by Kris Tualla
“Maybe he is only tired,” Tomas said softly.
Sydney set the lamp on the table. “Did I speak out loud?”
“No. But I believed our thoughts were on the same path.” Tomas threw a towel over a growing wet spot on the sheet. “Ah! I waited too long.”
Sydney pulled the sheet off the bed and handed it to Haldis. Tomas dried Nicolas’s urine, then packed a clean towel under the semi-comatose man. “At the least we know he is swallowing the water.”
“Ma’am?” Maribeth stood in the doorway. “I brought you some supper.”
Sydney’s stomach growled as the scent of the food drifted toward her. She looked at the clock, it was nearly one in the morning.
“Thank you, Maribeth.” Sydney pointed to the table.
Maribeth glanced at Tomas. “I brought food for two.”
“Thank you.” His smile held something that Sydney was surprised to see.
Maribeth pulled her eyes from Tomas’s. “Might I help while you eat?”
“See if he will drink any water.” Sydney sat down gratefully to her meal. Tomas covered Nicolas’s naked lower half with a clean sheet, then he joined Sydney.
Nicolas sat up. “Where am I?”
Sydney spoke with her mouth full, “Akershus Castle. In Christiania, Norway.”
Nicolas looked at Maribeth and gasped for breath. “I cannot breathe.”
“Fan his face.” Tomas left his meal to assist Maribeth. He pushed Nicolas back onto the bed.
Maribeth stared at her employer, fear dominating her features. “Is he—is he going to be all right?”
Tomas nodded determinedly. “Of course. He is strong and healthy.”
“But he looks—” Her glance flitted briefly to Sydney then shot back to Tomas. “Do you truly believe so?”
Tomas pushed sweaty strands of blond hair from Nicolas’s face. “I must. We must.”
Haldis carried off the tray of dirty dishes. When there came a knock on the door, Sydney assumed it was the returning maid. Her stomach turned over when she faced Sigrid. She looked very small and older than her years.
“What do you want?” Sydney did not invite her in.
Sigrid’s eyes went past her to the bed, then refocused. “How is he?”
Sydney shrugged.
“Might I see him?”
“Why?”
Sigrid swallowed thickly. “I have known him for a long time. I want a chance to say—I mean, I don’t want him to—I just want to talk to him.”
Sydney drew a deep breath. “He is not going to die,” she stated with authority.
“No. He is not. Please, Sydney.” Sigrid laid a thin, shaky hand on Sydney’s arm. Sydney’s eyes dropped to the floor, and she stepped aside. Sigrid moved past her.
She stood by the bed and stared at Nicolas. He opened his eyes and looked at her; Sydney saw black holes that seemed to hold nothing. Sigrid turned away.
“Where am I?” he croaked.
“Akershus Castle. In Christiania, Norway,” Sydney answered, exhausted to the breaking point. Being polite to Sigrid was beyond her limit. She approached the bed. “You have seen him. Now will you leave?”
Sigrid glanced over her shoulder at her erstwhile lover. “Do you know why he was poisoned?”
Sydney’s heart jumped at hearing the words said aloud. Feeling a little faint, she grasped her wedding ring as an anchor, turning it around and around, and shook her head. Sigrid pulled her narrow frame as straight as she could and looked down her nose at Sydney.
“Because of you.”
Maribeth gasped. Tomas stepped between the women.
“May I show you out, Duchess?” He placed one hand on Sigrid’s back and pushed her.
“Unhand me if you wish to hold your job!” Sigrid barked. She moved toward the door, turning back to glare at Sydney. “Think about it.”
Tomas shut the door solidly behind her. Sydney sank to the floor in a heap of crumpled clothing and began to sob. Maribeth knelt next to her and laid a tentative hand on her back. Sydney rocked to the side and rested her head in Maribeth’s lap. Her wracking sobs echoed off the stone walls of the room. Maribeth stroked her hair.
