The Brother's Wife

“I can imagine,” Pamela Kingsley murmured, smoothing the skirt of her turquoise silk dress. Sunlight caught the diamonds around her throat and both wrists as she perched on the arm of her husband’s chair, one hand resting on his shoulder. “It isn’t every day one learns he might be the sole heir to a considerable fortune.”

Michael stared at her, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t blame you. You only have my word that I didn’t come here to lay claim to your family’s fame and fortune. But I’ve actually done quite well for myself. I don’t really need your money, and I’ve never been one to crave the limelight. The reason I’m here is because—” He broke off again, seemingly at a loss for words. Then he turned back to Iris. “The reason I’m here is because I couldn’t stay away. Can you understand that?”

She smiled and took his hand. “Yes, I believe I can.”

Hope watched the exchange worriedly. For all her wealth and power, Iris was as fragile as a wounded bird. She was extremely vulnerable right now, and Hope knew she could easily be hurt.

It was for precisely that reason that Hope had remained on here after Andrew’s death. In the days and weeks following the accident, Iris had begged her not to move out of the mansion. She was Iris’s last tie to Andrew, and her despair had been so great that Hope was afraid to upset her any further. To make matters worse, Iris’s doctor had warned the family that her heart might not be able to take any more stress.

And so Hope, realizing it was the worst thing in the world she could do for herself, had agreed to stay with Iris for a little while longer. But days had turned into weeks, weeks into months, and here she was, no closer to moving out and starting a new life for herself than she had been the night she’d asked Andrew for a divorce.

The night he died.

As the voices droned on around her, Hope turned to look out the window, which faced the front lawn and gardens. Her gaze took in the lush, manicured grounds, the colored fountains, the marble sculptures, and she realized with something of a shock, that she was searching for Jake McClain.

Ever since he’d moved in with his father, she’d caught glimpses of him on the grounds. He’d been out there earlier, when Michael had first arrived, and Hope had seen him out of the corner of her eye.

It had taken all her willpower not to turn and stare at him. He’d been working in the gardens, and Hope could still picture the way he looked, standing there shirtless in the sunlight, his low-slung jeans hugging his lean hips and thighs.

With an effort she turned her attention back to the gathering, and started. From across the room, Michael Eldridge was staring at her so intently, it almost took Hope’s breath away.

My God, she thought. He does look exactly like Andrew.

From his vantage, he had an unobstructed view of Hope and the window behind her. As his gaze deepened, Hope had the strangest feeling that he knew exactly what she’d been doing—whom she’d been looking for—and he didn’t like it. Not one bit.

A shiver raced up Hope’s spine at the way his thick lashes hooded his blue eyes, giving them a dark intensity that was disturbingly familiar.

Their gazes clung for a long moment as Hope’s heart pounded and her mind whirled in confusion. Who was this man who looked enough like her dead husband to be him? Who was this stranger who seemed to know her innermost thoughts, her deepest, darkest secrets?

After what seemed an eternity, the man’s gaze shifted to Edward, who was speaking quietly to Iris.

Edward was a younger, weaker version of his mother, with the same white hair, the same deep blue eyes, and the same arrogant demeanor. But where his mother had retained her slender physique, her elegant beauty, Edward’s good looks, at sixty, had succumbed to the desecration of his vices. His eyes were shadowed and puffy, his jowls sagged, and his once-muscular body had grown soft and cumbersome.

To look at him now, one would never have guessed he had once been a powerful man in this state, a governor over thirty years ago who had been on the short list to run for vice president. But then, after two terms as governor, he had retired from politics, much to Iris’s keen disappointment, and had discreetly gone about the business of destroying himself.

All this Hope had learned from Andrew, who had never been close to his father. And he’d always despised his stepmother, Pamela, and her son, Jeremy Willows. “Parasites,” he’d called them in kindness. “Bloodsuckers,” when he was particularly aggravated by something one of them had said or done.

As Hope glanced at Pamela and Jeremy now, she wondered what they thought of this new development—a man looking exactly like Andrew appearing out of the blue to claim his rightful place in the family; a man who might very well be the sole Kingsley heir.

