Whisper Always

by Rebecca Hagan Lee

"Why do you say that?"

  "It doesn't fit with the facts. Cristina was born while the prince was still at Oxford and the prince was having an affair with the actress Nellie Clifden at the time. His first affair." Blake was sure of his facts because the Prince of Wales had often spoken fondly of losing his virginity to Nellie.

  "If what you say is true, then Cristina could be my child."

  "Cristina is your child," Blake told him. "And even if you weren't her natural father, you'd be the only father she's ever known--the only father she's ever loved."

  "Patricia lied to me." William shook his head in disbelief. "Why would she do such a thing when she knew how much I loved Cristina? As a child, Cristina never resembled me at all...." William continued to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

  "Maybe not as a child," Blake told him. "But the resemblance is unmistakable now. At fourteen, Cristina hadn't matured," Blake pointed out, logically, wondering all the while how jealousy and despair could make a man so blind. "Were you arguing with your wife when she offered the information about Cristina's paternity?"

  William nodded. "We were having a nasty row. I was furious," Fairfax admitted, "and more than a little bit drunk. I'd just discovered my wife's lover had come to my house. I was angry and jealous and drunk enough to believe anything."

  Blake was thoughtful. "But you've never been able to prove Cristina is someone else's child?"

  "No," William answered. "Patricia was more discreet in those days. Now she's openly living with a penniless Italian prince whose title is ancient but whose coffers are empty. She's always been fascinated with aristocracy, and royalty in particular. So it came as no surprise when she hinted of her involvement with the Prince of Wales. I couldn't prove it, but I convinced myself he was Cristina's father...."

  "Cristina suffered needlessly, and for something that was none of her doing."

  "I am afraid so." At Blake's furious expression, William Fairfax hastened to explain or at least excuse his behavior. "I couldn't take her with me. I knew I was going to India and Africa and I didn't want her to have to endure those hardships. And when I finally settled in America, I simply couldn't bring myself to write to her as if nothing had happened. She witnessed the whole sorry episode, you see, and I wasn't sure she would understand why I left her behind or if she would forgive me for it. And why should she, when I can't seem to forgive myself?" William Fairfax looked Blake squarely in the eye, his gaze unwavering. "I don't know if my words or wishes will carry any weight with Cristina now. I've neglected her for too long, but you're welcome to use my name to try to persuade her if you think will help convince her to return home. I would go to Vienna myself, but I think it best I spare her that embarrassment." He shifted in his seat, preparing to leave, no longer interested in dinner.

  "I love your daughter," Blake said suddenly. "I want to marry her. That was my reason for asking for our original meeting. I intended to ask permission to marry Cristina."

  "Cristina is of age," Fairfax told him. "You don't need my permission to marry."

  "I'm aware that she's of age, sir." Blake looked William Fairfax right in the eyes. "But you see, Cristina is pregnant and the child she's carrying is mine."

  "What?" William Fairfax came halfway out of his seat and Blake thought for a moment that the older man was going to hit him. But Fairfax quickly regained control of himself. "Why did she leave you?"

  "Because," Blake answered. "Because I was too damn stubborn and proud to admit that I loved her and that I wanted her to stay."

  William digested the information, then studied Blake Ashford. "Fair enough."

  Blake rose to shake the older man's hand.

  Cristina's father managed a smile. "I thank you for coming to me. I intended to collect Cristina from her Swiss finishing school and take her to New York and even then I didn't really know whether she would want to return with me." William moved to leave the table, then turned with one last thought. "When you find Cristina, tell her she's always welcome in my home regardless of the circumstances that bring her. I won't ask questions. We're all entitled to our own secrets."

  "I'll tell her."

  "And, Lord Lawrence, if Cristina wants to marry you, I'll grant you my blessing," William added. "As I said before, she doesn't require my permission. But if you try to force her into something she doesn't want--into a marriage she doesn't want--just so you can lay claim to your child, I swear I'll cut your heart out and feed it to the dogs."

  "Fair enough," Blake answered solemnly. Fairfax was right. Feeding his heart to the dogs was no less than he deserved for the pain he had inflicted on the man's daughter.

