The Secret Heiress

Before Marie could reply, an interior door opened and a tall woman entered. She had perfectly sculpted gray hair, a strong jaw, a kind face and a firm, stout figure. She wore a navy-blue skirt and blouse, and a ruffled white apron with a bib. “Rennie, you rascal,” she said, obviously pleased.

“Ah,” he replied, his tone silky. “And what mischief are you up to, entertaining gentlemen in your kitchen? Miss Louisa doesn’t know he was here, does she? You’re a bold one, you are.”

She made a shooing gesture at him. “She’s in Sydney getting her annual checkup. She won’t be back until this evening. Ah. And this is your niece, Marie?”

“The very one. Marie, Mrs. Lipton, the housekeeper. A marvel of organization, she is.”

Mrs. Lipton almost smiled, but her face grew serious. “Marie, I’m very sorry about your loss. It’s good you’ve come to join your uncle. It’s a very empty feeling, losing one’s mother. I remember all too well.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Marie almost whispered.

Reynard said, “My sister was a darling woman and a lovely cook.” He pinched Marie’s cheek affectionately. “And this one’s every bit her mother’s child. She’ll do you proud.”

Mrs. Lipton moved to a small cabinet built into the wall. She opened it and pulled out a set of keys. “Rennie, will you be a dear and take Marie to her quarters? I suppose she has things you’ll have to help her move in. Then bring her back here, and I’ll explain her duties to her. Marie, did you bring a uniform?”

Marie said, “Yes, ma’am.” Mrs. Lipton had e-mailed the uniform requirements.

“You needn’t wear it until this evening. We’ll also provide you with one of our staff T-shirts with the Fairchild logo. Now, help her settle in, Rennie.”

He gave her an appreciative look from beneath half-lowered lids. “Right away. By the way, Mrs. Lipton, you’ve changed your hair somewhat, haven’t you?”

“Oh. Just a bit,” she said, toying with a gray curl. “Now run along. I know Tyler will want you back at Lochlain.”

“He’s a good enough cove, Andrew Preston,” Reynard said, as they parked in front of the staff bungalow. “I see him around Lochlain all the time. Not our sort, of course, but a good cove. The old girl doesn’t like him, of course. She’s got her back up because he’s a Preston and a Yank and dared come here to campaign against her candidate—Jacko Bullock.”

“I see.” But Marie didn’t really understand; she was still in shock at seeing the man again. Andrew Preston. She hadn’t even known his name. Andrew Preston.

Reynard parked and unloaded the truck, talking the whole time.

Numbly she listened as he explained that Bullock had used all his media clout to defend Louisa in the shooting case the year before. He’d been her loyal supporter, and she intended to be his. She therefore hoped that Andrew Preston would not be merely beaten, but crushed like a bug.

“When it gets to racing politics, she can be hell on wheels,” Reynard said as he unlocked the door to her room. The cottage was sparklingly clean, not fancy, but comfortable, with a shared living room and kitchen.

“It’s nice.” Marie nodded in approval. “And Mrs. Lipton is a nice woman.”

“She is indeed.”

“She seems to like you,” Marie said with a hint of mischief. “And you flirt with her.”

“She needs a bit of fun in her life. So does old Louisa, if she’d admit it. I do my bit, is all. I’ll bring your things. There’s a place to chain your bike near the main entrance. “

Reynard put her bike in place and carried her secondhand suitcases inside. “You need help unpacking?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Then let me take you back to the kitchen and I’ll be off to Lochlain.”

“Your boss has been generous, letting you off this long.”

“Tyler? Very decent fellow, a good mate. Andrew Preston’s cousin, did I say?”

“You did.” Her pulse speeded up at the mention of Andrew. It was ridiculous, she scolded herself. Seeing him again wasn’t exciting. It was just a surprise. And—awkward.

“I thought he eyed you like you were something special,” Reynard said.

“Don’t be silly. I’m a kitchen worker.”

Reynard frowned as if in puzzlement. “Bad as my old ears are, I thought I heard something when you saw him.”

She threw him a puzzled look. “Heard something?”

He scratched his chin. “A clickety-clackety. Like maybe someone finally shook those hormones of yours into action.”

She smacked him lightly on the arm, but her eyes flashed in irritation. “You’re impossible.”

“Unfamiliar sensation, wasn’t it?” he asked. “Hormones romping around?”

She smacked him again. He threw his head back and laughed. But then he sobered. “He’s a handsome devil. But out of your league, love. Be careful of men like him. Would to God that Colie had been.”

Andrew, who’d borrowed Tyler’s Jeep for the trip, drove back to Lochlain in a pensive mood. It had been odd, when he’d delivered the eggs, to be welcomed so warmly by the kitchen staff. It meant not everyone at Fairchild Acres hated his guts. Just Louisa.

But that wasn’t what most interested him. Images of Reynard’s niece, startlingly vivid, kept flashing into his mind. Marie. She’d stood so demurely in the kitchen—yet with confidence.

He’d recognized her almost instantly, but he never would have taken her for Reynard’s niece. While Reynard exuded a raffish air of good fellowship, Marie seemed carefully controlled, sure of herself, yet at the same time a bit shy. It was a paradoxical combination, and it intrigued him.

He remembered holding her in his arms so briefly. Too briefly. He rubbed his chest, which sweated in the rising heat. Then he realized Raddy’s charm was gone. He stopped the car, searched the seat and looked on the floor.

Where in hell was it?

Reynard insisted on driving Marie back to the kitchen, although the distance was short. She kissed him in thanks, said she’d phone, then hopped out of the truck.

“Oh, wait,” Reynard said. “There’s something I forgot to tell you.”

She came to his opened window and looked at him in puzzlement. “What?”

“Louisa’s great-niece and nephew are here, staying with her. Megan and Patrick Stafford.”

“What?” she demanded, swept by both surprise and anger. “You said she wasn’t close to any of her family.”

“I never did. Willadene Gates wrote that. And Louisa wasn’t on speaking terms with them. I think this is kind of a test. To see if they’re worthy of inheriting her money bin. Maybe they are, maybe they’re not. Either way, there’s enough to go around.”

Marie, appalled, stared at him. “Reynard! If she’s reconciling with them, I shouldn’t even be here. It makes me feel—underhanded. Why didn’t you tell me, for God’s sake?”

“I didn’t know until they arrived. There were just rumors.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Why didn’t you tell me when they got here? Why’d you wait until now to spring the news?”

He shrugged. “You wouldn’t have come. Now you can’t go. You’re moved in. You might like them, love. They’re probably your cousins. I’ve heard the woman’s nice, but the bloke’s a bit of a layabout.”