Page 86 of One Night with a Prince
“You’re not too big that I can’t still rap your knuckles.”
That brought a reluctant smile to his lips. He turned to Christabel. “That was Mother’s favorite punishment—knuckle-rapping. It’s a miracle I can even hold a deck of cards.”
“Indeed it is, since I had to rap them often enough, you rapscallion,” his mother retorted. “Now go on, get that water.” She coughed. “I’m growing more parched by the moment. And I could use some of that good brown bread I had at supper, too. Fetch it for me from the kitchen, will you?”
Byrne eyed her askance, but released Christabel’s arm and headed for the door. Just as he reached it, however, his mother called out, “Don’t you dare stand outside listening. I want a full jug of water and a nice slab of bread and butter. If you don’t produce it in fifteen minutes, I’ll know you’ve been eavesdropping.”
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlByrne cast Christabel a wry smile. “She knows me well.”
As soon as he was gone, his mother said, “Sit down, Lady Haversham.”
Her commanding tone with its faint hint of an Irish burr reminded Christabel so much of Byrne that she couldn’t help smiling as she took a seat in the chair nearest the bed.
“Now tell me,” Mrs. Byrne went on, “why is a woman of your station with my son?”
That wiped the smile off Christabel’s face. What was she to say? How much would Byrne want her to say?
She went on the offensive. “Why shouldn’t I be with him? He’s a charming man and a hard worker—”
“Not something most marchionesses admire.”
“I was a general’s daughter long before I was a marchioness. So Ido happen to admire a man willing to work hard.”
Mrs. Byrne digested that a moment, coughing behind her hand. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re here with him when you could be moving in the highest levels of society.”
Oh, if the woman only knew. Christabel tried for the most innocuous answer. “Your son has been helping me regain something my late husband…er…lost through gambling.”
“So the marquess lost money at the Blue Swan, did he?”
“Yes, but that’s not—”
“And you mean to pay off the debt by sharing my son’s bed.”
“No!” Christabel jumped to her feet. “I wouldnever share a man’s bed for money. And you insult your son by even implying that he would take advantage of a widow in such a scurrilous fashion.”
“True.” Those sharp eyes assessed her from the shadows. “So you aren’t sharing his bed.”
Christabel blushed, unsure how to tell a man’s mother that she was his mistress. “I…well…it’s just that…”
“You don’t have to answer. I can guess that much.” When Christabel groaned, she added in a dry rasp of a voice, “I’m not a fool, you know. I’ve heard about my son’s mistresses. Not from him, mind you—a man doesn’t tell his mother such things, after all. But there’s always the scandal rags, and Ada goes into Bath often to hear the gossip.”
Mrs. Byrne paused to cough. “The thing is, Gavin has never brought one of his women to meet me, never even asked to introduce one to me. Never, do you hear?”
Christabel wanted badly to take heart at that, but she didn’t dare. “I hate to disappoint you, but his bringing me here means nothing. He had no choice. He was forced into it.”
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlMrs. Byrne surprised her by laughing. “Forced? Gavin? Have you ever known my son to be forced into anything?”
That gave Christabel pause. “No.”
“He brought you here because he wanted to, whether he admits it or not. So now I want to know why. What exactly do you mean to him?”
“I wish I knew,” Christabel answered woefully. “But I really have no idea.”
“Then tell me whathe means toyou .”
That brought Christabel up short. What did Byrne mean to her? Merely a way of getting invited to Lord Stokely’s party? Clearly not, since she’d started sharing his bed long after the invitation had arrived. He was her lover, yes, but he meant more than that, more than she wanted. More than she feared he could ever reciprocate.
“I can’t answer that…either.” She couldn’t keep her voice from cracking.
