“I’ll get her to the altar,” he vowed. “One way or another.”
Hunter raised a brow but refrained from comment as his bride smiled and crooked a finger. “I’m being summoned. I’ll talk to you again when Sarah and I get back from our honeymoon.”
He handed his empty tumbler to a passing waiter and started for his wife, then turned back. “Just for the record, Mason, my money’s on Gina. She’s got more of the duchess in her than she realizes. And speaking of the duchess…”
Jack followed his glance and saw the silver-haired St. Sebastian matriarch thumping her way toward them. A long-sleeve, high-necked dress of ecru lace draped her slight frame. A trio of rings decorated her arthritic fingers. Leaning heavily on her cane with her left hand, Charlotte dismissed her new grandson-in-law with an imperious wave of the right.
“Gina says it’s time for you and Sarah to change out of your wedding finery. You only have an hour to get to the airport.”
“It’s my plane, Charlotte. I don’t think it’ll leave without us.”
“I should hope not.” Her ringed fingers flapped again. “Do go away, Devon. I want to talk to Ambassador Mason.”
Jack didn’t consciously go into a brace but he could feel his shoulders squaring as he faced Gina’s diminutive, indomitable grandmother.
He knew all about her. He should. He’d dug up the file the State Department had compiled on Charlotte St. Sebastian, once Grand Duchess of the tiny principality of Karlenburgh, when she fled her Communist-overrun country more than five decades ago. After being forced to witness her husband’s brutal execution, she’d escaped with the clothes on her back, her infant daughter in her arms and a fortune in jewels hidden inside the baby’s teddy bear.
She’d eventually settled in New York City and become an icon of the social and literary scenes. Few of the duchess’s wealthy, erudite friends were aware this stiff-spined aristocrat had pawned her jewels over the years to support herself and the two young granddaughters who’d come to live with her after the tragic death of their parents. Jack knew only because Dev Hunter had hinted that he should tread carefully where Charlotte and her granddaughters’ financial situation were concerned.
Very carefully. Jack’s one previous encounter with the duchess made it clear her reduced circumstances had not diminished either her haughty air or the fierce protectiveness she exhibited toward her granddaughters. That protectiveness blazed in her face now.
“I just spoke with Gina. She says you’re still trying to convince her to marry you.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Why?”
Jack was tempted to fall back on Gina’s excuse and suggest that a wedding reception was hardly the proper place for this discussion. The steely look in the duchess’s faded blue eyes killed that craven impulse.
“I think the reason would be obvious, ma’am. Your granddaughter’s carrying my child. I want to give her and the baby the protection of my name.”
The reply came coated with ice. “The St. Sebastian name provides more than enough cachet for my granddaughter and her child.”
Well, hell! And he called himself a diplomat! Jack was delivering a mental swift kick when the duchess raised her cane and jabbed the tip into his starched shirt front.
“Tell me one thing, Mr. Ambassador. Do you honestly believe the baby is yours?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Yes, ma’am, I do.”
The cane took another sharp jab at his sternum.
“Why?”
For two reasons, one of which Jack wasn’t about to share. He was still pissed that his father had reacted to the news that he would be a grandfather by hiring a private investigator. With ruthless efficiency the P.I. had dug into every nook and cranny of Gina St. Sebastian’s life for the past three months. The report he submitted painted a portrait of a woman who bounced from job to job and man to man with seeming insouciance. Yet despite his best efforts, the detective hadn’t been able to turn up a single lover in Gina’s recent past except John Harris Mason III.
Furious, Jack had informed his father that he didn’t need any damned report. He’d known the baby was his from the moment Gina called from Switzerland, sobbing and nearly incoherent. He now tried to convey that same conviction to the ferocious woman about to skewer him with her cane.
“As I’ve discovered in our brief time together, Duchess, your granddaughter has her share of faults. So do I. Neither of us have tried to deceive the other about those faults, however.”
“What you mean,” she countered with withering scorn, “is that neither of you made any protestations of eternal love or devotion before you jumped into bed together.”
Jack refused to look away, but damned if he didn’t feel heat crawling up the back of his neck. Wisely, he sidestepped the jumping-into-bed issue. “I’ll admit I have a lot to learn yet about your granddaughter but my sense is she doesn’t lie. At least not about something this important,” he added with more frankness than tact.
To his relief, the duchess lowered the cane and leaned on it with both hands. “You’re correct in that assessment. Gina doesn’t lie.”
She hesitated, and a look that combined both pride and exasperation crossed her aristocratic features. “If anything, the girl is too honest. She tends to let her feelings just pour out, along with whatever she happens to be thinking at the time.”
“So I noticed,” Jack said, straight-faced.
Actually, Gina’s exuberance and utter lack of pretense had delighted him almost as much as her luscious body during their weekend together. Looking back, Jack could admit he’d shucked a half-dozen layers of his sober, responsible self during that brief interlude. They hadn’t stayed shucked, of course. Once he’d returned to Washington, he’d been engulfed in one crisis after another. Right up until that call from Switzerland.
