I'm chuffed about this weekend and eager to see you again.
I laughed aloud when I read it. My thumbs flew as I texted back.
Haha. You're just stuck in the B's of that book I sent you. You're going to need more than that to be fluent in British, Duke.
PS I'm looking forward to the weekend, too. Should I bring extra panties to toss at you? I hear that's a thing now.
Thought bubbles came on my screen while he texted back.
What does a guy have to do to impress you? I just got this book a few minutes ago. Getting to the B's already is moving lightning fast. Did you notice I even threw in a C-word? BTW, thank you. This book is great and makes me laugh.
PS Please, no more panty throwing. I may be scarred for life from this experience. I like to be the one removing the panties, not the one being pelted with them.
I couldn't stop smiling. Top that, Lady Rose!
On Tuesday, Riggins sent Sid and me an engraved invitation to Wareswood Castle. It was hand-delivered by courier. Sid and I decided getting a formal invitation was the height of classiness. A text or an email would have sufficed. But now we had a memento of the event for our scrapbooks.
I had the feeling going old school was part of the theme of the weekend, a step back in time. And something of an inside joke. We RSVPed immediately, both of us impressed at the pull Riggins had with a printer, and the castle, to get this put together in less than two days. We also had the feeling we'd be impressed with the guest list. We'd find out soon enough.
On Tuesday morning, the bakery was packed with British tourists, mostly Riggins' fan club, trying to get a look at the American competition—me. Makeup-less and hair in a net, I hid in the back. I mean, really! I shouldn't have to worry about putting makeup on at two in the morning. I could barely wake up.
On Tuesday afternoon, the news story broke that Lady Rose had toured Flashionista's offices and met key staff, including Riggins' partner, Justin Green. A good time was had by all. At least if the pictures were any indication.
Crap. Now she had a leg up on me.
The gossip rags had already picked up on the fact that Riggins had been seen in the company of two women recently—Lady Rose and me. Speculation flew. Was history repeating itself? Was love echoing through time? Would one of the late Seattle heiress Helen Feldhem's descendants be the next Duchess of Witham?
The city was pulling for me, their native daughter. Radio stations started call-in polls. Online polls sprang everywhere.
In early results, I was winning, by the way. But then, the population of the US was much greater than the UK's. So maybe it wasn't a fair fight, even if they did have Canada and Australia. The media focus was so intense I worried that the truth would somehow get out. I also wondered if Riggins had sent that DNA sample in.
Reporters began trailing me and begging for interviews in even greater force. My social media accounts exploded, bombarded with friend requests and private messages. Curious crowds mobbed the bakery. And Seattle boutiques offered to lend me clothes, even give them to me, if I would parade around in them and "just casually mention" where I got them. In other words, promote them and lead the public to believe I was part of their clientele. I turned them down. I didn't want to owe anyone anything.
The situation was overwhelming. I had a hard time working and concentrating.
That night, Riggins called me. "How are you holding up? I see you're ahead in the entertainment polls. The Duchess Contest." He laughed. "It has a nice ring to it."
"Nice of you to notice." I laughed, but it was embarrassing. Not the way I'd planned to live my life.
"I'm up by ten points in aggregate. Even allowing for margin of error, my campaign manager and social media savant—Sid—feels confident we can maintain our lead. Barring any major hit piece, of course. If this were a presidential election, I'd win in a landslide."
A competition for his heart was another matter altogether.
"People are voting straight down patriotic lines. My constituency is much larger than hers. It's a slam dunk for me. With the public, anyway."
I charged ahead, not wanting him to think I was hinting for something. "How goes it in the world of panty tossing? Must be hideous being mobbed by adoring women all the time and having panties raining around you like confetti."
I could almost hear his scowl.
He actually growled, deep in his throat. The sound was so hot I had to clench my legs.
"Yeah, delightful." He paused. "I'm sorry I got you into this."
"It's not your fault. I blame the Dead Duke and my unfortunate ancestry. You're off the hook, Living Duke. How's your studying going? Getting any better at British?"
