Billionaire Games Boxed Set 1-3 (37 page)

“A caretaker’s cottage.” Again, she paused. “If offered the position, might I see the cottage before making my decision?”

“Of course.”

“And there’s just the one baby?”

Camille nodded and glimpsed down at her tummy. “I don’t think it’s twins.”

Both women laughed.

“So employment won’t actually start for a while then?” Cecily asked.

“Well…” Camille paused. “We’d like the person we hire to move into the cottage within the month so we can all get to know one another before the baby comes.” She looked at Cecily. “No offense intended.”

“None taken.” Cecily shook her head.

“Would you like to see the cottage?”

“Yes, I’d like that. Is it far from the main house?”

Camille rose and Cecily did the same, following Camille to the side door leading outside. “It’s about a quarter of a mile behind the main house.” Camille opened the door and gestured for Cecily to exit first. “We’ll take a golf cart down.” She closed the door behind her, then led Cecily through the garden. “As the nanny, you’d be provided with a golf cart, as it’s the easiest way to get around the estate. Saves walking at least.”

“That’s very generous of you.” Cecily remained gracious and reserved, even though she was ready to tear into Camille de Laurent.

It wasn’t anything in particular that Camille had done, other than getting pregnant at the same time as Andre’s wife. And why weren’t they both using the same nanny? Why hadn’t the agency specified specifically which de Laurent couple would be interviewing Cecily?

Wasn’t this just perfect? Cecily had been delegated out to the wrong de Laurents. Oh, well. She couldn’t very well excuse herself from the list of candidates saying, “
Sorry, but I intended to apply to your brother-in-law and his wife
.”

Maybe once they got to know her, Andre and his wife would decide to share the nanny with Camille and her husband. Either way, being nanny to Andre’s niece or nephew was better than nothing. At least she’d be living on the estate and was bound to run into Andre’s wife. At least Cecily still had several months to figure out how to get rid of her.

If
she got the job.

The cart rolled to a stop at the side entrance of a two-story house sitting next to a pond. Trees provided ample shading, and flower beds filled with budding fall flowers dotted the yard.

The sight took Cecily’s breath away. This place was far grander than anything she’d ever lived in, and it was just a caretaker’s cottage. Imagine the possibilities if she could manage to snatch the Renault fortune from Andre de Laurent?

That settled it. Cecily
had
to get this job.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CECILY MASON WAS HIRED as Camille and Julian’s nanny. By the time Christmas rolled around, Camille and Cecily were old friends.

Cecily had heard the whispers among the other servants about the riches that flew around the de Laurent family at Christmas time, and for the first time in her life she felt no jealousy. Cecily had been given the best Christmas gift of all—when she learned about Tasha de Laurent’s miscarriage. While she felt a measure of sympathy for the girl, she felt even more hope for herself. With no baby, breaking Andre and Tasha apart would be easier than ever.

She also had a pretty good idea of just how to go about that too. In the weeks that she’d been at Pacifique de Lumière, the thought had occurred to her more than once that it was a pretty safe bet to say that Tasha de Laurent hadn’t a clue about the stipulations of Edouard Renault’s will.

If Cecily was right, and Tasha found out about it—if she was told in the right way, Tasha could be persuaded that Andre had married her solely to gain his inheritance. And that’s exactly what Cecily intended to do—when the time was right.

Now was too soon. Considering the will stated that Andre must be married for one year, which meant September, then the perfect time was summer. Anything sooner might give him and the de Laurent attorneys time to find a loophole inviting a second marriage, and Cecily couldn’t have that. Waiting until mid-summer was the better plan. Tasha’s abrupt departure would send Andre reeling. By the time Andre collected his thoughts, September would be here and he’d be in the midst of divorce proceedings. Or better yet, Tasha would have the marriage annulled. Either way, the Renault money would be Cecily’s.

But it all depended on just how much Tasha knew. Cecily was betting very little. She used these next few weeks to find out if she was right, or if she needed to come up with another plan.

“M
ake sure you bundle up good. It’s cold outside,” Andre told Tasha in a bubbly tone.

She fanned her hands out at her sides. “If I was any more bundled up, you’d have to roll me out of here.”