A position Jeremy had wanted for himself, Hope reflected, taking in the deep scowl on his face as he stood at the fireplace, away from the rest of the family. He looked the part of heir-apparent in his custom-made suit and expensive Italian loafers, but he was still an outsider, even after all these years, and no one knew that better than Jeremy.

“We’ll have to have some sort of verification,” Edward was saying. “There are tests….”

“Edward.” Iris’s tone held a note of warning, as if she were telling her son, Stay out of this. I’ll handle it. “It’s premature to be speaking of tests. This visit is so we can all become acquainted.”

“No, he’s absolutely right, Mrs. Kingsley,” Michael said earnestly. “The sooner we find out the truth, the better for all of us.” He turned to Edward, the man who might be his father. “I’m perfectly willing to submit to any tests you want, sir. Hypnosis, polygraph, even DNA. Although that might be difficult, considering we would need a sample of Adam’s DNA.”

Hope, who had remained quiet and introspective the entire time, surprised herself now by speaking up. “It might not be as difficult as you think. Since Andrew was Adam’s identical twin, his DNA would be a virtual match, wouldn’t it?”

Michael’s blue gaze met hers, and for just an instant, Hope felt the man’s intensity, his displeasure, then it was gone, replaced by a wan smile. “But Andrew’s dead. That’s how I came to realize I might be his brother. As I said, I saw his picture in the paper and saw how much we looked alike.”

“Yes, I know,” Hope said, refusing to concede to the man’s melancholy charm as easily as Iris had. “But Andrew went in for a physical the day before he died. The lab might still have his blood specimen. And if not, I believe the hospital took a sample the night he died.”

“If that’s true, Victor would be able to make all the necessary arrangements,” Edward said.

“Why not let Jeremy look into it?” Pamela suggested.

“I’d be happy to do whatever I can,” Jeremy murmured.

“Nonsense,” Iris declared. “Victor is like family, and he has a great deal of experience in these matters. Not to mention his discretion,” she added unkindly, but didn’t see, as Hope did, Jeremy’s angry blush at her insinuation. Iris had already turned back to Michael. “I’m so glad you came here today. You have no idea how much better I feel, just seeing you.”

He smiled at her. “You’re exactly the way I pictured you after speaking with you on the phone, Mrs. Kingsley.”

“Call me Iris, please. `Mrs. Kingsley’ sounds so formal, and I do hope we’ll become friends. Andrew and I were very close, you know. He was a wonderful man.”

Hope started to turn away, not wanting to hear Iris’s glowing memories of Andrew, which were so different from her own recollections. But her gaze met Michael Eldridge’s, and slowly, almost imperceptibly he winked at her.

Hope stared at him in shock. The action was so much like Andrew that for a moment, the thought crossed her mind again that he was Andrew, perpetrating some elaborate hoax.

* * *

AFTER MICHAEL LEFT, Hope went up to have tea with Iris in her sitting room. As she settled onto a green silk settee, Hope thought again how much she loved this room. So much of the house seemed oppressive and gloomy, with the high-vaulted ceilings, the dark wood paneling, and the ornate, antique furnishings. But this room was sunlit and cheerful, done in gold, ivory and subtle shades of green.

A discreet knock on the door was followed by the entrance of a uniformed maid carrying a silver tea service on an ornate tray. The tea was poured, and Iris took a tentative sip from a delicate porcelain cup, then dismissed the maid with a satisfied nod.

As if in silent accord, the two women set aside their cups and turned to face each other. Iris had removed her suit jacket, and the blue silk blouse brought an unexpected sparkle to her eyes. She even wore a hint of blush, Hope noticed, or were the roses in the older woman’s cheeks natural? Iris had been so pale and listless since Andrew’s death. The vital woman sitting before Hope now seemed almost a stranger.

Before Hope had a chance to speak, Iris lifted her hand, which appeared steadier than it had in months. “I know what you’re about to say. Edward has already been in to see me, and I suspect Jeremy will be up before dinner. If he can muster the courage,” she added scornfully. “Let me assure you, as I did my beloved son and his wife, that I have no intention of making Michael Eldridge my heir until we have conclusive proof he is my grandson.”

