The Secret Baby Scandal

“You’re not stupid, Carrie. You just believe the best of people. You dream of a world that does not exist.”

“Don’t worry.” Her voice was bitter. “I don’t think you’re a knight in shining armor anymore.”

He took a deep breath, fighting to contain the feelings of guilt and regret that boiled inside him, churning into anger. “I know I treated you badly. But I want to make it up to you. Starting with…this.”

Reaching into his pocket, he took out a small velvet jewelry box.

He heard Carrie’s intake of breath as he held it out to her. Her eyes fell upon the black velvet box as if it were a poisonous hissing snake. “What is that?”

He pushed it into her hands. “Just open it.”

Biting her lip, she slowly opened the box.

The facets of an enormous canary-yellow diamond, surrounded by white diamonds, sparkled in the afternoon sunlight of the kitchen, moving flickers of colored light against her creamy skin.

“What is this?”

“It’s the one I saw you looking at in the window of the jewelry shop.”

“It’s an engagement ring.”

“Yes.”

She looked up at him, her eyes huge. “That’s where you went when you left me in town?” she breathed. “To the jeweler’s?”

“The jeweler said it once was part of the dowry of Empress Eugénie,” he evaded. “Now it will belong to the new Comtesse de Castelnau.” He wrapped his hands over hers. “It will belong to you.”

Her cold fingers trembled beneath his. He wanted to warm her hands. He wanted to keep her warm and safe forever—to show her he wasn’t the man she thought.

Carrie lifted her gaze, and her eyes shone with unshed tears. “Why are you doing this, Théo?” she whispered. “To punish me?”

“Punish you?” With a diamond? His forehead creased. “I want to be a father to my son. I want Henry to have two parents and the security of a real home.” He looked straight into her eyes and said in a low voice, “And I want you in my bed, Carrie. I’ve never stopped wanting you.”

She sucked in her breath, searching his gaze. He felt her tremble again, then, with a gasp, she ripped her hands away. Snapping the box shut, she pushed it back into his hands. She looked out the kitchen window, with its bright view of vineyards and sunflowers. “I can’t be your mistress. I won’t be your wife.”

Théo set his jaw. Forcing himself to relax, not to show her how much her words stung, he tucked the jewelry box back in his pocket. He turned away, grabbing an expensive bottle of red Châteauneuf-du-Pape wine he’d brought up from the cellar. Opening the bottle, he poured it into two glasses. He held out a crystal goblet. “Here.”

She stared at the glass he held out, then took it. He waited, staring between her and the wine. With a sigh, she took a sip.

“Delicious,” she said sadly.

“Better than foamy quail eggs?”

She snorted a laugh. “Anything is better than that.”

“Wait until you see what we’re having for dinner. Help me cook?”

“Help you? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly desperate to spend time with you.”

He lifted a dark, sardonic eyebrow. “But, hating me as you do, surely you would not wish me to slave over a hot stove alone? You don’t wish to owe me a favor.”

She stiffened. “Absolutely not.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “So help me.” He held out a second apron. When she didn’t move, he gave her a wicked half-grin, lifting an eyebrow suggestively. “Unless you’re afraid to be close to me…”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she bit out. She took a long gulp of wine before she set down the glass. She held out her hand. “Give it here.”

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