Rebecca Hagan Lee (34 page)

"Blake," Cristina let out the breath she'd been holding. "What would I do without you?"

"You wouldn't be in this situation if it wasn't for me. You wouldn't be subjected to this gossip if it wasn't for me. But, believe me, Countess, no one has ever made me happier or more proud than you," he answered honestly.

"You're intelligent, and you have determination, grace, and courage. You'd do very well all on your own. But, lucky for me, I'm by your side. So you won't be able to get by without me."

Cristina reached up and touched his cheek. "I never want to get by without you. You're the best thing that ever happened to me."

Blake shook his head. "No, my sweet, I'm the bastard who got you into all this mess."

She looked him right in the eyes, daring him to contradict her again. "Like I said," she repeated. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me. The day you burst into my life is the day my life began."

Blake couldn't speak. Tears glistened in his eyes and for a moment he simply stood there and gazed at her--at the marvel who was Cristina.

Cristina smiled up at him. "Well," she teased, "since you brought me to this party, the least you can do is ask me to dance."

Blake swallowed the lump in his throat and extended his arm in invitation.

"Dance, Countess?"

And they did. Almost every dance. Right up until the time the orchestra stopped playing, a few minutes before the midnight buffet, so Ambassador Paget could make the announcement. "Ladies and gentleman," he addressed the crowd.

"There have been a few whispers this evening and several of you have approached me to air your grievances concerning Lord Lawrence's appearance here tonight with the young lady who accompanied him."

There were further whispers and several loud protests regarding the lack of form Paget displayed by publicly airing the controversy. "Quiet, now." The ambassador raised his hands, gesturing for the guests to quiet so he could be heard. "As it so happens that tonight's Christmas ball is a closed affair. The invitations issued tonight went to members of the British community serving Her Majesty's government here in Vienna. No outside tickets were sold and no other invitations issued to any person not a member of our little community.

As you know from previous balls, this is highly unusual. The Austrian emperor and his representatives usually attend our gathering, but because of the sensitive nature of the negotiations we've just concluded in the San Stefano Treaty and the Berlin Congress, the emperor decided not to accept any invitations from the countries involved in the negotiations, for fear of slighting one or the other. Her Majesty agreed with the emperor's decision and, indeed, applauded it, for it gave us a chance to make most important announcement concerning Her Majesty's special envoy, Lord Lawrence and the young lady who accompanied him tonight."

"What's he doing?" Cristina whispered to Blake.

"I don't know," Blake answered. "He told me not to worry--that he was going to make an announcement that would set everything to rights." He reached for Cristina's gloved hand and gripped it.

"Don't you have any idea?" she whispered again.

Blake shook his head. "We'll just have to trust him."

"Now," the ambassador continued, "I'm going to ask Lord Lawrence and his young lady to step up here." He motioned for Blake and Cristina to join him.

Blake escorted Cristina to the first landing of the staircase where Ambassador Paget waited, then stood next to her. The ambassador moved to stand on Cristina's other side, while Lady Paget the ambassador's wife, stepped forward to stand beside Blake in an indisputable show of acceptance and unity.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Ambassador Paget addressed the guests once more. "Lord Lawrence and this young woman have made a tremendous personal sacrifice on behalf of Her Majesty's government. Those of you who were in London several months ago know of the visit of a certain member of the Austrian imperial court. What you don't know is that our government arranged for this young woman--known to you as the comtesse di Rimaldi--to accompany that most royal person from London to Vienna in order to avoid any complications in the delicate negotiations we've just completed."

The ambassador's announcement was news to Blake and to Cristina, but as they stood before the assembled guests, their faces didn't betray their surprise.

"Is our government acting as procurer now for members of foreign royalty?"

came a question from the crowd.

Blake started. The voice sounded familiar. Very familiar. He scanned the crowd, but he couldn't locate the owner of the voice.

"No, indeed not," the ambassador replied. "But our government and His Imperial Majesty agreed that it would be a very good idea for someone like this young lady to accompany that most royal personage on the journey home from London in order to keep other less scrupulous members of other governments from trying to persuade that most royal person to intervene on their behalf."

The fictitious explanation the ambassador wove sounded completely legitimate to these men and women who had been a part of the royal machinery for years. They understood the way the government worked and that one of the major problems a ruling monarch had to face was how to rein in the heir to the crown effectively--how to govern the heir without undermining that heir's of their own position in government and in society.

