Cruel Fortunes Omnibus: Volumes One to Four

by RAE STAPLETON

  I realized he was gently reproaching me for last night’s hasty departure. I slowed down.

  “I’m sorry for last night.”

  “It’s all right. Are you feeling more yourself now?”

  “That’s just it. I’m not. I wasn’t kidding about everything I said. I do need to get away.”

  He stood there staring.

  “I must get home.”

  “Home? Where might that be?”

  How to explain home was a hundred and fifty years in the future.

  “Never mind,” I said, picking up the pace again just as a gnarly branch caught my heel, pulling me to the ground.

  “Are you hurt?”

  I picked a twig from the palm of my hand and shook my head no. Only my pride, and he didn’t need to know that.

  “Bitte. Pardon my hands,” he said, reaching down and lifting me to my feet. “Roll your foot,” he commanded, as he bent down to look.

  “Does this cause you pain?” The words were barely out of his mouth before he swooped me into his arms. “I’ll carry you back.”

  My heart skipped a beat. Was it wrong to enjoy this?

  “Oh, you don’t have to. I can walk. Anyway, I don’t want to go back,” I said. But it was too late. He was already striding along with me in his arms.

  “I realize you are not yourself after such an experience.” He smiled down at me.

  How right he was.

  “I guess I must sound crazy to you,” I said, giving in and smiling back at him. He carried me a few more feet. Silence dangled in the air, much like my legs.

  “Your anschneiden is very nice,” he said.

  “Pardon?” I followed his gaze to my chest, which was popping out the top of my dress. I didn’t recognize the word but it sounded very dirty. Was he the nipple tweaker?

  “Die Brosche,” he said, shifting his eyes.

  “Oh, this. Thank you,” I said, glancing back down at my bosom, which, to be honest, framed the broach quite nicely.

  “I apologize for staring earlier,” he said.

  “Don’t be silly,” I replied, thinking in this dress, I’d stare too. “Honestly, I didn’t even notice.” I forced out the words, pushing my foolish inner dialogue aside.

  “I was reminded of when I first saw you. You were a fair sight, dancing with the Comte de Chalais in that ruby gown.”

  More confused than ever, I tried to focus. The wine in this Palace was potent; perhaps I’d misheard him.

  “I was dancing with Henri when I fell down the stairs?”

  “Nein.” He cracked a smile. “I attended one of your parties two months ago. You forget me. You did seem distracted that night although I thought we had a rather good talk after about the future. You seemed most interested in my plans which is why I came back. You are unlike any other fräulein I’ve ever encountered and I have difficulty looking away when you are near”

  He seemed to take my silence as encouragement.

  I smiled, flattered, but baffled that he too seemed to believe I was this Princess. Did I really look and act so much like her?

  “Thank you, you are very kind. You didn’t finish your story from the other night with regards to my rescue. Did you notice if there was anyone following me?”

  “Following you?” His green eyes sparkled now, or maybe it was the wine, regardless this man was growing on me.

  “The Comte de Chalais.”

  “You mean that little weasel, Henri was there?”

  “My apologies? I was just noticing someone off in the distance. Isn’t that the Comte de Chalais coming toward us now?”

  He rode up quickly on a horse and came to an abrupt halt directly in our path.

  “Bonsoir, Graf Von Württemberg. Is everything all right?”

  “Ja, Lady Sapphira injured her ankle.”

  “Are you hurt, ma chère?” Henri’s brows lifted as he paused. He glanced at my ankle which was close to him since Conrad still held me tightly.

  “I’m fine.”

  “It appears to be better now. Set her down and we’ll see if she can stand on it.” Henri’s tone held a growl. Conrad didn’t miss the threat. He set me down quickly, yet gently, and took a step back.

  Disappointment festered. I liked this Graf. Besides, I didn’t want to go back to that prison.

  “You shouldn’t be so far from the palace alone; Nico would be most upset. It’s getting dark. So many things to be afraid of,” Henri scolded.

  I looked up sharply, wondering if that was some sort of warning.

  “I had nothing to fear with my rescuer here to protect me.” I smiled at Conrad.

