Her Scoundrel, Bad Luck Wedding #7 (Bad Luck Brides trilogy book two)

by Geralyn Dawson

  Feeling stronger, she thought of his girls as they’d appeared before the tiger incident. Giggling, all pretty and pink, their blond curls bouncing as they skipped toward her along the path. A picture of joy. Brimming with laughter, with life. Jake Kimball was so darn lucky and he—

  Kat sat straight up in bed. Her heart began to pound.

  They’d slowed down, looked at Emma. What was it those girls had said? Just like Uncle Jake’s except his was green? His what? Kat pictured her sister as she’d been at the zoo. His dress? His parasol? His purse?

  His necklace.

  “Oh, my God.”

  The clues fell into place. She hadn’t lost her necklace. It hadn’t dropped to the floor to be accidentally discarded with gift-wrapping paper.

  Jake Kimball—scoundrel, treasure hunter and thief— had stolen it

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “ARE YOU ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN you want to do this?” Dair MacRae asked, his tone resonant with doubt as he eyed the messenger waiting impatiently in the entry hall of Jake’s town house.

  “I’m certain.” Jake passed over an envelope, tipped the messenger, then closed the front door behind him. “Everything’s ready. Nanny Pip has promised to stay until we remove to the country, and by then I hope to have a full staff of appropriate servants hired. She’s still well connected in the service industry. She believes she can find help with the right temperament to last in this household, from a governess all the way down to a scullery maid.”

  “I’m not concerned about the servants. It’s the women that worry me.”

  “When have you ever let a woman worry you?” Jake asked with a snort. Almost subconsciously he rubbed his still-sore jaw.

  A shadow passed briefly over Dair’s expression, momentarily distracting Jake from his own troubles. There was a story there, Jake thought, but even after a decade of friendship, he didn’t know the details. Women flocked to Dair, attracted by his dark and brooding air. He enjoyed their attentions when it suited him, then dismissed them with nary a second thought. Jake had never known a woman to get beneath his friend’s skin.

  “I’m not the one considering marriage,” Dair replied. “If you go through with this scheme of yours, you’ll be bound for life. A marriage of convenience is still a marriage. This is insane, Kimball, even for you.”

  Because Jake did value his friend’s judgment he considered Dair’s words. Was he doing the right thing? Would Penny have approved of his plan? Will the girls be happy with a new “mother” in their lives?

  Yes, to all of it. “True, it is a marriage of convenience. And since it’s convenient for me, I don’t see a drawback. As long as I choose the right woman, then matters should work out well for everyone—me, the children, the woman. Hell, even the servants.”

  “Therein lies the rub,” Dair said gloomily. “Choosing the right woman. What a gamble that will be. Woman are like ready-made shoes, my friend. If you choose the wrong pair, they’ll make you long for barefoot weather.”

  “Oh, quit being pessimistic.” Jake slapped his friend on the back. “I am an excellent judge of character, and besides, I’ll have the benefit of Nanny Pip’s assistance. The woman was a nanny to dozens of children during a career that spanned over forty years. She helped me define the character traits I should look for in a potential wife and mother to Penny’s children. She wrote many of the questions, and she’s agreed to sit in on the interviews themselves.”

  “Why is it I see a runaway train heading right for us?” Dair mused.

  Jake laughed. “It’ll be all right, my friend. You’ll see. I’ll find myself a wife, settle her and the children at Chatham Park, and make it back to London in plenty of time to sail with the expedition.”

  “I do hope you’re right.”

  It was indicative of Dair’s distraction that he lifted a finger to massage his temple in front of Jake. Ordinarily, Dair went to great lengths to hide any sign of weakness.

  It’d been that way as long as Jake had known him. They’d met over a decade ago during a robbery attempt of the Kimball collection. Late one night, Jake had sauntered into his father’s study and caught Dair on the way out the window with a particularly nice Mayan fertility totem in his hand. Curious as to the thief’s choice—he’d passed up precious gems and paintings by Renaissance masters—Jake had invited his uninvited guest to take a seat and discuss the burglary.

