Pregnant On The Earl's Doorstep

She placed the rubber duck on the desk absently. Really—who brought a rubber duck to a job interview?

‘Almost two months ago,’ Cal repeated, since the information clearly wasn’t going in.

She couldn’t be a local girl if she didn’t know that already, although he’d guessed that from her accent anyway. It had been a mere blip of a mention in the national news—a blink-and-you’d-miss-it piece. But locally it had dominated the newspapers for weeks.

‘June,’ she said softly, and bit down on her lip. ‘It must have been just after I—’ She broke off and shook her head, copper curls rustling.

‘Miss Thomas. Tragic though my brother’s passing is...’ Cal swallowed hard at the memory, hearing Mrs Peterson’s panicked voice all over again ‘...I really think we should get back to the matter in hand. Your position as nanny to my niece and nephew.’

She looked up, her green eyes bright. ‘And I think, Mr Bryce, that we need to start over. You see, I’m not Miss Thomas from the agency, and I’m not here for the nanny position. I’m here about your brother.’

And suddenly Cal knew that his faith in his perfect older brother was about to take another hit.

One it might not be able to recover from.

CHAPTER TWO

THE YOUNGER, EVEN more handsome Bryce brother stared at her across the desk—some sort of family heirloom, Heather supposed, given the weight and colour of it. The rubber duck clashed horribly with the surroundings, bringing a sense of surrealism to the whole scene.

As if it wasn’t absurd enough already.

Don’t get distracted by the desk. Or the duck. Focus on what you’re here to do.

Except mentally debating the provenance of furniture was far easier than telling the man sitting behind it that she’d had a one-night stand with his dead brother. Before he was dead. Obviously.

Oh, this was going to go badly.

‘You’re not from the agency?’ Mr Bryce repeated. ‘Then who exactly are you? And, more importantly, who were you to my brother?’

Did he already know? Maybe Ross had done this sort of thing all the time. Maybe she was just the latest in a line of women his brother had taken ‘meetings’ with over the last couple of months.

Heather took a deep breath, and began. ‘My name is Heather Reid,’ she said, forcing herself to meet his gaze. ‘About two months ago I met your brother, Ross, in a nightclub in London and spent the night with him. And now I’m pregnant with his child.’

A child who would never know their father. Heather clutched at the arm of the chair as reality hit home now the words were out in the open. Ross was dead. The vibrant, laughing, charming man she’d spent the night with was gone. More importantly, her child’s father was dead.

He might have been an adulterous liar, but she wouldn’t wish death on anybody. Especially since it meant she was all alone in this now.

Even if Ross had thrown her out of the castle she’d have always known that her child had a father he or she could go to later, if they needed to. That there was someone else in the world that they belonged to.

And now there was only her. And her baby’s uncle, sitting on the other side of that damn desk, staring at the rubber duck she’d placed between them.

His expression had hardly changed, she realised. Whatever he was feeling about her revelation, it wasn’t shock. Which told her a lot more about Ross’s general behaviour than she liked.

‘Mr Bryce?’ she said, when he didn’t answer.

‘Cal,’ he said tiredly, rubbing a hand over his forehead. ‘My name is Cal Bryce.’

‘Right. Um... Cal, then.’ She waited. Still no response. ‘Do you want to... I don’t know...see some ID or something?’

Cal’s eyebrows rose slowly as he turned his gaze back on her. ‘For you or for the baby?’

Heat flushed to her cheeks. ‘Right. Obviously you’ll want some sort of DNA test at some point—which is fine. I mean, for all you know I’m some random woman who read about your brother’s death and came here to try it on and get some money out of you. Except I’m not.’

Cal was looking at her as if that was exactly what he thought she was, now she came to mention it. Heather couldn’t really blame him. She was not good at this.

‘Oh! I have one thing that might help...’ She pulled her phone from the pocket of her dress and scrolled back through the photos to find the one she wanted before holding it out over the desk to show him.

His eyes darkened as he stared at the photo of her and Ross, surrounded by the dim lights and noise of that London bar, both grinning into the lens as he’d held the phone out to snap the picture. Something to remember him by, he’d said.

