Nigel studied his friend closely. He did look tired. There were a few flecks of gray in his midnight hair and his eyes were dark-ringed, dull, and self-absorbed. There was nothing in those eyes to remind him of Blake Ashford's sparkling wit. Nigel found himself recounting the weeks since he had last seen a flash of the old brilliance. It had been a long time. Too long. "What's wrong with the man you've become?" Nigel demanded of the disillusioned man who stood before him. "You're tops in your field. Everyone admires your diplomatic acumen. You're well liked by the royal family and well respected by your colleagues. What in heaven's name is wrong with that?"
"What's wrong? You said yourself, I've been behaving like a first-rate bastard," Blake pointed out. "Be consistent, Dr. Jameson, or all your sermons will be worthless. I've become the kind of man I've always despised most--cold, callous, cynic, incapable of feeling."
"The only problem you've ever had with feeling is feeling things too deeply. There are a great many chinks in your cynical armor if one cares to look."
"And I suppose she's one of them?" Blake shot out.
"I don't know who you mean," Nigel retaliated.
"Cristina," Blake spat out the name.
"I haven't mentioned Cristina," Nigel said quietly, "but I was wondering how long it would be before you did."
"Me?" Blake sputtered in anger, "you've been implying she's the reason I'm turning down the post in Vienna. That's what this conversation is about, isn't it?"
"I don't know. Is it?" Nigel's face gave nothing away.
"It's none of your damned business and I don't know why the bloody hell I'm even discussing it with you." Blake's voice was intimidating.
But Nigel had known Blake too long to be put off by an intimidating manner. He waited patiently for Blake to approach the crux of the problem.
"Nigel, you've done nothing but reproach me for months, asking me over and over again how I could let her go. I don't know how I let her go. I don't know how it got to that. I never believed for one minute that she would actually go through with it. But she did. She left me for Rudolf--and after all I'd done to keep her out of his hands!"
"And that's what's eating away at you? The fact she chose someone else after you'd gone to such a bother to keep her all to yourself?" Nigel was merciless.
"Him, Nigel! The man who purchased her at an auction. The man who conspired with her mother--the man who paid to relieve Cristina of her virginity. You saw the condition she was in when I found her. Rudolf is a prince and he's quite capable of letting someone hurt her for his own gain."
"And you aren't?" Nigel's words cut like a scalpel, opening old wounds. "I saw the bruises your hands made on her body. And I know the physical bruises you left weren't intentional. But what about the invisible bruises to her heart--to her soul? Did you treat her any better?"
"I..."
"Rudolf must have offered her something. What did you offer her besides anger and arrogance and jealousy? I'm only guessing, but I'd say Rudolf acted as if he wanted her. You acted as if you couldn't wait to be rid of her. He probably made her feel like a wanted mistress. You made her feel like an unwanted whore. You used her, Blake. Did you ever stop to consider her feelings outside the bedroom? Did you ever stop to think that going with Rudolf might not have been her first choice?"
"Then what was?"
Nigel was under no illusions. He knew exactly what had had prompted Cristina to leave Lawrence House so suddenly. To Nigel's way of thinking, there was a perfectly logical reason for Cristina to run from Blake's home in London to Rudolf's palace in Vienna. She was pregnant. And she hadn't been able to face Blake with the news. Not after the horrible scandal with Lord Ainsford and his children's governess. That bit of gossip had struck too close to home.
Nigel wasn't surprised by the fact that Cristina had refused to stay in London. She had no intention of enduring a public humiliation--or of subjecting Blake and his family to one.
Cristina refused to give Blake cause to blame her for the destruction of his career or his reputation. She had chosen to run to Rudolf instead. Nigel didn't believe for one minute that Cristina preferred Rudolf to Blake, not when she was head over heels in love with the latter. She was doing what she thought to be the right and honorable thing to do. She was trying to protect Blake and her unborn child even if she had to sacrifice herself in the process. It was so obvious when one looked at the situation objectively. Cristina had chosen the man least likely to hurt her. Nigel marveled at the fact that Blake could still believe the pile of half truths Cristina had told him when he should have figured this situation out months ago.