"I could use some quizzing."
I tested him on a few British phrases. "Expect a pop quiz from time to time to keep you on your toes."
He laughed. "As they say, 'Two great nations separated by a common language.'"
I laughed, too.
"You're a nice bit of crumpet, Haley," he said in a lecherous voice. "I can hardly wait for the weekend."
"Did you just compliment me and call me attractive in British?"
"Two points for you. But I really am looking forward to seeing you again."
My heart raced. Neither of us brought up the DNA test.
"What are you doing tomorrow morning?" Riggins asked, almost too casually.
My hopes soared. "I get off work early tomorrow. I'm just going in to bake and will be out before they open at six thirty. The Blackberry has been cutting my hours. At least until the curiosity wears off or I lose the duchess competition, I'm not allowed during open hours. My presence is creating too much of a distraction."
He paused. "Will you be home by ten?"
"Should be."
"Good! I have a surprise for you." He sounded pleased with himself. "A special delivery."
"Is it a pony?" I smiled. "I've always wanted one."
"No." His sexy voice had a smile in it. "You'll have to wait and see."
On Wednesday morning after work, Sid and I were debating what to pack for the weekend. And trying to pretend we weren't excited about my surprise and eyeing the clock every three seconds, eager for ten o'clock to come.
As usual, I had nothing in my closet that Sid deemed appropriate for such a momentous event, except the dress I'd gotten during my spa day at the spy school. And Riggins had already seen it and my photo had already been splashed all over the Internet in it. I was insisting that jeans and cute tops should be good enough when the doorbell rang.
"Our delivery!" we said in unison, and headed for the door.
Sid got there first. In just a few short days, we'd learned not to just throw the door open. To check first. We'd had a few weirdoes stop by, and the media was always trying to snap a picture of us.
Sid looked through the keyhole. "It's our delivery!" She threw open the door.
Two young women stood on our stoop. I recognized them from the bakery. They were Flashionista girls, regulars at the Blackberry. A Flashionista van was parked in our driveway.
The taller of the two spoke. "Haley Hamilton?"
I nodded. "I'm Haley and this is my sister Sid."
The shorter girl smiled. "We'd recognize you anywhere, but we had to ask. I'm Erica and this is Paige. We're here to outfit you for your weekend at the castle, courtesy of Riggins and Flashionista! We were handpicked for the job by the head buyer, Marla. Riggins said to tell you he wanted the playing field level. And the American candidate to be clothed by Flash."
"But we can't accept—" I started.
"Oh, yes we can!" Sid said. She whispered to me, "We can at least see what they brought. We'd be helping Riggins out. Promo for Flash."
Erica clapped. "Excellent! This is going to be fun. We have a bunch of stuff in the van." She eyed the surroundings. "Can we bring it in through the garage? Fewer steps, I'm guessing?"
Sid pushed in front of me. "That would be perfect! Can we help?"
"I think it's safer if you sta
y inside." Paige nervously eyed the sidewalk, where a crowd of tourists and paparazzi gathered. "We'll get one of the security guys to help us if we need it."
It was getting ridiculous. Riggins had sent over a security team to keep the curious off the grass and away from us.
"Just open the garage door and relax," Paige said.
The two of them trotted off while Sid opened the garage door for them. And I watched them open the back of the van, slide out a ramp, and roll a rack full of clothes out the back of the van.
It took the Flash girls and two security guys three loads to haul everything in—two wheeling racks of clothes and over six boxes of shoes, jewelry, and accessories. Sid's eyes went wide at the sight. Tired as she was, she bounced around, going through the racks, drooling over the clothes.
Erica studied us and nodded to Paige. "I think we got their sizes about right." She guided Sid to one rack. "This is yours. I studied your online profiles to determine your style. I think I got it right. I hope so! I hope you like what I've brought.
"Riggins told us to bring evening wear, garden party clothes, casual clothes, even nighties and robes. We brought it all!"
I turned to Erica. "You were in charge of my wardrobe, then, I take it?"