Turned out she really didn’t need the photo.

Cal sat back, looking up again, over her shoulder, and Heather took the phone back. This couldn’t be pleasant for him, either.

Although, he wasn’t the one who might throw up the sandwich she’d eaten on the train any second now, because of a load of stupid hormones, so her sympathy only went so far.

‘Do you believe me?’ she asked quietly, when he still said nothing.

‘Yes,’ Cal replied. ‘The lawyers will want the test, of course, but, yes. I believe you. I’m just trying to figure out what to do next.’

Heather gave him a small, lopsided smile. ‘You and me both.’

He wasn’t that much like Ross, now she’d got past the looks, Heather decided. Ross hadn’t stopped talking the whole time they were together—about himself, about her, about places he’d been or wanted to go—yet he still hadn’t managed to say any of the things that really mattered.

Cal, after his initial pitch for the nanny job, had been practically silent ever since she’d broken the news.

But he believed her. That was a big thing. She was clinging on to that.

‘What did you hope to get from coming here today?’ Cal asked finally.

Heather shrugged one shoulder. ‘I’m not sure. Mostly I just wanted to tell Ross about the baby. I knew...’ She swallowed. ‘After I took the test, and he didn’t answer his phone, I looked up the castle he’d talked about online. I saw the photos of him and his family on the website. He didn’t... When we met he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, and he didn’t say anything to lead me to believe he was in a relationship, let alone married with kids.’

Cal’s eyes fluttered shut for a second. ‘No. I suppose he wouldn’t have.’

‘So I wasn’t coming here for a happy-ever-after, or to demand that he marry me, or anything. I was sort of expecting him to throw me out, to be honest, so in some ways this is already going better than that.’

Apart from the bit where his brother was dead, of course. Oh, she was really screwing this up.

‘Basically, I knew the right thing to do would be to tell Ross that he was going to be a father. Again. That’s all I wanted. After that... Well, it would have been up to him. I just wanted to do the right thing.’

Because that mattered. She needed to be able to look her reflection in the eye when she caught sight of it in the mornings. She needed to know she’d done the right thing for her child.

The way her own mother hadn’t.

And now she’d done that.

Which meant she had to figure out what the hell happened next on her own.

* * *

‘The right thing?’ Cal repeated the words with an ironic smile. As if there was such a thing in a woeful situation like this one.

He pitied that baby, being born into the Bryce family, with its legacy of screw-ups, scandals and sadness. What chance did it have?

Or perhaps he or she would be luckier than the rest of them. After all, this baby wouldn’t have to grow up in Lengroth Castle, surrounded by reminders of the expectations the world placed upon it and knowing that if he or she didn’t want to meet them, they’d have to learn how to hide the truth.

And, most of all, this baby would have Heather Reid, which was more than Ross’s other two kids had. They were stuck with Uncle Cal, screwing them up for the rest of their childhoods.

Cal knew what Ross had been thinking when he’d named him as guardian—he’d been assuming it would never be needed. And who else was there, really? Who else would be able to understand the legacy of the Bryce family well enough to try and fix things for them all—or at least hide the truth a little longer?

Heather Reid wouldn’t understand that, he’d bet. She was probably an honest, good girl, out of her depth in the pool of Lengroth scandals.

Of course, he could be overestimating her. Because, really, who travelled all the way from London to the wilds of Scotland just to ‘do the right thing’? Nobody in Cal’s family, that was for certain.

He wasn’t sure any of his ancestors or relatives would even know what the right thing was, if it came calling. Not even Ross.

So, as trustworthy as Heather seemed, Cal knew better than to take those wide, innocent eyes at face value.

‘Did you hope he’d support you financially?’ he asked. That had to be it, right? Ross had told her he lived in a damn castle—of course she was after money. ‘Or buy you off, so he didn’t have to tell Janey?’

The worst part was that was probably exactly what Ross would have done. What Bryce men had been doing for generations to cover up their misdemeanours and betrayals. Hiding their scandals away under a blanket of hush money.

It was just that Cal had been so sure that Ross was different. And that if Ross could be different maybe he could, too. Maybe the scandal gene had skipped a generation, or something.

