Rebecca Hagan Lee (43 page)

"You succeeded in assuring me that you could resume your life without me.

It's a lesson I haven't forgotten, Blake." Cristina spat the words at him and spinning on her heel, marched back into the crowded ballroom in search of Roderick.

Blake remained standing where Cristina had left him on the terrace, staring into the night. Things had gone so wrong between them. She was bitter. And she had reason to be. She believed he had abandoned her and the evidence was overwhelmingly against him. The fragile strand of trust that had begun to grow in Vienna had snapped under the strain of separation and had been blown into the wind like cobwebs.

He reached into his coat and removed a thin cigar from the pocket, lit it, and began to inhale deeply. He had miscalculated. And badly. It had taken longer to petition the court for a legal separation from Meredith than he expected and longer still to conclude his mission for the queen. He had spent months struggling with the problems associated with the eastern question and the formation of the alliance between Germany and Austria. He hadn't wanted to be bothered mediating diplomatic maneuvers between Austria and Germany, but Blake had had no choice. England needed his expertise and the queen had a way of getting what she wanted from her civil servants. Blake's personal life had had to wait. The long weeks of work and travel had become months and the months had grown in to a year by the time he was able to return to London and resign his post in the Foreign Office.

He couldn't blame Cristina for the doubt she felt. Their fragile understanding had been ripped apart by Meredith's reappearance and Nicholas's death and he knew he had to repair the damage or lose everything.

Blake was grateful to William Fairfax for writing to invite him to Cristina's birthday party and for providing him with the opportunity to win her over again. He had two months before he had to return to London for the final divorce hearing and he intended to use any means necessary to prove to his love. Smiling to himself, Blake impatiently tossed the cigar aside and stepped back into the ballroom just as Cristina took the arm of Roderick, her wet-behind-the-ears would-be suitor.

Blake crossed the floor and bowed in front of her. "Miss Fairfax, I believe you promised me this waltz."

"I-I..." Cristina was astonished by Blake's blatant intrusion.

"Sorry, old man," Blake turned toward Roderick and calmly removed Cristina's hand from its resting place on the younger man's arm. "This dance belongs to me."

Cristina pleaded silently with Roderick to rescue her from Blake's unwanted attention, but Rod didn't seem to understand the look in her eyes. He yielded to Blake's superior authority without a word and allowed him to lead Cristina away.

"How dare you bully Roderick that way?" Cristina gave vent to her anger once she and Blake were out of earshot.

"I've told you before, I dare many things," Blake responded to her anger by pulling her closer. "I believe the fact he's easy to bully is one of his attractions. Don't you think?"

"You know nothing about Roderick. He's nice and considerate and--"

"Easy to manipulate?" Blake supplied helpfully. "And I do know something about him, Countess. I know he didn't care enough about you to make even a token protest when I snatched you away from him. He yielded to a stronger person. Something I suspect he does quite a bit. And I'll bet he tells you he loves you morning, noon, and night, but never shows you. Because he doesn't love you. He's the type of man who loves himself more than anything else. He values appearances more than feelings. I also know that you're angry, angry enough to chose deliberately a suitor you don't even like."

"I did not," Cristina denied. "He chose me. But I can tell you from personal experience that he's everything a woman could want in a husband. And don't hold me so close. It's indecent."

Blake ignored her order and continued to hold her close, his lean fingers pressed against one sensitive breast. "I used to hold you a lot closer than this and you never found it indecent." His warm breath caressed her ear as his lips brushed against the soft flesh of her neck.

"Stop that. What we had is in the past. I have a new life here in New York and I'm not going to run the risk of having you ruin it. Let me go. I don't want to cause any talk." Cristina pushed against his chest in a feeble attempt to put some distance between herself and his disturbing presence.

"Is that why you're allowing nice, safe Roderick to squire you about?"

Blake demanded. "To squash any rumors that might have followed you from Europe? To insure your reputation in New York society?"

"Not at all. I see Roderick because he's a nice, dependable, respectable, single man, and--"

"Yes, I know, you've said all that before," Blake reminded her. "That's a very sound basis for a nice, dull, marriage. I wonder what happened to your 'I won't marry without love' ideal?"