  "Remember, Lawrence," William reminded. "If she wants to come home, my doors are open. No questions asked."

  Blake nodded. "I'll do my best to keep you informed." William Fairfax had finally reclaimed his daughter. All Blake had to do was find her and convince her to return to London with him. Convince her that he loved her and couldn't live without her. And after all that had gone between them, Blake knew it wouldn't be an easy task.

 

  Cristina reached for the thick, creamy white envelope on the silver tray, then stopped with her hand poised just inches from its destination. A courier had delivered the letter some ten minutes ago and still she hesitated to open it. It must be a message from Crown Prince Rudolf. The fine stationery resembled that used in the Hofburg. But why had it arrived by courier? Why hadn't it come hand delivered by the same footman who delivered the other messages from Rudolf? The idea puzzled her and made her wary.

  "Why don't you open it?" Leah urged. "You've been starin' at it for ten minutes."

  "I'm almost afraid to," Cristina said. "What if it isn't from Rudolf? What if it's another of those horrid letters?" Several days during the previous fortnight, Cristina had received a series of anonymous letters that spewed obscenities and threats at her and warned the lady of the veil to be careful. The notes and the secret policeman who followed her along Vienna's streets had frightened Cristina into giving up her morning excursions.

  "The only way for you to find out is to open it. Go on." Leah stood looking over Cristina's shoulder, waiting for her to open the letter.

  Cristina drew a deep breath and lifted the envelope from the tray. Her hand shook so badly she could barely make out the symbols on the wax impression. The message wasn't from Rudolf. The seal wasn't the familiar double-headed eagle of the House of Hapsburg, but something even more familiar--the lion and unicorn of England. It was a government seal, the kind used by the representatives of Her Majesty's government.

  Almost giddy with relief, Cristina ripped open the envelope to reveal the card inside. "It's an invitation to our embassy to meet the new ambassador, Leah. Next Tuesday at four P.M." Her voice held a note of surprise mixed with curiosity. "I wonder why I was invited."

  "You'll just have to go find out."

  "Do you think I should?" Cristina glanced down at the swell of her stomach and nervously smoothed away a nonexistent wrinkle in her skirt.

  "Why shouldn't you go?" Leah asked her. "You got invited."

  Leah was right, Cristina reminded herself. She had been invited and an invitation from the British ambassador wasn't something she could refuse lightly. She was one of Queen Victoria's subjects and there must be a reason for her invitation. Perhaps there was news of her father, of maybe a note from Blake. No. Cristina told herself, the invitation was addressed to the comtesse di Rimaldi, and only Rudolf, Leah, and she knew Cristina Fairfax and the comtesse were one and the same. Rudolf must have secured the invitation to tea for her. He must have realized how much Cristina missed the sound of English voices. He had probably told the new ambassador the comtesse had relatives in England.

  Cristina frowned. She was letting her imagination run on. The invitation was exactly that. An invitation to tea. Every British citizen in Vienna had probably received an invitation identical
to the one she held in her hand.

  She knew there was a certain amount of risk involved in socializing with her fellow countrymen in her present condition, but with any luck at all, no one would recognize her or connect her with Prince Rudolf. She had been at school before her presentation to the queen, and she hadn't finished her London season. An invitation to tea at the embassy would be a diversion from the routine of her everyday life in Vienna and the fear that had begun to plague her. She desperately needed a diversion. Besides, she could always pretend to speak very little English. The comtesse di Rimaldi was, after all, supposed to be Italian nobility. She would smile prettily, nod her head, and enjoy the afternoon.

  Her mind made up, Cristina sat down and wrote her note of acceptance.

 

  The following Tuesday dawned cold and clear. And Cristina took special care with her toilette, lingering in the scented bath water before finally selecting a dress of black velvet for warmth as well as the slenderizing qualities it offered. The effect was striking. The rich, black velvet complimented her creamy complexion and emphasized the only color in her outfit--the thick copper curls piled atop her head and the green of her shining cat's eyes. She smiled at her reflection as she added the pearl earrings and matching necklace to her ensemble before descending the stairs where Leah waited to inspect her.