But here it was, fresh and revitalised for a whole new era of Bryces, ready to bring the Earldom of Lengroth into disrepute once and for all. Hiding bad behaviour had been a lot easier before the advent of social media.

Across the desk, he saw Heather’s eyes had widened with shock. ‘I didn’t... No. Like I said—I have a job of my own. Supply teaching might not pay brilliantly, but I like working with the kids and it’ll pay enough to support me and this baby, just. So, no, I wasn’t expecting money. As I told you—if anything, I was expecting him to throw me out.’

‘But you came anyway?’

‘But I came anyway.’

Cal eyed her across the desk. She seemed genuine. Sincere. But then, people always did—until they screwed you over.

Then his gaze landed on the duck again. ‘I have to ask...’ He gestured towards it.

Spots of pink appeared on Heather’s cheeks. ‘Oh! It sort of...appeared in the moat as I was approaching the door. It seemed wrong to leave it there so I brought it in with me.’

Daisy, Cal was willing to bet. After tossing a bucket of water out of that nursery window a rubber duck was nothing. Practically a step down, in fact.

Cal thought wistfully of the time when he’d honestly believed that his niece and nephew were delightful, well-behaved children. When he’d lived thousands of miles away and only seen them for an afternoon at a time.

‘How do you imagine the duck got there?’ he asked Heather. ‘In the moat, I mean?’ An idea was starting to form somewhere in the back of his brain. It was entirely possible that it was a terrible idea, but it wasn’t as if he had any better ones to go with. Especially since it seemed that the latest nanny from the agency hadn’t even made it as far as the castle gates.

‘Oh, I couldn’t possibly say.’

There was a wry smile on Heather’s face that told Cal everything he needed to know. Firstly, that she knew exactly who must be responsible for the duck, but wasn’t going to drop the kids in it. And, secondly, that Heather Reid was an open book, with her every thought and feeling shown on her face for him to read—as long as he could see it.

It was the second of those two facts that convinced him to follow the hare-brained plan that had evolved in his mind. After all, if he could see Heather’s face he’d know when she was about to do something stupid. Like sell her story about her night with the Earl to the local papers. Or try to blackmail him for financial support. Or whatever.

And maybe, just maybe, what Daisy and Ryan really needed was someone on their side—the way Cal had always had Ross. And Cal had a feeling that Heather could be that person.

If she said yes.

Well, he’d never know if he didn’t ask.

‘So. You’re pregnant with my niece or nephew. I am guardian to your baby’s half-brother and half-sister. Clearly whatever happens next we’re all in each other’s lives now.’

Heather frowned. ‘I... I suppose.’

Her lack of enthusiasm was, Cal supposed, understandable. He wouldn’t want to be a part of this family either if he hadn’t been born into it. Even then, actually. But he didn’t have any choice. All he could do now was try and make growing up as a Bryce less awful for Daisy and Ryan than it had been for him and Ross. And he sure as hell couldn’t do that on his own.

He took a breath and tried to smile as he said, ‘In which case I have a proposition for you. If you’ll hear it?’

He had no idea what to do next if she wouldn’t.

* * *

A proposition? Heather remembered all too well what had happened last time a guy with the surname Bryce had propositioned her. But Cal didn’t seem like the sort.

She’d come all this way. The least she could do was hear him out. After all, it wasn’t as if she had any clear idea of her path forward. All she knew was that she needed to figure out a way to handle her situation without bringing scandal and shame down on her father. Again. He’d had enough of that for one lifetime, and last time... Well, the bottom line was she couldn’t risk that happening again.

She needed to manage this carefully. Maybe Cal could help her do that.

‘I’m listening,’ she said neutrally, watching his expression.

Cal leaned forward in his chair, folded his hands on the desk next to the rubber duck and gazed straight into her eyes. ‘I want you to stay here for the summer as nanny to Daisy and Ryan—Ross’s children.’

Heather blinked. ‘What?’ She might have been less surprised if he’d suggested he ravish her over the desk, or that they set up a rubber duck factory together. ‘I’m... I’m not a nanny.’

