Whisper Always

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.

  "Touch?," 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. He'll expect you to decorate his bed. And you won't have a choice, Cris, because this time, you really will be bought and paid for." He turned away, dismissing her. "Now, if you will excuse me, I think I'll get ready for dinner. If you want to join me, I'll see you in the dining room--otherwise, good-bye, Cristina." He walked away, leaving her standing in his study, choking back the sobs.

 

  She didn't appear at dinner, nor did she make her way downstairs for breakfast the following morning.

  "He's gone."

  Cristina looked up from the stack of undergarments she was helping Leah pack to find Lady Wethering standing in the doorway. "May I come in?"

  "Of course." Cristina reached up and self-consciously smoothed the tendrils of hair escaping from her chignon into place, then rubbed at the creases in her gown. It was the same one she'd worn the night before, the one she'd cried herself to sleep in.

  "You look fine," Lady Wethering assured her.

  Her eyes and nose were red and swollen from crying all night and the cold compresses she'd tried to rid herself of the terrible morning-after headache hadn't made the slightest difference. She looked like hell and they both knew it. But Cristina appreciated the fact that Lady Wethering had tried to reassure her that her looks hadn't vanished with her shattered dreams.

  "My dear child, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault." Cristina noticed that Blake's aunt seemed older and more frail. Her powdered face showed new lines and she leaned heavily on her malacca cane. "I should never have sent that announcement. He wasn't supposed to react so strongly or in such a negative manner. But then, I didn't know about..." She broke off. "And I never dreamed he'd be so vexed with me. Or with you." She walked over to the bed and clasped Cristina to her ample bosom. "Oh, my dear, dear child, what's to become of you? Where will you go? Surely you aren't contemplating going back your mother?"

  Cristina shook her head. "I thought I might stay with you," she said. "In your town house."

  Lady Wethering was momentarily overjoyed--until reason reasserted itself. "Oh, Cristina, I would be most happy to have you live with me, but you see I've only a small portion from my late husband's estate. Only enough to keep the town house staffed. The rest of my income comes from the daughter's portion my father left. It's quite sufficient. More than sufficient, but it's administered by my brother, the marquess of Everleigh. I can't offer you refuge in a household whose bills are paid by Blake's father. If Everleigh and Cecilia found out I sheltered you after you refused Blake's offer of marriage, they would never forgive me."

  Cristina's knees suddenly became too weak to support her weight. Gripping the surface of the dressing table, she gracefully sank down onto the matching stool.
She'd counted on Lady Wethering's support, counted on her help. Cristina bit her bottom lip, carefully considering her options. She could go to Nigel Jameson for help, but it seemed wrong, somehow, to force the doctor to choose between his loyalty to his patient and his lifelong friendship with Blake. She shook her head. No, she couldn't go to Nigel. She'd would have to think of another way. She could go to her father if she could find him. But that prospect suddenly seemed more daunting than facing Blake again. She hadn't seen her father in years and to suddenly show up on his doorstep with the secret she was carrying ... How much welcome would he extend to a disgraced daughter? Could she count on his love? He'd left her behind once before. Would he abandon her again? She shuddered at the thought, then felt a soft touch on her shoulder and looked up to find concern mirrored on Lady Wethering's face.

  "I wouldn't normally consider it, but there is something I can do to help you," the older woman said. "Freshen up and change your gown. You're going with me on my morning calls."

  "I can't go with you. I'm not supposed to be seen."

  "Wear a veil. No one will be able to tell who you are in the carriage and we're only going as far as my house."

  "All right."

  Lady Wethering patted her cheek. "That's a good girl. Now don't worry, everything is going to be all right. I'll see that you're taken care of."

 

  They barely had time to arrive and settle down to refreshments in the parlor of Lady Wethering's town house when the front doorbell rang. The butler answered the door, then showed the visitor into the parlor. Lady Wethering recognized her guest, then sank into a deep curtsey. Cristina followed suit.

  "A pleasure to see you again, Miss Fairfax." Crown Prince Rudolf bent low over Cristina's hand.

