Rebecca Hagan Lee (26 page)

"This ain't London, missy," Leah explained. "Here the secret police follow the crown prince's every step. It seems likely to me that they follow his lady friends around, too. Especially foreign lady friends."

Cristina decided Leah was probably right. She was a stranger to Vienna and if the Emperor Franz Josef had his secret police spy on his own son, he wouldn't think anything of having the police spy on his son's friends. The man was probably secret police and totally harmless.

Nevertheless, Cristina breathed a sigh of relief when she and Leah reached the safety and privacy of the house. She collapsed on a chair as soon as she reached her sitting room.

"You need to change. You're soaked through."

"I'm fine, Leah, don't fuss."

"I've got eyes in my head an' I can see for myself." Leah took Cristina's damp cape and draped it over a chair near the fire. "I don't think you should be traipsin' about in the mornin' air. The damp and chill ain't good for you or the babe."

"I'm fine, Leah. Don't fuss. Don't you think I know what's best for my baby?" Cristina's fatigue and the fright the man in the cafe had given her made her reply sharper than she intended.

"No, I don't," Leah informed her bluntly. "If you really knew what was best for you and this child, you would've stayed with its father."

"And what about Lord Lawrence?" Cristina's voice rose alarmingly.

"He's a grown man and well able to take care of himself." Leah clamped her lips shut and faced her headstrong mistress with a disapproving stare.

"Leah, I don't want to discuss Lord Lawrence. As far as the world and the baby are concerned, Crown Prince Rudolf will be its father," Cristina said, shakily.

"I know why you came here. I understand that you want to avoid havin' any scandal attached to Lord Lawrence's good name, but darlin', you should have told him the truth and let him help you decide what to do. You shouldn't have taken this all upon yourself."

"But, Leah ..."

"I know you plan to pass the baby off as Prince Rudolf's so it can have the things we couldn't give it. But you ain't bein' fair to yourself, Lord Lawrence, or your child. Cristina, my girl, no good can come from livin' a lie."

"But Leah," Cristina's voice echoed dully in her ears, "he never said he loved me. And I was afraid that a scandal and this"--she rubbed her expanding tummy--"I was afraid. I was afraid he would hate me for trapping him into a marriage he doesn't want. I was afraid he would hate me when he found out. I couldn't stay. I had to leave. Oh, God, what have I done?" Her voice thickened and she covered her face with her hands and released a flood of anguished tears. She was unhappy and forced to live a lie of her own making because she had been too afraid to take a risk on love.

"Have you lost your mind?" It was late and Lawrence House was quiet except for the crackling of the fire in the library grate and the escalating argument between the two men sitting in the cozy leather chairs sipping coffee laced with brandy. Blake was being obstinate and Nigel was finding it increasingly difficult to understand his best friend. The same question had been on his lips once too often during the past months.

"No, I haven't lost my mind," Blake informed him, raking his fingers through his hair in a gesture of irritability.

Nigel remained unimpressed by Blake's reply or his obvious show of irritation. "But Blake, you're turning down the chance of a lifetime. The queen asked for you personally."

"I don't want the post in Vienna and the title, however glorified, is only temporary. I'm tired of the Foreign Office and I'm tired of Franz Josef's stifling court. It's time I settled down to my own business interests and let the queen find someone else to tend to hers."

"Blake, you must reconsider. Think of all you'll lose if you turn her down.

Think of your future."

"Must I? Oh, come on, Nigel, next you'll be handing me that rot about serving my country and doing my duty. Well, I consider, I've done my duty.

I've served in the Foreign Office ranks for nearly ten years. Like the Ashford men before me, I've served my sovereign loyally and faithfully and it's time someone else took over. Don't talk to me of duty. Let someone else watchdog the crown in the name of diplomacy. I'm tired of the games. I'm tired of the whole damned thing." Blake paused to collect his thoughts. "My God, Nigel, I'm thirty-one years old, and what do I have to show for these years? No real home, no family of my own, no wife, no children. Nothing but ten years spent bowing and scraping to Her Majesty's royal brood all over the globe. I need a change. I can't do this any longer. I'm tired and I don't like the man I've become."

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 fatherhood 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."