‘No, you’re a teacher. Which means you know kids a hell of a lot better than I do, for sure. Daisy and Ryan...they’re ten and eight and they’re struggling. They need someone who knows what they’re doing and I think that person is you. Plus, teachers get great summer holidays, right?’

Six weeks. Six weeks in which she’d normally be planning for the next school year, sorting out her classroom, preparing supplies and resources... Except she’d been on a maternity leave cover contract for a year and, despite the promise of another position when the teacher she was covering for returned, last-minute budget cuts meant she didn’t actually have a new job for September yet. No class to prepare for. And, given all the upheaval in her life, she’d figured some supply work might be best for the next term or so anyway. Until she figured out what she was doing.

All of which meant she really didn’t have anything to do this summer.

She thought back to Cal’s rambled job description when he’d thought she was Miss Thomas.

‘If you stick out six weeks here at Castle Lengroth, and get the children prepared physically, mentally and emotionally for boarding school, I’ll pay you for a full year’s work at your agency base rate. But if you quit before the six weeks are up you get nothing.’

Did that offer still stand? A year’s wages, even at nanny agency rates, would go an awful long way towards providing her with the cushion she needed to take care of this baby—and herself—until she got a new job. She could break the news of her pregnancy to her father in her own time and, while she’d have to tell him about the whole sleeping with a married earl thing, maybe no one else would need to know. It didn’t seem that Cal was desperate to shout it from the rafters.

There’d be talk at home, of course. But an unmarried mother was a totally different thing to an aristocratic homewrecker. And very different again from last time, with her mother. Maybe it would be okay...

Besides, if things got bad she’d have money, and if she had money she had options. She could go and stay somewhere else for a while, until everything blew over. Take Dad with her, even. Maybe Wales, where they’d used to go on family holidays before.

Heather ran her tongue across her suddenly dry lips. ‘What are the terms?’

She didn’t want to spend the summer in Scotland. Not that she had anything against the country particularly, but it wasn’t where she belonged. Especially not in this dark and foreboding castle with duck-wielding children.

But if she didn’t want to be in this scary, imposing place, how must the kids feel about it? They’d grown up here, of course. But given what she knew of their father, and what she could therefore guess about their parents’ marriage and family relationships, would that be a good thing or a bad thing?

‘Same as if you really were the nanny from the agency,’ Cal said. ‘In fact, no one but us two need to know that you aren’t. I think that would be better for now, don’t you?’

Heather gave a slow nod. But would it be better? She wasn’t good at secrets. She knew the harm they could do. But under the circumstances...what option did she have?

‘So, you’d stay a full six weeks and get the children ready for boarding school—I have a folder with the details somewhere...’ He looked around his immaculate desk, empty except for the rubber duck, then back at Heather. ‘Or perhaps Mrs Peterson does. Anyway. You do that and I’ll pay you a year’s wages—not as a bribe, or because my brother got you into trouble, but because you’ll have earned it.’

He’d anticipated her issues with the arrangement, Heather realised. As much as she could use the money, it did feel like a bribe—and that wasn’t what she’d come here for. But he’d offered the money before he’d even known who she was, so it was a genuine payment for services rendered.

God, how bad were these kids?

At least there’s only two of them. That can’t be harder to handle than a class of thirty-four, right? And I manage them well enough.

Besides, teaching was one thing. Living with and supporting kids through important life changes was something else entirely. Something she needed to learn to do now she was going to become a mother.

‘I don’t suppose I can take some time to think about it?’ she asked.

Cal shrugged. ‘Honestly...? You might as well say yes now. Even if you leave in the next day or two nobody will be surprised. In fact, forty-eight hours will be more than the last nanny managed.’

‘You’re not selling this, you know.’

‘I know.’ Cal sighed. ‘I’m not going to lie to you. The kids are hard work. I don’t understand them, and I don’t think they even want to be understood. Plus, the castle might actually be haunted—but you’ll be long gone by Halloween, so hopefully that won’t be an issue.’

‘I don’t believe in ghosts.’ There were enough things in the real world to be terrified of, Heather had found, without adding a whole new fictional layer of fear.

