His Dutchess

chapter 3

“Let me rephrase it, then. Who in your life would like to see you come to harm?”

His first thoughts scanned his list of business associates who might have felt

slighted over the years. None would be better off if he were gone at this point. There was only one person who might see things differently.

“Whose image are you thinking of, Mr. Harrison?”

Blake took a drink of his coffee and felt it hit the bottom of his stomach with a thump. “Only one.”

Samantha lifted her eyes to his, waiting.

“My cousin, Howard Walker.”

A tiny slack in her jaw, a slump in her shoulders, these were the only things that indicated the impact of his words. Much to Blake’s surprise, Samantha Elliot wrote down the information and didn’t question further.

She removed the top sheet of her papers and handed him the others. “I’m going to need you to fill these out. You can fax them to me at the number on the bottom of page eight.”

“Did I pass your test, Ms. Elliot?”

“Honesty needs to be maintained throughout this process. So far, everything

is working for me.”

It was Blake’s turn to smile. “I could have lied about the assault charge.”

Samantha started to pack up her things as she spoke. “His name was Drew Falsworth. You were two months past your seventeenth birthday when you broke his nose at a polo match at the prep school you both attended. Drew had a reputation for dating girls long enough to get them into bed before dumping and moving onto the next. Your sister was smart to stay away and if you hadn’t hit

the bastard to protect your sister, and I’d found out about it, this interview would

have been over before you even sat down.”

“How the hell—”

“I have a very extensive list of contacts. Most of which I’m sure you’ll know about before this day is out.”

Damn right. He’d be on the phone with his assistant before he reached the car.

“What’s this going to cost me, Ms. Elliot?”

“Consider me an agent. When your lawyer draws up the prenuptial agreement bear in mind that twenty percent of what you offer your future wife will be paid to me up front.”

“And if I only offer her a small stipend?”

“The women I work with have a minimum spelled out in that stack of papers.”

“And if the woman doesn’t hold to her end of the deal? If she fights the contract after a year?”

Samantha stood, giving Blake no choice but to stand beside her.

“She won’t.”

“You sound so certain.”

“The predetermined amount of money, her share, goes into an account. If the woman fights for more, that money pays your attorneys to squelch her. Anything left over is yours to keep. The only time this would change is if a child was brought into the picture and paternity tests proved it was yours. Family courts with kids aren’t something I agree to deal with. It will be up to you to keep it in your pants, Mr. Harrison. That is of course if you intend to end the marriage after the agreed upon year. If not, then enjoy your happily ever after and name your child after me.”

She’d thought of everything. To say he was impressed was an understatement.

“I need those papers by three this afternoon. I’ll be in touch by five with a list of prospective women. We’ll set up meetings as soon as tomorrow if your schedule allows.”

Blake reached down, lifted her bag, and handed it to her.

She shoved a lock of unruly hair from her eyes and swung the handle over her shoulder. “Do you have any more questions for me, Mr. Harrison? Or should I be calling you, Your Grace?”

The slow way she rolled his title off her tongue with her hypnotic voice was something he could get used to. He wouldn’t mind hearing it again, over the phone… “How about Blake?”

****

As soon as Sam knew she wasn’t being watched, she slid behind the wheel of her car and allowed the Cheshire cat grin she’d been feeling deep inside her to spread over her face. An undignified Snoopy dance had her wiggling her butt in the soft leather. “About friggin’ time,” she whispered to herself.

The dashing Duke was her ticket to the big leagues. From the inception of Alliance, she’d pictured clients like Blake Harrison lining up for her services, rich men in need of finding a wife to check off their bucket list. She’d found wives for men who didn’t have time, or the desire to go through the dating game. They weren’t looking for love, but companionship. Some men wanted to claim a wife so that their lovers would stop bugging them for a ring. To date, she’d kept

a steady income and personal referrals that built her business to sustain her.

With Harrison, and his estimated profit potential, she’d be able to pay her largest expense for a good two to three years, or so she hoped.

A billionaire on his own, Harrison didn’t need his late father’s money. But to allow a bank account that could buy out small countries to disappear into the melting pot of charity, or to the cousin Blake had mentioned, would be a shame.

