Cinderella's Kiss with the ER Doc
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Scarlet Wilson
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CHAPTER ONE
IT ONLY TOOK a few seconds for Skye Carter’s Spidey-sense to start tingling. She’d been aware of the low-level tension in the air as she’d dashed between one cubicle and another. A quick scrub change had been required when an elderly patient had vomited on her, and she was pulling her blonde bob back into a scrunchie as she heard the voices escalate.
‘He said he’d be back!’ an angry man was shouting. ‘And that was ten minutes ago.’
Her hair wouldn’t comply with her wishes. It was her own fault. In a moment of odd impulse in the hairdresser’s she’d asked her stylist to take three inches off her hair. The blonde bob was lovely but touched her shoulders, so didn’t quite comply with nursing regulations, meaning she’d spent the last week battling with hair clips and scrunchies in an effort to tie it back.
She gave up and increased her strides as the shouting continued. ‘Where on earth is he? This place is a disgrace. You should all be ashamed of yourselves.’
Skye took one glance at the whiteboard nearby to check the name of the patient.
Roan Parrish, three years old, Paeds.
A child. Of course. Relatives were always over-emotional when it was a child that was sick, and she didn’t blame them one bit.
‘Enough,’ she said sharply as she stepped into the cubicle and turned to look at the red-faced man. ‘I’m Skye Carter, the A&E sister. What can I do to help you?’
Some people would question her de-escalation technique. But over the years Skye had learned not to go in with a quiet, nice approach. She’d realised when someone was loud, angry and potentially aggressive, to draw a line in the sand straight away. It tended to jerk back people’s immediate behaviour, and let them know she wasn’t going to be bullied. She certainly wasn’t going to put up with bad behaviour towards her staff, but going on to ask how she could help tended to cut straight to the heart of the problem, where people could say exactly what it was they wanted.
The man gave a few short blinks and pointed at the child on the bed. ‘He said he was going to be back soon.’
‘Who said that?’ She picked up the nearest chart to scan what it said. Another glance back at the board told her that although the child had been assigned to Paediatrics, they hadn’t yet attended. Great.
‘The doctor who was here. Scottish guy.’
She nodded, glancing at a few more notes. Lucas Hastings. She hadn’t met him yet as she’d been on leave for a while—but, to be fair, she’d heard good things. He was a new registrar in the A&E department and at his level she would have expected him to have dealt with this child appropriately.
She moved over to Roan, who was lying on the bed with his eyes closed, his dark skin damp. A quick touch of his forehead told her he was running a slight temperature. He was attached to a monitor, so she pressed the button to check his blood pressure again and recorded his readings, pulling an ear thermometer from a drawer to add to the information already gathered.
There was a thudding noise outside and a guy appeared at the curtains, breathless and carrying a unit of blood in his hand. His brow furrowed as he looked at Skye but, seeing her uniform, he carried on into the cubicle and started to speak quickly.
‘Mr Parrish, sorry for the delay, but the lab called me. Roan’s blood levels are a concern and we need to start a transfusion as soon as possible.’
It took Skye’s brain a few seconds to adjust. The doctor had a thick Scottish burr, and his words came out quickly. She could see something similar happening with Mr Parrish. The man blinked and opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Skye blinked too. Lucas Hastings was more than handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, with slightly longer dark hair and eyes the colour of an emerald ring she’d once admired in a jeweller’s shop. At twenty thousand pounds, it was the kind of thing a girl could only dream of.
Lucas put his hand on the man’s upper arm. ‘Is there any way to get in touch with Roan’s parents? I’d really like to talk to them too.’
Skye moved around behind them and grabbed an IV infusion kit and infusion pump. Her actions were instinctive and automatic. It only took her a few seconds to set them up and run the blood through the line.
This guy wasn’t the parent? No wonder he was so worried. She gave him a quick glance. Mr Parrish wore his years well. He could be anything from early fifties to late sixties, and in this day and age it didn’t pay to assume anything about who might be a parent.
Mr Parrish shook his head. ‘My son and his wife are in the Caribbean. She’s from there, and her sister is getting married today. They’re only away for four days and Roan is staying with me.’
Lucas gave a nod. ‘Was Roan born here?’
Skye tilted her head. Her years of experience meant she knew exactly why Lucas was asking the question. It was smart. But not all doctors got there quite so quickly.