  "Thank you, Your Royal Highness." Her voice quivered with tension and her stomach lurched at the sight of him.

  "I was surprised to get your note, Lady Wethering." He nodded toward the older woman.

  "Thank you for coming, Your Highness."

  "I made a brief trip to Ireland. Your note was waiting when I returned last evening. I was under the impression Miss Fairfax was staying in the country with relatives."

  "She was staying with me," Lady Wethering said. "I asked for this private meeting so that Miss Fairfax might have an opportunity to speak with you on an urgent matter and with your permission, Your Highness, I'll retire and allow you to speak privately."

  Rudolf nodded and Lady Wethering curtseyed once again and exited the room. "Have you been with Lady Wethering in London all this time?" he asked.

  "Yes," she answered.

  "And now you suddenly want to see me."

  "Yes."

  Rudolf smiled. "If you had stayed in my bed that night in Marlborough House instead of creeping out of my room like a thief in the night, you would have seen a great deal more of me. And I would have seen a great deal more of you."

  Cristina was surprised. Had he discovered what had happened that night at Marlborough House? Did he know she had climbed out the third-story window on a rope made from the Prince of Wales's bed linens? "I apologize for that, Your Highness, but I couldn't stay and face you in the daylight. Not after."

  "If the memory of the night with me is so shameful, why ask for this meeting?" Prince Rudolf's eyes were glacial, his voice clipped and regal, the German-accented English more pronounced. He was every inch a Hapsburg prince.

  "Because I'm going to have a baby." The words were out before Cristina could stop them.

  "Hmm." Rudolf was thoughtful. Ladies of his father's court had tried this trick on him since he was fifteen years old and he was no novice to accusations of paternity. Someone was always trying to use him for their own gain. "Am I to offer congratulations or condolences?"

  "Congratulations," she answered. "And condolences because I'm an unmarried woman in love with a man whose reputation and career will be ruined if word of my disgrace gets out."

  "I saw the notice in The Times," Rudolf said. "And I believe Lord Lawrence is a widower. What is the difficulty? Why are you here?"

  "He doesn't want to marry me. He doesn't want to marry anyone. He believes marriage is the price he must pay for compromising an innocent. And I can't accept a marriage knowing that he sees it as a form of punishment. I thought he ..." She bowed her head and covered her face with her hands.

  "Loved you?" Rudolf smiled ruefully.

  She jerked her face out of her hands and pinned Rudolf with her gaze. "Please help me. Help us."

  "I'm sorry, Miss Fairfax, but I cannot offer you marriage."

  "I don't expect marriage from you. I know that's impossible, but I can't remain in London. I need someplace to go until after ..." she let her words trail off. Cristina closed her eyes, squeezing them shut to halt the flow of her brimming tears. She was angry at herself for using the crown prince this way, but she was fighting to protect herself, and Blake, and their unborn child.

  The effect of her tears on Rudolf was startling. His eyes warmed and his voice softened. "I see." He reached out and caressed her face with the palm of his hand.

  Cristina's relief was overwhelming. Her knees buckled beneath her and she would have fallen to the floor if Rudolf hadn't reached out to steady her. Cristina took a deep breath, steadied herself, and faced him. He saw too much. It frightened her and she tried to retreat. "I'm very sorry, Your Royal Highness. I shouldn't have bothered you. This is my problem after all, and I shouldn't have asked you to come here. Thank you for your time." She stiffened her spine and held out her hand.

  "Don't be so hasty, Miss Fairfax." Rudolf patted her shoulder awkwardly, trying to offer comfort. "Of course you should have come to me. It takes two people to make a child and as a gentlemen, I can't allow you to go through this ordeal alone." Rudolf was caught in a dilemma. He knew the girl had been a virgin when he'd bought her because her mother had assured him of the fact, but in truth, beyond the fact that he had found the lovely red-haired Miss Fairfax in his bed at Marlborough House, he could not remember a single detail about that evening. But he had passed the night with her and he had to take that into consideration. "I may be responsible."