‘Even better.’ Cal gave her a small smile—maybe the first she’d seen from him. It made him look younger, lighter. And even more handsome. ‘The bottom line is, if you stay you can get to know your baby’s family. And we can get to know you. You might decide you want nothing to do with us afterwards, but at least you’ll have the information to make that decision with. And I’ll get to help you financially without it being underhand or dodgy.’

‘No one else will know why I’m really here?’ Heather asked. That was important. ‘I haven’t... You’re the only person who knows about the baby.’

He looked a little surprised at that. ‘No one else will hear about it from me,’ he promised.

And against her better judgement Heather believed him.

Six weeks. Six weeks to figure out what she wanted to do next and earn the money to pay for it. Six weeks to figure out how to admit to her father how badly she’d screwed up. To steel herself against his disappointment and upset.

Nannies were practically servants, right? And servants were prized for being invisible. Heather liked being invisible. If people didn’t see you they were less likely to talk about you, taunt you or humiliate you.

She’d spent her childhood being part of the most talked about family in her small village. Here she could be completely anonymous—despite the scandal she carried inside her.

Six weeks.

How hard could that be?

She nodded. ‘Okay.’

CHAPTER THREE

CAL HARDLY LET her get the word out before he pressed a button on the phone on his desk and called Mrs Peterson.

‘Is she staying?’ his housekeeper asked bluntly through the speakerphone. ‘Or do I need to call another taxi? Only you know how much Harris hates driving all the way up here every time you lose another nanny. He’ll be on his lunch break now, anyway.’

She made it sound as if he was misplacing them somewhere, in the nooks and crannies of the cavernous castle. As if they weren’t actually running out through the front door without looking back.

The last one hadn’t even waited for Harris—the driver of Lengroth village’s only taxi—to show up. She’d walked the three miles to the station instead.

‘Miss Reid is staying with us,’ Cal said smugly.

‘Reid?’ He could almost hear Mrs Peterson’s eyebrows rising. ‘I thought the agency said her name was Thomas?’

Damn. He wasn’t good at subterfuge. But he’d have to get better quickly if he was going to disguise his brother’s pregnant mistress as a nanny for the next month and a half.

‘A mix-up at the agency, it seems. Our new nanny is Miss Heather Reid.’

‘I’ve stopped bothering to learn their names,’ Mrs Peterson replied. ‘Did the agency get the time of the interview wrong, too?’

‘Yes. Yes, they did.’ Mrs Peterson valued promptness highly, and what was one more little white lie if it smoothed the relationship between the nanny and the housekeeper of Lengroth Castle? ‘In fact, Miss Reid was technically fifteen minutes early.’

‘Hmph.’

Across the desk, Heather was looking most amused by his attempts to pacify his housekeeper. He resisted the urge to toss the rubber duck at her to stop her silent laughter.

‘So if you could please come up to the office and take Miss Reid for a tour of the castle, and to meet the children...?’

There was a loud sigh on the speakerphone. ‘I suppose,’ she said, and then the line went dead.

‘Mrs Peterson is not a big fan of nannies?’ Heather asked.

‘To be honest, the last few we’ve had haven’t really tried to endear themselves to her.’ Cal tried to smile reassuringly. ‘Mrs Peterson is a sweetheart when you get to know her, I promise.’

Heather looked sceptical.

But when Mrs Peterson arrived a few minutes later—Cal suspected she hadn’t wasted time going all the way back down to the kitchen...she’d probably figured she’d be needed to show the nanny out before she even got that far—Heather smiled sweetly at her and talked about how excited she was to get to know the children and the castle.

‘We’ll see how long that lasts,’ Mrs Peterson muttered ominously.

As they shut the door behind them Cal let out a long breath and sank down into his chair to process the last half an hour. Much as he’d far rather take a nap, there were still so many things to deal with.

So, taking stock...

Pluses: he had someone to look after Daisy and Ryan, hopefully for the rest of the summer, so he could get on with fixing everything their father, his brother, had screwed up before his death.

Minuses: that person was pregnant with Ross’s child, and was basically another scandal waiting to happen.