"Maybe I'm worrying for no reason."
"Maybe," Nigel agreed. "But you should know how to recognize the signs--just in case." He spent the next hour explaining the symptoms of pregnancy and touching on a few of the practices used to prevent conception. He spoke precisely and without embarrassment, patiently explaining the details and answering Cristina's hesitant questions.
Cristina listened and learned, aware of just how ignorant she had been. It was pathetic really to think that she had considered herself so well educated and so sophisticated when she faced her mother and her lover without batting an eye or the time she had called her mother a whore when talking to Leah. But she had been mouthing words she had overheard, pretending she was a sophisticate. It was embarrassing to learn just how much she didn't know, but at least she wasn't ignorant any longer. Now she understood. "Thank you for being honest with me, Dr. Jameson."
"Don't thank me, Cristina. It's part of my duty as a doctor." There was pain in those bright blue eyes when he looked at her. "And part of your duty as my patient is to heed my advice and notify me if your condition changes."
"If I exhibit any of the symptoms?"
"Yes," Nigel confirmed. "Send for me immediately. All right?"
"All right," she agreed.
"And what are you going to do in the meantime?" Nigel asked, wanting to remind her of the contraception device he had suggested.
"Follow Leah's advice and stay out of Lord Lawrence's bed."
Nigel Jameson chuckled. After learning the facts of life, no doubt Cristina Fairfax would try to ignore her attraction to Blake--to protect herself and Blake by staying out of his way.
And no doubt Blake would try even harder to stay away from her. But attraction was an overwhelming force and even the strongest people sometimes succumbed to their desires. "What if your best intentions fail?"
Cristina smiled shyly at the doctor. Her first impressions of Nigel Jameson had been right on the mark. He did see too much-- know too much--about Blake and about her. "I'll remember to use the vinegar sponge or have Blake use one of those French letters."
Nigel nodded. "Good. Now is there anything else you wish to discuss with me?"
"How long will I have to wait until I know if--"
"Give yourself a few weeks," he told her.
He is mad past recovery, but yet he has lucid intervals.
--MIGUEL DE CERVANTES 1547-1616
*Chapter Fourteen*
Blake called himself ten kinds of a fool as he paused in the cold morning rain outside the Gray's Inn solicitor's office. He was already late. He should be on the train headed for Sandringham, yet here he was standing outside the door to his solicitor's office about to make an irreversible, monumental mistake. He felt it in his bones, but there didn't seem to be anything he could do to stop himself. Blake knew he wasn't ready to get married again, had in fact resolved never to marry again, but he was about to do just that. Once he settled things with her father, he'd obtain a special license from the archbishop of Canterbury and talk to Cristina. Despite his best resolve not to touch her while she was living under his roof, he had touched her--seduced her, or allowed her to seduce him. He wasn't quite sure which. And he wasn't all that certain that it mattered. What did matter was the fact that he had allowed his desire to control his brain. And while the logical, rational part of him wished it had never happened, the fact remained that he had made love with Cristina--not once, but several times during the night and once this morning. He had made love with her and to her and enjoyed every moment of it and now it was time to do the honorable thing by her.
"I'm not that much of a reprobate." The phrase kept coming back to haunt him. Blake remembered saying those words to Nigel when Nigel had asked if he had seduced Cristina on the morning he'd brought her to Lawrence House--the morning Blake had relayed the details of Patricia Fairfax's wager at Lord Strathemore's midnight supper.
But it seemed he was. As much a reprobate as Strathemore and his friends or Patricia Fairfax or any other jaded aristocrat.
Blake Ashford, ninth earl of Lawrence, had never taken any young woman's virginity before--much less the virginity of a daughter of a member of the aristocracy. Cristina was a young woman of social standing and until she met him, she had been a young woman with a future and prospects ahead of her. Blake took a deep breath, then blew it out in a cloud. Well, he would see that she had the future and the prospects she deserved. He'd do the honorable thing, the right thing, the proper thing. He would grin and bear it as he stood up in front of the reverend and put a gold wedding band on her finger.
But first he had to find William Fairfax and get everything settled. He grabbed hold of the doorknob, opened the front door, and approached the first solicitor he found.
