Rebecca Hagan Lee (23 page)

"What question was that, dear boy?"

Blake slapped the rolled newspaper against his thigh, then unrolled it, opened it to the announcement of his engagement, and held it up for his aunt to read. "Are you responsible for this bit of fiction or should the credit go to my alleged fiancée?"

Lady Wethering drew herself up to her full height and huffed. "I took the liberty of announcing your betrothal." She narrowed her gaze at him. "After you took a few too many liberties with Miss Fairfax's person."

Blake raised an eyebrow at that. "Cristina told you that?"

"My dear boy, she didn't have to," Lady Wethering informed him. "My eyes are aged, but they still work well enough. I spend every morning regaling Cristina with reminisces of you. She can't get enough, learn enough about you," she told him. "You've been gone so often of late and she misses you terribly."

Blake swallowed the lump in his throat and attempted to brazen it out.

"That's understandable. She's a guest in my home and I've been a terrible host."

His aunt snorted. "She doesn't miss you the way a houseguest misses her host. She misses you the way a woman misses her lover. Don't play me for an old fool, dear boy. Don't insult my intelligence. Miss Fairfax isn't an innocent any longer. She hasn't been innocent since the trip to the theater."

She pinned Blake with her gaze. "I gave you room to woo the girl, to romance her. I didn't give you carte blanche to seduce her."

He was angry, but he had the grace to blush as his aunt voiced her opinion.

"Since you saw fit to bed her without benefit of vows or even a promise of such, I saw fit to remind you of your duty as a gentleman. You will do right by her."

"I appreciate your concern for Cristina's reputation, Aunt, but I invited you to become part of my household in order to chaperon her, not to act as my conscience."

"You invited me into your household to prevent gossip and scandal and that's exactly what I intend to do."

"What gossip? What scandal?" Blake asked. "I've yet to hear a whisper of scandal. With the exception of Nigel Jameson, no one knows Cristina is here."

"You as much as told the Prince of Wales that Miss Fairfax was staying with you."

"Staying with you," Blake corrected. "And with my parents in the country.

No one suspected anything until this hit the paper."

"Surely you aren't that naive?" Lady Wethering demanded. "What about Patricia Fairfax's little wager and her announcement at Lord Strathemore's midnight soiree?"

"How did--"

"I'm a member of society. I have friends and acquaintances who gossip. The ton has been buzzing about it since it happened. They've been wondering if anyone had taken Patricia Fairfax up on her offer for weeks now and your escorting us to the theater and presenting us to the Prince of Wales did more to increase the speculation than to end it."

"Bloody hell." He ran his fingers through his hair in a show of frustration. "I've been so busy, I haven't had time to pay attention to the gossip."

"I have," Lady Wethering assured him. "That's why I took it upon myself to look out for your interests."

"You were premature, Aunt." He dropped the newspaper on the desk and began to pace. "You made a public announcement, and true or not, I'll be held legally liable. Now, everyone will think I bought her, that I took Patricia Fairfax up on her offer."

"Did you?"

"No." He shot his aunt a fierce look. "I didn't. But that's not going to matter to London society."

"Have you spoken to Cristina? Have you expressed your intentions?"

"No," he admitted.

"She doesn't know how you feel about her?"

"How could she?" Blake asked, plunging his fingers through his hair once again. "When I don't know how I feel? Or what I feel? Or why I should feel whatever it is about her? All I know is that you made a public announcement that's left me with no choice but to offer her marriage. I haven't spoken to her or her father and already I find myself in an untenable position once again." He turned on his heel. "How could you have done this without speaking to me first?"

"I did what needed to be done when it needed to be done. People talk, dear boy. Servants talk. You don't have the luxury of unlimited time. And although you've anticipated your vows, this way you've done the honorable thing by announcing your betrothal." She smiled at Blake. "Cristina is a lovely girl.

You could do far worse. And you know you had to get married some time."

"I've been married. I know what a disaster it can be. And I've no wish to live through that again."

"Meredith has been dead for a while."

"Six years," Blake said. "And even that isn't long enough to make the idea of remarriage palatable to me."

