The Scotland Yard Exchange Series

by Stephanie Queen

  “You sure know how to clear a room.” PJD didn’t know what to say to Rick. He hadn’t known what to say or do period. He hadn’t talked to Mad about marriage, not strictly speaking. She was pregnant. With his baby. This time he didn’t want to blow it.

  But he’d just beaten her in the election and he had no idea what she wanted to do. He wasn’t sure he should trust her words about loving him forever no matter what, and even so, would that be enough for a good marriage? She was as ambitious as he was.

  This would not be a marriage like his parents’. That was for damn sure. That was a successful marriage and that was all he knew. And yet he wanted her. He desperately wanted her at his side for the rest of his life no matter what.

  “That settles it,” he said aloud, startling Rick out of his scowl.

  “What? You’re going to take my advice?”

  “What advice is that?”

  “Marry her now and get it over with. It’ll look better if you’re married before she has the baby.” Rick wasn’t frowning. He wasn’t smiling either, but at least that scowl was gone.

  Peter let out his smile. “Excellent advice. You’ll have the spin set to go then if the wedding is say, next week?”

  Now Rick grinned like the tiger he was. “Pretty cocksure of yourself, aren’t you? You haven’t even asked her.” Bull’s eye. But Peter wasn’t going to let him know that.

  “Just leave it to the master. I know what I’m doing.” Pause. “This time, anyway.”

  Peter decided to leave the discussion of Theresa for another time. He had enough on his hands. Now he had to figure a foolproof plan to get Mad to agree to marry him by next week.

  He told himself it was a matter of pride.

  Chapter 26

  Rick had outdone himself at setting the stage. He got them all to Cambridge on short notice. The judge nodded at Peter from across the study. His mother stood with the judge, surrounded by fascinated ex-campaign workers from Madeline’s old camp. Peter hoped the old man’s patience held. His mother would see to it.

  “I’ve heard of surprise showers before, but this is the first time I’ve ever been to a surprise wedding,” Val said. She walked into the room with Sarah, came to a stop in front of Peter, and folded her arms to emphasize the challenging tone of her voice.

  “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

  “Are you sure she’s going to go for this?” Sarah asked.

  “Maybe not at first, but you can help me talk her into it. Eventually she’ll warm up to the idea. I figure we’ll have about a half hour to persuade her.”

  Sarah’s sense of humor was surprisingly true to form considering she’d recently been arraigned and was out on bail. He watched her glare and purse her lips at his comment and showed her a grin in return. He was determined to have fun at his own wedding.

  After all, if the media ever knew the notorious Sarah Lisky was at his house right now, no amount of Rick’s spin could save him. He’d have to resort to the truth: that they were all here for the secret surprise wedding of Peter the Rock and Mad Madeline. Madeline would never forgive him for that.

  The entire cast from the Berkshires fiasco was here, including the villains Theresa, the mayor, and the senator’s wife. The villains not attending were Nurse Ratched and Bertrand St. Cyr.

  They were both finally locked up—he was in an institution pending a psych evaluation. None too soon.

  Mad’s parents were bringing her over. They hadn’t been too sure about it, but they relented. They were convinced that something needed to be done sooner than later. He couldn’t help noticing that she was starting to show all the symptoms. Looked like she probably lied to St. Cyr after all, when he’d asked his question about her pregnancy. Maybe she ought to apologize.

  Of course, they all understood the need for secrecy from the press. Enough was enough. It was gratifying to see that their evasion worked. Peter looked out the window again to see not a single member of the media stood on his sidewalk or front lawn. They had all followed Sam in the limo with a PJD look-alike over to Madeline’s house in Marblehead a couple hours ago. Rick had done a great job training Theresa. Theresa let it slip accidentally on purpose to some media friends that PJD was going to visit Mad in Marblehead and she thought he was going to pop the question. According to Sam, it was a mob scene. Sam would escape out the back in time to make it back to Cambridge. Peter checked his watch.

  Sam’s instructions were that if anyone followed him, he’d have to pass by Cambridge and skip the wedding. If Peter knew Sam, that wasn’t about to happen. It was a matter of pride.

  Peter checked his watch again. Acer came over, tugging at his bow tie.

  “I can’t believe you made me wear this.”

  “You look great in a tux.”

  “Are you sure she’s gonna go along with this? This was a risk you didn’t have to take. Why not clue her in?” Acer asked.

  “Politics. You wouldn’t understand.” Peter smiled at him. Acer raised a brow.

  “They’re down the street. Places everyone.” Bill walked in the room from his front hall lookout spot.

  “This is not a drill, people. It’s live. She’s here,” Bob said.

  Maybe this was a crazy idea. Too late to worry. Besides, it was always his craziest schemes that ended up working the best. He’d show her what it meant to think outside the box. She’d never accuse of him of being slow and conventional again.

  In the meantime, he hoped to God she’d go along with it and marry him here and now, in his home in Cambridge with the judge officiating.