"The woman known to you as the Comtesse di Rimaldi was in fact working for Her Majesty's government. She was accompanied by a most acceptable chaperon at all times and lived alone in a house belonging to that royal member of the Austrian imperial family. She was not and never has been his mistress."

"Then how do you account for that?" the same voice asked, bringing attention to Cristina's pregnant state.

"I can account for it," Blake stepped forward.

The crowd erupted into amused laughter. But the ambassador had had enough.

"Ladies and gentleman, what Lord Lawrence means is--"

"We know what he means."

"The comtesse di Rimaldi, or as she was formerly known, Miss Cristina Fairfax, is Lord Lawrence's wife."

"What?" a collective gasp went up from the crowd.

"May I present to you the ninth earl and countess of Lawrence?" Ambassador Paget paused for effect, then continued his story. "As I said earlier, Lord and Lady Lawrence made a tremendous personal sacrifice when they agreed to keep their marriage a secret until after the sensitive negotiations were completed. Lord and Lady Lawrence have suffered the indignation of being labeled by Viennese society and members of our own community when all the while they were acting to protect the interests of Her Majesty's government.

We owe them both a debt of thanks," the ambassador concluded, "and a heartfelt apology." He turned to Cristina, leaned forward, and kissed her on the cheek.

"My dear Lady Lawrence, let me be the first to welcome you into our little community."

The guests stood in stunned silence for a moment, then began pressing forward to offer their felicitations to the happy couple. But a disturbance between the sergeant-at-arms and an apparent gate-crasher off to the right of the stairway at the first-level entrance interrupted the procession.

A lone person began to clap. "Bravo, Ambassador Paget, congratulations on a very credible explanation and an extremely touching gesture." The crowds parted as a beautiful black-haired woman in a stunning ball gown was wheeled toward the platform by a man who bore a striking resemblance to Lord Lawrence.

"There's just one tiny detail you overlooked." The woman paused dramatically.

"That woman can't be Lord Lawrence's wife." She stared at Cristina. "She can't be Countess Lawrence. Because, you see," she pointed to Blake, "he already has a wife. I'm the countess of Lawrence."

Cristina turned to Blake for confirmation.

He stared at his cousin, Jack, standing behind the wheelchair, then fixed his angry gaze on the triumphant face of the woman sitting in the wheelchair.

"Meredith."

The serpent hath slithered into the garden.

--ANONYMOUS

*Chapter Twenty-one*

Chaos erupted in the ballroom as the gong sounded announcing dinner.

Ambassador Paget leaned down and spoke to Lady Paget. "See that everyone goes into dinner. I'll join you in a moment." He waited while his wife ushered the curious group into the dining room, then shouted for a sergeant-at-arms.

"Escort Lady Lawrence into Lord Lawrence's office."

The sergeant-at-arms stood between Cristina and Meredith and glanced from one to the other.

"The first Lady Lawrence," the ambassador snapped. "The dead one."

The sergeant-at-arms elbowed Jack Ashford aside, then grabbed hold of the back of the wheelchair and pushed Meredith to the stairs where two men-at-arms stood on either side of her wheelchair and lifted it, carrying her up the stairs to the privacy of Blake's office. Jack followed behind them.

Ambassador Paget turned to Blake. "Shall I retire to the antechamber?"

Knowing the ambassador could hear every word spoken in his office from the tiny adjoining antechamber, Blake nodded. "Thank you, sir. I may need a witness."

"Agreed." The ambassador hurried up the stairs and down the hall to the secret entrance of the antechamber that connected Lord Lawrence's suite of office to his own.

Blake shouted for his assistant. "Cason, take Lady Lawrence back home."

Cason appeared almost immediately and gently took hold of Cristina's elbow.

"No, Blake," Cristina protested. "I don't want to go home. I want to say with you."

"I'll be home later," Blake promised. "Now please go with Cason while I find out what's going on."

"Blake..."

"Please, Countess," Blake leaned down and ignoring the others around them, kissed his wife tenderly. "I can't think straight if I'm worrying about you.

Please go home. I don't want you or the baby in harm's way."

"I thought she was dead," Cristina murmured.

"So did I," Blake told her. "Dear God, so I did. Go home, Cristina, and wait for me."