  Cristina stared at him. He couldn't be responsible for her condition. She and Blake were responsible. But for some unknown reason, the crown prince seemed to think ... She had to set him straight. "But Your Highness, I didn't mean to imply that you were to be held responsible for my condition. It's just that--"

  Rudolf smiled at her. "Don't worry, Miss Fairfax. I'm a man of my word. I'll help you. I didn't expect this to happen. I assumed you knew how to protect yourself. Your mother assured me she would explain the necessary details."

  The world seemed to spin on its axis as Cristina fought to maintain her balance. She heard Blake repeating those hateful words: 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. "You spoke to my mother about me?"

  "Of course I did," he said. "That's how you came to be in my bed at Marlborough House. That's the way things are done--the way romantic alliances are formed. I sent a gift--a necklace--to show my intention toward you. Expensive gifts are often used to seal the bargain. I thought you understood. After all, you accepted my gift."

  Cristina's sank down onto a sofa. It hadn't been Blake, but the crown prince. Blake hadn't bargained with her mother. He hadn't bought her. He'd rescued her. Cristina began to cry in earnest. "I didn't accept your gift. My mother did. I knew nothing about it until it was too late." She shook her head. She had wrongly accused Blake of a despicable act, accused him of sending the necklace as payment for her and keeping it and all the time he had been innocent. He had known about Rudolf's bargain with her mother. Somehow, Blake had known. And never said a word--never defended himself against her accusations, nev
er even hinted that she was mistaken. In his own way, Blake had been protecting her from the truth, accepting the blame for something he hadn't done to keep her from suffering more pain and humiliation at her mother's hands. Cristina took a deep, steadying breath. And what had Blake gotten for his trouble? Except for the one extraordinary night and morning they had spent making love--making the child she carried--she had brought Blake nothing but trouble and the very real threat of a career-destroying scandal. Now she would do what she had to do to protect him.

  Rudolf was stunned. It was a shock for him to discover that she hadn't wanted to become his mistress; that her refusal the night of the ball hadn't been a coy invitation for him to persuade her. "If what you say is true, why did you come to my room? Why didn't you refuse?"

  "I did refuse," Cristina replied bitterly. "I refused to dress and my mother sent her bodyguard in to persuade me. I refused to leave my room and she had him carry me to the front door where your coach collected me. I even tried to drink myself into a stupor and to escape. I wasn't given a choice."

  Cristina's confession was another unpleasant shock for Rudolf. He had often negotiated with the relatives of young women, but he had never encountered this situation. He had never bargained for an unwilling woman. Usually his wealth and position in society were enough to persuade any reluctant girl. A prince's favor could open many doors for girls who might not have other means of advancing in society. But Rudolf suddenly realized the other side of the coin was also true. A prince's favor could also close doors to young women who were already society belles. While married women might advance in the stratum by having an affair with a prince, an unmarried girl fell from grace and swiftly landed in the nether region of a demimondaine. Not accepted in conventional society, yet far above a common prostitute. He realized that a girl in Cristina's position really had no choice. To refuse him meant disgrace and punishment in her mother's eyes and to accept him meant disgrace in society's eyes. And society, especially English society, could be very unforgiving. And when he tired of her, she had no choice but to become some other man's mistress.

  "My God." Rudolf swore in German and muttered something to himself before he remembered Cristina's presence and switched to English. "You must think I'm a monster who habitually preys on unsuspecting virgins. It isn't that way, but in this case, I feel responsible for what has happened to you because I failed to consider that your mother might force her ambitions on you. I'm sorry for what cannot be undone. But I still want you for my mistress, Miss Fairfax, and I will accept responsibility for you and your child in order to have you."

  She looked up at the crown prince. "You're not the father of my child, Your Highness, but I need a place to stay until my baby is born. I need protection. No gentleman will have me for a wife when I've borne another man's child. I don't want to be your mistress. I want only to go with you to Vienna until the baby is born. It will be impossible for me to remain in England. I need to go far away, someplace where I won't be recognized." She stated her terms in a businesslike manner. "Hapsburg princes are expected to have illegitimate children, but not men like Lord Lawrence."