  Out of the corner of my eye I caught a frenzied look pass across Henri’s face. “Well, all the same,” he said, reaching his arm out to me. “Let’s be on our way back.”

  Conrad lifted me onto the back of the Comte’s horse.

  “I trust you can find your way back on your own,” Henri said to Conrad.

  “Ja. Thank you.”

  “No. Thank you for returning our precious Princess to us. We are indebted to you and your family. I know Maria suggested you join us again for dinner, but I told her you couldn’t. I’m sure you’ll want to journey home to wed your own beloved bride—the Principessa di Borbone, isn’t it?”

  I saw a moment of annoyance flicker in Conrad’s eyes and wondered why he hadn’t mentioned a fiancée, but that was ridiculous. Why would he tell a stranger something like that?

  Henri went on as if enjoying the Graf’s discomfort.

  “I know my Sapphira would love an invitation to the wedding. Wouldn’t you, darling?”

  My Sapphira. What was with this guy?

  Conrad straightened his shoulders and I noted the anger in the set of his jaw. Even from up on the horse, Conrad seemed massive.

  “Please, tell her highness I accept her invitation to dinner and, to be clear, I’m no longer betrothed. You know perfectly well I have plans to speak with Maria and Nico in the morning. I shall court Sapphira.”

  All at once my pulse raced and I bit my lip.

  “We’ll see about that, now won’t we?” Henri said, driving his heels into the horse without even waiting for a response.

  I couldn’t be sure if Henri was offended by Conrad’s tone, or if he was jealous. The man I’d overheard, and the snake that Sapphira feared, had wanted to force her into marriage. Did Henri want to marry Sapphira? I thought of jumping from the galloping horse. No, that was silly, I would be hurt and Conrad could be just as dangerous. After all, Conrad, too, was here to court the Princess. It seemed the Princess and I had more in common than I’d originally thought. We both attracted unwanted marriage proposals.

  THIRTEEN

  “G

  ood morning, your Serene Highness. You’re dressed early this morning,” the silhouetted woman said, brightly.

  I grunted and squinted against the harsh sunlight now streaming through the windows. “Oh, yes, morning, Anais, wasn’t it? I managed to pry my eyes open at the crack of dawn when Lisabetta and Chloe appeared to assemble me. I think I passed out afterward.”

  She nodded as if fainting was a common occurrence post dress. Then again, I guess it probably was. I looked around the room for a clock, before turning back to the obscenely cheerful woman.

  “What time is it?”

  “Breakfast time, and it’s your favorite.” Anais waved a plate of food in front of me.

  The sweet smell of honey caught my nose, and my stomach betrayed me with a groan.

  Anais smiled and began to fold the quilts on the bed.

  “Sit and eat.”

  I did as she instructed—not like I had any other options. There wasn’t exactly a Starbucks on the corner. Taking the first dainty bite of pancake, my stomach grumbled for more and when she turned away, I quickly shoved a second and third bite into my mouth.

  “I’d like,” I started to say and then realized I sounded like a cave man with my mouth full, swallowed and tried again. “I’d like to take a ride into town toda
y. How would I go about that?”

  Her eyes widened. “But you are not to leave your apartments, mademoiselle.”

  I crossed my arms in front of my chest like the willful, spoiled brat they had called me.

  “I apologize but the Comte’s instructions were that you remain here.”

  “I’ll speak to Maria then.”

  “I apologize, your Serene Highness. She’s barricaded herself inside her chambers once again,” she shook her head, “And Monsieur Lamentz is away from the palace for the night. I’ll tell him as soon as he returns tomorrow.” She glanced nervously at the door.

  “Anais, wait,” I said, suddenly coming to a decision. “How long have you worked here?”

  “Since you were a child, Your Serene Highness.”

  “And how long have you known the Comte?”

  Her eyebrows drew down in confusion. “Why do you ask, mademoiselle, if I may be so bold?” She gave me a confused half smile.

  Inching closer to her I lowered my voice. “Have you ever heard me refer to anyone as the snake?”

  “Why no.” Anais grimaced as she answered.