She grinned. "Same MO." She pointed me toward the rack. "We've been instructed to put together outfits for specific occasions. And then throw a few extra choices in for good measure." She pulled the lid off a box full of beautiful costume jewelry packed individually in plastic bags. "What do you want to try on first?"
Sid was already digging in, chatting happily with Paige, and becoming fast friends. They spoke the same language—fashion. She was telling Paige how she'd love to work at Flash after she graduated.
If she graduates. If her health allows, I thought, remembering why I was doing all this. My heart was bursting at seeing her so animated and happy. I felt uncomfortable and overwhelmed by the expensive clothes. But if this made Sid happy, we could at least try a few things on. Maybe keep a few.
Erika and I got off to a slower start.
"I recognize you from the bakery. You come in a lot," I said, trying to make conversation.
"I do! I love the Blackberry, especially their currant scones. Are you responsible for those? If so, I hate you!" She laughed. "I've put on five pounds because of them. Think you can sneak me out the recipe?" She winked.
I liked her.
Four hours, a delicious delivered lunch, compliments of Riggins, and endless clothing changes later, Sid and I each had a new wardrobe of clothes. More than enough for a weekend. More like enough for a month-long vacation.
Erica and Paige laid them out across our living room, snapping photos of what went with what and texting them to me.
"We can't take all this!" I said as Paige called a security guy to help her wheel out the discarded options. "It's too much. They're too expensive."
I was already in enough debt to Riggins and uncomfortable about the spa day with Milia. I couldn't keep taking things from him.
Sid stood quietly by, but I could see how much she wanted everything.
Paige waved her hand, brushing me off. "Riggins said you'd say that."
"I only want what we can afford." I sighed, knowing how disappointed Sid would be. Because we could afford maybe one thing apiece.
Paige turned to Erica. "He called that right, too."
"Here's the deal," Erica said to me. "All of this, everything we brought, are samples from our sample closet. Vendors send them to us. And then don't want them back. It's cheaper for us to just keep them after we're done with them than ship them back.
"Flash usually sells them at their monthly sample sales for pennies on the dollar and donates all the proceeds from the sample sale to the children's hospital. Riggins and Justin always make huge donations to the hospital in addition."
Paige nodded.
"Riggins gave us complete authority. He said that if you insisted on paying, we were to play—what did he call it?" She turned to Paige.
"Shop assistant," Paige said.
I grinned. Riggins wouldn't stop with the British. "Clerk."
Erica nodded. "Yes, like the clerks at the sample sale. They have complete discretion in how much to charge. So, if you insist on paying, twenty dollars ought to do it. We'll throw it into the fund for the hospital at the next sample sale for you and we're good."
"Twenty apiece," I said. I had that much in my purse.
Erica looked to Paige. Paige nodded.
"Sold!" Erica grinned.
I handed her two twenties. She tucked them in her pocket and signaled to one of the security guys. He brought four suitcases in from the van.
"These are included in the price," Erica said. "One last caveat—if asked, please mention you're wearing clothes you bought from Flash?"
I laughed and nodded. Riggins was exploiting every angle, I'd give him that. But he had me where he wanted me. I'd help him any way I could.
Erica and Paige leaned together toward me.
Paige whispered, "We hope you win! We both voted for you!"
Chapter 9
Riggins
Rose called me. "Of course I accept your invitation, Riggins. I'm absolutely thrilled. Did Haley tell you about our plans to tour the castle?" Although her tone was breezy, there was an edge of jealousy to it, an edge I recognized all too well.
"Possibly."
Rose laughed delicately. "Have you thought about my offer?"
"I'm still considering it." I didn't like having the screws applied. "It's not a limited-time offer, is it?"
"No, of course. Absolutely not. I'm simply impatient, Riggins. We'd be such a beautiful arranged couple. And, even though the offer on my part has no limit, time is of the essence and running out quickly, as you well know. Although the wedding will certainly have to be an elopement at this late date, a future duchess would still like a bit of time to find a suitable dress.
