Blake saw the grim determination in the firm set of her jaw. She would not rest until she had her revenge against him, but he didn't fear for himself. He knew she would think twice before tampering with the controller of the purse strings. No, her revenge would be more subtle than an attempt on his life. It would be directed at someone else. Someone he cared about. He had to protect Cristina. He had to keep her safe. He would have to find a way to protect her and the other people he cared about. For the time being, he would have to find contentment in doing everything humanly possible to thwart Meredith and to frustrate her scheme to get her hands on his property or on Lawrence House.
"Leave Cristina out of this."
"She tried to usurp my place," Meredith said softly. "She tried to take my title and what rightfully belongs to me."
"She did nothing of the kind. She has nothing to do with what's gone between us." Blake clenched his fists at his side to keep from wrapping them around Meredith's slender neck. "For Christ's sake, Meredith, you're supposed to be dead. I've believed you were dead for six years!"
"I've been crippled for six years," Meredith spat at him. "I've been crippled--confined to a chair--unable to walk, unable to ride, unable to... for six long years. And all because of you."
"Me?" Blake was genuinely surprised. "How?"
"You gave me that damn horse."
"That horse was a gift--a birthday gift--if I remember correctly."
"He nearly killed me," she gasped.
"I thought he had," Blake said. "Unfortunately I was wrong."
Meredith felt his disgust like something tangible hanging between them. She saw the contempt he didn't bother to hide. His smoldering glances flickered over her.
"Nevertheless"--she dismissed Blake's contempt and his angry glances--"I'm warning you, Lord Lawrence, to be very careful about the arrangements you make for Cristina."
"I won't let you have Lawrence House, or anything else that belongs to me."
"But that's the problem, isn't it, Blake? Lawrence House doesn't belong to you. It belongs to the mother of the heir. Currently it belongs to your mother, but in a few months"--Meredith shrugged her shoulders--"who knows?"
A cold chill ran up Blake's spine. "If you do anything, if you attempt to harm Cristina in any way, I'll--"
"I wouldn't dream of harming Cristina," Meredith assured him. "I'm sure she's a sweet young girl. I have nothing against Cristina Fairfax--except the fact that she's about to inherit everything I've ever wanted."
"All right, Meredith," Blake said. "I'll give you whatever you want. I'll give you Willow Wood and Lawrence House and any other property you name."
"You can't give me Lawrence House, it's entailed," Meredith reminded him.
"I'll telegraph my mother," Blake promised. "I'll have her give it to you."
"Nice try," Meredith congratulated him. "But your mother can't give it away, either. Nobody can give it away, remember? It has to be passed down from one mother of the heir to the next."
"Then name it, Meredith," Blake said. "I'll give you whatever you want."
Meredith smiled. "Will you give me your firstborn child, Blake?"
Blake recoiled as if she had slapped him. "What?"
"That's what I want. That's the only thing that will satisfy me."
"You're insane!"
"Perhaps," she agreed. "But I warned you years ago that you would regret not telling me about Lawrence House. How about it, Lord Lawrence? Do you regret it yet?"
"I heartily regret ever having set eyes on you."
"The feeling is mutual," Meredith assured him. "Now how much longer do I have to wait before I can claim my child. Two months? Three?"
"You'll never get your hands on my child," he told her. "And if you get within a foot of Cristina, I'll kill you," Blake swore.
"Poor Blake," Meredith clucked her tongue. "You don't seem to understand the situation. I will have your firstborn child. Or no one will." She smiled at him. "Pretend you're King Solomon. Give him to me or watch him die. And maybe his mother as well."
"Meredith, I'm warning you, if you attempt--"
"I don't have to attempt," Meredith said. "I've had ten long years to plan my revenge--four years of marriage to you and six long years of pretending to be dead. The die has already been cast. My revenge has already begun. Either you take your child from Cristina Fairfax and give it to me, or you watch them both die."
"I won't let you do this."
"You can't stop me. Even if you kill me, the plan will go forward. I'll have my revenge--from the grave if necessary."
"I will stop you," Blake vowed. "I'll find some way to stop you."