Mr Parrish shook his head. ‘No, he was born in Africa. My son was working there at the time. We have family there, and he was helping set up the accounts for the family business.’
‘I don’t suppose you know if Roan had a heel prick test as a baby?’
Skye could tell Mr Parrish was starting to get agitated again. He shook his head and tugged at the collar of his polo shirt. ‘I have no idea. Does it matter?’
Skye handed over the electronic prescribing tablet to Lucas, indicating to him to prescribe the blood transfusion. It couldn’t be set up until it was prescribed and they’d both double-checked the labelling. Experience had told her exactly where this conversation was heading.
‘Have a seat, Mr Parrish,’ she said gently.
‘Is it bad?’ His dark eyes were full of anguish as he turned towards her. Skye’s stomach twisted. He was terrified for his grandson.
‘It’s manageable,’ she replied. She was always completely honest with her patients.
Lucas’s green eyes met hers. She’d never worked with this guy before, and had no idea about his patient skills or techniques. But somehow he seemed like a safe pair of hands.
He looked as if he might want to say something to her, but instead his fingers moved quickly over the prescribing tablet, then set it down next to Mr Parrish. He took a breath. ‘Have you heard of sickle cell disease?’
The man’s nose and brow wrinkled. He gave a slow nod but still had a look of confusion on his face. That told Skye a lot. He clearly didn’t have someone in his family already affected by this disease.
Lucas continued. ‘Our tests show that Roan has sickle cell disease. In the UK, all new babies are checked with a heel prick test after they are born. Because Roan was born in Africa, it’s likely he missed that. It would have picked up the fact that Roan might be affected by sickle cell disease. It’s why the lab phoned me, and I went to get the blood.’
Mr Parrish pulled out his phone. His hands were shaking. ‘Is this going to help my grandson?’
Lucas nodded. ‘We’ll get him started on treatment. I’m really sorry the paediatricians haven’t seen him yet. But this can’t wait. We’ll start this now, and I can give you a basic outline.’
Mr Parrish shook his head. He was still fumbling with his phone and Skye put her hand on his shoulder. ‘Is it your son you want to get hold of?’
He nodded and she closed her hand over his. ‘Would you like me to do it for you?’
His bottom lip trembled and he nodded again.
She waited until he slid the phone open, then glanced at Roan’s electronic record for his dad’s name. She dabbed her initials into the electronic prescribing tablet, gestured for Lucas to do the same and held the blood label where they could both check it.
She read the details out loud, waited for him to confirm, then also confirmed the run rate for the IV infusion. Within seconds, it was set up and running.
She gave them both a smile. ‘Mr Parrish, I’ll step outside and speak to your son.’
She just knew that he wasn’t going to be in a position to absorb anything she told him right now. So she found the number, adjusted the dialling code to connect with the Caribbean and took a deep breath.
After a few seconds of hesitation, the call connected and was answered after a few long rings, to sounds of music. ‘Dad?’ came the yell.
‘Sean Parrish? My name is Skye Carter. I’m a sister at A&E in The Harlington Hospital, London.’
It took Lucas five attempts to find the new mystery sister. He tried the nurses’ station, the treatment room, the office, the sluice and then the linen closet before he was finally pointed in the direction of the staffroom. It could be hard to find a quiet space in one of the busiest A&Es in London.
As he pushed the door open he could hear her talking calmly. She was explaining in clear terms what sickle cell disease was, how they were currently treating Roan and what the paediatricians would do next. This clearly wasn’t her first rodeo, and he was impressed by her knowledge of something that wouldn’t be routine in A&E.
He waited until she’d ended the call before he picked up a packet of biscuits and sat down next to her, passing them to her. ‘Thanks for that.’
She picked out the top digestive and took a bite. ‘No problem. Is someone with Mr Parrish right now?’
He nodded. ‘One of your staff, Leona, is keeping an eye on Roan’s obs and sitting with Mr Parrish. The paed has just arrived. They had an arrest. That’s why they were so long.’
Skye’s eyebrows raised. ‘In Paeds? Everything okay?’
Lucas leaned back against the slightly battered chair. ‘Severe allergic reaction. Transferred to PICU on an adrenaline infusion.’
They both sat for a few moments. No one liked it when kids were sick. An arrest in an adult was difficult enough, but in a child?
