The Duchess Diaries: The Diplomat's Pregnant Bride / Her Unforgettable Royal Lover / The Texan's Royal M.D.. Merline Lovelace
taking over the duchess’s financial affairs involved delicate negotiations that had yet to reach a satisfactory conclusion. Which put the burden on Gina’s shoulders. She couldn’t just move in and expect her grandmother to support her. She had to pay her own way.
On that determined note, she thanked Maria for staying so late and told her to sleep in the next morning. “I’ll make breakfast for Grandmama.”
The Honduran looked dubious. “Are you sure, chica? La duquesa, she likes her egg poached just so.”
“I know. It has to sit for exactly four minutes after the heat’s turned off.”
“And her tea. It must be...”
“The Twinings English Black. I’ve got it covered. The car’s waiting for you. Go home and get some rest.”
Maria obviously had her doubts but gathered her suitcase-sized purse. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
* * *
Gina was up and waiting when her grandmother walked into the kitchen just after eight-thirty the next morning. The duchess was impeccably dressed as always in a calf-length black skirt and lavender silk overblouse. Her hair formed its usual, neat snowy crown atop her head, but Gina saw with a quick dart of concern that she was leaning more heavily than she normally did on her cane.
“Good morning,” she said, masking her worry behind a cheerful smile. “I got a text from Sarah a while ago. She says it’s balmy and beautiful in Majorca.”
“I expect it is. Are you doing breakfast?”
“I am. Sit, and I’ll bring your tea.”
Surprised and just a little wary, the duchess seated herself in the sunny breakfast room off the kitchen. Its ivy-sprigged wallpaper, green seat cushions and windows overlooking Central Park seemed to bring the bright May spring right into the room.
Gina poured hot water over the leaves she’d measured into her grandmother’s favorite Wedgwood teapot and placed the pot on the table. While the Twinings Black steeped, she popped some wheat bread in the toaster and brought a saucepan of water back to a boil before easing two raw eggs out of their shells. The sight of the yolks gave her a moment’s qualm, but it passed. Still no twinge of morning nausea, thank God! With any luck, she’d escape that scourge altogether.
“Here we are.”
She hadn’t kept the yolks from breaking and going all runny, but the duchess thanked her with a smile and buttered her toast. Sensing there was something behind this special effort, she munched delicately on a corner of toast and waited patiently.
Gina pulled in a deep breath and took the plunge. “I was wondering, Grandmama...”
Dang! Admitting she was a screwup and needed to come live with her grandmother until she got her life in order was harder than she’d anticipated.
“I thought perhaps I might stay with you until I get a job. If you don’t mind, that is.”
“Oh, Eugenia!” Charlotte’s reaction came swift and straight from the heart. “Of course I don’t mind, my darling girl. This is your home. You must stay for as long as you wish. You and the baby.”
Gina wasn’t crying. She really wasn’t. The tears just sort of leaked through her smile. “Thanks, Grandmama.”
Her own lips a little wobbly, the duchess reached for her granddaughter’s hand. “I admit I wasn’t looking forward to rattling around this place by myself now that Sarah’s moving out. I’m delighted you want to stay here. Will you need to fly back to L.A. to pack up your things?”
“Dev’s assistant, Patrick, said he would take care of that if I decided to stay in New York.”
“Good!” Charlotte gave her hand a quick squeeze and picked up her fork. “Now, what’s this Sarah told me about you wanting to go into the catering business?”
“Not catering. Event planning. I did a little of it in L.A. Just enough to know I’m better at organizing and throwing parties than...” She managed a watery chuckle. “Than everything else I’ve tried.”
“Well, you certainly did an excellent job with the wedding.”
The praise sent Gina’s spirits winging. “I did, didn’t I?” She preened for a moment, her tears forgotten. “And the photographer from Sarah’s magazine shot some amazing video and stills. He gave me a disk with enough material to put together a portfolio. I just emailed it to the woman I’m interviewing with this afternoon.”
Her grandmother paused with her fork halfway to her lips. “You have an interview this afternoon?”
“I do. With Nicole Tremayne, head of the Tremayne Group. TTG operates a dozen different event venues, three right here in the city.”
“Hmm. I knew a Nicholas Tremayne some years ago. Quite well, actually.” Her thoughts seemed to go inward for a moment. Shaking them off, she lowered her fork. “This Nicole must be his daughter. If so, I’ll call him and...”
“No, Grandmama, please don’t.”
The urgent plea brought a look of surprise. “Why ever not?”
“I want to do this on my own.”
“That sentiment does you justice, Eugenia, but...”
“You don’t have to say it. I know my track record doesn’t suggest I’ll make a very reliable employee. When you add the fact that I’m pregnant, it’ll be a miracle if I land any job. I want to try, though, Grandmama. I really do.”
“Very well. I’ll refrain from interfering.”
“Thank you. Dev and Patrick made the same promise. And I’ll get Jack to do the same when I meet him for lunch today.”
The duchess tilted her head. Sudden interest gleamed in her faded blue eyes. “You’re having lunch with Jack? Why? I thought you’d said all you have to say to him.”
“I did. Several times! The man won’t take no for an answer.”
“So again I ask, why are you having lunch with him?”
“He badgered me into it,” Gina admitted in disgust. “You can see why I don’t want to marry him.”
The duchess took her time replying. When she did, she chose her words carefully.
“Are you sure, Eugenia? I treasure every moment I had with your mother and with you and Sarah, but I speak from experience when I say raising a child on your own can be quite terrifying at times.”
“Oh, Grandmama!”
Her eyes misted again. Blinking furiously, Gina bared her soul. “I’m scared out my gourd. I admit it! The only thing that makes me even think I can do this is you, and the love you lavished on Sarah and me. You filled our lives with such joy, such grand adventures. You still do. I can give that to my child. I know I can.”
A smile started in her grandmother’s eyes and spread to Gina’s heart.
“I know you can, too.”
* * *
Gina had intended to spend the rest of the morning prepping for her interview with Nicole Tremayne. To her annoyance, her thoughts kept slipping away from party planning and instead landed on Jack Mason.
Her irritation increased even more when she found herself scowling at the few outfits she’d brought to New York with her. They were all flashy, all playful. Thigh-skimming skirts in bold prints. Tights in eye-popping colors. Spangled, midriff-baring T-shirts. Reflective of her personality, maybe, but not the image she wanted to project to Ms. Tremayne. Or to a certain ambassador-at-large.
Abandoning the meager offering, she went next door to Sarah’s room and rummaged through the designer classics her sister had salvaged from their grandmother’s closet. After much debate and a pile of discards strewn