"I don't doubt you'll try," Meredith said. "In the meantime, we'll see how you enjoy the scandal of finding out the whole empire knows you're a bigamist."
"God damn you, Meredith!"
Meredith looked down at her chair. "He already has."
No one delights more in vengeance
than a woman.
--JUVENAL 60-130 A.D.
*Chapter Twenty-two*
Ambassador Paget entered Blake's office through the secret panel just after Blake called for the two sergeants-at-arms to remove Meredith and Jack from the building and to escort them to separate quarters on embassy grounds and to remain there until a contingent of uniformed guards arrived. "You heard?" Blake asked as the ambassador quietly entered the room. He didn't look up, but sat in a leather chair near the fire with his face buried in his hands.
"Everything."
"Well?" Blake asked, softly. "Any suggestions?"
"We can't keep them under guard forever."
"More's the pity," Blake replied bitterly. "How long?"
"We have the right to hold them on charges of breaking into the embassy, but as they are both the queen's subjects, we won't be able to question them for more than forty-eight hours."
Blake nodded.
"That should give you enough time to make a good start on the journey to London."
"London?" Blake stared at the older man. "I can't go to London. I can't leave Cristina. I can't protect her if I'm in London and at this stage of her confinement, I'm afraid for her to travel."
"You have no choice, Blake," the ambassador told him. "You must go to London. You must file a suit in Doctor's Commons and at a court of Common Law and have them grant you a divorce as soon as possible so you can sue Meredith on the grounds of adultery and petition Parliament for a divorce. And you must do so in person, before word of tonight's debacle reaches London--before she can reach sympathetic ears."
"It would be simpler just to kill her," Blake suggested half jokingly.
"Yes, it would," the ambassador agreed. "And as your friend, I'll pretend I didn't hear you suggest it. Go to London. Get your divorce."
"But, Cristina ..."
"We'll protect Cristina." The ambassador placed his hand on Blake's shoulder. "As long as she stays in your apartment, she should be safe enough. We can put guards on the building and hire men to watch out for her. I'll even ask Franz Josef's secret police for help."
"For how long?"
"For as long as it takes."
"Protecting Cristina is only part of the problem," Blake said. "Once the baby is born, Meredith will try to take it."
"By the time the baby's born, you should have your divorce. I'll wire the queen. If I tell her everything, she may be able to expedite the proceedings. Ask for an audience as soon as you reach London."
"Meredith won't stop."
"But once you're granted a divorce, she'll have nothing to gain."
"Except her revenge. Good God, Paget, she's come back from the dead for revenge; a simple piece of paper dissolving our marriage isn't going to stop her."
The ambassador shook his head. "It's unbelievable."
>
"It's a damned nightmare," Blake lifted his face from his hands and turned to look at his friend, the ambassador. "All these years I believed she was dead. I never questioned my good fortune in being released from the mockery of my marriage to her. I should have had them dig her up," Blake said. "I should have made sure."
Paget shuddered at the thought. "You believed the people around you. We all believed it."
"And now I'm a bigamist."
"Not intentionally," the ambassador pointed out.
"But a bigamist none the less."
"The irony of the story is that I stayed married to Meredith for four long years just to avoid a scandal that might damage my career--or my father's. I didn't want to hurt anyone. And now I've put Cristina and my child in jeopardy." He stood up and began to pace. "Cristina. How can I protect Cristina? How do I tell her the truth? How do I tell her what Meredith is after?" Blake turned to the ambassador. "Christ, Paget; you heard her. She wants our child!"
"She doesn't want your child, Blake. She wants revenge. She wants you to suffer the way she's suffered."
"Hell hath no fury ..."
"I'll help in any way I can," the ambassador offered.
"Thank you, sir." Blake smiled his first smile since Meredith's appearance. "And for what you did earlier tonight. I can't thank you enough for sparing Cristina's reputation--for smoothing the way for her and for me."
"You were honest with me from the start, Blake. And I appreciate that. Besides, I think your wife is a remarkable young lady." Paget chuckled. "I can't believe she actually cut up the Prince of Wales's bed linens."