Hope smiled at the woman’s forthrightness. No need beating about the bush with Iris. “I’m glad to hear that. Although I’m less worried about your will than I am about your heart. I don’t want to see it broken again.”

The old woman’s face crumpled for a moment, as she remembered Andrew’s death. She turned away until she’d regained her composure, then once again met Hope’s gaze. “Do you think he’s another impostor?”

Hope shrugged. “I don’t know. There’ve been so many. Especially since Andrew died.”

Iris drew a long, weary breath. “But none of them looked the way he does. Did you see his eyes, Hope? He’s a Kingsley. I’d stake my life on it.”

That was exactly what Hope was afraid of. “I think we should reserve judgment until we find out more about him.”

“He’s agreed to the DNA testing,” Iris reminded her.

“Yes, and hopefully, that’ll give us the proof we need. But those kinds of tests sometimes take weeks, I understand. In the meantime, you could have an investigator check him out—”

“No.”

Hope looked at the older woman in concern. “Why not? Surely you want to find out all you can about this man.”

Iris’s chin lifted in the arrogant, stubborn manner the family had seen too little of in the past few months. “I don’t want a stranger poking around in our affairs and compromising our privacy. I want this kept as quiet as possible. You know as well as I do what the media would do with a story like this. No matter what kind of life Michael has led, they would twist things to make it sound sordid, perhaps even criminal. Look at what they tried to do to poor Andrew. It wouldn’t be fair to Michael. Besides…” Her blue eyes grew even more determined. “I already know the truth about him. All I have to do is look at him.”

Hope leaned forward, taking Iris’s hand in hers. “I know he looks like Andrew. Enough like him to be his twin brother. But looks can be deceiving.”

“But he’s exactly like Andrew. The way he walks. The way he talks, laughs, smiles. Oh, Hope.” Iris’s grip tightened with surprising force on Hope’s hand. “Don’t you see? It’s as if Andrew’s come back to us.”

* * *

THAT NIGHT HOPE couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned, unable to get the image of Michael Eldridge out of her mind. His striking resemblance to Andrew had brought back so many painful memories. She couldn’t forget the way Andrew had looked the last time she’d seen him, the anger and hurt in his blue eyes as she’d lashed out at him. The cruel set of his mouth as he’d smiled down at her, taunting her.

In the stillness of the night, their last argument seemed to echo against the walls of the bedroom they’d shared for nearly a decade. Unable to stand the torment any longer, Hope got up and crossed the room, opening the French doors to the mild April night. She stepped onto the balcony that overlooked the rear gardens, trying to distance herself from the room and from the memories.

And from the guilt.

The sky was still and clear, with a sprinkling of stars and a full moon that silvered the aquamarine surface of the swimming pool. The scent from the wisteria near her window wafted on the evening breeze, and through the trees, Hope could see the flickering light from the groundskeeper’s cottage where Jake’s father lived. Where Jake was staying. She wondered if he was there now.

She closed her eyes as Andrew’s last words came back to haunt her.

“You’ve never gotten over him,” he’d accused her. “Why don’t you just admit it? You still love him. That’s why you want a divorce.”

“This isn’t about Jake,” Hope had said wearily, placing a stack of sweaters inside the open suitcase on their bed. Andrew sat across the room from her, sprawled in a chair by the window. His dark, brooding gaze followed her every move. “It never was about Jake, except in your mind. We could have had a good marriage, Andrew. I did love you. Once. But you never gave us a chance.”

She’d seen the truth of her words flicker in his eyes, replaced almost immediately by the darkness that had become all too familiar lately. “Like hell. Don’t blame me for this. And don’t try to pretend you’re not running to him. How long has this little affair been going on behind my back?”

Hope met his gaze. “I haven’t seen Jake in years. You know that.”

“Liar.” Andrew sprang up from the chair and strode across the room toward her, as graceful and dangerous as a panther. “He was here the other day. I know you saw him.”

“He came to see you, not me. I didn’t even talk to him.”

But Andrew had seemed not to hear her. He’d already drawn his own conclusions, and nothing she could say would make a difference to him. It never had.

Hope closed the lid of the suitcase and snapped the locks. “There’s no point in trying to reason with you when you’re like this. I’ll call you in a few days when I get settled.”