He held out his hand. ‘Lucas Hastings,’ he said. ‘I’ve been here a few months. I don’t think we’ve met before.’
‘I haven’t been here,’ she said quickly, before sliding her hand into his. ‘Skye Carter.’
She didn’t expand on why she hadn’t been there, and even though he was curious he wasn’t going to ask. Her warm hand felt good in his and she had a firm grip that she pulled away a little quicker than he hoped for.
‘Where did you work before, Lucas?’
‘Liverpool, Glasgow, and a short spell in East Anglia with the air ambulance service.’
That seemed to catch her attention and she frowned. ‘How did you land that?’
‘A friend was sick at short notice,’ he said. ‘He asked me to cover and it suited them, and me.’
She took another bite of her biscuit. ‘Good experience.’ She gave an approving nod.
He pulled a face. ‘Yes, and no. Sea and mountain rescue were certainly interesting. A lot of farming accidents. But the worst part was always being first on scene at some of the country road traffic accidents.’
She closed her eyes for a second and he could see her shudder. If she’d worked here a while, she’d likely seen just as many horrors as he had. He was trying to figure this new colleague out.
It had been a surprise to sprint back into the hospital cubicle and see the unfamiliar blonde, holding her own with an air of authority. Her swift movements and how she’d just spoken to Roan Parrish’s dad told him that she had experience that matched his own. He was curious about her. Skye? The staff here were friendly enough but no one had mentioned a missing sister.
‘Cool accent,’ she said unexpectedly. ‘Which part of Scotland are you from?’
He gave a brief laugh. ‘All of it, and none of it.’ Her nose wrinkled and he continued. ‘I was born somewhere near London, but then my mum moved to Dumfries. We stayed in Glasgow, Ayrshire, Edinburgh, even the Shetland Islands at one point, then we moved to Europe for a while. Spain, Gibraltar and Portugal, before coming back to Scotland so I could finish secondary school.’
Skye gave a wide smile. ‘Wow, what a childhood.’ There was a wistful light in her eyes. ‘It’s been London and London for me, and I always wanted to try someplace else.’
‘Another country?’
She shrugged. ‘Maybe. Or even another part of this country.’ She took a breath and her smile tightened a little. ‘I had family ties so had to stay put, but that’s changed now, so it might be time for a change.’ Her eyes looked off to the far wall, and he could tell she was seeing images in her mind. ‘Where’s your mum now?’ she asked, the smile reappearing.
He got the oddest sense of vulnerability from her. Family ties that had changed? It was clear she was trying to change the subject and he understood that.
He said the words he’d said a number of times before. ‘Not actually sure right now. Let’s just say she’s always been a bit of a wanderer.’
Skye gave him an odd look. ‘Don’t you keep in touch?’
‘I try to,’ he said, instantly knowing that Skye would pick up the implication. ‘She’s an independent woman, always moving onto the next place, and the next circle of friends. My friends at university nicknamed her the Scarlet Pimpernel.’
Skye let out a laugh. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You know the phrase: They seek him here, they seek him there...? My mum is a bit like that. I never know where she will pop up next.’ He smiled as he remembered the late-night calls declaring she was in a part of the world that he’d sometimes never even heard of.
Skye took the last bite of her biscuit. ‘Straight over my head. Guess I’m not cultured enough. We didn’t do The Scarlet Pimpernel at school. We did Romeo and Juliet and I had definite issues with it.’
Lucas raised his eyebrows and felt a little spark of...something. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed a conversation like this. In theory, he’d always said he wouldn’t date a colleague, but maybe it was time to reconsider?
He folded his arms and prayed his pager wouldn’t sound any second. ‘What were your issues?’
She threw up her hands. ‘Where to start? Their age. The lies. The drama. Why are fifty per cent of all stories just about people not talking to each other and being truthful? They knew each other for a day. Young as she is, Juliet is on the rebound. And Romeo wasn’t really romantic, more like—’ she lifted her fingers into the air ‘—creepy.’
Lucas started to laugh. ‘A million teenage hearts are breaking all over the world right now.’
Skye raised her eyebrows, giving him a clear view of her bright blue eyes, which exactly matched her scrubs. ‘Fools.’
The door opened behind them and one of the other staff members gave them a quick glance. ‘Can you two cover Resus? Ambulance on the way with an older man who’s been attacked and is apparently in a bad way.’