But then Blake didn't know about the baby. And knowing about her pregnancy made all the difference. Blake shouldn't be left in the dark, but Nigel couldn't bring himself to betray Cristina's confidence and tell Blake outright. He couldn't bring himself to add to Blake's torment. At least, not yet. "Staying with you."
Blake let out an exasperated breath. "You're making about as much sense as Cristina did. If she wanted to stay with me, why did she leave with Rudolf?"
Nigel was silent.
"Nigel." It was a demand. "I asked you why Cristina left me. Tell me what you know."
"I can't violate my patient's trust, Blake. You know that."
"Then help me figure it out."
"All right," Nigel agreed. "Think about Cristina's leaving."
"It's all I do think about," Blake admitted.
"And what have you decided?"
"I haven't decided a bloody thing! Except that we both said things in the heat of anger. Things that we shouldn't have said to one another."
"What was happening when she left?"
"I was squiring Rudolf all over England."
"Her leaving had nothing to do with Rudolf."
"The hell it didn't!" Blake nearly shouted his frustration. "She left with him."
"Use your brain, Blake. Vienna is a long way from London. Why would she run so far? What reason would she have for going when she really wanted to remain at Lawrence House? Think about what was happening here in London--the major events that might have influenced Cristina's behavior."
"Hell, Nigel, I wasn't in London enough to know what was going on." He paused a moment. "There were treaty talks regarding the Russo-Turkish war."
"What else?"
Blake thought back. "Nothing much else in the way of politics. The papers were full of reports of Rudolf's visit and..."
"And?" Nigel pushed himself to the edge of his chair in anticipation.
"Some gossip about my escorting Cristina to the theater. The announcement of our betrothal. There was that nasty bit of business with Ainsford and the governess."
Nigel sat back and grinned. "At last."
"Ainsford and the governess? What did that have to do with Cristina and me?" Blake demanded. "Other than the speculation and gossip? If Aunt Delia hadn't meddled in our business no one would ever have suspected Cristina and I anticipated our vows. Our situation was completely different."
Nigel sighed in exasperation. He'd never known Blake to be so damned dense. "Was it? Consider the similarities between Ainsford and his governess and you and Cristina."
"The governess was living under Ainsford's roof, they had a relationship and the governess wound up--" Blake stopped abruptly. "Bloody hell!" He looked at Nigel. "Cristina's pregnant?"
The doctor nodded. "Congratulations."
Blake shook his head. "Christ, Nigel, I have the ring and the bloody special license has been in my pocket for months. I had them before Aunt Delia published the announcement. We could have gotten married immediately."
"Why didn't you?"
"I was waiting to speak to her father." Blake raked his fingers through his hair. "I offered to marry her. Why didn't she just come out and tell me about the baby?"
"Maybe she felt she couldn't face you with news of your impending father
hood after learning how you felt about marriage. I seem to recall hearing that you told her you were fond of her but not enough to want to marry her. And you said she accused you of marrying her in order to do penance for your sins." Nigel sighed. "Christ! Blake, haven't you learned anything about women? She didn't think you'd let her go. She thought you would ask her to stay."
"She'd already made up her mind to leave."
"Then Rudolf must have offered her an honorable arrangement."
"You call that kind of life in Vienna honorable?" Blake's temper skyrocketed.
"What did you offer her here that was more honorable?"
