t be seen. There was country music playing over a speaker and she couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she didn’t need to. There was only one reason why Ophelia would be in that store at that moment and Amelia was it.

  She quickly returned the phone and the card to their places on the racks and scurried around the opposite end of the aisle, looking for an escape even though the girl had said there wasn’t another way out. She discovered the reason quickly enough. There was another exit. But it was a fire exit and she knew from regrettable experience in similar situations that going through it would set off an alarm. Gnawing on her lip, she edged to the end of the aisle again and peeked around the racks toward the front.

  Ophelia wasn’t there. But the door hadn’t jangled, meaning she was still in the store somewhere.

  She felt like the fox in a hunt and that never ended well for the fox. She continued sneaking her way around the aisles, keeping to the ends because there was less chance of getting caught, hearing the door jangling periodically. When the urge to look grew too great, she held her breath, darting up the empty row next to her where she could see the entrance just as another customer came in.

  She quickly backed out of sight again, then nearly jumped out of her skin when the clerk appeared.

  “There you are,” she said. “Your friend’s looking for you.”

  “She’s not my friend,” she corrected, keeping her voice low. Feeling increasingly hemmed in, she grabbed the clerk’s hands and the girl’s eyes widened. “She can’t find me. Is there another way out or an office where I can wait until she’s gone?”

  “Too late, Lady Chesterfield.” Ophelia stepped into sight. Her green eyes were as sharp as her smile, and in a move she’d probably practiced from the womb, she deftly lifted her camera out of her purse.

  Chapter Six

  Amelia could hear the clicking whirr of the shutter even before the lens aimed her way and she wanted to scream in frustration.

  “Any comments on Mr. Tall, Dark and Nameless you were kissing yester—” Ophelia broke off when a shrieking alarm blasted through the store, making all three of them jump. “What the bloody hell is that?”

  “The fire alarm.” The salesclerk waved her hands, looking panicked. “You have to leave the store.”

  “Oh, come on,” Ophelia said impatiently.

  “There are flammable items everywhere, ma’am. We don’t take chances.” The clerk pushed the reporter toward the aisle where a half-dozen other customers were jostling around the displays in the narrow aisle toward the front door.

  Seizing the opportunity, Amelia dashed instead for the fire exit in the rear. The alarm was going off already so what did it matter?

  She hit the bar on the door and it flew open, banging against the wall behind it, and she darted out into an alleyway. Her heart pounding, she shoved the door closed behind her. The fire alarm was noisy even through the door, pulsing in the air and making it difficult to think straight. Could she make it back to Aunt Jeanne’s car without Ophelia seeing her?

  “Hey. Over here.” A tall, dark-haired woman dressed in cutoffs and a tank top beckoned from one side near a large, metal trash bin. “They won’t see you over here.”

  Amelia’s didn’t stop to question the assistance and her sandals slipped on the rough pavement as she took off toward her. She caught herself from landing on her bottom and hurried, half jogging, half skipping after her rescuer who set off briskly away from the hardware store. “You set off the alarm?”

  “Yes, but if they try to fine me for it, I’m denying it. Already had to pay a few of them thanks to my oldest boy.” They reached the end of the alley and the woman held up a warning hand as she cautiously checked the street. A fire truck, siren blaring and lights flashing, roared past. She waited a moment, then beckoned. “Come on. You need to get off the street before more people see you.”

  “How’d you—”

  “Never mind.” The woman grabbed her arm and tugged her out into the open. Amelia could see her aunt’s car still parked in front of the post office down the street, but they didn’t head that way. Instead, the woman pulled Amelia through the propped-open door of the bed-and-breakfast.

  A teenager wielding a dust cloth across a fake Chippendale desk looked at them, clearly surprised. “Mrs. O’Malley. What’re you doing—” her eyes landed on Amelia and widened with recognition “—here,” she finished faintly. She pointed her dust rag at Amelia. “You’re...you—”

  “Yes, yes. She’s her.” The brunette—Mrs. O’Malley, obviously—nudged the teen’s shoulder to gain her attention again. “You have any guests today, Shayla?”

  Shayla shook her head and her wildly curling orangey-red ponytail bounced. “Not yet, but Ma’s expecting some newlyweds t’night.”

  Mrs. O’Malley boldly stepped around the desk and grabbed an old-fashioned hotel key off a hook. “Gonna use number three for a while, then. Keep quiet about that, though, if anyone comes asking, all right?”

  Shayla’s lips moved, but no words came.

  “All right?”

  The ponytail bounced again, this time with Shayla’s jerky nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good girl. Now come on.” Mrs. O’Malley tugged Amelia toward a lovely staircase with a white painted banister and dark stained wood treads and started up. “Shayla’s a student of mine,” she said over her shoulder. “Her mother owns this place.”

  Thoroughly discomfited, Amelia followed. “You’re a teacher?”

  “High school English.” The other woman turned on the landing and headed up another flight, her pace never slowing. “Better hurry your tush, hon,” she advised.