"Are you still concerned with my authenticity?" She almost sounded pouty. "I gave Mr. Thorne my DNA sample. Right in front of his eyes. I heard my distant cousin gave hers, too. And Mr. Thorne expedited the tests. You'll see soon enough that I'm exactly who I say I am—your perfect duchess."
"I hope so," I said. "Impress me this weekend." While I spoke about being impressed, I was thinking of Haley.
"So that's it, is it? Haley and I are in direct competition for the title this weekend." She paused. When she spoke again, her voice was full of seduction. "Do you promise to propose at the end of the weekend?"
Haley
On Saturday afternoon at two, Riggins sent a car to take Sid and me to the castle. It was nearly February, and January was going out with a burst of winter. The day was bright and sunny, but cold. For Seattle, anyway. High thirties. The morning had been foggy. The fog had burned off, for the most part, but still hung in pockets here and there. The weather report was warning of nighttime freezing fog and frost. The frost wouldn't be any more brittle than my nerves. And the fog would provide a nice, creepy atmosphere to go ghost hunting. Or husband hunting, as the case may be.
The driver crammed our new sets of luggage stuffed with our Flashionista wardrobes in, and we were off. Wareswood Castle was just south of Seattle on its own private lake about an hour away. We were staying for exactly one night, but we had enough changes of clothes for twenty.
The drive through traffic to the castle was uneventful. Sid was uncharacteristically quiet. We both knew the stakes. I had an important decision to make, one that had as much to do with my heart as anything. We pulled onto a private road and wound through woods and gardens, past silent, giant Douglas firs, dogwoods still bare and without buds, and rhododendrons dormant for winter. In just another month or two, the gardens and grounds would burst into spring bloom and be gorgeous. Too bad the Dead Duke hadn't lived a bit longer.
"This is how the drive to Witham House will be," Sid whispered. "Past impressive grounds."
I nodded, lost in my thoughts and nerves. Sid and I had talk
ed ourselves out. Nothing remained but to watch things unfold.
The castle loomed large and impressive at the end of a circular drive.
"Wow." Sid took it in. "It looks more like a Jane Eyre kind of castle than something from a fairytale."
"It's Tudor Gothic." I texted Riggins that we'd arrived. "It's supposed to be imposing."
My stomach was full of butterflies. Everything hinged on this weekend. Yes, Riggins would still help Sid. But I could be sure and do so much more if I were in the driver's seat as his wife. And then there was my heart to think about. As much as I wanted to deny it, it was hopelessly lost to him. I was in love, or, at least, falling in love with Riggins. The way it looked now, no other guy would ever measure up. I either lost him or made memories for a lifetime this weekend.
A car pulled in behind us. Another of Riggins' guests, I assumed.
Riggins was waiting for us on the circular drive when we pulled up, along with a bellman dressed like a footman of old in a coat and tails. The footman opened the door and handed us out of the car as a gorgeous white luxury car pulled up behind us. I was no good with cars so I couldn't say what the make and model were, only that it looked expensive.
As always when I caught a glimpse of Riggins, my heart fluttered wildly. He was dressed in jeans and a sweater and stood casually, hands in pockets. How was it that he always looked so hot? He'd made my heart race since the first time he'd come into the bakery. It sounded corny, but my breath caught. I wanted him. I wanted that man. Just looking at him made me smile.
He waved and walked toward us as the footman loaded our luggage on a cart and the driver got out of the car behind us. Riggins hugged me and Sid in turn. And gave instructions to the footman, just like a real duke. "Take their luggage to the Pink Poppy room. I've put them in the adjoining suites."
The footman nodded and wheeled off just as the driver of the white car called out to us. "Riggins, old bean!"
Riggins set his jaw, shook his head, and laughed as the newcomer clapped him on the back. "Lazer. Since when do you have a Bentley Mulsanne?"
Ah. So that's what the car was.
The Duchess Contest: A Jet City Billionaire Serial Romance (The Billionaire Duke Series Book 2) Page 9