  Encouraged by the gun in Jake’s hand, Dair had accepted the invitation, then shared brandy and information. Four hours later, the two men had forged both a friendship and a working relationship. Over the years Jake had seen his friend wrestle against nature, battle wild animals and even wilder women. He’d never seen him hesitate, never seen him stumble, until about a year ago when the headaches began to plague him.

  “They’re getting worse, aren’t they? Your headaches?”

  MacRae slowly lowered his hand and scowled. “If they are, it’s because thinking about this plan of yours would give anyone a headache.”

  Knowing he’d get no more from the man, Jake allowed the change in subject. “If it bothers you so badly, you don’t have to stay and watch.”

  “I wouldn’t miss this for all the whiskey in Scotland,” Dair replied with a smirk. “It’s bound to be a real zoo.”

  Later, when the women began arriving, Jake recalled his friend’s words. He peeked out the window and spied the line forming outside the iron gate. He had a vision of little Belle reaching between the iron bars, and one of the women growing fangs and snapping at the girl. Then he thought of himself in the cage, trapped, with the women penned in with him.

  Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

  Finally he thought of Kat McBride. He remembered the quickness of her movements at the tiger cage, the fierceness of her defense. A tigress herself where children were concerned. She was right to give him the sharp side of her tongue.

  That boulder of guilt returned to his gut as her words replayed in his mind. Belle could have died. Died a horrible death, right in front of her sisters, and it would have been his fault.

  Hell, he wasn’t cut out to be a father. The incident at the zoo proved it. He was doing the right thing, finding them a new mother. A new guardian. A new protector.

  He should look for someone like Kat McBride.

  Jake mulled the idea over. A strong woman. Fiercely protective. A supportive family to turn to for help.

  Yes. That’s what he would do. He’d find a tigress. Someone equipped to take care of children.

  If his sister were gazing down from heaven while that scene at the zoo had been taking place, she’d be the first to agree. Finding someone like Kat McBride to mother these children was the best idea he’d had in years.

  “IT’S A great idea!” Kat exclaimed, waving the newspaper in her sister’s face. “It’s the perfect plan. In fact, I think it’s worthy of the tide of a true McBride-Menace escapade. If only Mari were here to take part in the fun.”

  In their suite at the Savoy Hotel, Emma lifted her nose from a bouquet of roses sent to her grandmother by one of her numerous admirers, then turned toward Monique. “I think she’s lost her mind.”

  Monique met Emma’s worried look in the reflection of the dressing table mirror. “Maybe she’s found it, dear. I have not seen such life in her eyes or purpose in her manner since the accident. It’s good to see her enthused about something again.”

  “Thank you, Monique.” Kat smiled smugly.

  Emma rolled her eyes. “You’re happy to see her enthused about this, Grandmother? Have you paid the slightest attention to the words Kat’s been rambling? The plan she’s proposing? She wants to auction me off!”

  “Careful, Emmaline,” Monique warned. “I may be inching upward in years, but I am neither deaf nor senile. I happen to agree with your sister’s plan. I think it’s just the sort of escapade you girls need. I don’t see why you’re set against it, Emma. If I recall, you wished to join me on this trip because you felt the need for adventure in your
life.”

  Emma snatched the folded newspaper from Kat’s hand. “This isn’t adventure. It’s insanity!” She scanned the paper, found the advertisement and began to quote.

  “Eligible bachelor seeking wife. Must be of good character with unsullied reputation. Must love children and country living. Independent personality a plus. Interested parties may apply for the position of Mrs. Jake Kimball at Bankston House in St. James Square.”

  “You know, I’ve heard of mail-order brides, but this is ridiculous. The London Season is about to begin. If he wants a society wife, why doesn’t he simply go to the parties and balls like other men looking for a mate?”