“Don’t give me that damned icy brush-off of yours. I’m sick of it.” Andrew grabbed her suddenly and spun her around to face him. “Do you think I’ll let you just walk out of here like this? There’s no way I’ll let you go to him. I won’t let him win.”

Hope flung off his hand and glared up at him. “That’s all I am to you, isn’t it? The winner’s prize in this stupid competition you’ve always had with Jake McClain. You’re not a child anymore, Andrew. You don’t have to be jealous of Jake any longer.”

His mouth curled in outrage. “Jealous? Of the gardener’s son?”

“He’s always been more than that and you know it. That’s why you hate him.”

His brows rose in derision. “He’s a cop, Hope. Which is exactly why you broke off your engagement to him, remember?”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “I remember.”

“He’s nothing,” Andrew spat.

He’s more than you’ll ever be, Hope thought, then realized in horror that she’d spoken the words aloud.

Something changed in Andrew’s eyes, a resolution that was almost as frightening as his anger. “So. The truth finally comes out.”

She couldn’t have said anything that would have wounded Andrew more deeply. Jake McClain had always been a thorn in her husband’s side. The two of them had been playmates as children, fiercely competitive even back then—Andrew with the Kingsley wealth and power backing him, and Jake with nothing more than a chip on his shoulder and a fierce determination to someday get away from the shadow of the Kingsley mansion.

In spite of all the advantages Andrew had grown up with, it was Jake who had become something of a local hero, excelling in athletics in both high school and college. It was Jake who had known exactly what he wanted in life and attacked his ambitions with a vengeance, while Andrew had drifted from day to day, restless and discontented, with no aim in life other than to own the fastest cars and to be seen with the most beautiful women.

It was Jake Hope had fallen in love with, and for that, Andrew had never forgiven her.

“I won’t give you up,” he warned.

“You don’t have a choice,” she retorted. “Our marriage has been over for a long time. Just let it go.”

“I won’t let him have you.” Andrew tried to touch her, but Hope jerked away. His eyes darkened. “I’ll see you both dead first.”

She stared up at him, hating the sight of him, hating herself for the life she’d given up ten years ago. Her anger, always hidden beneath the surface, bubbled over, hot and fierce, before she could stop it. “I’d rather be dead than to stay married to you!” she screamed.

He looked stunned for a moment, then his smile chilled her to the bone. “Careful what you wish for, Hope.”

He turned and strode from the room, slamming the door behind him. Within moments, she heard his car roaring down the driveway, and all Hope could think was that she was glad he was gone. She wished she would never have to see him again.

“Careful what you wish for, Hope.”

As those images once again stormed through her, Hope shivered. The breeze had picked up, stirring the scent of the roses. The sky, clear moments before, was now dotted with clouds. A lacy filigree covered the moon, deepening the shadows in the garden beyond the pool. Suddenly, Hope had the strangest sensation that she was being watched from the darkness.

“Jake?” she whispered, but the night remained ominously silent.

Unsettled by her thoughts, Hope turned and sought the shelter of her bedroom, closing and locking the French doors behind her.

CHAPTER TWO

The morning after Michael Eldridge’s visit dawned warm and sunny, and when Hope came downstairs, she found Iris breakfasting on the terrace. She was alone at the table, reading the paper and sipping her coffee.

“Where is everyone?” Hope sat down and unfolded her napkin.

“Jeremy has already left for the office, I believe, and my son and his wife are sleeping in. As usual.”

Even though Edward and Pamela had been married for over thirty years and had lived in the same house with Iris for most of that time, she never referred to her daughter-in-law as anything other than “my son’s wife.” Iris hadn’t approved of Edward’s second marriage, coming such a short time after his first wife had died of cancer when Andrew and Adam were three years old, and because of her disapproval, Pamela was not and never would be considered a Kingsley, just as her son would never be Iris’s heir.

A maid appeared, bringing fresh coffee and orange juice. Iris laid the paper aside and glanced out at the gardens. “Gerald is at work early this morning, I see.”