Especially with all the corruption and scandal associated with charities. There

was no telling where that money would end up and whose pocket it would fatten.

Sam knew first hand how do-good money often fell into greedy hands. Harrison’s situation would bring up distractions she’d not faced before. His title might be the biggest problem to overcome. She’d have to screen the prospective women to make sure they didn’t have fairytale dreams of being a

Duchess. Years of Disney videos were hard to combat. Combine that with Harrison’s over-the-top good looks, and the women she’d introduce him to would have to be blind not to want more from the man than his money.

The pictures she’d seen of him didn’t do him justice. She’d always looked up to men, had to with her five foot five frame, but Blake was six one on a bad day with shoulders rippling with muscles. She’d seen tabloid pictures of him on a beach in Tahiti that hinted at the physique he hid under his suit. When he’d walked into the coffee shop, all eyes turned to him yet he didn’t even notice. He simply scanned the room looking for her. With any other client, she’d have taken to her feet the second he hit the door, but with Blake, she needed a minute to compose herself. His firm, rugged jaw and striking grey eyes penetrated her normally calm disposition and made her heart leap.

His looks would be a distraction. It would be best for all involved if the woman he picked to be his wife lived in one country while he lived in another.

Spending long amounts of time with him would tempt any woman with a pulse

to sleep with him.

Sam removed her cell phone from her purse and called her assistant.

“Alliance, this is Eliza.”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“How did it go?” Eliza jumped right in with her query.

“Perfectly. Did you pull the files and make the calls?”

“I did. Joanne was the only woman not available at this time.”

Sam pictured the tall brunette. “Really, why?”

“Has a boyfriend, apparently.”

That did tend to mess up marriage to another man. Without Joanne, there were three other perfect candidates. Unless Blake had a problem with beautiful women, she’d have the man a wife by Wednesday. It was only Monday.

“Her loss.”

“Are you coming in?”

“I have an errand to run and then I’ll be there.”

“Bring lunch.”

Eliza and Sam had been friends for some time, long before their business relationship had taken off. “As your boss, shouldn’t you be picking me up lunch?” she teased.

“Not when my slave-driving employer isn’t in the office long enough to man the phones.” The office, what a joke. Sam used the spare bedroom in the townhouse.

Laughing, Sam said, “I’ll be there in a half an hour.”

“You might want to call Moonlight first.”

Sam sat a little taller. “Why is something wrong?” Worry wiggled around in her stomach, producing a familiar sense of panic.

“Nothing urgent. Jordan isn’t eating as much as they’d like. They thought you should stop by and talk to her.”

Samantha blew out a long-suffering breath and forced her shoulders to relax.

“Okay.” Her plans for the afternoon would now be complicated with a side trip to the long care facility that took care of her younger sister. The last time she’d stopped eating she ended up in the hospital suffering from an infection that spread throughout her whole bloodstream. Sam hoped her sister was depressed and not ill. Sad that those were the top choices as to why Jordan wasn’t eating.

But what else was there? Depression had led to Jordan’s attempted suicide,

which resulted in a stroke instead of death.

“I’ll be late, but if you can wait, I’ll bring lunch.”

“Let me know if you get tied up.”

“I will. Thanks.”

Sam hung up and started her car before pointing it toward Moonlight Assisted Living. The exclusive home cost over a hundred grand a year and was the reason Samantha needed the income that Blake Harrison would bring. She was a month behind on her personal bills and always cutting the checks to Moonlight a week or two late. The last thing Sam wanted was to crumble under the financial pressure and end up having to put Jordan in a state run facility, homes where she’d be ignored and likely end up with bedsores and untreatable

infections within a month. No, she’d live out of her car before she let that happen.

Picturing the Duke, Sam knew things wouldn’t end up so dire. He stood to lose close to three hundred million from his father’s estate if he didn’t marry by the end of the month. Blake would likely pay the woman walking down the aisle a nice chunk and therefore pay Alliance enough to float for some time. All Sam had to do was fluff up the women in line and make sure none of them hit any panic buttons.

Easy squeezy… or so she hoped.