"She ripped them apart with her teeth." Blake grinned.
"Sure wish I could have seen that. Lady Paget and I had a good laugh over it."
Blake shivered. "I get chills every time I remember her hanging out of Marlborough House on nothing but courage and strong Irish linen." He extended his hand to the ambassador. "I apologize, sir, for having my personal troubles blow up in your face like this. And I thank you again for the white lies."
Ambassador Paget shook his hand warmly. "I didn't lie, exactly," he said. "Lady Paget and I discussed it. Whether she intended it or not, Cristina did our government a service when she ran away with Rudolf."
Blake raised a questioning eyebrow.
"She actually did your job by keeping him from seeking other, less reputable women for purposes of pleasure and running the risk of embarrassing both our governments. So you see, she was working for the Foreign Office."
Blake nodded. "Thanks again, sir." He stood up. "If it's all right with you, I'll take my leave now. I need to see Cristina. .." he faltered. "I need to find some way to explain and say good-bye."
"Don't worry, Blake. We'll delay Meredith as long as possible and keep Cristina safe until the danger's over."
Cristina was waiting up with Cason and Leah when Blake arrived at their apartment on the Ringstrasse. He took Cristina in his arms, then turned to speak to his assistant. "I'll brief you tomorrow, Cason," he said. "Go home and get some rest. And thank you."
"My pleasure, sir."
Blake waited until Cason departed and Leah had said good night before he led Cristina to the sofa closest to the fire. Blake could see she had been crying and he cradled her close to him as he sat down on the sofa. "I'm sorry, Countess, I'm so sorry she spoiled our party."
Cristina placed her hands on Blake's chest and pushed away so she could see the expression on his face. "Tell me this is only a bad dream that will go away in the morning."
"I wish I could." Blake took a deep breath. "But it's worse than I could ever have imagine."
"I thought she was dead."
"So did I. So did everyone else in the room."
"Except the man who was with her," Cristina said. "He positively gloated."
"He would," Blake answered. "Because you see, my sweet, that was my cousin Jack." He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off the headache he could feel pounding just behind his eyelids.
"Jack," she repeated. "Meredith's lover. The man who betrayed you."
"The same."
"How did she find out about tonight? And what prompted her to rejoin the living?" she asked. Cristina recognized the similarities between Meredith and Jack and her mother and Claude. She understood that they never did anything without a motive or a plan and tonight's episode hadn't been a coincidence. It was timed too perfectly for that.
"I don't know how she found out," Blake said. "But it's possible she heard about our marriage from my mother and father's announcement at the Everleigh Christmas celebration. Or Jack told her. He would have been invited."
"I don't understand," Cristina said. "If she didn't want you to remarry, why did she let you think she was dead? What reason could she have?"
"Revenge." Blake looked at his wife. "'If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge?'"
"The Merchant of Venice," Cristina said.
"And Meredith wants her pound of flesh from me."
"Why?"
"Because she thinks I wronged her. She thinks I've taken what belonged to her and given it to you."
"She's insane!" Cristina breathed.
"Quite possibly. And all the more dangerous because of it."
"But Blake, you haven't given me anything that belonged to her except your name and the title." She looked up at him. "That's it, isn't it? She wants to keep the title. She wants to remain the countess of Lawrence."
"That's part of it," he admitted reluctantly. "But Cristina, she wants even more than that. She wants Lawrence House."
"Give it to her," Cristina ordered, an edge of panic in her voice. "Give her whatever she wants, but make her go away. Make her leave us alone."
"I would if I could, Countess. But Lawrence House isn't mine to give. It belongs to my mother."
"Your mother? Well, then, if you explain about Meredith, surely your mother would--"
"Yes, she would. But she can't. It doesn't work that way. Lawrence House is entailed. It can only be passed down--it can't be bought, sold, or given away for any reason. If there is no legal heir or if the heir tries to sell it or give it away for any reason, the ownership reverts to the Crown."
"Doesn't Meredith know this? Doesn't she understand that you can't deed Lawrence House to her even if you inherit?"
Blake nodded. "She knows."