The duchess reclaimed his attention with a regal toss of her head. “I will say this once, young man, and I suggest you take heed. My granddaughter’s happiness is my first—my only—concern. Whatever Eugenia decides regarding you and the baby, she has my complete support.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less, ma’am.”
“Hrrrmph.” She studied him with pursed lips for a moment before delivering an abrupt non sequitur. “I knew your grandfather.”
“You did?”
“He was a member of President Kennedy’s cabinet at the time. Rather stiff and pompous, as I recall.”
Jack had to grin. “That sounds like him.”
“I invited him and your grandmother to a reception I hosted for the Sultan of Oman right here, in these very rooms. The Kennedys attended. So did the Rockefellers.”
A distant look came into her eyes. A smile hovered at the corners of her mouth.
“I wore my pearls,” she murmured, as much to herself as to her listener. “They roped around my neck three times before draping almost to my waist. Jackie was quite envious.”
He bet she was. Watching the duchess’s face, listening to her cultured speech with its faint trace of an accent, Jack nursed the hope that marriage to her younger granddaughter might not be such a disaster, after all.
With time and a little guidance on his part, Gina could learn to curb some of her impulsiveness. Maybe even learn to think before she blurted out whatever came into her mind. Not that he wanted to dim her sparkling personality. Just rein it in a bit so she’d feel comfortable in the restrained diplomatic circles she’d be marrying into.
Then, of course, there was the sex.
Jack kept his expression politely attentive. His diplomatic training and years of field experience wouldn’t allow him to do otherwise. Yet every muscle in his body went taut as all-too-vivid images from his weekend with Gina once again grabbed him.
He hadn’t been a saint since his wife died, but neither had he tomcatted around. Five women i
n six years didn’t exactly constitute a world record. Yet the hours he’d spent in that Beverly Hills penthouse suite with Gina St. Sebastian made him come alive in ways he hadn’t felt since…
Since Catherine.
Shaking off the twinge of guilt that thought brought, Jack addressed the woman just coming out of her reverie of presidents and pearls.
“Please believe me, Duchess. I want very much to do right by both your granddaughter and our child.”
Those shrewd, pale eyes measured him for long, uncomfortable moments. Jack had faced cold-blooded dictators whose stares didn’t slice anywhere as close to the bone as this white-haired, seemingly frail woman’s did.
“You may as well call me Charlotte,” she said finally. “I suspect we may be seeing a good deal of each other in the weeks ahead.”
“I suspect we may.”
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must help Sarah prepare to depart for her honeymoon.”
Two
After Sarah changed and left for the airport with Dev, Gina escorted her grandmother and Maria down to the limo she’d ordered for them.
“I’ll be a while,” she warned as the elevator opened onto the Plaza’s elegant lobby. “I want to make sure Dev’s family is set for their trip home tomorrow.”
“I should think that clever, clever man Dev employs as his executive assistant has the family’s travel arrangements well in hand.”
“He does. He’s also going to take care of shipping the wedding gifts back to L.A., thank goodness. But I need to verify the final head count and see he has a complete list of the bills to expect.”
The duchess stiffened, and Gina gave herself a swift mental kick. Dang it! She shouldn’t have mentioned those bills. As she and Sarah knew all too well, covering the cost of the wedding had come dangerously close to a major point of contention between Dev and the duchess. Charlotte had insisted on taking care of the expenses traditionally paid by the bride’s family. It was a real tribute to Dev’s negotiating skills that he and Grandmama had reached an agreement that didn’t totally destroy her pride.
And now Gina had to bring up the sensitive subject again! It was Jack’s fault, she thought in disgust. Their confrontation had thrown her off stride. Was still throwing her off. Why the heck had she agreed to meet him for lunch tomorrow?
She was still trying to figure that one out when the limo pulled up to the Plaza’s stately front entrance. The driver got out to open the door but before his two passengers slid into the backseat, the duchess issued a stern warning.
“Don’t overtax yourself, Eugenia. Pregnancy saps a woman’s strength, especially during the first few months. You’ll find you’re more fatigued than usual.”
“Fatigue hasn’t been a problem yet. Or morning sickness, knock on…”
She glanced around for some wood to rap. She settled for wiggling a branch of one of the massive topiary trees guarding the front entrance.
“My breasts are swollen up like water balloons, though. And my nipples ache like you wouldn’t believe.” Grimacing, she rolled her shoulders to ease the constriction of her tight bodice. “They want out of this gown.”
“For pity’s sake, Eugenia!” The duchess shot a glance at the stony-faced limo driver. “Let’s continue this discussion tomorrow, shall we?”
Nodding, Gina bent to kiss her grandmother’s cheek and breathed in the faint, oh-so-familiar scent of lavender and lace. “Make sure you take your medicine before you go to bed.”
“I’m not senile, young lady. I think I can manage to remember to take two little pills.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Trying to look properly chastised, she helped the duchess into the limo and turned to the Honduran native who’d become a second mother to her and Sarah. “You’ll stay with her, Maria? I shouldn’t be more than another hour or two. I’ll have a car take you home.”
“Take as long as you need. La duquesa and I, we’ll put our feet up and talk about what a fine job you did organizing such a beautiful wedding.”
