The Brother's Wife

A discreet knock on the door was followed by the entrance of a uniformed maid carrying a silver tea service on an ornate tray. The tea was poured, and Iris took a tentative sip from a delicate porcelain cup, then dismissed the maid with a satisfied nod.

As if in silent accord, the two women set aside their cups and turned to face each other. Iris had removed her suit jacket, and the blue silk blouse brought an unexpected sparkle to her eyes. She even wore a hint of blush, Hope noticed, or were the roses in the older woman’s cheeks natural? Iris had been so pale and listless since Andrew’s death. The vital woman sitting before Hope now seemed almost a stranger.

Before Hope had a chance to speak, Iris lifted her hand, which appeared steadier than it had in months. “I know what you’re about to say. Edward has already been in to see me, and I suspect Jeremy will be up before dinner. If he can muster the courage,” she added scornfully. “Let me assure you, as I did my beloved son and his wife, that I have no intention of making Michael Eldridge my heir until we have conclusive proof he is my grandson.”

Hope smiled at the woman’s forthrightness. No need beating about the bush with Iris. “I’m glad to hear that. Although I’m less worried about your will than I am about your heart. I don’t want to see it broken again.”

The old woman’s face crumpled for a moment, as she remembered Andrew’s death. She turned away until she’d regained her composure, then once again met Hope’s gaze. “Do you think he’s another impostor?”

Hope shrugged. “I don’t know. There’ve been so many. Especially since Andrew died.”

Iris drew a long, weary breath. “But none of them looked the way he does. Did you see his eyes, Hope? He’s a Kingsley. I’d stake my life on it.”

That was exactly what Hope was afraid of. “I think we should reserve judgment until we find out more about him.”

“He’s agreed to the DNA testing,” Iris reminded her.

“Yes, and hopefully, that’ll give us the proof we need. But those kinds of tests sometimes take weeks, I understand. In the meantime, you could have an investigator check him out—”

“No.”

Hope looked at the older woman in concern. “Why not? Surely you want to find out all you can about this man.”

Iris’s chin lifted in the arrogant, stubborn manner the family had seen too little of in the past few months. “I don’t want a stranger poking around in our affairs and compromising our privacy. I want this kept as quiet as possible. You know as well as I do what the media would do with a story like this. No matter what kind of life Michael has led, they would twist things to make it sound sordid, perhaps even criminal. Look at what they tried to do to poor Andrew. It wouldn’t be fair to Michael. Besides…” Her blue eyes grew even more determined. “I already know the truth about him. All I have to do is look at him.”

Hope leaned forward, taking Iris’s hand in hers. “I know he looks like Andrew. Enough like him to be his twin brother. But looks can be deceiving.”

“But he’s exactly like Andrew. The way he walks. The way he talks, laughs, smiles. Oh, Hope.” Iris’s grip tightened with surprising force on Hope’s hand. “Don’t you see? It’s as if Andrew’s come back to us.”

* * *

THAT NIGHT HOPE couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned, unable to get the image of Michael Eldridge out of her mind. His striking resemblance to Andrew had brought back so many painful memories. She couldn’t forget the way Andrew had looked the last time she’d seen him, the anger and hurt in his blue eyes as she’d lashed out at him. The cruel set of his mouth as he’d smiled down at her, taunting her.

In the stillness of the night, their last argument seemed to echo against the walls of the bedroom they’d shared for nearly a decade. Unable to stand the torment any longer, Hope got up and crossed the room, opening the French doors to the mild April night. She stepped onto the balcony that overlooked the rear gardens, trying to distance herself from the room and from the memories.

And from the guilt.

The sky was still and clear, with a sprinkling of stars and a full moon that silvered the aquamarine surface of the swimming pool. The scent from the wisteria near her window wafted on the evening breeze, and through the trees, Hope could see the flickering light from the groundskeeper’s cottage where Jake’s father lived. Where Jake was staying. She wondered if he was there now.

She closed her eyes as Andrew’s last words came back to haunt her.

“You’ve never gotten over him,” he’d accused her. “Why don’t you just admit it? You still love him. That’s why you want a divorce.”