  “Because, Emma,” Kat drawled, sounding closer in age to four than twenty-four. “He’s not looking for a mate. He’s looking for a mother. Monique and I heard all the ugly details while at the dressmaker today. He’s richer than Midas himself, and he wants to find a woman who will care for his sister’s children while he runs off to Timbuktu to add to his coffers. And you know how these vipers are here in London. They’ll line up like hogs at a trough.”

  “I believe Mr. Kimball is headed for Tibet,” Monique observed. “That’s what I heard at the milliner’s. He’s scheduled to leave in a few weeks, and he’s expected to be gone for up to two years.”

  “Two years? Two years!” Kat cried. “But he’s responsible for those…never mind. Whatever. It doesn’t matter.” Jake Kimball could be departing on an expedition to Mars for all that she cared. “It doesn’t matter at all. What matters is that you fit his stated desires perfectly. Your reputation is above reproach. You love children. You’re very independent. You’re perfect!”

  “I’m not interested!”

  Monique twisted around in her chair and eyed her eldest granddaughter speculatively. “I don’t doubt that she’ll satisfy the other requirements he failed to mention in his advertisement, too.”

  “What requirements?” Kat pursed her lips. She hadn’t considered other requirements.

  “He’s a man, isn’t he? The advertisement didn’t mention a marriage of convenience or a platonic relationship. But I heard that much at the hat shop. He’ll want a beauty to take to his bed. A girl with some spirit to her, I suspect. Emma’s perfect.”

  A vision of Jake Kimball flashed in Kat’s mind. He sat naked in bed, the white sheet draped casually across his groin a vivid contrast to his deeply tanned skin. He smiled his pirate’s smile. His eyes gleamed with desire as he watched the woman approach. He watched Emma approach.

  Kat shoved that thought right out of her mind.

  “Emma’s perfect, you say?” her sister repeated. “Emma thinks you’ve both lost your wits!”

  Taking her grandmother’s observation to heart, Kat eyed her sister in a new light and tried not to think about how the idea made her feel. “Of course he’ll want to bed his bride. You’re right, Monique. I should have thought of that. Emma, you should wear your yellow silk to the interview. For a totally proper day dress, it’s very seductive.”

  “Aargh!” Emma threw up her arms, letting the newspaper go sailing. The door slammed behind her.

  “She’ll do it,” Kat said, her arms folded, her toe tapping as she mentally reviewed the requirements for putting her plan into action.

  “Yes, she’ll do it,” Monique agreed. “Although you’ll need to work on her a little more.”

  The door burst open again and Emma, who didn’t ordinarily flounce, flounced back inside. “If this is so important to you, Kat, why don’t you marry the man? I don’t see why I have to be the person to do it.”

  “Oh, Emma. Quit being so dramatic. It’s out of character for you, and you don’t quite pull it off.”

  Emma stopped abruptly, her lips thinned. “Out of character? And just what do you think my character is, Katrina?”

  “Perfect is the word that comes to my mind.”

  “That’s not very nice,” Emma huffed. “I’m not perfect. I’m not perfect at all.”

  “But you’re good and kind and considerate. That’s a given, Emma.”

  “A given.” Emma scowled. “So, you’re saying I’m predictable?”

  “Usually, yes. Although you have been acting a bit, well, more flexible on this trip. I like that. I think it’s good for you, and in light of that fact, I’ll apologize for my comment about you being perfect.”

  Emma’s chin came up. “As right you should.”

  Monique dusted her cheekbones with rouge, then idly added, “You know, Emma, dear, she’s not asking you to actually marry the man.”

  “That’s right,” Kat said, nodding. “I simply want you to interview for the job and impress him well enough to be invited to his country home for the house party, so I can tag along as your lady’s maid and search the place for my necklace and the Sacred Heart Cross.”

  Emma dropped onto the settee. “How do you know they’re there?”

  Encouraged, Kat sat beside her. “I don’t. But they could be. They say that Jake Kimball’s father kept collections at all of his houses.”

  “Fine.” Folding her arms, Emma added, “You want to search, then you be the bride on the auction block.”

  Kat shook her head. “I can’t. He knows me. He knows how badly I wanted the cross five years ago. He might guess I’d be looking for my necklace, too. Besides, I’m not a woman of unsullied reputation.”