"I married you."

Blake sucked in a breath, his face paled, and he stopped dancing so suddenly that he and Cristina barely avoided causing a collision among the remaining dancers. "You have grown up, Countess. Now you don't merely spit and scratch, you go straight for the jugular." He quickly regained his composure and led her back into the dance.

"I told you I'd changed," she said. "And in any case, Roderick loves me."

"I doubt that. And so do you. But even if it were true, you'd trample his heart to bits within a week because you don't love him."

"Yes, I do," Cristina insisted.

"Really?" Blake wanted to know. "Does he make you tremble with desire? Does he excite you? Make you burn with passion?" He lowered his voice to a husky, seductive whisper. "Can you really ignore all that's happened Between us? Can you honestly tell me you don't want me? Shall I kiss you and prove you want me?" Blake lowered his head toward her upturned face.

Cristina waited breathlessly for the feel of his cool, firm mouth.

It never came. And when she reluctantly opened her eyes to find him staring down at her eager face, she felt like a fool.

"I could kiss you right now and make you forget everything except me and the passion we share, Countess, but I'm not going to." His words amazed and dismayed her at the same time. "You see, I've also changed. It occurred to me that I've never been much of a gentleman where you're concerned. And I was brought up to be a perfect gentleman at all times. So I'm going to accept your word that Roderick is everything you want in a husband. From now on, I'll be a perfect gentleman in your presence. New York society will never suspect you were ever anything to me except the daughter of a business associate, and I promise not to trouble you with my unwanted attentions."

Cristina was hard-pressed to believe the words he had just uttered. She had expected Blake to try to persuade her to forget all about allowing Roderick to court her and then, when his vast powers of persuasion failed, to use threats.

He surprised her by doing neither and the shock must have shown on her face because he hurried to reassure her.

"I mean it, Cristina. I've treated you badly in the past, but no longer.

I'll respect your wishes and treat you in the way you wish to be treated."

It was what she wanted to hear, yet she couldn't ignore the rush of disappointment that spread through her as the dance ended and true to his word, Blake acted like a perfect gentleman. He took her back to Roderick and smiled a banal smile as he thanked her for the dance.

"It's been a pleasure, Miss Fairfax. My felicitations on your birthday." He held her hand for just a moment, then released it without so much as a kiss and left her standing with Roderick while he sought another partner.

Love and War are the same thing, and stratagems and policy are as allowable in the one as in the other.

--MIGUEL DE CERVANTES 1547-1616

*Chapter Twenty-seven*

"Why are you following me?" Cristina demanded as soon as Blake Ashford stepped into the foyer of the Fifth Avenue mansion.

"I'm not following you." Blake appeared unperturbed.

"Then what do you call it?" Cristina stamped a satin-shod foot in vexation.

"You turn up everywhere. I can't go anywhere in New York without running into you and Roderick and I haven't spent a single moment alone anywhere in town since you arrived. I can assure you that I don't need a chaperon. Especially you."

Blake shook his head from side to side. "I'm afraid you've jumped to conclusions, Cristina. I haven't been asked to chaperon."

"Then explain why you persist in following me," she directed.

Blake's eyes narrowed as all traces of amusement left his face. "I'm not following you." He was rapidly losing patience with her demands for explanations. "Did it ever occur to you, Miss Fairfax, that I might receive invitations to the same gatherings you and your illustrious suitor are so fond of attending? Did you ever stop to think that as your father's houseguest, my name is included on most of the invitations you receive?"

"Yes, it did occur to me. And it seemed too easy." Cristina remained undaunted by Blake's impatience. "But knowing you, I suppose you've managed to pull off the coup of the century and become the instant darling of New York society."

"Can I help it if I'm popular with your hostesses?" Blake shrugged his shoulders. "After all, I'm an English lord and I'm told titled lords are the current vogue in New York. And I can be quite charming to society matrons when I choose to be."

"I'll bet," Cristina muttered.

"Why, Miss Fairfax, you sound put out," he chided softly.