"Then what's the problem?"
Blake didn't want to tell her. He didn't want to hurt Cristina anymore. He didn't want her to know the full extent of Meredith's revenge, but he couldn't see a way not to tell her. He had to tell her the truth in order to protect her--and their unborn child. "In a couple of months, Lawrence House will change ownership, but I won't be the one inheriting it. You will."
"What?" Cristina was stunned.
"Lawrence House belongs to the mother of the recognized Lawrence heir," Blake told her. "And tonight, I publicly introduced you as my wife and recognized the child you carry as my own. And by doing so--" he stopped abruptly.
"Oh, my God!" Cristina reached for Blake and grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and clung to him. Her green eyes widened, seeming to grow larger as the blood rushed from her face, leaving it whiter than his snowy shirtfront. "She wants me out of the way. She wants my baby!"
Blake nodded.
"What are we going to do?" Cristina searched his face, looking for answers, for solutions.
"I'm going back to London."
"To London?" Cristina parroted numbly. "You can't. You can't leave. You're supposed to be here when the baby's born. You're supposed to stay with me."
"I can't stay, Cris. I have to return to London and I have to leave as soon as the Christmas holiday is over and the trains resume their schedule. I've got to f
ile a petition for divorce. And I have to do it in person. I have to present my case to the courts before Meredith reaches London. I've got to get things well underway before our baby is born."
"Why?"
There was no gentle way to tell her. No gentle way to remind her that with Meredith's return from the grave, their marriage had become invalid in the eyes of the law. "Because I don't want my child to be born a bastard."
"Oh." Cristina fastened her gaze on the heavy gold wedding band on her left hand and burst into tears. "I didn't think about... I forgot that our marriage isn't real any longer."
Blake kissed her, tasting the salt of her tears, before he pulled away and forced Cristina to meet his gaze. "Our marriage is very real. What I had with Meredith wasn't real. But what we share ... oh, Countess, how can you doubt that?"
Cristina blinked back more scalding tears and the lump of sand clogging her throat. "I don't doubt it. I'm just afraid. Afraid we're not ruthless enough. I'm afraid she'll win."
"I won't let her win," he vowed.
"You may not be able to prevent it."
"I promise you, Countess, that I will never let Meredith get our baby."
"Then take me with you. Don't leave me here alone."
"You know I can't. You can't travel as quickly as I'll need to travel and it would be too dangerous for you to try."
"I can ride a train."
Blake took a deep breath, raked his fingers through his hair, then gently took hold of Cristina's upper arms as she gripped his shirt. "Countess, I can't protect you on the journey and an armed guard would slow us down."
"An armed guard? Blake, she won't hurt me. Not as long as she wants the baby. Not as long as it's the only way to get Lawrence House, not while I'm still carrying."
"Listen to me, Cristina," he focused his gaze on hers. "Meredith doesn't care about keeping you alive long enough to have the baby. Do you understand? She'll take the baby if she gets a chance, but the baby isn't her primary concern. What she wants is revenge against me--any way she can get it. And if you or our child are hurt, so much the better. She doesn't want our child, she only wants to use him against me. She wants to take everything I care about away from me."
Cristina's teeth began to chatter and her body began to shake.
Blake held her closer, so close that her protruding belly came in contact with his firm, flat one. "You'll be safer here."
"With you in London?" Cristina's nerves were ragged and raw from the shocks she'd suffered. "I don't think so."
He couldn't know whether or not she'd be safe in Vienna, but he felt confident that she would be a lot safer in the apartment with guards to protect her than she would be exposed to the rigors of traveling and Meredith's treachery. "Meredith will follow me to London. She'll have to."
"How do you know she won't leave someone behind in Vienna to get rid of me or the Lawrence heir?"
"I don't," he admitted honestly. "I just have to pray I can provide enough protection for you. I have to pray that she won't hurt you."
"Not hurt me?" Tears rolled down Cristina's cheeks. "You think she hasn't hurt me already? She's taking you away from me. And she's after my child."
"Countess ..." Blake's voice was soft and the look in his eyes was gentle.
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