Andre had to admit she was right. With that thick tweed, knee-length coat, gloves and scarf over her pantsuit, she looked pretty well padded. “Good. I don’t want you to get cold.” He winked at her and grinned.

“What are you up to, anyway?” Curiosity twinkled in her eyes as he led her to the door.

He draped his arm around her as they strolled along the hallway. “Are we leaving the estate?” she asked.

“Nope.” He shook his head. Andre had told her very little, only that he had a surprise for her when she awoke earlier this morning. She’d been cross-examining him ever since.

“You’ve hidden it here!” she said as if she’d just uncovered some state secret.

“Well, it’s not really hidden.” At the door of the east salon, he pulled a deep-blue silk scarf from his coat pocket and flapped it in the air. “For that reason, I’m afraid I’m going to have to blindfold you,” he added with a grin.

“Mr. de Laurent…” She laughed scandalously and turned her back to him so he could blindfold her.

He tied the scarf loosely, covering her eyes and then drew her back into his embrace to lead her through the main salon and out into the east garden.

“Did you hide something for me among the roses?” she asked, feeling her way through the room.

“Sort of…” He paused, opened the French doors. The December chill whipped past them.

Tasha shivered. “This better be good, de Laurent.”

“Trust me.” He chuckled. “A few moments from now you are going to reward me for the genius that I am.”

He led her to the exterior of the hidden alcove and stopped. “Can I take off the blindfold now?” she asked.

“Nope.” He shook his head. “You’ll have to squeeze through the hedges, but you can’t scrape that blindfold off,” he warned. “You
have
to keep it on.”

“I can’t help it if it comes off!” She laughed and felt her way between two of the hedges. The bushes prickly stems poked at it, but did a terrible job of tearing off the blindfold. When she emerged on the other side the scarf was still in place and she silently cursed it.

The bushes rustled and Andre’s hands were on her shoulders an instant later. “Okay…” He began guiding her again. “This way.”

She thought he might be leading her toward the center of the grove, toward the goddess statue. “What’s going on here?”

“You’ll see.” His voice never wavered. He slowed her down before instructing her to, “sit.”

“Sit?” she asked in a weakened tone. Tasha didn’t remember there being anything to sit on near the goddess statue.

“Sit.” He nudged her down. She used her hands to feel her way.

To her surprise, behind her she found what felt like a bench. Sitting down on it, she found she was right. “Has there always been a bench here?” she asked, as if she might be going crazy.

“No.” Andre sat down beside her. “Close your eyes.”

“I’m already blindfolded,” she argued.

“Close your eyes,” he said, firmer this time.

“Okay. Okay.” She shifted her stance and shut her eyes tighter.

His hands fiddled with the scarf. “No peeking.” She laughed and the blindfold fell from her head into her lap. “Okay. You can look.”

Tasha eased her eyes open and when they focused on what was in front of her, she gasped.

The stone, made of marble, must have been about three feet tall and more than a foot wide. A beautiful angel was intricately carved into the left-hand side. Three rows of verses were inscribed along the stone’s face.

We thought of you with love today,

but that is nothing new.

We thought about you yesterday

and days before that too.

Your memory is our keepsake,

with which we’ll never part.

God has you in His keeping,

We have you in our hearts.

In loving memory of our little Angel.

We cherish the few precious weeks

your mother carried you in her womb.

Andre and Tasha’s names had been craved at the base of the stone. A tear slipped from each of Tasha’s eyes. Her hands flew to her face and she buried it in them just before her sorrow spilled out.

Andre wrapped his arms around her. “I hope it pleases you,” he said, barely above a whisper.

She looked up at him through tear-hazed eyes. “Oh, it does. It does.” She swiped at her wet face. “Do you think we’ll ever have the chance to have another baby?”

“I certainly hope so.”

“You know, I’ve been thinking…” She paused to catch her breath. “Maybe we should start following my ovulation schedule.”

“Does Dr. Jolie think that’ll help?”

“Well, he did say that if we weren’t pregnant by Christmas, we could discuss fertility options. And the first one is to follow my ovulation schedule.”