Sydney cried until she hadn’t the strength to continue. Maribeth and Haldis pulled her to her feet and helped her undress. They wrapped her in her dressing gown and sat her in a chair next to the bed. They propped her feet on an ottoman. Haldis went to get her some tea.
“We will stay with you,” Maribeth promised. “Don’t be concerned if you sleep.”
“I want to keep watch,” Sydney yawned. As if to punctuate her statement, Nicolas began to snore.
“That is good, Madam,” Tomas assured Sydney.
“Is it?” She looked bleary-eyed at her husband.
“He is not struggling any more. And dying men don’t snore,” Tomas pointed out. Sydney nodded and accepted the tea from Haldis.
The three adults spoke little throughout the remainder of the night. Sydney dozed, but was not completely comfortable sitting up in the chair; precisely the reason she stayed in it. As the room grayed, then pinkened with the dawn, Nicolas croaked, “Sydney?”
She was at his side in a blink. “Yes?”
He turned his head slowly, as if moving a boulder of great size. He winced and squinted. “Sydney…”
“I am here, Nicolas.”
He moved his mouth and tried to swallow. Tomas lifted his head and gave him a sip of water. Nicolas nodded his thanks. “Poison?” he rasped.
“Yes.”
Nicolas closed his eyes and wobbled his arm toward Sydney’s hand. She grasped his and pressed it to her lips.
“I’ll live?”
“Yes,” she whispered and brushed away tears with her free hand.
“Who’s here?”
Sydney cleared her throat. “Maribeth, Tomas and Haldis.”
Nicolas laid still, his breathing deep and steady. He turned toward Sydney and opened his eyes. They were blue again. “Go home, Sydney. Dra hjem.”
She frowned, confused. “What?”
“I need you to go home.” Nicolas closed his eyes.
Sydney’s heart began to pound. “Nick?”
He opened his eyes again, the effort of speaking obvious. “Jeg sender deg… I am sending you… to Missouri.” Deep breath. “To take care of things.” Deep breath. “Go home.”
“Without you?” Sydney felt panic rising. Blood roared in her ears.
“Take Kirstie. Maribeth.”
“What about Stefan?”
“Stays with me. Han blir her.” Nicolas began to cough. Tomas gave him more water, careful not to look at Sydney. Maribeth approached the bed, but Haldis held back.
“Nick?”
He opened his eyes, bright blue in the dawn light. He gazed steadily at her.
“Do you want me to leave Norway and return to Missouri without you?” Her voice was clear in spite of her shattering heart.
“Yes.”
“Will I ever see you again?”
Nicolas swallowed with effort. “When things here are settled.”
“You will send for me?” Her voice broke under the weight of what her question suggested.
Nicolas closed his eyes. “Of course.”
Chapter Twenty Eight
April 20, 1821
Nicolas sat by the fire while Haldis served his breakfast. Tomas hovered nearby. Sydney was in the next room with the children. She had not spoken much to him in the last twenty-four hours since he told her to return to Missouri.
“Thank you, Haldis.” Nicolas looked askance at the bland offering. “This is it, then?” He called after the disappearing maid, “Might I have honey?” She shook her head and shut the chamber door.
“Tomorrow you can have anything you want,” Tomas interjected. “Doctor’s orders.”
“Keep that bastard and his knife away from me, and I shall eat whatever I am served!” Nicolas picked up his spoon.
Tomas smiled. “After you frightened him out of his skin y
esterday, I don’t think you need to worry!”
“Did you not think that was amusing? Pretending to rise from the dead?” Nicolas chuckled.
“I shan’t forget it. Neither will he, nor his valet, I’ll wager!”
Nicolas spooned his bland boiled wheat into his mouth and watched his own valet putter incessantly around the room. “Did I thank you for your assistance, Tomas, when I was ‘indisposed’?”
Tomas shook his head. “There is no need sir.”
“Well, I thank you just the same.”
“You are quite welcome.” Tomas continued to fidget, moving things that did not require moving, then restoring them to their original situation.
There was no help for it, but to ask outright. “What is on your mind, Tomas?”