"I offered her ..." Blake began, then silently bit back the words that sprang to his defense. What had he offered her except a marriage he obviously didn't want? He wanted to say that he had offered Cristina his heart, but he was honest enough with himself to admit that he had never spoken to her of love and had never offered his heart into her keeping. If he were brutally honest with himself, he had to admit that he hadn't given her anything beyond shelter and food and a few hours in his arms. He had nursed her through her fever, had listened to her feverish ravings and had promised not to let any harm come to her. But he hadn't kept his promise. He had harmed her irreparably by taking her virginity and begrudgingly offering her his name. He hadn't offered her his heart or the words that would have kept her by his side. And until this moment, Blake hadn't understood just how much of his heart she claimed. "I offered her nothing," he admitted, bitterly. "I didn't realize I had anything left to give."
Until now....
The joys of parents are secret, and
so are their griefs and fears.
--FRANCIS BACON 1561-1626
*Chapter Seventeen*
William Fairfax was a robust man with sparkling blue-green eyes and coarse, thick red hair. He was shorter than the man standing before him, but William knew his huge chest and powerful shoulders gave him the illusion of height.
Years ago, he'd worn lines of discontent and dissipation on his face like the mark of a martyr, but the lines had vanished during his years away from London, giving him the appearance of a man younger than his forty-eight years. He had been successful in his travels to India, had invested in diamond mines in Africa, and finally settled in New York. And the success of his business in New York had restored his faith in himself. William was proud of his accomplishments and did not regret leaving Britain behind. His only regret was Cristina.
William shook hands with Lord Lawrence, exchanged introductions, then sat down at a corner table. The young diplomat had arranged, then canceled a similar meeting with him months ago. Now he'd asked for another one, claiming it concerned Cristina. William wanted to know why, and he wasted no time getting right to the heart of the matter.
"What's so important and how does it concern my daughter, Cristina?"
"Well, Sir William, it's rather difficult to explain, but I would like your help in persuading Cristina to return to London," Blake began.
"My daughter is boarding at a ladies finishing school in Switzerland," Sir William said. "I intend to collect her, have her presented at court, and have her accompany me home to New York. I only stopped in London to conclude some business before I went to meet her. I wrote her mother of my intentions months ago."
"I'm afraid you've been misled, sir. Cristina left school immediately before the start of the London season. She made her debut and is now living in Vienna."
"Vienna? What's she doing in Vienna without her mother? My man in London assured me Patricia was vacationing in southern Italy."
"Your wife is in Italy, as far as I can ascertain, but Cristina is--"
"What is it?" William interrupted. "Is she all right?"
"As far as I know, Cristina is fine." Blake's features became impassive, betraying none of the emotions churning beneath the surface. "She's living in Vienna under the protection of Crown Prince Rudolf. She's been there for over three months."
"My God!" The words echoed through the quiet dining room. "Do you mean to tell me that my daughter is his mistress?"
Blake took a deep breath. "I don't know if she's the crown prince's mistress yet. I don't think so." He cleared his throat nervously. "At least, I pray that's not the case. But she is living in Vienna in a house purchased for her Rudolf."
"I don't believe it."
"Everything I've told you can be confirmed through our embassy. Wire them if you don't believe me," Blake said.
"I'll do that," William told him. "In the meantime, why don't you tell me why we're discussing my daughter and why the Foreign Office is keeping track of her."
Blake's eyes widened in surprise.
"Oh, yes, Lord Lawrence," William confirmed. "I still have a few contacts in London. I'm aware of your reputation and your position in the government. Why is a diplomat meeting me to talk about my daughter? You said she's in Vienna. Is she in some sort of trouble?"
There was no way to soften the blow, so Blake began at the beginning by telling William Fairfax everything he knew about Cristina and her reason for traveling with Crown Prince Rudolf to Vienna. He spared Sir William none of the details. Blake related the events the night of Cristina's presentation ball--told of Patricia's wager and of the part he had played in thwarting it. He confessed everything to William Fairfax, except the fact that he had originally arranged the meeting between them to ask formally for Cristina's hand in marriage after making love to her.
When he finished, Blake sat quietly and waited for William Fairfax's reaction.
The drawn, tense expression on the older man's face was cause for concern and Blake immediately responded. "Would you care for a drink, Sir William? I know everything I've told you has come as a terrible shock."