"Not in the least," she informed him. "I don't care how popular you are with society matrons, but if you think you can follow me all around New York City just to ignore me, you're sadly mistaken!"

"It's what you said you wanted, Cristina. Would you rather I follow you all around New York and press you with unwanted attentions? Would you rather I spirit you away from the crowds and your young suitor and make mad, passionate love to you? Is that what you want, Cristina?"

"What I want, Lord Lawrence, is for you to go to hell." Cristina smiled sweetly, then squared her shoulders, turned on her heel, and exited the hallway with all the dignity she could muster. Blake remained where he stood, but the sound of his rich, masculine laughter echoing off the marble followed her.

He was driving her mad! Stark, raving mad! He had upset everything by coming back after fifteen months and turning her calm, regimented existence upside down in a matter of days. She had spent nearly every waking hour in Roderick's company just to annoy Blake and if he didn't leave New York soon, Cristina was afraid she'd find herself accepting one of Roderick's daily proposals just to spite him. Or turn into a jealous shrew. Even shallow, vain Rod had noticed the sudden change in her behavior. She no longer bore any resemblance to the tranquil, secure society beauty she had been for the past few months. She had become an intensely emotional, hot-blooded, living, breathing woman almost overnight. And all because Blake Ashford, ninth earl of Lawrence, had finally come to claim her.

Cristina reached the safety of her room, slammed the door with all her might, and flung herself across the bed.

"Things are lookin' up," Leah commented, turning from the armoire to observe the unusual behavior of her charge. "You're showin' more spirit than I've seen since we came here. I don't have to guess who's responsible."

"That's nonsense, Leah. He has nothing to do with it."

"Don't he? You moped around this place for a whole year after we left Vienna. And you haven't shown a spark of real feelin' for anyone 'cept me and your father since we got here. Until Lord Blake showed up. He's the one that's got you in this fit of temper, all right. I guess he's bringin' you out of that icicle you been livin' in."

"I wasn't aware that I'd been living in a icicle," Cristina replied frostily.

"Well, you were. Oh, I know you threw yourself into your new surroundin's, goin' here and there, joinin' this and that to please your father. But you haven't been the same since Vienna. You haven't really cared about anythin'."

"That's an interesting theory, Leah, but if it's true, how do you explain Roderick's courtship of me?"

"Him!" Leah snorted. "Even that fancy Austrian prince was better than him.

At least he had some backbone and he did have some real feelin's for you, even if they were mostly lustful."

"Roderick has feelings for me."

"How do you know?"

"He tells me. Every day."

"Huh! It's time you opened your eyes, missy, and come back to the real world. Roderick Baker has real feelin's for your papa's money. That's the only thing that puts a sparkle in his eyes. He wants your papa's business and the easiest way to get it is to marry you. That's all he cares about."

"You're talking about the man I'm thinking about marrying," Cristina addressed the older woman in her most superior tones.

Leah was unintimidated. "More's the pity. You'll just make yourself miserable."

Cristina pushed herself off the bed and wandered restlessly to the dressing table where she began removing the pins from her hair. "What makes you such an authority on marriage? You've never been married."

"I was in love once, same as you, and no man was ever good enough to follow in Tom's shoes after he was killed, just like no man will ever be good enough to follow in Lord Blake's shoes for you. I've spent sixty-six years observin'

human nature and I've seen the mess folks make out of their lives when they ain't suited for one another. You ain't suited for Roderick Baker," explained Leah.

"I think we are," Cristina argued. "Ideally suited."

"Then you think wrong," Leah informed her mistress. "There's only one man for you, missy, and that's Lord Blake. You'll never be happy with anybody else."

"Maybe you should tell all of this to Blake instead of to me. Because you see, Leah, the great Blake Ashford, ninth earl of Lawrence, has forgotten I exist. He's forgotten I was once his wife and lover and the mother of his son.

I've seen him nearly every day and he ignores me. Ignores me. He flirts with other women but he's been a complete gentleman to me." Sarcasm rolled off Cristina's tongue like thick maple syrup.