They were on their feet in seconds, no hesitation, just a quick march down the corridor, where Skye washed her hands and donned a plastic apron. As she moved aside to make way for Lucas, she had a quick check over the equipment. She couldn’t deny her sense of pride in her staff. Even after a few major incidents in Resus today, everything was restocked and in place, exactly as it should be.
She’d missed the familiar surroundings, and the familiar faces. She’d missed hearing the stories of teenage sons or baby granddaughters. Of Vixen the very wicked cat, or Albus, the not too bright sausage dog, belonging to one of her staff. For the last seven years this place and these people had been like an extended family to her.
Coming back hadn’t been difficult. But her future thoughts might be. The rush of London was dulling. The Saturday night drunks and stabbings were certainly wearing her down. From the moment Skye Carter had her first nurse placement in A&E she’d known it was the place for her. But now? She was beginning to wonder what else might be out there. There was nothing to limit nurses these days, from advanced practice to specialisms. Skye just had to decide what direction she wanted to go in.
The approaching sound of a siren drew both her and Lucas to the receiving doors of the A&E unit. As the ambulance backed up, Lucas opened the back doors and Skye saw a familiar face.
‘What you got, Nalin?’
Her Sri Lankan friend looked up and his face broke into a wide smile as he manoeuvred the stretcher towards them both. ‘How’s my favourite A&E sister?’
‘Good.’ She nodded as the wheels of the stretcher dropped down as it glided from the ambulance.
The other paramedic strolled round from the front of the ambulance and slung an arm around her shoulder, dropping a quick kiss on her head. ‘Great to see you back, Skye.’
‘Thanks, Jim.’
Her heart swelled. Both were good friends, and she knew their sentiments were entirely genuine. Over the years they’d seen some sights together, from major road traffic accidents, building collapses and train collisions. She’d trust these men with her life, and even though only a few seconds had passed she could sense the curious gaze from Lucas.
Nalin started talking. ‘This is Albert Cunningham. Eighty-one. We think he was mugged and attacked, then run over by a car.’
Skye winced as she fell into step beside the stretcher as they wheeled it inside, her eyes on the portable monitor. ‘Bad day,’ she said quietly.
Nalin continued. ‘We suspect a left fractured femur, with possible tib and fib fractures too. Head injury, Glasgow Coma Scale four at present. Rib injuries. Possible internal injuries too. BP is low at ninety over sixty, tachycardic at one hundred and forty. Only thing normal is his temperature.’ As they pushed him into Resus, Nalin gave a sad sigh. ‘He hasn’t been conscious at all since we reached him.’ He handed over a chart. ‘At this point, know that we haven’t given him any analgesics so far and I imagine he’s going to need some.’
‘Police been called?’ asked Lucas.
Jim nodded. ‘They were at the scene and are following us in. They have his personal effects.’
‘Who would do this to an old guy?’ Skye sighed as she looked down at him. The overcoat he was wearing was thick and elegant, the suit underneath probably from a Savile Row tailor, and the leather shoes on his feet had likely been handcrafted. Like a number of people in London, this man was well dressed. She was likely going to have to cut off clothes that cost more than she earned in a few months.
Lucas continued his examination as Skye slid the man’s arm out of his coat and drew some blood from the crook of his elbow.
‘Mr Cunningham?’ She spoke gently but there was no response.
Two dark figures appeared at the door and Skye recognised one. ‘Hi, Laura,’ she said, and smiled.
‘Skye, you’re back. Nice to see you.’ The police sergeant was carrying a large bag with a number of items and was wearing a pair of gloves. ‘I see you’ve got Mr Cunningham.’
The two paramedics were retrieving their equipment and getting ready to leave.
Lucas looked up and gave a nod. ‘We have. I haven’t finished assessing him yet.’
He recorded something in the notes and then looked up again. ‘Apologies, we haven’t met before. I’m Lucas Hastings.’
The two officers exchanged glances. Laura took a moment to answer. She flipped open her notebook and turned it to face Lucas. ‘This Lucas Hastings?’
He glanced at the page and pulled back. ‘That’s my date of birth and address—what’s going on?’
There was a deep furrow in his brow, just as Mr Cunningham gave a little twitch. Skye leaned over him quickly to reassess his neuro obs as the phone beside her rang. Her thoughts were spinning. What on earth was going on? Why had the police turned up here, looking for Lucas? It was more than a little unusual, but she didn’t want to start asking questions. She had a patient to take care of, one who might be deteriorating rapidly.
