Page 88 of One Night with a Prince
At Christabel’s groan, she added, “You’ve heard it, too, haven’t you? People are cruel sometimes. And I knew he’d need every ounce of his strength and will to survive in London. If he were a man alone, rootless, free, he might do it, but if he had me to take care of—”
“But he was only a boy,” Christabel protested. “Twelve is so very young.”
“Not for Gavin. He’d already spent months taking care of himself, already found a way to support himself. I couldn’t help him in London—I could only be a burden to him. As it was, I was lucky I could care for myself at Ada’s cottage.”
“You could have taken him with you to the country.”
“To do what? Labor in the fields? Serve as apprentice to a blacksmith? He was too clever for that, too ambitious. And while Ada could earn enough as a nurse for me and her babe, she couldn’t support him, too.”
Her lips tightened into a grim line. “Do you think I liked being apart from my son? Living from monthly visit to monthly visit? Not knowing whether he was hungry or hurt or—” She broke off with a raspy cough. “But look at him now. Would he have come so far if I hadn’t left? I don’t think so.”
Christabel wasn’t so sure, but she’d never been in a situation where she had to make such a hard choice. What would she have done?
Mrs. Byrne’s voice filled with pride. “He grew up to be a fine, strapping man, a true son of a prince.”
She patted Christabel’s hand. “You know about his father, don’t you?”
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“Yes. Byrne, however, doesn’t seem so pleased by the connection.”
She sighed. “I know. He blames Prinny for everything.”
“He has good reason.”
“Perhaps. But he doesn’t see that his suffering and mine made him what he is—strong, fierce. Who would he have been if Prinnyhad kept up the annuity? An actress’s bastard son, that’s all, living off the fruits of his birth. But now he owns his own club, and he’s done so well that he bought this place so I could—”
“—banish yourself to the outskirts of Bath,” Byrne said from the doorway. Entering with the jug of water and a plate, he glanced from the candle fully illuminating his mother’s face to Christabel’s damp cheeks, then added gruffly, “Have you been telling her the whole sad tale, Mother?”
“She had to,” Christabel retorted. “Younever would.”
“I couldn’t.” He strode over to the bed. “I made a vow.”
“You see?” Mrs. Byrne remarked. “Isn’t he a good son?”
“A very good son,” Christabel answered, her heart full as she watched him set the plate on the bedside table, then fill the cup with water.
He sat down in the chair Christabel had left and flashed both a rakish smile. “Keep that under your hat, or you’ll destroy my reputation for ruthlessness. Then I’ll have gentlemen refusing to pay their debts right and left.” He winked at Christabel. “Or sending their wives out to shoot me.”
“Byrne,” Christabel warned him, “don’t you dare—”
“That’s how we met,” he said, pure mischief shining in his eyes. “Lady Haversham shot at me when I came to collect on her late husband’s debt.”
“Did she really?” Mrs. Byrne chuckled. “That explains why you went after her. Your philosophy has always been if you can’t beat them, bed them.”
Byrne groaned. “For God’s sake, Mother—”
“I wasn’t born yesterday. I know what you do with your women.” She coughed. “Same thing I did with your father, though I can’t regret it, since it gave me you.”
“And a life of pain and misery,” he said in a hollow voice.
“Pish, everyone’s life has a measure of pain and misery. If I’ve had a greater share of it from time to time, I’ve also had a greater share of joy.” She patted Christabel’s hand. “Especially tonight.”
When she followed the comment with a fit of coughing, Byrne rose. “We’ll let you sleep now.” He bent to kiss her cheek, then turned to offer Christabel his arm. As she rose and took it, his mother said, with an edge to her voice, “Which room did you put LadyGenerated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlHaversham in?”
“The pretty pink one.”
His mother smiled her approval. “At least you havesome sense of decorum.”
