Page 84 of One Night with a Prince
“I don’t know. Possibly. But Prinny is so cynical about marriage and women that he could have merely assumed Haversham had one.”
She stared up at his face. “You really dislike His Highness, don’t you?”
“Hate and loathe would be more like it.”
She caressed his cheek with her hand. “My father used to say that hatred only hurts the hater; it does nothing to affect the hated. Which makes it an impractical emotion.”
It was the first time she’d mentioned her father in days, and her deeply affectionate tone gave him pause.
“How badly would it hurt your father if these letters are published?”
She swallowed. “It depends on how the scandal plays out and which political party wins the ensuing fight. The best scenario is that he might lose his commission and be disgraced; the worst is that he’d be hanged for treason.”
Bloody hell, what the devil wasin these letters? And what would happen toher if Gavin got his hands on them?
Nothingwould happen to her, he vowed as he tightened his arms about her. He wasn’t going to publish the letters himself—just use them to make Prinny admit the truth about his mother to the world.
“Well, none of that will happen,” he said firmly. “We’ll make sure of that.I’ll make sure of it.”
As if that solved everything, she flashed him a tender smile, then rested her head against his chest. But long after she’d fallen asleep, he continued to worry. What if he couldn’t get the letters from Stokely—what would happen to her then? And was there anything he could do to stop it?
Chapter Nineteen
Once in a great while, I would find a lover
with true hidden depths.
—Anonymous,Memoirs of a Mistress
Christabel was having the strangest dream. She was floating up into the sky, carried aloft by some gentle hand. Then it set her on a cloud, and her feet were released from their earthly bindings. A voice somewhere above her said, “Let her sleep. She needs the rest. She can stay in her gown a bit longer.”
It was the sound of a door closing that awakened her. Slowly, she opened her eyes to an unfamiliar room lit only by a blazing fire in the hearth. It hadn’t been a dream. They must have arrived at Byrne’sGenerated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlestate. He must have carried her up the stairs and laid her in this bed with its incredibly soft down mattress.
Sitting up, she winced as her corset pinched her breasts. She vaguely remembered waking from her nap in Byrne’s arms to find they were nearing a town where he meant for them to dine. Byrne had made love to her again, slow and easy and wonderful. And after dinner, their long ride had lulled her back to sleep. She rubbed her eyes, then glanced around for a clock. Midnight. They’d made good time. But where was Byrne? Did he mean not to share her bed while they were here? That didn’t seem likely of her lusty lover.
She surveyed the room more closely. Come to think of it, this didn’tlook like a bedchamber prepared for the master’s imminent arrival. Though the fire was starting to warm it, the air was still chilly, and bore the musty smell of a room long in disuse. Most of all, it was far toopink to be his, with lacy pink draperies, a pink canopy and coverlet on the delicate bed, and even a pink-and-cream rug. Not a Byrne room at all.
So where was he? Leaving the bed, she went to the door and opened it onto the main hall for the bedchambers. When she heard low voices from a few doors down, she went in stocking feet to explore. As she drew nearer the last bedchamber, she could make out Byrne speaking to someone. “So the doctor has seen her again? He’s sure she’s improved?”
Her? Who might that be? Her heart sinking, Christabel edged nearer, careful to stay out of sight of the doorway.
“Yes, sir,” said another voice. “I’m sorry that I sent for you.”
“Itold Ada not to,” another voice complained, this one reedy and thin, though the tone somehow managed to be imperious. “It’s nothing but a piddling cold.”
“That’s what you always say, even when you’re coughing up blood,” Byrne replied in the mildly indulgent tone of a man dealing with an invalid. “Fortunately, Ada has known you long enough to ignore you, Mother.”
Christabel’s heart began to hammer in her chest. Byrne’s mother was alive? And living here on his estate? Dear Lord, she couldn’t believe it!
What about the fire? Mrs. Byrne was supposed to be dead! Why did he continue to let the world think that she’d died? Though this did explain why he came to Bath whenever he was summoned.
“I’ll be here until tomorrow, Ada,” Byrne continued, “but I’ll have to leave first thing in the morning. If you’re sure she’s all right.”
“Dr. Mays says that she is, sir, but you did tell me—”
“Yes, and you were right to send for me. Thank you, Ada, you may go on to bed now. I need to speak privately to my mother.”
“Very good, sir.”