  “Tell me the truth, Anais,” I asked. “Am I in danger?”

  Anais looked over her shoulder.

  “Please, tell me.”

  “I can’t be certain, but you did seem… afraid… before the accident.”

  “Do you know who I was afraid of?”

  “I don’t. I’m sorry. Please don’t tell anyone I told you that. I have no proof. It’s just something that I suspect.”

  She turned to go quickly and I heard a key turn in the door lock as she left.

  She’d locked me in. I stood up and walked across the room, pulling the diary violently from the desk.

  3 August 1857

  I was forced to speak with the snake at the last dance, where he curiously asked about Mr. Ferris. I dare not think it has something to do with my birthday present. How would it even be possible for him to know of my father’s chamber, or the gift from my brother? Sometimes I wonder if he had something to do with my father’s untimely death. He must spy on us to know all he does. I suspect that his delusions of marrying me are cold and calculated. Something tells me his obsession has less to do with me and more to do with finding the sapphire. I’ve heard whispers that it can give one the ability to control time. Whatever he is plotting, I wish Charles would return and crush it.

  Nausea filled my stomach like a balloon. I paced the massive room trying to think of a way out. Bastards. I drew the line at being held a prisoner even if the prison was a luxurious chamber fit for a princess.

  A Princess. A damned Princess. The thought filled me with dread. Every little girl’s fantasy and my new nightmare. Welcome to the true Grimm styled fairytale, I thought throwing myself on the fireplace in a fit of panic. Something depressed under my touch and a small passage in the hearth opened up, nearly swallowing me whole.

  Another secret tunnel about three feet wide. I inched my way inside the pitch-black space and rested against the wall, waiting for my eyes to adjust. It felt as if the walls were closing in on me.

  Come on, Sophie, or Sapphira or whoever you are, I goaded myself. Embrace your adventurous side.

  Grabbing the candle off the mantel I headed back in. Every few steps or so, there were holes or slats that allowed me to peer into the hall. I felt like a five-year-old spying on the big kids—it was enthralling. I peeked out the third one momentarily blinded as my eyes fought to adjust to the change in light. Feeling carefully for any steps or holes, I walked on until I hit a wall. No for real. An actual wall. There was only one way to go now—left. It was eerie pacing down the hidden corridor considering I didn’t have a bloody clue where it led, but then I heard a male voice speaking. Sure, it was muffled but still, I might learn something necessary to get me the hell out of here.

  Henri? The voice grew louder and for a second I thought about turning around. Curiosity killed the cat after all. Then again, I wasn’t a cat—even if we did a share a similarity in attitude. This, according to Nick-the-dick. Hey! A new nickname for him. I couldn’t wait to share it with my best friend.

  I was so busy amusing myself with childish names, I didn’t notice the trickle of water at my feet. Slippery when wet I thought as I went down.

  I awoke to a woman crying. “I’m sorry, Monsieur!”

  Crap! I must have knocked myself unconscious—such a bonehead move. How long had I been out?

  My hands were numb, but I crawled forward and followed the distressed voice. I noticed a pinhole of light piercing the darkness and peered through.

  Ahh! Damn it! Turn down the brightness. I pulled back for a moment to stop the pinpricks of light from burning out my retinas. You’d think I’d learn.

  This time I approached slowly and let my vision adjust before sticking my eyeball through the whole.

  At first things were hazy but then I saw a maid’s uniform; the duster in her hand trembled.

  “I’m sorry, Monsieur,” she mumbled. “Lisabetta had already sent word.”

  Someone grabbed the maid roughly by the arms. That was totally something Nick-the-dick would do. Violent, macho assholes. I repositioned and tried to see their heads but the pinhole was too low and small.

  “Salope,” the exasperated voice rang out, sending chills dancing down my spine. I couldn’t be sure, but it sounded very much like the man I’d spoken to when I’d first awoken. The man I’d thought was Nick. I turned to go, and then I distinctly heard a slap. I whipped my head back.

  “Je suis désolée. I didn’t—” the petite girl, whom I suddenly recognized as Chloe, the curious chambermaid, was cut off.