Lady Wethering sucked in a breath. She'd suspected that her nephew had been unhappily married, but she'd hadn't known how unhappy until she heard the contempt in his voice. "I had no idea."

Blake shook his head. "My marriage was hell. And now--" He broke off. "I'm fond of Cristina. I didn't expect to be drawn to her in a physical way and I certainly didn't intend to..." He stopped his furious pacing and stood in front of his aunt. "You made a public announcement of our betrothal. I won't dispute it and I'll make sure that no one else does. I'll buy her a betrothal ring and pay for the wedding of the season if that's what she wants, but..."

He turned his back on his aunt and toyed with a paperweight on his desk.

"But what, dear boy?" Lady Wethering moved closer to her nephew and placed her gnarled, beringed hand on Blake's shoulder.

He took so long to reply that Lady Wethering wasn't sure he'd heard her. "I made a mistake. I've been feeling sorry for poor Ainsford and look at me. At least Ainsford isn't going to have to face his mistake across a breakfast table every morning for the rest of his life."

"Then you needn't worry, my lord," Cristina replied from the doorway,

"because I don't expect you to marry me or share my breakfast table."

The shocked expression on his face when he saw her spoke volumes.

She'd just assured him that she didn't expect anything from him. But she had. She'd missed him so much that her heart seemed to leap at the sight of him. And it shattered when she'd overheard him. Cristina drew her pride around her like protective shell. "I apologize for interrupting your conversation, but Perryman told Leah you wanted to see me as soon as I completed my bath."

"I can explain."

"You don't want to marry me," she said softly. "There's nothing else to explain."

"I think there is." He walked over to her, took her by the hand and led her into the study. "Something's happened. Something you should know."

"I already know, my lord. I saw this morning's paper." She turned to Lady Wethering. "You sent it?"

Lady Wethering nodded. "I did what I thought was best for both of you. I'm sorry," she said. "I seem to have meddled where I shouldn't have." She glanced at Blake. "You've much to discuss. I'll leave you two alone."

"No," Cristina nearly panicked. "Please stay."

Blake frowned, but nodded to show he was willing to allow his aunt to stay.

"I'm sorry you overheard that, Cristina."

"Well"--she tried to sound bright and cheerful--"you know what they say about eavesdroppers. They never hear anything good about themselves." Unshed tears sparkled in her eyes.

"I apologize just the same," he said. "I was angry and speaking out of turn. I never meant for you to hear that."

"Yes, well, I suppose it's best that I did. Otherwise it would be an awkward way to start a marriage," Cristina told him. "Knowing that your husband dreaded the thought of facing you at breakfast every day for the rest of your lives. But you won't have to worry about that, my lord, since there isn't going to be a wedding." Cristina wore her pride like a cloak against the rain. "I knew when I read the notice that there had to have been some mistake because, you'd never even hinted at the possibility of a marriage between us."

Say it, Cristina silently begged, tell me the announcement wasn't your aunt's doing. Tell me you didn't mean what you said. Tell me you want to marry me.

Tell me you want a family.

Blake wearily ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed at the pain in the bridge of his nose. "I owe you an explanation."

Cristina could see the tired lines around the corners of his mouth and her heart went out to him. She wanted to hold him and to kiss away those tired lines. She wanted to love him and have her love returned. She didn't want to hear him explain why that was impossible. She held up her hand. "Please," she said a little shakily, "I don't think I could stand it."

"I must," he told her. "I was hoping to have some time off when Rudolf leaves--time we could spend together--but I'm leaving for Balmoral in the morning and I don't know when I'll be able to return to London."

"It makes no difference to me," Cristina told him softly. "I won't be here when you return."

Blake froze in his tracks as if she had struck him. He stared at her for an eternity before he recovered his power of speech. "What do you mean you won't be here? Where do you intend to go?"

Cristina's stomach twisted in agony but she looked him in the eye without flinching. "I don't think that's your concern any longer."

"I can't allow you to leave," Blake said. "I'm responsible for you."

"Do you want to marry me?"

