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Virginia anticipated Mr. Campbell’s speech would last for about ten minutes. She needed to select the exact moment to make her move, because she knew she would only get one chance. While the father of the bride was welcoming Governor Rankin and the two US senators was clearly not that moment. She waited until Campbell began a long anecdote about some minor incident Ellie May had been involved in when she was at school. The punchline was greeted with far more laughter and applause than it deserved, and Virginia took advantage of the pause in his speech. Rising from her place and clutching her stomach, she walked slowly around the edge of the dance floor. She gave Mr. Campbell an apologetic glance before staring, but only for a moment, directly at Cyrus. He turned chalk white, before she turned her back on him and made her way toward an exit sign on the far side of the room. The look on Cyrus’s face suggested that Banquo’s ghost could not have made a more effective appearance.
Virginia knew her reentry needed to be just as powerful. She waited patiently in the wings for the best man’s speech to finish before the toastmaster finally called on the bridegroom, Cyrus T. Grant III, to reply on behalf of the guests. As Cyrus rose, everyone burst into applause, which was the moment Virginia chose to reenter the arena. She moved swiftly across the dance floor and back to her seat, trying to give the impression that she didn’t want to hold up the bridegroom’s speech. Cyrus was not a naturally gifted spe
aker at the best of times, and these weren’t the best of times. He stumbled through his text, repeating several lines and, when he finally sat down, he received only muted applause, along with a gracious smile from an uninvited guest.
Cyrus turned around and began talking animatedly to a security guard who was stationed behind the top table. The square-shouldered giant of a man nodded and beckoned to two of his colleagues. Virginia suddenly realized she didn’t have an exit strategy. When the band struck up, Nathan Grant rose gallantly from his place and was about to ask Kathy for the first dance, only to find she was already weaving her way nimbly between the tables toward the entrance.
When Virginia reached the far side of the room, she glanced around to see one of the security guards pointing at her. Once she’d left the ballroom, her walk turned into a run. She shot along the corridor, out of the front door and onto the terrace at a speed no pregnant woman could possibly have managed.
“Can I help you, ma’am?” asked an anxious-looking young man stationed at the front door.
“I think the baby’s coming,” said Virginia, clutching her stomach.
“Follow me, ma’am.” He ran down the steps ahead of her and quickly opened the back door of a guest limousine. Virginia climbed inside and collapsed onto the seat, just as two security guards came charging through the front door.
“Our Lady medical center, and step on it!” said the young man to the chauffeur.
As the car accelerated down the drive Virginia turned around and, looking out of the back window, saw the two guards chasing after her. She waved at them as if she were royalty, confident that Cyrus T. Grant III knew she was in town.
* * *
“You must have made quite an impression,” said Trend, even before Virginia had sat down. “Because when I called Cyrus Grant’s attorney this morning, he didn’t seem surprised to hear from me. We’ve agreed to meet at his office at ten tomorrow.”
“But I’m flying back to London this afternoon.”
“Which is just dandy, because a case this important won’t be settled in a hurry. Don’t forget, Cyrus is on his honeymoon, and we wouldn’t want to spoil that, would we? Although I have a feeling he’ll be calling his lawyers from time to time.”
“So what am I expected to do?”
“Go home, prepare for the birth of your child and wait until you hear from me. And just a word of warning, Ginny. They’re certain to have a detective in London keeping an eye on you.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because it’s exactly what I’d do.”
* * *
Virginia boarded the 4:40 p.m. flight from Baton Rouge to New York. The plane landed at Kennedy just after 10 p.m.
She made her way to Gate 42 and thought she’d stop on the way to pick up a copy of Vogue. But when she saw the Barnes & Noble window was dominated by two bestselling books, she marched straight past. She didn’t have long to wait before passengers were asked to board the plane for London.
Virginia was met at Heathrow by a chauffeur once again supplied by Mellor Travel, who drove her down to Hedley Hall in Hampshire, the country home of Bofie Bridgwater. Bofie was there to greet her as she stepped out of the car.
“Did you pull it off, my darling?”
“I don’t know yet. But one thing’s for certain—when I return to London, I’m going to have to give birth.”
24
BUCK TREND PHONED Virginia the following day to tell her that two Pinkerton detectives were on their way to England to watch her every move and report back to Grant’s lawyers. One mistake, he warned her, and there would be no settlement. Was there even a possibility that Trend suspected she wasn’t pregnant?
If Virginia was going to convince the two detectives that she was about to give birth, she would need the help of someone who was shrewd, resourceful and unscrupulous; in short, a man who considered fooling detectives and bending the law as simply part of his everyday life. She’d only ever met one person who fitted that description and, although she despised the man, Virginia didn’t have a lot of choice if the next eight weeks were to go as planned.
She knew only too well that he would expect something in return, and it wasn’t money, because he already had enough for both of them. But there was one thing Desmond Mellor didn’t have, and wanted desperately—recognition. Having identified his Achilles’ heel, all Virginia had to do was convince him that as the daughter of the earl of Fenwick, and a distant niece of the Queen Mother, she had the key to unlock that particular door and fulfil his ambition to be tapped on the shoulder by Her Majesty and hear the words, “Arise, Sir Desmond.”
* * *
“Operation Childbirth” was run like a military campaign, and the fact that Desmond Mellor had never risen above the rank of sergeant in the pay corps, and had never set eyes on the enemy, made it even more remarkable. Virginia spoke to him twice a day, although they never met in person, once he’d confirmed that the two detectives had arrived in London and were watching her apartment night and day.
