My Unfair Lady (37 page)

   Albert's eyes bulged, and he stared from the boy, to the cat, to the duke. "I see," he managed. "Your Grace, call for refreshments, will you? I think I need some nourishment."

   Byron colored. "Forgive me, Your Highness, but I have no manservant. However, my son can fetch…"

   "Yes, yes." He waved a pudgy, beringed hand impatiently. "Your son. One of many surprises I've learned of recently."

   "The best surprise I could've received," replied Byron, lifting his chin a notch and giving his son a warm smile.

   Lionel grew a couple of inches right before his eyes. "I can put together a tray, Father. Crackers and such."

   Prince Albert coughed, and Byron ignored him. He knew what kind of "nourishment" HRH meant, and it wasn't crackers. "Take your time, son. His Royal Highness seems to have a great deal to discuss with me."

   Lionel's blue eyes lit up. "About getting Summer back? The prince can do anything, can't he, Father? Why, he can get her back for you!"

   Byron shook his head, and Lionel's face fell. But Albert leaned forward in his chair and nodded at the boy. "I'll see what I can do."

   "Thank you, sir!" cried Lionel as he ran from the room.

   The fire crackled in the silence.

   "Sit down, Byron; you're making me nervous."

   He sat down in the chair across from the prince, and they both stared into the fire for a time.

   Albert broke the silence first. "So, you've decided to acknowledge your son?"

   "I should have done it long ago."

   "Am I right in assuming that you wouldn't have, if it weren't for the American?"

   Byron avoided the other man's gaze, hearing the note of triumph in his prince's voice. The niggling "I told you so." "What makes you think that?"

   "Because the girl is good for you."

   "I know."

   A log popped on the fire. What was taking his son so long?

   Albert crossed one royal ankle over another and changed the subject. "The dowager duchess came to see me. With her assurances that she had nothing whatso ever to do with Lady Karlton's… actions. I believe her."

   Byron nodded. The woman had come to him as well, not that it mattered. Lady Banfour had told him that she and Summer had appealed to his family to search for him. And how they'd responded. Whatever feelings he might have retained for his father's wife and son had withered in that moment. He had always thought that they'd cared for him. If only a little.

   He looked at the prince, wondering why the other man looked so startled at whatever expression he wore on his face. In his eyes. "It doesn't matter."

   "I think that's why I like you, Monchester. We are so much alike, you and I. Always careful to hold others at a distance, never sure of someone's motivations. Because of what we are."

   Byron avoided his gaze again, afraid that he'd see the same barren look in his prince's eyes.

   "But you," grunted the prince. "Now, you have a chance for something special, yes? Am I right in assuming that this American girl brought about your reconciliation with your son?"

   "She brought it about, yes. She's changed my life in many ways… Is that what you wanted to hear?"

   "Yes," laughed Prince Albert. "While you're at it, you can also admit that I was right. You're in love with the girl."

   Byron sighed. "Yes. But I'm not sure if she'll have me."

"NONSENSE. YOU'RE A DUKE! I KNEW YOU
BOTH
WERE in love with each other the moment I laid eyes on you two. It's why I have squashed the rumors Lady Banfour has been spreading, that the two of you are going to be wed."

   The prince's voice reeked with self-satisfaction, and Byron couldn't hold back the smile that tugged on the corners of his mouth. Well, at least that was one thing he wouldn't have to worry about. Without the prince's approval, Lady Banfour would never consider marriage with him. He'd been saved from a very messy confrontation with the woman. He should be grateful. But all he could think about was Summer.

   "And it's why I had her investigated."

   The duke's brow rose in surprise. "Summer? Why?"

   "Oh, don't look at me like that," continued the prince. "Do you think I'd let one of my dukes, much less one who I consider a friend, marry someone who's unworthy?"

   Byron blinked. He hadn't thought much about what his prince might think at all. Hadn't thought that the man considered him a true friend. A loyal companion, entertaining houseguest, and a source of excellent gossip to his prince, yes. But that the man considered him as more than that… it was more than he would've asked. More than he would have thought anyone capable of giving him.

   Albert slapped his hands on the arms of the chair in satisfaction, the rings on his fingers glinting with the firelight. "You know I like these American heiresses, with all their new wealth and bold ways. I love the way they channel that money back to their homeland… For they were English once, weren't they? And it allows my noblemen to entertain me in style, and of course, to rebuild their crumbling estates. But a duke now, well, it's best I make sure of their bloodline, isn't it?"

   Byron froze, casually leaned back in his seat, and steepled his fingers in front of his chin. It hadn't occurred to him that his prince would care one way or the other about who he married. Summer's lineage hadn't mattered to him; he'd even considered himself superior to this Monte fellow because the man couldn't see past that to the treasure beneath. But if his prince disapproved of the marriage…

   Then he smiled behind his fingers, realizing that it wouldn't matter to him. Not a whit.

   "Well, you may smile," said Prince Albert. "Did you know the girl's mother is distantly related to the Earl of Fenwich? My sources had an easy time of it, once they'd located the girl's mother's family."

   "What? Are you sure?"

   The prince snorted. "I brought the papers with me; they're out in the coach. You can study them later, but for now, I assure you, the girl comes from an excellent line of lords and ladies."

   Byron stood and paced the room, the amused eyes of his prince following his progress. Could it be true? All this time Summer had been trying to be a lady, when she was actually descended from a line of them? Byron paused and snapped his fingers. He remembered, when they'd been trapped in the carriage, how he'd made her talk to keep her fear at bay. And how she'd mentioned that her mother had come from wealth, had given it up to marry her father, and that was why he was obsessed with finding gold. So that he could give Summer everything he felt he'd taken from her mother.

