Rebecca Hagan Lee (27 page)

Until now....

The joys of parents are secret, and

so are their griefs and fears.

--FRANCIS BACON 1561-1626

*Chapter Seventeen*

William Fairfax was a robust man with sparkling blue-green eyes and coarse, thick red hair. He was shorter than the man standing before him, but William knew his huge chest and powerful shoulders gave him the illusion of height.

Years ago, he'd worn lines of discontent and dissipation on his face like the mark of a martyr, but the lines had vanished during his years away from London, giving him the appearance of a man younger than his forty-eight years.

He had been successful in his travels to India, had invested in diamond mines in Africa, and finally settled in New York. And the success of his business in New York had restored his faith in himself. William was proud of his accomplishments and did not regret leaving Britain behind. His only regret was Cristina.

William shook hands with Lord Lawrence, exchanged introductions, then sat down at a corner table. The young diplomat had arranged, then canceled a similar meeting with him months ago. Now he'd asked for another one, claiming it concerned Cristina. William wanted to know why, and he wasted no time getting right to the heart of the matter.

"What's so important and how does it concern my daughter, Cristina?"

"Well, Sir William, it's rather difficult to explain, but I would like your help in persuading Cristina to return to London," Blake began.

"My daughter is boarding at a ladies finishing school in Switzerland," Sir William said. "I intend to collect her, have her presented at court, and have her accompany me home to New York. I only stopped in London to conclude some business before I went to meet her. I wrote her mother of my intentions months ago."

"I'm afraid you've been misled, sir. Cristina left school immediately before the start of the London season. She made her debut and is now living in Vienna."

"Vienna? What's she doing in Vienna without her mother? My man in London assured me Patricia was vacationing in southern Italy."

"Your wife is in Italy, as far as I can ascertain, but Cristina is--"

"What is it?" William interrupted. "Is she all right?"

"As far as I know, Cristina is fine." Blake's features became impassive, betraying none of the emotions churning beneath the surface. "She's living in Vienna under the protection of Crown Prince Rudolf. She's been there for over three months."

"My God!" The words echoed through the quiet dining room. "Do you mean to tell me that my daughter is his mistress?"

Blake took a deep breath. "I don't know if she's the crown prince's mistress yet. I don't think so." He cleared his throat nervously. "At least, I pray that's not the case. But she is living in Vienna in a house purchased for her Rudolf."

"I don't believe it."

"Everything I've told you can be confirmed through our embassy. Wire them if you don't believe me," Blake said.

"I'll do that," William told him. "In the meantime, why don't you tell me why we're discussing my daughter and why the Foreign Office is keeping track of her."

Blake's eyes widened in surprise.

"Oh, yes, Lord Lawrence," William confirmed. "I still have a few contacts in London. I'm aware of your reputation and your position in the government.

Why is a diplomat meeting me to talk about my daughter? You said she's in Vienna. Is she in some sort of trouble?"

There was no way to soften the blow, so Blake began at the beginning by telling William Fairfax everything he knew about Cristina and her reason for traveling with Crown Prince Rudolf to Vienna. He spared Sir William none of the details. Blake related the events the night of Cristina's presentation ball--told of Patricia's wager and of the part he had played in thwarting it.

He confessed everything to William Fairfax, except the fact that he had originally arranged the meeting between them to ask formally for Cristina's hand in marriage after making love to her.

When he finished, Blake sat quietly and waited for William Fairfax's reaction.

The drawn, tense expression on the older man's face was cause for concern and Blake immediately responded. "Would you care for a drink, Sir William? I know everything I've told you has come as a terrible shock."

"I'm fine." William fixed his gaze on Blake. "I gave up drinking when I left my wife. I found I could live without both. Now tell me why I should help you. You told me what happened to make Cristina leave school and Fairhall and you told me how she came to be a guest in your home for two months. Now tell me what you aren't telling me. Why did Cristina leave your home?"

"The Times ran an announcement proclaiming my betrothal to your daughter. I didn't know anything about it until I read it in the paper. And neither did Cristina. But I promised to marry her anyway. She refused me and two days later she left with the crown prince. That was nearly four months ago."

"Why are you so anxious for her to return?" William saw the sweep of emotions cross Lawrence's face at his shrewd comment and knew there was more to the story than what Lawrence had told him.

"There are several reasons." Blake recovered. "A scandal of any kind involving a British citizen could cause problems right now for our government.

Relations between Austria and England are strained by the negotiations in the war with Turkey and Russia."

"I see," William said, and Blake was suddenly aware that he did see, probably too much. "Is there any other reason? Aside from the mistake in The Times and diplomatic problems?"

Blake cleared his throat. "I do have a personal interest in your daughter,"

he admitted. "After all, she was a guest in my home for two months."

"And the emir of India was a guest in my home for some time, but I don't have a personal interest in him. Is there anything else you can tell me?"

William asked.

"No." The firm set of Blake's jaw and the grim expression in his eyes told Fairfax that, for the moment, further probing was useless.

"All right, now let me explain my point of view," William began. "You see, I'm not sure Cristina will return to London with you simply because I ask her to."

"Why shouldn't she?" It was Blake's turn to probe. "I know she doesn't want to join her mother and you were the only other logical choice."

"To you, but not necessarily to Cristina. She may feel I've relinquished my parental rights where she's concerned, especially in view of what you told me about her leaving school. I haven't seen her in years and my only contact with her has been through letters, school reports, and occasionally through her mother."

"That happens in many families with children in boarding school. It happened in my own. That doesn't mean Cristina will deny you."

"You don't understand. I denied Cristina. When she was fourteen, I learned she wasn't my daughter, not my natural daughter. I was devastated by the news.

So I took her to boarding school and left her there before I went wandering around the globe, trying to come to grips with myself and the mess I'd made of my life." William drew a deep breath and expelled it slowly, letting the meaning of his guilty confession sink in.

Blake began to regard the man in a new light. "You mean you abandoned her?

Your only child?"

"Not my child!" The naked pain in the older man's voice couldn't be ignored.

Blake recognized the pain and softened his tone of voice. He knew what it was like to lose Cristina. He had listened to Cristina's family history and pieced together the parts of the story William had whitewashed. It was a sordid little saga and a hard one for a proud man to tell, but William Fairfax did it. He had admitted a stranger into his private thoughts and feelings, exposed his own weaknesses and failings, and Blake felt a kinship with the man that had nothing to do with their mutual feelings for Cristina.

He could appreciate William's marital mess, for he had lived through one of his own and he understood William's solution because he had wanted to run from his own fiasco more times than he could count. And then there was Cristina.

... "Axe you absolutely certain she's not your daughter?"

"As certain as I can be under the circumstances. Her mother told me. She taunted me with the knowledge. I've spent the last six years trying to prove her wrong. I've hired private detectives to follow her in hopes of discovering the identity of Cristina's natural father."

Blake's laugh was mirthless. "You've suffered needlessly. You wasted six years of your life in a futile search. What you want to know is written all over your face. Your money would have been better spent commissioning a portrait of Cristina. Anyone who knows her would recognize the resemblance between the two of you. It's quite remarkable. I saw it right away. Your wife must have been mistaken."

"Patricia couldn't mistake a thing like that and she had no reason to lie to me about it. Why, she even implied that the Prince of Wales was Cristina's father," William explained.

"That isn't possible," Blake told him.

"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.