“This isn’t about Jake,” Hope had said wearily, placing a stack of sweaters inside the open suitcase on their bed. Andrew sat across the room from her, sprawled in a chair by the window. His dark, brooding gaze followed her every move. “It never was about Jake, except in your mind. We could have had a good marriage, Andrew. I did love you. Once. But you never gave us a chance.”

She’d seen the truth of her words flicker in his eyes, replaced almost immediately by the darkness that had become all too familiar lately. “Like hell. Don’t blame me for this. And don’t try to pretend you’re not running to him. How long has this little affair been going on behind my back?”

Hope met his gaze. “I haven’t seen Jake in years. You know that.”

“Liar.” Andrew sprang up from the chair and strode across the room toward her, as graceful and dangerous as a panther. “He was here the other day. I know you saw him.”

“He came to see you, not me. I didn’t even talk to him.”

But Andrew had seemed not to hear her. He’d already drawn his own conclusions, and nothing she could say would make a difference to him. It never had.

Hope closed the lid of the suitcase and snapped the locks. “There’s no point in trying to reason with you when you’re like this. I’ll call you in a few days when I get settled.”

“Don’t give me that damned icy brush-off of yours. I’m sick of it.” Andrew grabbed her suddenly and spun her around to face him. “Do you think I’ll let you just walk out of here like this? There’s no way I’ll let you go to him. I won’t let him win.”

Hope flung off his hand and glared up at him. “That’s all I am to you, isn’t it? The winner’s prize in this stupid competition you’ve always had with Jake McClain. You’re not a child anymore, Andrew. You don’t have to be jealous of Jake any longer.”

His mouth curled in outrage. “Jealous? Of the gardener’s son?”

“He’s always been more than that and you know it. That’s why you hate him.”

His brows rose in derision. “He’s a cop, Hope. Which is exactly why you broke off your engagement to him, remember?”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “I remember.”

“He’s nothing,” Andrew spat.

He’s more than you’ll ever be, Hope thought, then realized in horror that she’d spoken the words aloud.

Something changed in Andrew’s eyes, a resolution that was almost as frightening as his anger. “So. The truth finally comes out.”

She couldn’t have said anything that would have wounded Andrew more deeply. Jake McClain had always been a thorn in her husband’s side. The two of them had been playmates as children, fiercely competitive even back then—Andrew with the Kingsley wealth and power backing him, and Jake with nothing more than a chip on his shoulder and a fierce determination to someday get away from the shadow of the Kingsley mansion.

In spite of all the advantages Andrew had grown up with, it was Jake who had become something of a local hero, excelling in athletics in both high school and college. It was Jake who had known exactly what he wanted in life and attacked his ambitions with a vengeance, while Andrew had drifted from day to day, restless and discontented, with no aim in life other than to own the fastest cars and to be seen with the most beautiful women.

It was Jake Hope had fallen in love with, and for that, Andrew had never forgiven her.

“I won’t give you up,” he warned.

“You don’t have a choice,” she retorted. “Our marriage has been over for a long time. Just let it go.”

“I won’t let him have you.” Andrew tried to touch her, but Hope jerked away. His eyes darkened. “I’ll see you both dead first.”

She stared up at him, hating the sight of him, hating herself for the life she’d given up ten years ago. Her anger, always hidden beneath the surface, bubbled over, hot and fierce, before she could stop it. “I’d rather be dead than to stay married to you!” she screamed.

He looked stunned for a moment, then his smile chilled her to the bone. “Careful what you wish for, Hope.”

He turned and strode from the room, slamming the door behind him. Within moments, she heard his car roaring down the driveway, and all Hope could think was that she was glad he was gone. She wished she would never have to see him again.

“Careful what you wish for, Hope.”

As those images once again stormed through her, Hope shivered. The breeze had picked up, stirring the scent of the roses. The sky, clear moments before, was now dotted with clouds. A lacy filigree covered the moon, deepening the shadows in the garden beyond the pool. Suddenly, Hope had the strangest sensation that she was being watched from the darkness.

“Jake?” she whispered, but the night remained ominously silent.