“It did come off well, didn’t it?”
Maria beamed a wide smile. “Sí, chica, it did.”
Buoyed by the compliment, Gina returned to the reception room. Most of the guests had departed. Including, she saw after a quick sweep, a certain obnoxious ambassador who’d shown up unexpectedly. She should have had him escorted out when he first walked in. Being summarily ejected from the wedding would have put a dent in the man’s ego. Or maybe not. For a career diplomat, he seemed as impervious to Gina’s snubs as to her adamant refusal to marry him.
He didn’t understand why she wouldn’t even consider it for their baby’s sake. Neither did the duchess. Although Grandmama and Sarah both supported Gina’s decision to go it alone, she knew they wondered at her vehemence. On the surface, John Harris Mason III certainly made excellent husband material. He was rich, handsome and charming as the devil when he wanted to be.
It was what lurked below the surface that held Gina back. Every story, every bio printed about the charismatic diplomat, hinted that Jack had buried his heart with the young wife he’d first dated in high school and married the day they both graduated from Harvard. From all reports, Catherine Mason had been every bit as smart, athletic and politically involved as her husband.
Gina knew in her heart she couldn’t compete with the ghost of his lost love. Not because she lacked her own set of credentials. The Duchy of Karlenburgh might now be little more than an obscure footnote in history books, but Grandmama could still hold her own with presidents and kings. What’s more, she’d insisted her granddaughters be educated in accordance with their heritage. Gina had actually graduated from Barnard with a semi-decent grade point average. She’d pretty much majored in partying, though, and to this day had zero interest in politics.
She might have cultivated an interest for Jack. Had actually toyed with the idea during that crazy weekend. For all her seemingly casual approach to life and love, she’d never met anyone as fascinating and entertaining and just plain hot as Jack Mason.
Any thoughts of fitting into the mold of a diplomat’s wife went poof when Gina discovered she was pregnant. There was no way she could dive into politics and marriage and motherhood at the same time. She already felt as though she were on an emotional roller coaster. All she could think about right now, all she would allow herself to think about, was proving she could take care of herself and her baby.
“You put on a helluva party, lady.”
Smiling, she turned to Dev’s gravel-voiced buddy from his air force days. Patrick Donovan now served as Dev’s executive assistant and pretty much ruled his vast empire with an iron fist.
“Thanks, Pat.”
Tall and lanky and looking completely at home in his Armani tux, Donovan winked at her. “You decide you want to come back to L.A., you let me know. We could use someone with your organizational skills in our protocol office. Seems like we’re hosting some bigwig industrialists from China or Germany or Australia every other week.”
“I appreciate the offer but I’m going to try to break into the event-planning business here in New York. Plus, I’m thinking about moving in with Grandmama for the next eight months or so.”
If the duchess would have her. They’d all been so busy these past few weeks with Sarah’s wedding, Gina hadn’t found the right time to broach the subject. Her sister heartily endorsed the plan, though. Both she and Gina hated the thought of the duchess living alone now that Sarah was moving out.
Okay! All right! So Gina needed a place to stay until she landed a job and became self-supporting. Despite her determination to prove herself, she had to have a base to build on. Grandmama wouldn’t object to letting her move in. Probably.
“I’ve got some pretty good contacts in New York,” Patrick was saying. “You want me to make a few calls? Grease the skids a
little?”
“I need to do this on my own, Pat. But thanks for the offer.”
“It stays on the table,” he said with a shrug as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “Call me if you change your mind. Or better yet, let your new brother-in-law know. Dev is complete mush right now. He’d set you up with your own agency if you so much as hint that’s what you want. And let me know if you want me to close up your apartment in L.A. and have your things shipped here.”
“I will. Thanks again.”
* * *
Gina climbed out of a cab some two hours later. The Dakota’s red sandstone turrets poked against the darkening night sky, welcoming her to the castlelike apartment complex that was one of New York City’s most prestigious addresses. The duchess had bought an apartment here shortly after arriving in New York City. The purchase had put a serious dent in her cache of jewels, but careful investments during those first years, along with the discreet sale of a diamond bracelet here, a ruby necklace there, had allowed Charlotte to maintain the apartment and an elegant lifestyle over the decades.
Keeping up the facade had become much tougher in recent years. The jewels were gone. So were most of the haute couture gowns and designer suits that once filled her grandmother’s closet. With her love of the classic retro look, Sarah had salvaged a number of the outfits and saved money by not splurging on new clothes for herself, but she’d had to struggle to cover the bills from her own salary.
Dev, bless him, wanted to make things easier for his wife’s grandmother. But like the wedding expenses, taking over the duchess’s financial affairs involved delicate negotiations that had yet to reach a satisfactory conclusion. Which put the burden on Gina’s shoulders. She couldn’t just move in and expect her grandmother to support her. She had to pay her own way.
On that determined note, she thanked Maria for staying so late and told her to sleep in the next morning. “I’ll make breakfast for Grandmama.”
The Honduran looked dubious. “Are you sure, chica? La duquesa, she likes her egg poached just so.”
The Diplomat's Pregnant Bride Page 2