  He walked to the door to meet her, Acer and Rick flanking him. Once she was inside, their job was to make sure she didn’t get back out. He idly wondered if that would qualify as kidnapping, when the doorbell rang.

  The Dénouement in Cambridge

  Madeline sucked in the air and the feeling of being free. Free of the scrutiny of the press. She turned to her parents as she pressed the doorbell.

  “It’s amazing the media has left us alone today.” She looked out at the empty street. The door opened and the devilish smile of Peter John Douglas popped into place. He had been so concerned about her. She felt her heart melt each time she thought of him, and now.

  “Your wish is my command,” he said.

  “Are you claiming credit for the lack of media attention?” She laughed.

  “Of course. A few calls, a little sleight of hand…and poof. They’re gone.” He waved one hand and ushered her into his front hall with the other. She nodded at Acer and Rick as they slid past her. Her parents were right behind her and pushing her along.

  She was about to walk into the living room and Peter pulled her along.

  “Let’s go in the study for a minute. For a drink.”

  “What? You know I can’t drink…”

  “We need, er, want a drink,” her father said from behind her. She stopped and turned and looked at each of her parents.

  “Let’s go, dear. I’d love a glass of wine before dinner,” her mother said.

  There was more to this than a simple drink before dinner. The queasiness rose. Not a good time for this. This was a good time to sit down.

  “Look, I don’t know what the game is here, and I’m sure there is a game, but I don’t feel all that well suddenly.”

  “Mad, you’re as white as a ghost, let me help you,” Peter said.

  Seeing the look of alarm on the ever-cool face of Mr. Rock was almost worth the discomfort. She managed a weak smile.

  “Okay, okay,” she said, but she wasn’t prepared for him to heft her into his arms and carry her through the door and into the study. That wasn’t all she was not prepared for.

  The room was full of people. There were balloons, and everyone was dressed up. Come to think of it, Rick and Acer had been wearing tuxes…

  “Peter! What’s going on?” It was her turn to feel alarmed.

  “It’s dinner, like I said,” he stalled while he carried her over to the couch. Damn, he shoul
d have brought her into the living room. This was going to be tougher than he thought.

  “How do you feel?” he whispered in her ear as he placed her on the couch as gently as possible. He’d tried to lay her down, but she popped up immediately to a sitting position. She would have stood up too if he hadn’t stopped her. Everyone looked confused, and luckily no one had yelled surprise. That was, until Rick came to the door and cued them.

  “Surprise!” They all yelled. The music came on. The wedding march. She opened her mouth and stared at him. He was doomed. She was still white.

  “Are you all right?” He was desperate for her to tell him yes. She was mute and white. Her mother rushed over. People helped themselves to the champagne and made merry. The signs dropped from the ceiling proclaiming congratulations on their marriage.

  She looked around as her mother sat next to her and patted her hand.

  “I know it’s a shock, dear, but isn’t it charmingly romantic after all?” The woman glared at him. He was about to pick Madeline up off the couch and take her back out of the room when she finally looked at him and spoke.

  “Are you mad?” she said.

  The room stopped. Val came over with an accusatory look. He’d been trained to deal with severely stressful situations, and he’d been damn good at it. He’d been decorated for coming through under fire. But nothing prepared him for this. His emotions were not under control. This was serious. It was time to pull himself together as he never had before. He stood up and pulled her with him.

  “Let’s go out back and get some air.” She didn’t resist his tug through the room. He nodded at Rick along the way to keep things going. They’d planned for some persuasion time. But now that it was here, all the plans meant nothing.

  They went through the kitchen where there were bunches of helium balloons on strings. She watched him snatch a few. It looked like a rare impulsive move for him. This whole thing was unbelievably wild. None of it was in the PJD book of looks. He was way outside the box. Part of her was impressed. Part of her was scared silly.

  Didn’t he know she counted on his rock-solidness? Once outside the door, she walked ahead of him to the middle of the small yard and away from the trees to give the balloons room to roam. She watched them.

  “I wish I were an untethered balloon right now. Free to escape this mob of well-meaning people and this surprise wedding you staged,” she said, waiting for his explanation. He stared back. Now he was mute. They hadn’t talked about anything. Hadn’t aired their issues. Hadn’t discussed marriage or the baby. He was taking a hell of a lot for granted.

  But then he had a right to. She’d given him the right when she’d given him her bottom line: that no matter what she’d always love him. What had she expected? The sigh she let out was long and cleansing.

  “So were you surprised?”

  She looked at him and realized he needed rescuing. She laughed and nodded her head yes. “How do you feel, Peter?”

  “I’m in love with you more than ever. I always will be.” He looked her in the eye and let his emotions show. He toyed with the balloon strings. “I wanted the wedding to be private. No media circus. Staging secret missions is my specialty.”

  “So it would seem.” She gave him a smile. A lot had happened. She needed to give her emotions a second to catch up. They would get there, and she knew where they’d be. Game to go. If she battled through the last campaign and came close to winning, then she could do more than she thought. Even with a baby.