Tomas stilled. Slowly he turned to face Nicolas. “Is it obvious, my lord?”
“It is. Just come out with it.” Nicolas waved his spoon in dispensation.
Tomas approached him. “May I sit, sir?”
“Please.”
Tomas pulled the ottoman close. He rested his elbows on his knees. He pulled a deep breath.
“I realize that you are not, actually, the gentleman I should speak to in this matter. But, in this circumstance, you are the only gentleman I am able to speak to. So, I hope you do not misunderstand me. I know that what I am asking is a bit unorthodox. And still, I hope you may assist me?”
Nicolas stared at the younger man.
“Tomas?”
“Yes?”
“Are you planning to tell me what this matter might be?”
Tomas flushed deep red. “Oh. Yes. Of course.”
Pause. “Tomas.”
Another deep breath, then a whoosh of words. “In-leiu-of-her-father-who-resides-in-Missouri-I-am-asking-you-for-Maribeth’s-hand-in-marriage.”
A laugh exploded from Nicolas. Tomas wilted.
“Is that it?” Nicolas grinned. Tomas nodded, his glum gaze dropped to the floor. “Have you spoken to Maribeth? Is she amenable?”
Tomas nodded again, eyes still stuck to the carpet.
“And have you the means to support her and your future children?”
At that, he looked up. “I have land outside Christiania. Enough for a decent farm.”
Nicolas slapped his shoulder. “Then sit up and look happy, man! You are about to be married!”
“What?”
“Yes, Tomas. If Maribeth wants to marry you and stay in Norway, I give my permission.”
Tomas jumped to his feet. “Might I go tell her?”
“Of course.”
Tomas ran to the connecting door to the children’s room, jerked it open, and rushed through. Nicolas heard Maribeth’s uncharacteristic whoop. The couple returned to stand before him, beaming.
“Thank you, sir.” Maribeth dropped a small curtsy. “I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
Sydney appeared in the doorway, Kirstie on her hip. Nicolas glanced at her, and she at Haldis.
Then Sydney met his gaze, unsmiling. “I suppose the wedding should be soon. Before I leave, since I’m her chaperone.”
“In that case, Tomas, I release you from my service for the day. Go and prepare for your nuptials.” Nicolas waved his spoon again, this time in benediction.
“Thank you, my lord!” The couple disappeared into the other room.
Sydney glanced toward Haldis again, then stared angrily at Nicolas. She spoke in slow Norse, “So only Kirstie and I are leaving. Fine. We shall be gone in a fortnight.”
***
“Did he tell her to leave?”
“Yes, sir. As soon as he was lucid from the poisoning.”
“Has he fully recovered then? No lasting effects?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Excellent.”
“There is one other thing, perhaps not so important.”
“We shall judge that, Haldis.”
She dipped her chin in acknowledgement. “The maid is staying. She is betrothed to Tomas.”
“Nicolas’s valet?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How did this come about?”
“He asked Lord Hansen for her hand.”
“And he agreed?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Interesting.” He tapped his chin. “She knows about the maid’s betrothal?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She said she and the little girl would be gone in two weeks.”
“The boy stays with his father?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you are certain that you heard this correctly?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you, Haldis. You will be very well rewarded for your loyalty.”
She gave a deep bow on the other side of the screen and murmured, “Thank you for allowing me to serve.”
When the maid had quit the room, Erling turned to Anders, lifting his hand in salute. “You have done it!”
Anders gave a sly grin. “Did you ever doubt me?”
April 21, 1821
Nicolas stepped around the trunks in the bedroom. Sydney and Haldis were discussing which items she wanted in each trunk, and which items she would not take with her.
“Don’t forget the statues.”
Sydney stopped and turned to him, hands gripping her hips. “Are you serious?”
“Completely.”
“Nicolas, how am I to handle them? They are huge! And heavier than one man can carry!”
“One of them goes to Gunnar, remember?” Nicolas took Sydney’s hand and pulled her to a chair. She sat and regarded him, expectant and unsmiling.