"Blake," she reached out and grabbed hold of his arm. "There's just one more thing."

"What is it?"

"She's come back from the dead for a reason," Cristina warned. "I believe she could be dangerous."

"She's a viper in women's clothing," Blake answered.

"All the more reason for you to be careful."

"I will. Now go with Cason." He kissed her again.

"I'll wait up for you," Cristina told him.

"It may be very late."

"It doesn't matter," she said. "I'll still be waiting."

She sat with pillows surrounding her slender frame, supporting her slight weight. Her skirts were meticulously arranged to camouflage the unnatural angle of one hip. Blake was forced to admire the illusion she presented. Even Victoria herself could not have done any better. But then, Meredith was a master of illusion--of always appearing to be something she was not.

Blake crossed half the length of the room and halted within inches of her.

"All right," he said when he stood facing her, "you've come back from the dead. Do you mind explaining the reason for this dramatic resurrection after six years?"

"I think that's self-explanatory," Jack said.

Blake turned to Jack. "I warned you, Jack, years ago. Now get out before I throw you out." He pointed to door.

Jack glanced at Meredith. "It's all right, Jack darling. Blake won't hurt me. Not when there are witnesses."

Jack still hesitated.

"Get him out of here," Blake ordered the sergeant-at-arms.

The sergeant didn't hesitate. He grabbed Jack by the arm and forcibly escorted him to through the door.

"You were about to tell me why you reappeared after six years," Blake continued once Jack had been removed from the room.

"Was I?"

"Meredith, I'm in no mood for your taunting games. Either you tell me what you want with me or I walk out that door. I have better things to do than spend my time sparring with you."

"Ah, yes, little miss Fairfax is waiting with open arms at your little apartment on the Ringstrasse, no doubt."

"Leave Cristina out of this," Blake ordered. "Tell me what you want and be done with it."

"My, aren't we touchy?"

"Mer--e--dith." He bit out her name, holding his temper tightly in rein, forcing the words through his tightly clenched teeth. "I asked for an explanation."

"As Jack said, it's self-explanatory. I had to reappear in order to protect my interests."

"You have no interests where I'm concerned."

"My monetary interests."

The look in Blake's eyes hardened until his eyes resembled two lumps of hard, polished onyx. "I wouldn't make the mistake of thinking you had interests that weren't monetary."

"Once you believed I had no interest in your money at all." She saw the immediate spark of emotion cross Blake's face and knew there was certain danger in taunting him with ancient memories.

"Once, I should have listened to the magistrate."

Meredith gasped. "I often wondered if you knew about that," she recovered, quickly remembering the look on the old pig's face when she triumphantly told him she was going to marry Blake.

"He confessed your sins shortly after we returned to England after my first posting to Vienna, but by then, I already knew you weren't the girl I thought you were. You should have married him, Meredith. He would've died a natural death soon enough and left you well off."

"I loathed the old buzzard." She shuddered in revulsion.

"And me? Didn't you loathe me as well?" Blake's face was an inscrutable mask.

"You were young and handsome and the heir to the oldest and richest titled family in the district. And you were Jack's first cousin. I planned to marry you the first time I saw you. I was seven or eight at the time. You were ten or eleven and the answer to a little girl's prayers." Meredith glanced at him through her lashes to hide the alarm she felt. He was different. Changed. He seemed the same, but something had affected him. Changed him. She knew because she knew him so well, much better than he liked to admit. In the years since she had married him, Meredith had made it her business to know him, to find his weaknesses and to exploit them--to torment him as he tormented her with his indifference. He had loved her when they married; loved her to the point of worship, and she had used that love to get the things she wanted out of life--a home of her own, a title, money, lots and lots of money, and a way of remaining close to Jack. She had had enough money to buy and sell most of her friends, but only as long as she stayed married to Blake. After her accident, Meredith had faked her own death and gone to ground like the foxes she loved to hunt--gone to ground so she could recover from the devastating injury. He might have done away with her while she lay ill and vulnerable, so she had pretended to be dead. And she had managed to fool everyone--including Blake, as she manipulated him from afar--while she pulled strings like a master puppeteer. Meredith had waited patiently, secure in the knowledge that one day she would have her revenge--secure in the knowledge that one day Blake would want to marry again and give her the ultimate in revenge.