"Find him. Find out everything you can about him," Blake instructed.
"But, sir," Albert Mead, a thin, wiry, bespectacled young man, was having difficulty understanding his client's wishes. "Lord Lawrence, that might be difficult. William Fairfax left London over four years ago if my memory serves me correctly."
"I don't care how difficult it is. I'm paying you a substantial fee to find him and I expect results. I must see him. This matter is of the greatest importance to him and to me."
Mead was flabbergasted. The request was so unexpected. He rarely saw Lord Lawrence in the flesh. His normal duties consisted of tending to Lord Lawrence's monthly household accounts. The other business matters were handled by the senior partners of the firm and Albert Mead was only a junior partner.
"Lord Lawrence, I'm not sure I understand your request," he repeated nervously.
"It's very simple. I want you to locate Sir William Fairfax, late of Fairhall, and request a meeting with him as soon as possible. Tell him it concerns Cristina. That's all he needs to know for now. The rest I'll tell him in person."
"This could take weeks, even months."
Now that he had made up his mind about what to do with Cristina, Blake wanted everything arranged as quickly as possible and that meant talking to William Fairfax. Cristina was twenty, not twelve, and well over the legal age of consent. She didn't require her father's permission to marry, but Blake did.
He hadn't courted her, hadn't romanced her, hadn't treated her with the tenderness or the respect she deserved. Cristina had accused him of ruining her chances for a decent marriage. And she was right. But he was going to change all that. If she wanted marriage--and what young woman didn't--she was going to have it along with all the trimmings.
Starting with her father. Blake was going to get Cristina's father's consent to their marriage because he wanted it. He required William Fairfax's approval in a way he had never required George Brownlee's. Maybe it was because Blake no longer trusted himself, maybe he simply needed a man other than a lifelong friend like Nigel Jameson to approve of his decision to marry again. Maybe he needed William Fairfax's approval to release him from the burden of guilt he was feeling.
He stared at Albert Mead. "You don't have months. This is very important. I must see him. Contact me as soon as you find him." Blake drew on his coat, preparing to leave.
"And if I find him deceased--"
"You won't."
"How do you know that for sure?"
"I don't."
"But, sir.. ."
"It's just a hunch, Mr. Mead. If Sir William Fairfax was dead, his estate would have been probated. Lady Fairfax would have had her hands on her share of his property before he was cold in the ground. But as yet, none of his estate has been probated. I checked that myself, first thing this morning. So find him."
"I'll do my best, sir."
"I expect nothing less," Blake said. "I know I can rely on your firm to come through as it has in the past."
"Yes, sir, Lord Lawrence," Mead said. But he was speaking to an empty room. Lord Lawrence had alread
y made his exit. He was gone within seconds, leaving a bewildered Mead to undertake the monumental task of finding a man who had been away from England for more than four years.
Cristina decided to give herself six weeks just to be sure. The crown prince was scheduled to leave in four weeks. And once he left, once Blake was no longer required to escort him all over the kingdom, things would surely settle down into a nice quiet routine. Blake would be able to spend his days and nights with her at Lawrence House. And if at the end of the six weeks she discovered she was going to have a baby, Cristina was certain she would find ample opportunity to approach him with the news.
He hadn't proposed yet. In fact, the subject of marriage had yet to come up between them. Cristina couldn't bring herself to mention it until she knew how he felt about her. But she wasn't really worried. After all, Blake hadn't had a moment to himself since returned from Sandringham. During the day, he escorted Crown Prince Rudolf's entourage on visits to the Bank of England, Smithfield and Billingsgate markets, the Corn Exchange, law courts, factories, old people's homes, military establishments, and the British Museum in London and attended private dinner parties given by peers of the realm; dinner parties at Marlborough House that were hosted by the Prince and Princess of Wales; and balls at the Austrian Embassy, Carlton House Terrace, the German Embassy, and the Belgian Embassy. He hadn't spent a single night at Lawrence House in the past two weeks. And while Cristina hoped Blake would ask her to attend some of the social functions with him, she understood when he didn't. She was, after all, supposed to be back in the country staying with her imaginary relatives. Cristina couldn't be upset when she rightfully suspected that Blake didn't invite her to attend those social gatherings because he wanted to keep her as far away from Rudolf--and scandal--as possible.
