A Pregnant Proposal. Elizabeth Harbison

A Pregnant Proposal - Elizabeth Harbison


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you saying?”

      “I’m saying…” She hesitated. Not only did she believe Philip now, but she knew she had to protect his child as no one had been able to protect him. She owed at least that to him, as well as to the baby.

      “You’re saying what?” the man on the other end of the line demanded. “Speak up, girl, I don’t have all evening for this nonsense.”

      She had a vision, suddenly, of Dutch Sedgewick bullying her sweet, innocent child this way and something in her broke. She would not let that happen, no matter what. “Mr. Sedgewick,” she said sharply. Before she had time to think better of her plan, the words were out. “This baby is not your grandchild.”

      She could almost hear the ash dropping from the tip of his cigar onto the lap of his two-thousand-dollar trousers. “I beg your pardon?”

      She said a short prayer, asking Philip to forgive her for what she had to say. “This is not Philip’s baby I’m carrying. I wasn’t pregnant when Philip died.” Which was true in a way, since she hadn’t known she was pregnant when Philip died.

      There was a moment of silence, and then, “I don’t believe you.”

      She dove headfirst into her lie. “Don’t let my fiancé hear you saying that.”

      People have been known to confess to things that weren’t true when the pressure was on them, Matt had said. Boy, had he called this one right!

      “Your fiancé?” Dutch’s tone quieted just enough for her to realize he was taken aback.

      “Yes, Mr. Sedgewick. My baby’s father and I are planning to get married as soon as the baby is born.”

      If you get flustered, who knows what you might say?

      “Is that so.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. “I suppose this fiancé has a name?”

      She swallowed. “Yes.”

      A moment passed like an hour and Jen knew Dutch wanted her to sweat.

      “Who is it?” he asked at last.

      Panic chased several lame answers around her mind. “I’m not sure that’s any of your business, Mr. Sedgewick,” she stalled. “Particularly after the threats you were making a couple of minutes ago.”

      “It’s my business if you don’t want DNA testing added to my suit when the child is born.”

      Something deep inside Jen screamed. She couldn’t let this man threaten her or her child. She couldn’t let this kind of person be part of her child’s life at all. She would not. “You have no right do that. You have no right to do any of this!”

      “My dear, you would be surprised how many rights I have.” He gave a humorless laugh. “If you’re not carrying my son’s child, I want to know who’s child it is. Where did this very convenient fiancé come from?”

      “I’ve worked with him for years.” Her mouth was as dry as cotton. She’d never been good at lying. “After Philip died, he was a shoulder to cry on and one thing led to another…before I knew it, we were talking marriage.”

      “I should think so. I want a name.” His tone told her there was no more stalling.

      So she said the only name that came to mind, the only man she could think of who was noble enough and kind enough to be the fictional father of her baby.

      Don’t talk to Sedgewick unless it’s through a lawyer. God knows what he’d get you to say.

      “His name is Matt Holder.”

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