  I winced as the top of her uniform was ripped open.

  He pushed her slightly. A large piece of furniture now blocked even more of my view.

  “What have I told you?” he bellowed.

  A whimper emerged as Chloe fell to the floor.

  I dug my fingernails into my palms as I waited. Listening and watching as the man clumsily unfastened his pants. They were close, so close, they would definitely hear me if I screamed for the guards. I felt helpless to save this girl.

  I instinctively pressed my thighs tight together. This explained why Chloe seemed so nervous, asking so many questions. Was she forced to spy for this beast? Unable to watch, I stumbled backward, colliding with the wall in another act of blindness.

  How do I get out of here? The light from the hallway was dim, and the gloomy darkness made it hard to judge distance. The wall rounded into a curve at the end of the corridor; I bumped into it, let out a yelp, and raced down the hall in the direction I’d come from.

  The bedroom was empty when I returned so I sat shivering on the stone floor, clutching the diary between my knees. Unsure of what to do next, I skimmed through the previous ten entries, leaving a dirt smudge on the last one, before closing it in defeat.

  Rising to my feet, I noticed the scratch on my hand and debris that stuck to me. This was like a bad Halloween party—cobwebs and all. Not to mention, things hurt from falling, and I likely would never be warm again. God, I sound like a whiner. What would Gigi do?

  Hide the evidence! Couldn’t have anyone finding out about my wandering. Feeling filthy both inside and out, more from the scene I’d just witnessed than from the cobwebs, I headed for the bathroom where I caught sight of myself in the mirror. Damn girl! You look filthy and not in a good way.

  There was dirt on my face. Oh, and those golden ringlets. As if I needed that reminder right now. How was any of this possible? My mind was still puzzling my chameleon appearance when I had yet another visitor. Where was I? The drop-in center for lonely and abused women. I swore under my breath—at least it wasn’t Chloe.

  Lisabetta made herself busy dabbing at the dirty spots on my dress, but said nothing although the look she gave me said it all.

  Yeah, yeah, I know. Laundry’s no easy task.

  Still, I felt guilty for my careless wandering. Mind you, the fact that she s
aid nothing made me wonder how often the Princess used those passageways.

  Once she left, I checked the door again. Unlocked. God bless Lizzy! I was getting the hell out of there, but first I pulled the diary back out and flipped the page. I needed a little more intel on the man referred to as the snake. Previously, the writing had been neat and circular, rounded and upright, as though written with care but the last entry was fluid and scribbled, as if written hastily. Something upsetting must have happened. Holy jeepers, I could relate to the feeling. The entry was dated four days later: Mother refuses to listen, dismissing my overactive imaginations. I am eighteen and she regards me as if I were a silly child. I will send Francois to Rochus in the village to obtain the potion.

  The chill of the book’s words churned in my belly. I needed to find this man—but where to look? I double-checked the entry—the village. Gee! Let’s not get to specific or anything. Now, to figure out the 19th century equivalent to a taxi.

  I’d just returned the diary to its hidey hole when Anais appeared, tray of tea and biscuits in hand. Hadn’t I just finished breakfast not that long ago? This reeked of espionage.

  I walked to the balcony door, forming a plan. Spinning on my heels, I faced Anais with a sudden idea.

  “Hey, servant girl?”

  Anais gave me a strange look. Hmm. How did royalty address their servants? I didn’t think it was by name but maybe I was wrong.

  “I mean Anais. Sorry!”

  She gave me an even stranger look. Hot damn! You’d think after all the classes I’d taken that I would know more about history. I cleared my throat. Take three. “I believe the Graf of Württemberg is joining us for dinner again tonight. Would it be possible to speak to him before then?”

  “Je suis désolé,” she said something in French that started with what I was pretty sure meant I’m sorry.

  “Can you repeat that?”

  “Mademoiselle, the Graf has returned to Württemberg.”

  Great. Well, just one date with me was clearly enough to send him running back to his fiancé.

  Anais gave me a look I recognized. It was one most people gave me when they found out my parents were dead—pity.