Blake was working hard and traveling continuously. There were more trips scheduled--weekends at country estates, visits to the industrial cities of Birmingham, Liverpool, Bradford, Manchester, and Sheffield and trips to Scotland, Wales, and Ireland.
Still, the days were passing and Cristina waited and hoped and prayed that Blake loved her. Because loving him meant she couldn't settle for anything less. She told herself that all she needed was for Crown Prince Rudolf to return to Austria so she and Blake could spend some time together. Blake cared for her. He had to. All she needed was a bit more time to prove it.
But time ran out one morning four weeks and two days after the doctor's last visit when she overheard Leah, Mackie, and Perryman the butler, discussing the "scandal."
"They say the queen is livid. This is the third scandal this year and the queen is demanding that everyone in her government be investigated," Perryman announced. "She says she'll have no more unsavory scandals in her government."
"He'll have to resign from the queen's government," Mackie said as the three of them savored a pot of morning tea at the kitchen table. "For an 'indiscretion' with a young woman residing under his roof."
Cristina drew in a quick breath. Had someone seen them at Marlborough House? Had someone outside the household spoken of her relationship with Blake? Had their affair cost Blake his government career?
"Will the queen demand his resignation? Or will he be able to resign quietly?" Perryman asked.
"There's no keeping it quiet now." Mackie tapped the morning newspaper against the table. "The scandal's already become public knowledge. He can only hope to leave with as little outcry as possible. It says in the paper that the Lords have voted to censure him and are recommending he voluntarily step down from his post before the queen asks for his resignation."
"What if he refuses?" Leah asked.
"I don't see how he dare refuse," Mackie said. "His career would be ruined."
"But if he voluntarily resigns, he may be able to return to government service at a later date," Perryman added. "It's happened before."
"What about her?" Leah wanted to know. "What will happen to her?"
Mackie scanned the newspaper. "It doesn't name her. Nor does it say what will happen to her. But I'm sure she'll be asked to leave the house."
Cristina's heart seemed to stop beating. She couldn't leave Lawrence House. She had no place to go. She wouldn't go to Patricia and she had no money and no means of locating her father without it.
"It's such a shame," Leah commented. "If she's in the family way, the poor girl will need all the help she can get."
"She won't find it here," Perryman predicted. "She'll have to leave London. The gentry will cut her dead if she stays and there won't be anything Lord Ainsford can do to help her. Because he'll be disgraced as well."
Cristina couldn't keep from breathing a little prayer of thanks. She was safe for a while longer. Lord Ainsford was in disgrace. Lord Ainsford, not Lord Lawrence. But, Cristina reminded herself, it might be only a matter of time before she found herself in the same predicament as the unnamed girl in Lord Ainsford's household. It was as if Leah, Mackie, and Perryman had described her worst nightmare.
"Perryman, you've met Lord Ainsford. I heard he was a widower. Is there no chance for a marriage between the lord and the young woman?" Mackie asked.
"Not at all," Perryman answered. "According to my sources, the young woman in question is a distant cousin--a poor relation who came to town as governess to his lordship's young children--"
"Surely he could marry the woman," Leah interrupted.
"Impossible," Perryman told them. "Because his lordship is no longer a widower. He remarried last year and I hear his new wife is anticipating an addition to the family any time now."
"Saints preserve us!" Mackie exclaimed. "He'll be having two additions to the family in the same year."
"Yes, indeed," Perryman said. "And only one will be born on the proper side of the blanket."
Cristina didn't stay to hear any more. Her breakfast suddenly seemed too much for her stomach to hold. She had to get to her room. She had to make plans.
She sent for Nigel Jameson seeking confirmation of her deepest fear a week later. Her monthly hadn't come yet and she had been sick upon rising for three days in a row. Unless Blake could see his way to admit to loving her, she would have to leave him--for her sake and for his.
Dr. Jameson arrived promptly and greeted her without preamble. "You sent for me, so I presume that you've missed your monthly."