"I'm fine." William fixed his gaze on Blake. "I gave up drinking when I left my wife. I found I could live without both. Now tell me why I should help you. You told me what happened to make Cristina leave school and Fairhall and you told me how she came to be a guest in your home for two months. Now tell me what you aren't telling me. Why did Cristina leave your home?"
"The Times ran an announcement proclaiming my betrothal to your daughter. I didn't know anything about it until I read it in the paper. And neither did Cristina. But I promised to marry her anyway. She refused me and two days later she left with the crown prince. That was nearly four months ago."
"Why are you so anxious for her to return?" William saw the sweep of emotions cross Lawrence's face at his shrewd comment and knew there was more to the story than what Lawrence had told him.
"There are several reasons." Blake recovered. "A scandal of any kind involving a British citizen could cause problems right now for our government. Relations between Austria and England are strained by the negotiations in the war with Turkey and Russia."
"I see," William said, and Blake was suddenly aware that he did see, probably too much. "Is there any other reason? Aside from the mistake in The Times and diplomatic problems?"
Blake cleared his throat. "I do have a personal interest in your daughter," he admitted. "After all, she was a guest in my home for two months."
"And the emir of India was a guest in my home for some time, but I don't have a personal interest in him. Is there anything else you can tell me?" William asked.
"No." The firm set of Blake's jaw and the grim expression in his eyes told Fairfax that, for the moment, further probing was useless.
"All right, now let me explain my point of view," William began. "You see, I'm not sure Cristina will return to London with you simply because I ask her to."
"Why shouldn't she?" It was Blake's turn to probe. "I know she doesn't want to join her mother and you were the only other logical choice."
"To you, but not necessarily to Cristina. She may feel I've relinquished my parental rights where she's concern
ed, especially in view of what you told me about her leaving school. I haven't seen her in years and my only contact with her has been through letters, school reports, and occasionally through her mother."
"That happens in many families with children in boarding school. It happened in my own. That doesn't mean Cristina will deny you."
"You don't understand. I denied Cristina. When she was fourteen, I learned she wasn't my daughter, not my natural daughter. I was devastated by the news. So I took her to boarding school and left her there before I went wandering around the globe, trying to come to grips with myself and the mess I'd made of my life." William drew a deep breath and expelled it slowly, letting the meaning of his guilty confession sink in.
Blake began to regard the man in a new light. "You mean you abandoned her? Your only child?"
"Not my child!" The naked pain in the older man's voice couldn't be ignored.
Blake recognized the pain and softened his tone of voice. He knew what it was like to lose Cristina. He had listened to Cristina's family history and pieced together the parts of the story William had whitewashed. It was a sordid little saga and a hard one for a proud man to tell, but William Fairfax did it. He had admitted a stranger into his private thoughts and feelings, exposed his own weaknesses and failings, and Blake felt a kinship with the man that had nothing to do with their mutual feelings for Cristina.
He could appreciate William's marital mess, for he had lived through one of his own and he understood William's solution because he had wanted to run from his own fiasco more times than he could count. And then there was Cristina. ... "Axe you absolutely certain she's not your daughter?"
"As certain as I can be under the circumstances. Her mother told me. She taunted me with the knowledge. I've spent the last six years trying to prove her wrong. I've hired private detectives to follow her in hopes of discovering the identity of Cristina's natural father."
Blake's laugh was mirthless. "You've suffered needlessly. You wasted six years of your life in a futile search. What you want to know is written all over your face. Your money would have been better spent commissioning a portrait of Cristina. Anyone who knows her would recognize the resemblance between the two of you. It's quite remarkable. I saw it right away. Your wife must have been mistaken."
"Patricia couldn't mistake a thing like that and she had no reason to lie to me about it. Why, she even implied that the Prince of Wales was Cristina's father," William explained.
"That isn't possible," Blake told him.