Neither of their police colleagues had a chance to reply before Lucas answered the phone and said a few short words. ‘CT scan is ready for us.’ He looked at Skye as Mr Cunningham gave a little twitch again. She was leaning over the patient checking the pupils of his eyes with a pen torch. ‘We’ll have to go with him. He’s too unstable. I’m worried he’s going to seize.’
The police exchanged glances. ‘What does that mean?’
Skye started unplugging things and moving the monitor onto the edge of the patient trolley. ‘It means that Mr Cunningham might have a blood clot on his brain, caused by his injuries, that might cause him to seize. He’s starting to show signs. We need him scanned and may need to relieve the pressure on his brain.’
She turned around and opened a few drawers and took some sealed sterile surgical equipment from them.
‘Good thinking,’ murmured Lucas.
He turned to a healthcare support worker who’d just come into the room. ‘We’re taking this man to CT. Can you phone Neuro and ask them for an urgent consult? If they can, I’d appreciate it if they can meet us there.’
The healthcare support worker looked at the name on the tablet Lucas handed him and gave a nod. ‘No problem.’
As Lucas and Skye started wheeling the patient trolley down the corridor, Lucas looked over his shoulder towards the police. ‘If you still need to speak to me, you’d better come with us.’
Lucas’s stomach was knotted as they walked swiftly down the corridor. He wasn’t a criminal. He knew he hadn’t done anything wrong. So why on earth were there two police colleagues in his A&E department, with a notebook with his details in it?
As far as he was aware, he didn’t even have an outstanding parking ticket. He started to think about the traffic around London. Had he unwittingly gone in a lane meant only for either buses or taxis? Had he missed a traffic light? Had he been caught speeding?
Lucas was generally a careful driver. He didn’t even drive that often in London, making it even more unlikely. But he couldn’t think of another reason for the police to be looking for him. Some unknown traffic infringement was his best guess.
The CT staff were ready for them, and assisted in moving Mr Cunningham into position for the scan.
Lucas, Skye and the two accompanying police officers moved into the viewing room while the scan was taking place. Lucas’s eyes were fixed on the screen, suspecting what he might see.
‘Who would do this to an old man?’ murmured Skye before turning to face the officers. ‘Where did you find him, Laura?’
Laura paused before answering. ‘Just a few streets away, actually.’
Skye frowned. The hospital didn’t have a huge car park as it was in the middle of London, and staff and visitors did sometimes park in the streets round about.
‘Was he coming to visit someone?’
‘Yes and no,’ replied Laura, before casting her eyes in Lucas’s direction.
Lucas almost felt her gaze on him. He looked up for a few seconds, shaking his head. ‘I don’t know him.’
The other officer started speaking. ‘We think he was robbed because of his car. Apparently, it’s an Aston Martin.’
‘Like James Bond?’ said Lucas, because that was what he generally associated Aston Martins with.
‘More than you know,’ replied the officer. ‘It was actually his car that was used in one of the films a few years ago.’
‘No way,’ said Skye, her eyes going between the officers and the scanning screen.
Laura nodded. ‘Someone saw the same car speeding away. We suspect he also had a watch and wallet stolen.’
Now Lucas was curious. ‘So, if his wallet was stolen, how did you work out who he was so quickly?’
Laura held up a briefcase. ‘There was nothing of value in here. Only paperwork. But that’s why we’re coming to you, Lucas.’
Now, he was thoroughly confused. ‘What are you talking about?’ As soon as the words were out of his mouth he held up his hand, recognising something on the screen. ‘Large subdural haematoma,’ he said quickly. As he reached for the phone, a woman in a white coat walked in.
‘What have you got for me?’ she asked, then glanced at the screen. ‘Oh, dear.’
Skye gave a nod towards the officers. ‘This is our neurosurgeon, Aasa Sangha.’
Aasa gave a quick glance and raised her eyebrows as Lucas handed her an electronic tablet with all the patient details.
‘He’s just been admitted after a robbery and assault. Left fractured femur. Tib and fib fractures too. There may be other internal injuries as he was also run over, but we prioritised the head scan due to his GCS reading.’
Aasa nodded. ‘I have to relieve the pressure now.’ She glanced at the tablet, then at the police officers. ‘Do you have next of kin details or are there relatives here?’