  "Leah, I'm ready."

  "Aye, I can see that and you look lovely--a vision."

  "Just as long as I'm not a vision in a nightmare," Cristina teased.

  "Never," Leah stated firmly. "Now, stop fishin' for compliments before the carriage leaves you to walk to the embassy."

  Cristina laughed at the mock severity she saw in Leah's expression. She felt young and pretty again for the first time in months and the feeling gave her the confidence she needed to brave the environs of the British embassy.

  She was still smiling to herself when the fiacre drew to a halt in front of the embassy. Cristina handed the driver her invitation and waited inside the carriage until a footman came to escort her inside.

  "Right this way, madam." A young man in a business suit she thought must be an aide of some sort led her through a foyer, up a flight of stairs, and into a sitting room decorated in muted tones of silver and blue.

  "If you will please wait here, madam," he motioned toward a group of chairs, "the ambassador will be in to see you."

 

  The light that lies

  In a woman's eyes

  Has been my heart's undoing.

  --THOMAS MOORE 1779-1852

 

  *Chapter Eighteen*

 

  She stood with her back to him, gazing out the window at the busy Viennese scurrying along the Ringstrasse in search of their warm homes, but he recognized her immediately. He knew that form. He would know that slender back anywhere. He had dreamed about her until he knew every inch--the round, smooth breasts; the tiny line of her waist; the delicious curve of her hips; the long, slim legs hidden beneath the folds of her skirts; and the hair--the thick, coppery purls confined in her sleek hairstyle hung past her waist when free and felt like spun silk in his hands. Hair like that could only belong to one woman. Cristina. And he knew every bit of her. Every word she had ever spoken to him and every inch of that luscious body were permanently etched in his mind and on his heart.

  He studied her for some minutes before moving to stand directly behind her. He had been surprised to receive her note of acceptance. He hadn't allowed himself to think about her acceptance. He hadn't allowed himself to believe she would really come. Disappointment was easier to bear if you didn't let yourself truly believe in miracles.

  "Cristina," he whispered her name softly, waiting for her to turn and face him.

  "You!" Her one-word response was an echo of another meeting in a ballroom months before.

  Blake nodded slowly. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until he let it out in a rush. "I had to see you."

  "Oh, no...." Cristina turned back to the window.

  "Don't you have anything else to say? After I've come to rescue you from the clutches of the handsome prince." He hadn't meant to be sarcastic, but her reaction stung him.

  "I'm not a damsel in distress. I don't need rescuing, Blake. You're relieved of duty." Cristina blinked back tears. She had hoped ... but she hadn't expected to see Blake again and the surprise and the incredible joy surrounded by pain was almost too much to bear. She thought she had learned to control her feelings for him, but now she knew she had failed.

  "I can't go away. I've left you alone for too long already." Blake moved to place his arms around her waist and draw her back against him.

  "Blake, please, don't..."

  "I can't help myself, Cristina. This thing between us is stronger than I am. I need to touch you. I have to hold you."

  "Blake...."

  "I didn't intend our meeting to be anything but business, but when I saw you standing there silhouetted against the light from the window, I had to hold you. You're so beautiful. The perfect Madonna."

  Cristina whirled around to face him, a quick denial framed on her lips.

  "I know about the baby, Cristina. We've got to talk."

  "It's too late to talk. We said everything in London." She somehow managed to get the words out despite the lump forming in her throat.

  "We said too much in London and neither of us meant a word of it."

  "I meant every word."

  "I don't doubt that you meant to hurt me and to make me angry," Blake corrected calmly. "And you did. I couldn't see beyond my anger for weeks--months--but I finally came to my senses and put the pieces of the puzzle together."

  "It doesn't matter any longer."

  "Yes, it does," Blake answered. "I should have realized what was happening when you refused to let me marry you."

  "You're talking in riddles," Cristina said softly.

  "You wanted me to make a declaration of love for you so you could tell me about the baby. You wanted me to prevent you from leaving Lawrence House. I disappointed you."

  "I wasn't disappointed," Cristina told him. "It's no more than what I expected from you."