"What I want doesn't matter," Blake answered. "Nor what you want. The fact is that we are going to be married at the end of the season. We can work out the details when I return from Balmoral." He reached out and gently trailed his index finger against her cheek. "I knew better than to compromise an innocent. I knew the price I'd have to pay."

"And marriage to me is too high a price."

"Not marriage to you, Cristina," he said, trying to soften the blow.

"Marriage to anyone. I was married once before."

"I heard," Cristina informed him. "To Meredith."

"Yes," he admitted. "And it's not something I care to repeat or recall."

"What about children?" she asked.

"I don't have any," he said. "There was a time I thought I wanted an heir, but now..." He shrugged his shoulders. "Now I'm not so sure."

"At least you're honest," Cristina said. Brutally, painfully honest.

"It's only fair that you should know the truth," Blake said. "Young women usually have romantic notions about love and marriage. But it's been my experience that love and marriage really don't have much in common. You should know where you stand before we're married."

"I have a fair idea," Cristina said. "I'm to be your penance for sinning.

And in exchange for allowing you to do penance, I get a gold band and a title."

Blake shook his head and managed a wry half-smile. "Marriage is the penance, Cristina. Not you. You're the temptation I should have avoided."

"You were right, my lord." The tears that had sparkled in her eyes, slowly rolled down her face. "The price is too high."

"I don't understand."

"I'm refusing your offer," she said. "I'm crying off. I've seen the kind of marriage you're proposing and I want no part of it. You're absolved of your responsibility. You're free."

"Don't be ridiculous, Cristina. There could be consequences."

"There are always consequences," she said sadly.

"I meant a child."

"Not this time," she said.

The look of relief on his face pierced her heart like an arrow. "I never meant to hurt you," he said.

"I'm young," she told him. "I'll survive." She wanted to wound him, to draw blood, but she hadn't realized it would feel as if she were ripping her heart from her breast. "I was the belle of the ball, remember? I'm sure I'll find someone who won't object to facing me across a breakfast table."

Blake winced. "Be careful who you choose. Most men dislike buying damaged goods." He was all cynic again. The Blake Ashford Cristina had held in her arms was gone and the stranger in his place was cold and indifferent--his face an unreadable mask. "And once he knows, he won't give you his heart and promise happily ever after."

"Neither did you," she whispered, "when I wasn't damaged goods." Her voice broke.

"Touché," he replied softly.

Cristina took a moment to compose herself. She didn't look at him or triumphantly attempt to measure the amount of damage she'd inflicted. She couldn't. It hurt too much. "But as long as he's young and exciting and not some staid middle-aged diplomat who cares more for his job than he does for me, I don't think I'll have to worry."

"Spoken like a true courtesan, Cristina. You learn very fast." Blake laughed a short, mirthless laugh. "Thank you for reminding me of the facts of life in the nick of time."

Cristina sucked in a breath. "I only just learned them myself."

"Then we were both saved in the nick of time."

"You won't try to keep me from leaving?"

"Not this time, Cristina." He spoke with the voice of a patronizing uncle.

"Maybe I'm feeling my age, but I think I've altered the course of your life too many times already. I don't think I have any more rescues left in me. I don't think I could manage to wrest you from anyone else's clutches. Luckily Rudolf never puts up too much of a fight. And I would be the last person to cast stones at you for choosing to leave."

"Because you're so fond of me?" Cristina asked. Blake believed she was running to Rudolf for help and protection and she let him believe it. She should tell him about her father. But it was better for him and easier for her if he believed the worst.

"It doesn't matter anymore, does it? I hope you find whatever it is you're seeking, but I don't think you'll find it with Rudolf. I admit he's a better catch than a middle-aged diplomat like myself, but he'll use you. He isn't a one-woman man any more than I am." Blake's voice had grown colder and harder as he distanced himself from her, and the patronizing note was gone. He sounded hurt and disillusioned. "You probably think there's something special about being Rudolf's mistress, but there isn't. One bed is very much like another--even if it is located in a palace. The rank and the title may be different, but courtesan or mistress or whore are really one and the same.