Both shook their head. ‘Still attempting to find a next of kin.’
Aasa turned to Skye and Lucas. ‘In that case, I’m going to take Mr Cunningham straight to surgery. I’ll be in touch once surgery is complete and—’ she looked at his chart again ‘—I’ll talk to one of the orthopods about the bone injuries.’
Lucas gave a grateful nod. In other circumstances he might have needed to do an emergency burr hole in Mr Cunningham’s skull. Thankfully, that was not tonight. As Aasa asked some staff members to assist her and set off towards the theatre, Lucas was left with the distinct feeling that he was currently under the microscope.
He wanted to get back to A&E and continue to see patients.
‘You still haven’t explained why you’re here,’ he said bluntly to the two officers.
Laura set down the briefcase and flipped it open, lifting out a stack of papers. ‘We haven’t had a chance to look at these properly. But Mr Cunningham had your name and place of work in his possession. When we opened his briefcase we found this.’ She handed over a large envelope.
If Lucas had been confused before, its contents didn’t help.
The Last Will and Testament of Ralph Ignatius Cornwell Hastings, Duke of Mercia.
‘Who is this?’ he asked. ‘And where’s Mercia? Is it European? Like Monaco?’
Laura bit her bottom lip and took a deep breath. ‘Turn the page.’
Lucas flipped over the page and his eyes scanned the legal jargon that no one understood. He stopped reading at the only son point.
He murmured the words out loud. ‘Only son, Lucas Harrington Hastings.’ He looked up. ‘I’m not his only son.’
Laura pulled another paper from the sheaf. ‘Birth certificate. This is you, isn’t it?’
Lucas’s skin prickled. Curiosity had pulled Skye closer, and she was at his elbow now, reading what he was. Lucas Harrington Hastings. His date of birth. His place of birth. Father, Ralph Hastings. Mother, Genevieve Hastings.
Lucas shook his head. ‘I never met my father. He died before I was born. But he certainly wasn’t a duke. I’m sure my mother would have told me that. My mother and I moved around a lot. But I’ve never heard of...’ he pointed to the address that was listed among the papers ‘... Costley Hall.’ He shook his head again. ‘I think Mr Cunningham has got me mixed up with someone else.’
Skye sucked in a deep breath next to him and he realised she’d pulled her phone from her pocket.
‘What? What is it?’
Her eyes met his. She turned her phone around slowly. ‘You might not have met him...’ Her words tailed off and as he saw the image on the screen he realised why. The Duke of Mercia—wherever that was—was literally an older version of him.
He blinked then peered a little closer, looking at the distinct green eyes, skin tone and shape of face. He leaned back.
‘This is one of those practical jokes, isn’t it? Some con for the new guy in the place.’ He looked at Skye. ‘Did you do this? We haven’t met before—is this how you initiate your new staff?’ He was starting to feel a bit angry now. He thrust a hand out. ‘Have you looked at the board in A&E? There’s no time for this, no matter how good a con you think it is. And here?’ He pointed to the now empty scanning room. ‘This is hardly the place.’
Skye’s face pinched.
‘Take a breath,’ said Laura from the sidelines. ‘Mr Hastings, I think you probably need to sit down.’
‘I need to sit down?’ He spun around. ‘I need to sit down?’ His voice was rising in pitch. ‘Who even are you guys? Some pranksters? This is ridiculous.’
The male policeman put a very firm grip on Lucas’s arm. ‘Mr Hastings, calm down.’
Lucas threw out his other arm, sending the paperwork scattering on the floor. He was caught in one of those stupid TV prank shows. Or something even worse. He had patients to see. He had notes to write up. Most of all, he had no time for this. And the fact that the new colleague he’d actually considered attractive a few hours ago was in on it made it even more annoying.
‘I have work to do,’ he declared.
There was an expletive from the floor at his feet. He looked down. Skye was picking up the papers he had scattered. One was clutched in her hand. She stood up, pushing her hair, which had escaped from her tie, back from her face.
‘You bet you do,’ she said. The tone of her voice stopped him dead.
The look on her face was stuck between incredulous, scornful and laughing. She held the paper up for him. ‘Because if this is true... Lucas Hastings?’ She said the word with a question in her voice. ‘You’re the new Duke of Mercia, and a potential billionaire.’