“I have thought about the best way for you to travel. You should go by water the whole way, nothing overland. That way you can care for Kirstie without having to worry about meals or lodging.”
Sydney nodded somberly. “Even so.”
“You will go from Christiania to London, to Baltimore, and to New Orleans by ship. Then take a paddleboat to St. Louis. When you are in Baltimore, send word to Gunnar to come get the gift.”
“I have my doubts as to his gratitude,” Sydney muttered.
Nicolas smiled. “I know my brother. Do not have a worry.”
“Will they be restored in time?” Her tone clearly indicated she hoped the answer was no.
“I am just returned from checking on their welfare. They will be delivered to the dock the day you sail.”
“Oh, perfect,” she grunted.
“Do you need my trunks?” Nicolas twisted in the chair. “Or have you enough room?”
Sydney shrugged. “I shall make do.”
Nicolas kissed her forehead. “I need to go. I shall see you at dinner?”
She held her breath and twirled the antique garnet ring, not trusting herself to give a civil response. He stood before she could summon an answer and left the room.
***
Sigrid wore black. Custom dictated a year, but Nicolas doubted she would go that long. In the meantime, her choice of styles bordered on indecent. Laced into a low-cut gown which impelled all soft tissue, bosom or no, to swell above her décolletage, Nicolas wondered if it was an unfortunate shadow, or if there was actual areole peeking over the fabric. He dragged his gaze higher as she slipped into the seat next to him.
“Where is your wife?” she inquired, accepting a glass of wine.
Nicolas accepted wine as well. “She will not be joining us.”
“Tonight, only?” Sigrid watched him over the rim of her wine goblet.
“Well, no. I expect she will take her meals in our room for the remainder of her stay.”
Sigrid straightened and twisted to face Nicolas. He lifted his chin and blocked his view of her breast with his wine glass.
“What do you mean, ‘the remainder of her stay’?” she squeaked.
Nicolas snorted. “The rumor mill must be grinding to a halt. Have you not heard?”
Sigrid shook her head.
“I have requested my wife to return to Misso
uri and deal with my holdings there. I plan to summon her back when the question of the throne is settled.”
Sigrid gulped her wine and held her glass to be refilled. “When is she leaving?”
“In less than two weeks.” Nicolas’s glass was refilled as well.
“She is taking the baby, of course.”
“Of course.”
“What about the boy?”
Nicolas frowned a bit at that. Certainly she knew his son’s name? “Stefan will remain here, with me.”
“Stefan, yes.” Sigrid leaned back in her chair. “This is certainly interesting news, Nick.”
He waved his hand dismissively. “It is necessary.”
“She will be gone a year.”
Nicolas nodded and spooned lutefisk onto a piece of toast. He popped it in his mouth.
“What about that mousy little maid of hers?” Sigrid’s lips were red from the wine. It looked well with the black dress she was almost wearing.
“Now that is interesting news as well…” Nicolas smiled crookedly. “She will marry Tomas, my valet, and remain in Norway.”
Sigrid laughed harshly. “Are you quite serious?”
“That I am. Sydney is helping her plan the wedding for Friday.”
“What is the rush? Is she enceinte?” Sigrid lifted one brow and drained her cup.
“No! It’s because she is losing her chaperone.”
“Chaperone?”
Nicolas ate another piece of toast and lutefisk. “Sydney.”
“Oh.” Sigrid motioned for more wine. Her other hand dropped to Nicolas’s thigh. He covered it with his hand to keep it from moving closer to his groin. Sigrid gazed at him with a soft smile and half-closed eyes.
By the end of dinner, Sigrid leaned heavily against Nicolas’s arm. When she turned to speak to him, he could not keep from noticing the rise and fall of her elevated bosom, her wine-stained mouth, and the invitation in her eyes.
“Would you escort me to my room, Nick? I believe I had more wine than I realized.”
Nicolas declined comment; Sigrid always drank more than he thought prudent. Since Vegard’s death, she seemed to have thrown all temperance to the wind. He stood and helped her to her feet.