  Amelia grasped the banister and quickened her pace. Her head was pounding from the adrenaline rush. “Why did you set off the alarm?”

  “Figured somebody needed to do something.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I went in to buy paint for my youngest’s room—the sweetest shade of pink you ever saw—and I saw that woman showing Katie your picture and asking about you.”

  “I should have tried Lubbock,” Amelia muttered. “You didn’t get your paint and I didn’t get my phone.” They’d reached the top of the stairs and Mrs. O’Malley unlocked the only door there, pushing it open to reveal a cozy-looking guest suite.

  They went inside and Mrs. O’Malley immediately crossed to the mullioned window and looked out. “Talk about the nick of time,” she said.

  Amelia shut the door before joining her, and keeping to one side of the window, looked down. She could see Ophelia marching up the street, her stride determined as she systematically went in and out the doors of each business until she disappeared beneath the striped awning over the B and B’s front door.

  Hoping she hadn’t jumped from the pot into the fire, Amelia sank down on a white wicker rocking chair situated near the window and eyed the other woman. “What do you want
out of this? If it’s money, you’ll be sorely disappointed. My family’s dealt with more embarrassing situations than shopping for a discount cell phone.”

  Mrs. O’Malley didn’t look calculating, though. If anything, her light brown eyes turned pitying. “Never heard of a Good Samaritan?”

  Amelia’s lips twisted. “I apologize for my suspicions, but lately helpful strangers have been in rather short supply.”

  The woman sat on the corner of the bed that was covered in a fluffy white duvet. “Not as much a stranger as you think. Doesn’t seem fair for me to know who you are when you don’t know me.” She held out her hand. “I’m Jess O’Malley,” she said.

  Amelia shook her hand. “It’s nice to make your acquaintance, Mrs. O’Malley.”

  “Jess’ll do.” The woman’s lips quirked. “I’m Quinn’s sister,” she added meaningfully.

  Amelia’s mouth went dry. “Oh.”

  Jess shifted and pulled a fancy phone from her back pocket, tapped on the screen a few times then held it out.

  Amelia warily took the phone.

  The sight of herself in Quinn’s arms on the display didn’t come as a shock. Since her supposed engagement, she’d become almost numb to the existence of such photographs. The fact that she’d drawn Quinn into the mess, though, caused a wave of grief. “Where’d you find this?”

  “It’s all over the internet.”

  She scrolled through the image then handed back the phone. Her mouth felt dry. “Has he seen it?”

  “My brother? Or your fiancé?”

  Amelia tucked her tongue behind her teeth, gathering her wits. Jess pulled as few punches as her brother. “Quinn.”

  “He’s seen it.” Jess sat forward, her arms on her knees. Her eyes—hazel, just like Quinn’s, Amelia realized—were assessing. “He doesn’t need his heart broken again, Lady Chesterfield. Once was bad enough.”

  “Amelia,” she said faintly. She loathed the courtesy title of “Lady” when she hadn’t done a single thing to earn it. “I’m not trying to break anyone’s heart. Quinn—” She swallowed and looked away from his sister’s eyes. “Your brother hates me, anyway.”

  “Hate and love are two sides of the same coin, hon.”

  “Not this time.” One corner of her mind wondered if she’d have been better off facing Ophelia than Quinn’s sister. And another corner of her mind argued that she would probably get her chance momentarily, because she had significant doubts that any teenager would be able to hold up under the determined paparazzo, no matter how devoted she was to her high school English teacher.

  The rest of her mind was consumed with Quinn.

  It didn’t take a genius to know it was Quinn’s ex-wife who’d caused his heartbreak. She pressed her numb lips together for a moment but her need overcame discretion. “What exactly did his ex-wife do to him?”

  “Cheated on him with her ex-boyfriend.” Jess’s voice was flat and immediate. She clearly had no reservations about sharing the details. “Got pregnant and left him for her ex-boyfriend.”

  Amelia felt the blood drain out of her head. She sat very still, listening as Jess went on, oblivious to Amelia’s shock.

  “They’re still married, living right here in Vicker’s Corners. Didn’t even have the decency to get out of Horseback Hollow’s backyard.” Her tone made it plain what she thought of that.

  “I haven’t cheated on anyone,” Amelia said. Her voice sounded faraway. “Least of all Quinn.” No matter what he believed right now, six weeks ago, she had been nothing but honest with him. As for James, she’d never made any promises to him either before or after her night with Quinn. And when she’d returned to all the engagement commotion, she’d told him about the man she’d met in Horseback Hollow. The man she’d intended on returning to.

  Only that man had said in no uncertain terms that her return was no longer wanted at all.

  How would Quinn react once she informed him of her pregnancy?

  Trying not to cry, she stood and looked out the window again. There were a few vehicles driving up and down the street. A young family pushing a stroller was walking along the sidewalk, looking in the shop windows. The cars on either side of her aunt’s in front of the post office had been replaced by different ones. The fire engine siren had gone quiet.

  Ophelia hadn’t come pounding up the stairs, her camera whirring away.