Cristina nodded.
"Have you been ill upon rising? Unable to eat your breakfast? Tired?" He fired the questions at her one after the other until all Cristina could do was nod her head once again in affirmation.
Nigel smiled reassuringly. "I'll have to examine you to be sure, but I suspect we're going to have a baby."
Cristina had her confirmation. She and Blake were going to become parents in about eight months' time. "I don't know how I'll face him with news like this," Cristina said when Nigel finished his examination.
"You'll find a way. The opportunity will present itself. And you must face him, Cristina. It would be wrong to do otherwise." Nigel gave her his lopsided grin. "I wouldn't worry too much, my dear, Blake adores children. I think he'll be quite pleased. It isn't every day that a man becomes a father. Besides, Blake is responsible, too. He'll do what is best for you and the baby. You needn't worry that he will turn you away."
"Have you seen the morning papers, Dr. Jameson?" The investigation into scandal in the government was broadening and the newspapers were full of lurid details. Cristina held up the morning edition of The Times and read from the front page: "The scandal concerning Her Majesty's men in government widens and there appears to be no end in sight. Lords Barton, Griffith, and Ainsford have all resigned their posts and more secrets involving more scandalous lords are expected to follow. It appears there have been a number of fallen young debutantes as well as young governesses this year and one can't help but wonder which of Her Majesty's government men will be the next to resign."
&nbs
p; She looked up at Nigel, then flipped to the gossip section of the paper to a column called "Ton Tidbits" and continued reading. "What's become of the lovely Miss------who was seen at the theater in the company of the handsome and elusive Earl of------recently? Has she been taken off the market? No one can say for sure, but Miss------who is reportedly staying with friends in the country hasn't been seen in weeks. Are wedding bells in the Earl of------and Miss------'s future? Has the earl who vowed never to taste matrimonial bliss changed his mind? No one seems to know for sure." Cristina folded the newspaper and stared at Nigel. "I shouldn't continue to stay here and allow Blake to take responsibility for me and a child."
"Why not?" Nigel wanted to know. "He is responsible for the child, if not for you. Besides, your going or staying isn't a decision for you to make alone. Tell him, Cristina. Share the joy. I've known Blake all my life, and believe me, there's nothing he would like better than to hear the sound of children playing in this house. He's always wanted a child and was bitterly disappointed when he and Meredith failed to have one." Nigel had been watching Cristina's face and was aware of his blunder almost as soon as the words left his mouth. She didn't know about Meredith--or hadn't known until he had foolishly blundered.
There were questions in her eyes that begged to be answered and Nigel could have kicked himself for letting Meredith's name slip out.
"Who is Meredith?" Cristina whispered the name.
"Ask Blake. I'm sure he'll tell you all about it." Nigel didn't want to volunteer any more information. He'd said too much as it was.
Cristina recognized his hedging. "I am asking you, Dr. Jameson," she persisted, "and I want an answer."
Nigel's expression was grim as he nodded his head in capitulation and told Cristina what she wanted to know. "Meredith was Blake's wife."
"His wife?" Cristina echoed hollowly. "Until I read this, I didn't know he had had a wife. Nobody has ever mentioned a wife."
"She..." Nigel cleared his throat. "There was a riding accident several years ago and Meredith was crushed beneath her horse."
As Cristina listened to the doctor tell about the tragic accident, her mind was busy assimilating the fact that Blake had been married. He had been married and he hadn't told her about it. She felt a twinge of some undefinable emotion that settled in the pit of her stomach. He had had a wife. Meredith. The name was etched in Cristina's brain. Every time she thought of Blake her mind conjured up the name like the missing part of a whole. Why hadn't he told her? Had his wife meant so much to him that he couldn't bear to speak of her? Cristina didn't know if most men spoke of their wives and families to their lovers, but she had thought that Blake would be honest with her. In her innocence, she had expected him to tell her if he had once been married. She pictured Blake holding his wife in his arms, whispering the same words of love that he had whispered to her; working the same caressing magic that took her to the peaks of passion and that curious feeling in the pit of her stomach snaked through her, burning its way to her heart.
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