“Technically it’s not Christmas yet.” He teased her with a wink.

“One week won’t matter,” she said with quiet emphasis.

Tasha was beginning to think they were doomed to live their entire lives as a childless couple. She didn’t know if she could handle that.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

MARCH BROUGHT WITH IT SPRINGTIME and the excitement of a new baby coming to Pacifique de Lumière very soon. With the baby due in a couple of weeks, Camille was ready for the birth.

Surprisingly, so was Tasha. She still felt the loss of her own child, and she couldn’t help but look at Camille and wonder who would be bigger right now or who would give birth first if Tasha hadn’t lost her baby. Fate had assured that Camille would come out ahead on both counts. Tasha wasn’t bitter, but she was sad.

The early blooms in the rose garden—thanks to a mild winter—were also a welcome sight. A late afternoon chat in the garden had become a ritual for the last couple of months for Tasha and Camille. They never tired of taking in the rainbow of colors and scents.

Camille moaned and fidgeted, twisting and turning on the outdoor sofa in search of a comfortable position. Tasha jumped up, pushed the coffee table aside and pulled up an ottoman for her best friend turned sister-in-law. Camille gave her a grateful smile as she raised her legs, one at a time, and propped her feet up.

“So how are you feeling?” Tasha asked. Just last week Camille had gone to the hospital, thinking it was time, only to be sent home hours later—still pregnant as ever.

“Fat,” Camille answered Tasha’s question without the slightest hint of humor.

“Well the good news is…that’ll go away.”

Tasha’s response got a chuckle from Camille. “I guess you’re right.” She let out a long, sorrowful sigh. “I’m starting to feel like I’m going to be pregnant, and useless, forever.” Camille shook her head. “Pay me no mind. I’m just feeling sorry for myself.”

“I totally get the
feeling-like-you’re-going-to be-preggers-forever
thing, but why on Earth do you feel useless?”

“Look at me.” Camille’s hands shot up in a surrendering motion. “I’m beyond huge. I can’t do anything. I waddle when I walk. I can’t go anywhere, not even for a night out on the town because I feel so exhausted before we even get into the car. And sex is awkward. There’s only the one position that works for us now.”

“Which position is that, pray tell?” Tasha tried to hold in her amusement, but the laughter came anyway.

“Spooning, Tasha. Spooning.” Considering the ruefulness in Camille’s tone, Tasha decided to back off. Camille’s mood wasn’t all that chipper, and Tasha had to wonder if the time was truly drawing close this time.

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” Tasha leaned in and nudged Camille. “But it’s only temporary. Very soon you’ll be back to normal and it’ll be business as usual for you and Julian.” Tasha winked at Camille.

“I just want it to be now.” Camille rubbed her oversized belly. “I want this pregnancy to be over with so badly that sometimes I think I’m having more false labor.”

Tasha raked her teeth over the edge of her bottom lip. “Are you sure it’s
false
labor?”

“After last week’s humiliation, I’m sure.” Camille shook her head. “I won’t be sent on that fool’s errand again.”

“Well sooner or later, it’s going to be
real
labor. You need to be able to recognize the difference.”

“Apparently, I’m not proficient in that department.”

“Seriously. How long has it been going on today?”

Camille shrugged. “A while. I noticed the first pain this morning. In fact, it woke me up.”

“It woke you up?” Tasha shuddered. “Can false labor do that?”

“Apparently.”

“And when did you feel the next one?”

Camille shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe an hour or so later.”

Alarm washed over Tasha. “How often are you feeling them now?”

“I don’t know. I felt one right before we came out here.”

“Okay. Tell me the next time you have one.” Tasha glanced at her watch. 4:02 pm. She figured they’d been outside maybe five or ten minutes. If Camille was at the point that she should take these pains seriously, she’d need to feel another one soon.

Secretly, Tasha wished she would. She was ready to gush over the new baby. Camille had asked her to be the baby’s godmother, and the way Tasha saw it, that gave her certain rights—to spoil the kid rotten.

Camille’s hand flew to her belly. “Okay. There’s one.” Camille’s eyebrows scrunched together. “It seems stronger than the others.”