you, dear. Life is so short, and so full of uncertainties. I admire you for doing what your heart tells you is right. Don’t let Jack or his father or anyone else bully you into doing otherwise.”
* * *
The brief interlude with Ellen made her husband a little easier to bear. John II didn’t alter his attitude of stiff disapproval toward Gina but there was no disguising his deep affection for his son. He not only loved Jack. He was also inordinately proud of his son’s accomplishments to date.
“Did he tell you he’s the youngest man ever appointed as an ambassador-at-large?” he asked during a leisurely brunch that included twice-baked cheese grits, green beans almondine and the most delicious crab cakes Gina had ever sampled.
“No, he didn’t,” she replied, silently wishing she could sop up the béchamel sauce from the crab cakes with the crust of her flaky croissant.
“Then he probably also didn’t tell you some very powerful PACs have been suggesting he run for the U.S. Senate as a first step toward the White House.”
“Dad...”
“Actually,” Gina interrupted, “I read about that. I know those PACs love Jack. And he and I talked about his running for office the other night.”
John II paused with his knife and fork poised above his food. “You did?”
“Yep. I told him he should go for it.”
“Dad...”
Once again the father ignored the son’s low warning. His lip curled, and a heavy sarcasm colored his voice. “I’m sure our conservative base will turn out by the thousands to support a candidate with an illegitimate child.”
“That’s enough!”
Jack shoved away from the table and tossed down his napkin. Anger radiated from him in waves. “We agreed not to discuss this, Dad. If you can’t stick to the agreement, Gina and I will leave now.”
“I’m sorry.” The apology was stiff but it was an apology. “Sit down, son. Please, sit down.”
Ellen interceded, as Gina suspected she had countless times in the past. “Jack, why don’t you take our guest for a stroll in the rose garden while I clear the table and bring in dessert?”
Gina jumped up, eager for something to do. “Please, let me help.”
“Thank you, dear.”
* * *
A decadent praline cheesecake smoothed things over. Everyone got back to being polite and civilized, and Ellen deftly steered the conversation in less sensitive channels.
Gina thought they might make it through the rest of the visit with no further fireworks. She nursed that futile hope right up until moments before she and Jack left to drive back to Washington. At his mother’s request, he accompanied her into her study to pick up a flyer about an organization offering aid to abused children overseas she wanted him to look at.
That left Gina and John II standing side by side in the foyer for a few moments. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them, broken when he made an abrupt announcement.
“I had you investigated.”
“What?”
“I hired a private investigator.”
Gina’s brows snapped together, and her chin tipped in a way that anyone familiar with the duchess would have recognized immediately as a warning signal.
“Did you?”
“I wanted him to chase down rumors about the other men you might have been involved with.”
Her hand fluttered to her stomach in a protective gesture as old as time. “The other men I might have screwed, you mean.”
He blinked at the blunt reply, but made no apology. “Yes.”
The thought of a private investigator talking to her friends, asking questions, dropping insinuations, fired twin bolts of anger and mortification. Gina’s chin came up another inch. Her eyes flashed dangerously.
“Why go to the expense of a private investigator? A simple DNA test would have been much cheaper.”
“You were in that clinic in Switzerland. Jack flew over right after you called him. I told him to insist on a paternity test, but...” He broke off, grimacing. “Well, no need to go into all that now. What I want to say is I accept that you’re carrying my grandchild.”
“How very magnanimous of you.”
The icy response took him aback. He looked as though he wanted to say more, but the sound of footsteps stilled him. Both Jack and his mother sensed the tension instantly. Ellen sighed and shook her head. Her son demanded an explanation.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Gina said before his father could respond. “Nothing at all. Thank you for a lovely lunch, Ellen.”
She kissed the older woman’s cheek before offering a cool glance and a lukewarm handshake to Jack’s father.
“Perhaps I’ll see you again.”
He stiffened, correctly interpreting the threat buried in that polite “perhaps.”
“I certainly hope so.”
* * *
“All right,” Jack said as the Range Rover cut through the tunnel of oaks shading the drive. “What was that all about?”
Gina wanted to be cool about it, wanted to take the high road and shrug off the investigation as inconsequential, but her roiling emotions got the better of her. She slewed around as much as the seat belt would allow. Anger, hurt and suspicion put a razor’s edge in her words.
“Did you know your father hired a P.I. to investigate me?”
“Yes, I...”
“With or without your approval?”
“Christ, Gina.” His glance sliced into her. “What do you think?”
She was still angry, still hurt, but somewhat mollified by his indignation. Slumping against the seat back, she crossed her arms. “Your father’s a piece of work, Ambassador.”
Which was true, but probably not the smartest comment to make. Jack could criticize his father. He wouldn’t appreciate an outsider doing so, however, any more than Gina would tolerate someone making a snide comment about the duchess. The tight line to Jack’s jaw underscored that point.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
He accepted the apology with a curt nod and offered one of his own. “I’m sorry, too. I should have told you about the investigation. The truth is I didn’t know about it until after we got back from Switzerland and then it just didn’t matter.”
Her anger dissipated, leaving only an urgent question. “Why not, Jack? Didn’t you...? Don’t you have any doubts?”
“No. Not one.” The rigid set to his shoulders eased. His reply was quiet and carried the ring of absolute truth. “We may disagree on a number of important issues, marriage included, but we’ve always been honest with each other.”
Her eyes start to burn. She refused to cry, she flatly refused, but she suddenly felt miserable and weary beyond words. “Look,” she said tiredly, “this has been a busy few days. I may have overdone it a bit. I think...I think I’d better fly back to New York this evening.”
He knifed her a quick look. “Is it the baby?”
“No! The baby’s fine.”
“Then it’s my father.” Another sharp glance. “Or is it us?”
“Mostly us.” She forced a smile. “You have to admit we didn’t