  She thought of St. Cyr and the likelihood of his going to trial. Then Peter read her mind just as she was feeling vulnerable. Or more likely he read her face. As usual.

  “I’ll protect you and the baby. You don’t have to worry.” He smiled then, a little.

  “You can’t protect us from everything, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m not a child.”

  “I know. So I love you and I want to protect you—that’s not a bad thing.” His eyes locked onto hers, glistening with vulnerability. She didn’t often see him let his emotions this close to the surface. She placed her hands on his magnificent face and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. He enveloped her in his strong hug. She could have taken comfort in that hug for a long time, but she felt herself slipping into the passion and stopped the kiss to tell him.

  “I am so in love with you, Peter. I wouldn’t want you any other way.” She pulled her hands away, but he kept her in his hug with the balloons bobbing at her back.

  “You’ll have to prove it.” He sounded serious. Her heart was beginning to pick up speed.

  “How?”

  “Let me marry you. Let this be only the first child we raise together. Will you have a big family of children with me?”

  “As many as you want.” She was serious. Then her emotions popped into a joyousness that made her giddy. She smiled a smile that harbored laughter bubbling just below the surface. “As long as we raise them as independents.”

  “No party propaganda?”

  “Only in small harmless doses—to inoculate them.”

  The rush of blood being pumped by his heart made him feel like a balloon stretched tight immediately before the euphoric pop, but there was one more thing.

  “You have to promise me you’ll never run against me ever again—for any office,” he said. She broke free from his embrace and grabbed the balloon strings from his hand, tossing them into the air. They walked toward the house.

  “I already made that promise to myself.” She paused and added, “Besides, with the baby on the way, I think my next project will be writing a book.”

  “That’s not so bad—is it, Mad?” He held his breath.

  She stopped and looked at him. “Actually, it’s wonderful. But for future reference, you have to promise the same. You won’t ever run against me again.” Her face became more serious and he read the expectation of complete capitulation in her eyes.

  “Of course,” he said softly. Then it was his turn to feel giddy, exactly as he should feel on his wedding day. And he was damn well going to indulge entirely in the emotional high with no holding back.

  “Why do I suddenly feel like our marriage is going to be as much a chess match as a love match?” He grinned.

  She laughed and picked up the pace as they walked toward the back door, and he quickened his steps to keep up with her.

  “Of course it will be both. It’s called having your cake and eating it too.” They reached the back door and stopped before going back in.

  “Synergy,” they both said at the same time.

  The Throwbacks

  Book 1

  The Scotland Yard Exchange Series

  By Stephanie Queen

  The Throwbacks

  Copyright © 2011 by Stephanie Giancola

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Praise for Stephanie Queen Books

  Between a Rock and a Mad Woman

  “Absolutely delightful”

  —RomanticLoveBooks.com

  “I was riveted! The twists, turns, surprises & the love story that resulted were outstanding and I can’t wait to read more…”

  —HesperiaLovesBooks.com

  The Throwbacks

  “Resplendent in rich detail, laugh-out-loud moments, a fast-paced plot and spellbinding characters, The Throwbacks is a stellar not-to-be-missed standout!”

  —Romantic Times Book Review

  “A lovely blend of romance and mystery with a good dose of humor!”

  —LovesReading.com

  Chapter 1

  GRACE tiptoed along the brick path, trying not to get her party heels stuck in the cracks. She heard the cab pull away from the curb and looked back. Sophia bounced behind her, wearing sensible party boots.

  “Do you realize you gave that taxi drive
r twenty dollars for a two-dollar fare?” her friend said.

  “Oh—just like in the song.” Grace smiled and climbed the steps leading to Mabel’s back door. Then she stopped. She felt Sophia stop right behind her.

  “What?” Sophia prompted.

  “You know. The Harry Chapin song where…”

  “Quit stalling, Grace. This is not a surprise birthday party. Open the door.”

  “Are we sure about that? Today is my birthday.” Or at least she’d always celebrated her birthday on October fifteenth as a close approximation. No one had ever come up with a more likely date.

  “No kidding? Not your thirtieth birthday is it?” Sophia stood on the step below her, making her even shorter than she already was. She looked like an updated version of Lucille Ball with an attitude and a bob. That thought made Grace smile.

  “Wait until you turn thirty and see. You’ll have palpitations too.” Grace turned and pushed through the door into the back hall of Mabel’s Beacon Hill townhouse, willing away that intruder sensation she always got. Mabel was as good as family, she almost said out loud. Like the eccentric old aunt she used to dream up for herself back when she used to dream about it.

  As they stepped into the old woman’s kitchen, the powerful aroma of food and familiarity warmed her. Even the clatter of the no-doubt expensive caterers didn’t spoil the homey effect.

  “Mabel went all out for this bash. Any idea why she would be hosting this Scotland Yard party?” Sophia asked as she followed her through the kitchen.

  “I don’t know. It’s a very big deal to her, though. My attendance was a command performance. I only wish I had a date.” She looked down at her friend. “No offense.”