  “D’you mind if I ask what you’re doing in Texas?”

  Amelia laughed silently and without humor. Learning she was pregnant had changed everything. She could no longer remain in England actually considering marriage to a man she didn’t love. Regardless of what Jess had revealed about Quinn’s ex-wife, he still needed to know he was going to be a father. And she had to learn how to become a mother.

  She blinked hard several times before looking at Jess, more or less dry-eyed. “Yes.” Even that one word sounded thick.

  Jess’s eyes narrowed for a moment. Then she smiled faintly. “Well, at least that’s honest.”

  Amelia’s eyes stung all over again. She looked away. “I’m not a Jezebel.”

  “No.” Jess sighed audibly. “I want to say you’re a twenty-three-year-old kid. But that’d be ironic coming from me since Mac and I already had two babies by the time I was your age.” She rose also. “Stay here. I’ll see if your nosy gal-pal is still snooping around downstairs.”

  Amelia waited tensely until Quinn’s sister returned. “Shayla says she doesn’t know you’re up here, but she checked in to the room downstairs anyway,” she said. “Unfortunately, that room opens right onto the lobby. And there’s no convenient fire exit this time.”

  Dismayed, Amelia could do nothing but stare.

  “Yeah.” Jess rubbed her hands down the sides of her cutoff denims. “I didn’t expect her to check in, either,” she grumbled.

  “What am I going to do?” Amelia stared at the room around them. “I can’t stay here! I have to get my aunt’s car back to her.”

  Jess patted her hands in the air, obviously trying to calm her. “I’ll figure something out.” She made a face. “Shayla couldn’t very well turn down a paying customer. There are only three rooms here. But she said she’d try to let you know if your fan heads out to look for you. If not, just be glad there’s an entire floor between you with a newlywed couple expected to occupy it.” She gave her a wry smile. “Maybe they’ll make enough noise you can sneak out without anyone noticing.”

  Try as she might, Amelia couldn’t prevent heat from rising in her cheeks.

  “Wow.” Jess eyed her flush openly. “Just how sheltered were you growing up?”

  Amelia blushed even harder. She thought of the private schools. The tutors. The chaperones. There were days when she and Lucie had felt like the only thing they were being raised for was to become a pristinely suitable choice for a noble marriage. Something their mother had vehemently denied since her first marriage had been just that type. Arranged. And terribly unhappy despite the production of Amelia’s half brothers, Oliver and Brodie.

  Jess looked at the sturdy watch on her wrist and made a face. “I’m going to have to leave you here. Just for a bit,” she assured quickly. “I’ve got to pick up my two oldest from baseball and drop off my middle at karate class. But I’ll be back in an hour, tops. And, I’ll, uh, I’ll make sure Shayla keeps quiet in the meantime. At least the room’s comfortable and it has its own bathroom, right?”

  Amelia wanted to chew off her tongue. “The room’s comfortable,” she allowed. But a prison was still a prison. “My aunt’s car—”

  “I promise. It’s my fault you’re stuck up here and I’ll figure something out,” Jess said again. “Just hang tight for a little bit. Here.” She handed Amelia her cell phone. “I’ll leave that with you to prove I’ll be back quickly. Everyone knows I don’t go far without my cell. Quinn’s always
complaining about it.”

  “Fine.” Amelia took the phone only because Jess seemed so intent on it and once the other woman left, she set it on the narrow dresser against the wall across from the bed and went back to the window. She saw Jess hurry out from beneath the striped awning a few minutes later and heartily wished that it was Ophelia Malone who was the one departing.

  It was warm in the room and she figured out how to open the window to let in some fresh air. Then she sat back down on the wicker rocker.

  She didn’t even realize she’d dozed off until the buzzing of Jess’s phone startled her awake. She had no intentions of answering the other woman’s phone, and she ignored the ringing until it stopped. She used the bathroom and turned on the small television sitting on one corner of the dresser and flipped through the meager selection. Black-and-white movies, a sitcom repeat and an obviously local talk show. She smiled a little when the hostess with a helmet of gray hair talked about the buzz surrounding the Horseback Hollow Cantina slated to open in two weeks, and switched the telly off again just as Jess’s phone began ringing again.

  She picked it up, hoping to find some way of silencing it. But the sight of Quinn’s name bobbing on the phone’s display stopped her. Her thumb hovered over the screen almost, almost, touching it.

  But she sighed and turned the phone facedown on the dresser instead. The ringing immediately stopped and she went back to stare out the open window. The street outside was undeniably picturesque with its streetlights shaped like old-fashioned gas lamps and big pots of summer flowers hanging from them. Her aunt’s car was now the only one in front of the post office. Everything looked peaceful and lovely and on any other day, she’d be perfectly charmed by the town.

  When there was a bold knock on the door, she went rigid, feeling panicked all over again.

  She wouldn’t put it past Ophelia Malone to go door-to-door looking for her. She looked out the window. There was plenty of space for her to climb out, but nothing to climb onto. No terrace. No fire escape ladder. Just the awning below her window that hung over the front entrance.