  Emma massaged the bridge of her nose. “Say I do this. Say I get invited to the country. How will you…?”

  “I’ll go in disguise. If Rory Callahan taught me anything, it was how to disguise myself.”

  Monique spoke up. “You know, darlings, it occurs to me that I won’t be able to participate in this mission. Kimball knows me, too, from that lovely day in Galveston when he was sans a shirt. If he sees me with Emma, he’ll glean the connection between the two of you and the jig will be up. I’ll stay here in London and gad about, enjoying the Season.”

  “Well, that’s it,” Emma declared, seizing on the excuse. “If Monique can’t go, than neither can we. We can’t leave her in London alone. It isn’t safe.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Monique said. “That may well be one of the dumbest things to come out of your mouth in years.”

  Emma had the grace to look sheepish. After all, Monique Day could well be the most independent woman ever born. She’d traveled the world by herself and been perfectly at ease while doing so. Age might have slowed her physically, true, but her character and sense of self were just as strong now as they had ever been.

  “Come on, Emma,” Kat urged. “Please? For me?”

  “But what if…say you’re right, Kat. Say he did steal your necklace. He would have had to break in to Willow Hill to do it. He might have seen me. He might recognize me, too.”

  “I’ve considered that, but I think the risk is minimal. Besides, what’s the worst thing that can happen? He won’t invite you to his party. Of course, in that case, I’ll just get to work on finding another way to locate my necklace.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Emma said. “Why don’t you wait until he leaves for Tibet and you can—”

  “I can’t wait,” Kat said. “What if he takes it with him?”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know why he stole it in the first place, but he did. I’m sure of it. If you’d been there that day on the beach, seen the avarice in his eyes, you’d know it, too, Emma. I can’t risk that he’ll take it with him when he goes to Taiwan.”

  “Tibet,” Emma corrected glumly.

  Monique rose from her chair, crossed the room and took Emma’s hand. “Darling, you know I don’t like to interfere…”

  The sisters shared an eye-rolling glance.

  “…but I want you to look at your sister. When was the last time you saw Kat shine this way?”

  “Why?” Emma asked. “Why is this so important to you, Kat? I thought you’d stopped believing in the power of the necklaces. That’s what you said after yours disappeared. And th
e cross—that doesn’t belong to you. Stealing it from Jake Kimball would make you no better than he is.”

  “True, but I don’t care.” She cleared her throat and tried to make sense of the nonsensical. “I want my necklace back because the necklaces are something special the three of us share. As far as the Sacred Heart Cross goes, I think it belongs in the San Antonio church where it was intended to reside. I think if I helped it reach its intended destination, I might…well…look, I sinned by running off with Rory. I sinned against our family, against God. Maybe Susie…”

  “No, Katrina,” Monique snapped. “Don’t you dare think that Susie’s accident was some sort of Old Testament punishment. That’s nonsense. Pure hogwash.”

  A lump of emotion hung in Kat’s throat “Nevertheless, I need to make amends. I need to pay penance.”

  Emma’s sad eyes chided her sister. “Oh, Kat that’s not true.”

  “You’re not even Catholic,” Monique added.

  Kat met first her grandmother’s gaze and then her sister’s. Flatly she said, “I allowed my child to die.”

  “Stop it” Monique demanded. The green silk of her dressing gown stirred as she rose regally from her chair and marched toward Kat. She took her granddaughter’s chin in her hand and stared deep into her eyes. “It was an accident. A simple, tragic accident. You’ve punished yourself long enough, Katrina. Mourn your daughter as long as you need to. Miss her each and every day. But stop punishing yourself.” Now she brought her other hand up, cradled Kat’s face between her hands, leaned down and kissed her granddaughter’s forehead. “Listen to me, child. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “I know.” But, she didn’t know. Kat closed her eyes and stepped away. Turned away. Fought back tears. What was this scheme of hers all about? Why did it matter so much that she find her necklace, find the cross?