  "I was too angry to understand what you wanted--what you needed from me," Blake explained. "It was my fault. I had a ring and a special license in my pocket. I'd had them for weeks. I should have been happy about the announcement. I should have taken you upstairs and made love with you until you couldn't think of any reason to leave. I was too angry to see that I'd left you no choice but to leave--if for no other reason than to prove to me you would."

  Cristina struggled to keep her voice from breaking. "That's ancient history, Blake. It's in the past and best forgotten. I don't need anything from you except an explanation for this elaborate ruse. Why did you invite me here?"

  Blake smiled at her. "I had a strange yearning to see the mother of my child."

  "You're mistaken, Lord Lawrence."

  "I don't think so," he replied. "Not after the strong hints I got from Nigel and the very informative letter I received from Leah. Unlike you, she came right to me with the news."

  Cristina's eyes flashed fire. "Of course she did. But she is also mistaken. This child belongs to Rudolf." She began to pace the floor.

  "Bull! I know a virgin when I sleep with one. And you, my sweet, were definitely virginal."

  "That's impossible." Cristina lifted her chin a notch. "If you don't believe me, ask Rudolf. He swears he spent the night with me at Marlborough House."

  To her amazement, Blake laughed. "Before or after I pulled you from the end of your rope?"

  "Before," she answered.

  Blake shook his head. "No, sweetheart, he was playing cards with me."

  "All right then, after."

  Blake shook his head again.

  "Before, after, I don't know," Cristina stopped her
pacing and flung out her arms in exasperation. "What difference does it make? He swears it happened."

  "It makes a great deal of difference," Blake told her. "Because I don't want anyone questioning my child's paternity--least of all his mother." He reached out and smoothed his palm down Cristina's cheek in a gesture so tender it brought tears to her eyes. "Rudolf was supposed to think he spent the night with you at Marlborough House. I paid fifty pounds to ensure he would."

  "I don't understand."

  "I paid a red-haired prostitute fifty pounds sterling to impersonate you. I sneaked her in the house, up the stairs, and into Rudolf's room--the room you'd escaped by making a rope of the Prince of Wales's bed sheets."

  "Why?"

  "If Rudolf believed he had you in his bed, he wasn't likely to go roaming the house looking for you while I was smuggling you out." Blake smiled at her. "I was trying to be a hero. I never dreamed you'd climb out a third-floor window or that you would later convince Rudolf and yourself that my child belonged to him."

  "I didn't convince him," Cristina said. "I told him the truth. But he assumed responsibility anyway and he seemed so sure that he had spent the night with me and I--"

  "Pretended it was true."

  "It seemed better that way," Cristina told him.

  "Better for whom?"

  "For you, for me, for the baby."

  "Nigel didn't think so, and neither did Leah."

  "They had no right to tell you. They had no right to interfere with my life."

  "Why shouldn't they interfere with your life when you're bound and determined--when we're both bound and determined--to make a mess of it?" Blake demanded. "That child you're carrying sure as hell doesn't belong to Rudolf and he doesn't just belong to you, he also belongs to me."

  "She," Cristina corrected. "I intend to have a daughter. And now that you know of her existence, Lord Lawrence, have you come to claim her or are you going to try to take my baby away from me?" She cupped her arms protectively around the slight velvet-covered mound and fought down her sense of panic. "Because I won't let you."

  Blake's jaws tensed and a muscle began to twitch as he clamped his teeth firmly together in an effort to control his rising temper. "Do you really think I would take our child away from you? Do you really think I could be so heartless?" It hurt to know she trusted him so little.

  "I don't know," Cristina said, honestly. "I barely know you, your lordship."

  "I didn't come to take the baby away from you, Cris, but I have a right to know he exists. I want to have a say in what happens to him and to you. I admit Nigel and Leah were wrong to betray your trust, but they're your friends, our friends, and they did it out of love and concern for you and the baby."

  "But you were never supposed to know," Cristina whispered so softly Blake had to strain to hear her. "I never wanted you to know."

  "And so you sold yourself. Why, Cristina?" He demanded an answer. "Why sell yourself to Rudolf?"