“He always is,” Hope said, following Iris’s gaze. Her heart thudded against her chest when she saw that Jake was with his father. They were working near the reflecting pool, tearing down an old rock garden that Iris had decided a few days ago was an eyesore.

“Hope,” she said. “Go out there and stop them.”

Hope glanced at her. “What? Why? They’re doing exactly what you told them to do.”

“I’m aware of that. But I’ve changed my mind. The rock garden was Andrew’s favorite place to play when he was a little boy. I don’t know what I was thinking. Please go tell Gerald I wish to see him.”

Hope rose, knowing that arguing would be futile. When Iris made up her mind, there was no talking her out of it.

Leaving the terrace, Hope walked down the sloping lawn toward the rock garden. Morning sunlight glinted off the surface of the reflecting pool, temporarily blinding her. She shaded her eyes as she approached Jake and his father.

What had once been an artful arrangement of rock and plants was now in complete disarray. The two men must have been working for hours already, because the job was almost completed.

As Hope watched, Jake, his muscles bulging with the weight, picked up one of the last remaining stones and carried it to a wheelbarrow. He’d taken off his shirt, and a sheen of sweat glistened along his backbone. Hope felt something stir inside her, a warning that told her to state her business, then get away from there as fast as she could, before she had time to remember.

But it was too late, because when Jake turned back around he saw her. Their gazes held for the longest moment, and it flashed through Hope’s mind that here was a man she had once been engaged to. A man she had once hurt very deeply. A man who despised the path she had chosen for her life.

As if reading her mind, Jake studied her for a moment, taking in the designer dress she wore, the gleam of gold at her wrist and throat, and then wordlessly he turned his back on her and resumed his work.

Hope felt as if he’d slapped her. A part of her wanted to hate him for it even as another part of her realized she probably deserved it. The last time she and Jake had met face-to-face was when he’d come to question her after Andrew’s death.

In the throes of guilt for the terrible things she’d said to her husband on the night he died, Hope had lashed out at Jake, accusing him of trying to exact revenge on a dead man. But in the weeks and months that followed, Hope had come to realize that Jake had been right. Her husband had been a man of secrets. Dark and deadly secrets.

And now another man claiming to be Andrew’s twin brother, a man who seemed to have secrets of his own, had come back into their lives just when Hope thought she might be able to put the past behind her. Now she wondered if she would ever be able to do that.

“Mr. McClain?”

Jake’s father glanced up and smiled. “Miss Hope. What brings you down here?”

Was it Hope’s imagination, or had he cast a furtive glance toward his son?

Jake didn’t look up from his work, but Hope saw his expression darken at the way his father had addressed her. At one time, Gerald McClain had almost been her father-in-law, and now here he was, addressing her as though she were the mistress of the manor.

Hope had never felt as uncomfortable with her position in the Kingsley household as she did at that moment. She’d never felt as if she belonged here, amid all this wealth and grandeur, but now she realized she didn’t belong in her old world, either.

Where, exactly, did she belong?

Jake stopped what he was doing and glared at her. “Well? Was there something you wanted, Hope?”

There wasn’t the slightest bit of subservience in his tone. In fact, the way he said her name was almost an insult.

Hope lifted her chin. “I came to have a word with your father.”

Gerald removed his gloves and slipped them in his back pocket. “What can I do for you?”

“Mrs. Kingsley would like to see you. Something about the rock garden. I’m afraid she may have changed her mind,” Hope added apologetically.

Gerald’s face showed not the slightest bit of anger or resentment over the news. Instead he said to Jake, “Just keep working. We’ll have to remove everything and start over anyway.”

Hope lingered for a moment, unsure whether or not she should strive for a note of civility before she left. Jake glanced up, looking as if he wanted to say something to her, but changed his mind with a shrug. He nodded in the direction of the terrace. “Looks like you have company.”

Hope glanced over her shoulder. Michael Eldridge, wearing dark glasses and an Italian-designer suit, stood on the terrace, staring at the gardens. When he saw Hope, he lifted his hand and waved.

Hope waved back, but she found that she was shivering in the warm April sunlight. She turned back to Jake. “I guess I’d better get back.”

“Yeah.” Something dark flashed in Jake’s eyes. “Looks like he’s waiting for you.”

* * *