   Of course, everyone in America was descended from the English in some way. But a traceable direct line!

   He staggered with another sudden thought. He'd hoped that it would be an easy thing, to follow her to America and make her his, that this Monte fellow wouldn't want her, since she'd failed in her goal to be presented to the Queen.

   And since he'd thoroughly ruined her reputation.

   He didn't even try to suppress an arrogant smile at the thought.

   But what the prince had discovered was worse than a presentation, which still might not have guaranteed Summer's acceptance into New York society. This certainly would. And then what were his chances of getting her back?

   "I've located the girl's family as well."

   He glanced up in horror at the prince's words, real izing that the man was enjoying himself immensely.

   "It's in the papers I'll give you. She might want to meet them… but I'll leave that up to you." The prince eyed him shrewdly. "I'll leave it all up to you, whether to tell her or not. My goal in having her investigated is satisfied." He leaned back and crossed his hands over the bulge of his belly. "So, that's why I came today. To tell you that you have my royal permission to go after the girl and bring her back. And that I'll be looking forward to a party in my honor at your newly refurbished estate."

   Lionel entered the room, carrying a tray covered with an odd assortment of snacks, but most impor tantly, a bottle of brandy and two glasses.

   Byron ignored Albert's raised eyes at his rudeness and poured himself a drink and downed it in one swallow. What was he going to do now? If he showed Summer the papers, then this Monte fellow would happily marry her, regardless of her reputation.

   If he didn't tell her, he'd take away her heart's desire of becoming a real lady… and deprive her of a family she'd never known.

   He raked the hair off his face with a violent move ment. Well, he'd have sufficient time to think about it on the journey to America. He turned to his son. "Lionel," he said. "We are going to America to fetch Miss Summer home."

   The boy whooped, and Albert smiled with satisfac tion, and Byron's next words went unheard by anyone but him.

   "One way or another."

Summer stood by the newly dug grave, staring down at Pa's coffin, trying not to cry. She shivered in her heavy coat, unable to get used to New York's winters, still astonished at every fall of snow, the way it coated all the city's dirtiness and left it looking like sugar coated candy.

   Soft flakes fell on the coffin, a prelude to the dirt that would soon bury the only family she had left in the world.

   She refused to look up at the few other people surrounding Pa's graveside, mostly business partners and solicitors whom she'd only met a few times. She refused to throw the obligatory flower on top of his coffin, signaling an end to the service and allowing the impatient diggers to begin throwing earth over it.

   When she'd returned to New York, Pa had been beyond the help of the physicians who attended him. She'd written letters to Monte, begging him to look at Pa himself, hoping that there was something he could do. But Monte hadn't answered. In desperation, she'd even gone to his home, to be turned away at the door as if she were some beggar.

   Summer fisted her gloved hands. News of her… adventures had reached New York faster than she had; the gossip columns had been full of headlines about "the social-climbing American heiress who showed her true colors." It had been foolish of her to think that Monte wouldn't realize that they were referring to her, foolish of her to think that she'd ever be accepted into society.

   She hadn't expected Monte to flout his entire family and honor his proposal; she'd failed to live up to their agreement, after all. But she'd thought he'd come as a friend, to help her save Pa.

   Summer blinked snowflakes from her lashes. She had only herself to think about now. Pa had been the one to bring her to New York, to insist that she lead the life that he'd deprived her mother of. He'd insisted on buying the fancy clothes and teaching her to talk right. And when she'd met Monte in the park and their relationship had blossomed, Pa had encouraged her, telling her how proud he'd be to have a man of such social standing in the family.

   And when she'd told him of Maria's plan to go to London so that she could gain social acceptance among the New York elite, Pa had whooped for joy and bustled her off himself.

   And now he was gone. Did anything really matter anymore?

   "Pa," she whispered. "I can't be a lady, okay? I can only be me."

   She felt him answer, a whisper of wind through the naked tree branches, a swirl of snow that lifted the hats of his business associates and sent them scrambling across the graveyard in pursuit.

   If only she'd had the courage to tell him that while he was alive… but to Summer's surprise she felt this great weight being lifted from her shoulders. She'd failed at becoming a lady, but what did it matter now that Pa was gone? She could now do whatever she liked, be whatever she liked, and not have to worry about disappointing anyone.

   She could… could buy herself a ranch… and raise cows! She could dress in pants every day, become a real cowgirl… and even if any of her new neighbors found out she'd killed a man, they wouldn't care. Because she wouldn't be pretending to be a lady.

   But for some reason this beautiful fantasy seemed hollow and flat. And she realized that she wasn't used to being lonely anymore, not since she'd met Byron. He'd filled up this great empty space inside of her, and she hadn't realized it until she'd left London.

   But the duke needed a lady for a wife, and she couldn't build a life by feeling inferior to anyone.

   The diggers crunched their shovels into the frozen ground, and she glanced up to find them scowling at her with impatience. Summer dropped the flower onto the coffin and turned.

   She thought for a moment that she saw a vision, like the ones Chatto had told her about, when she recognized Monte walking toward her, an elderly woman on his arm… and could it be? Mrs. Astor! With a gaggle of her followers, all dressed in black, to come and pay their respects… to her pa? Monte wouldn't come to save her pa, and now he had the nerve to show up at the funeral, with all his socially respectable family in tow.