Curtly, Varek nodded his head. “Basingstoke.”
“Your highness.” Robert returned the greeting through stiff lips. As usual, the archduke looked supremely confident. “Could you find no gentleman willing to act your second, sir?” His gaze flickered to Sergei, who had followed at Varek's heels.
Varek smiled slowly, all the while watching Robert with the hooded stare of a cobra. “I need no seconds to act for me, my lord. I always finish what I begin.”
Robert's lips seemed to tighten even more as he glared at the infuriating man. “Very well, shall we proceed? As blades were your choice, I assume you are supplying them?” Robert's annoyed voice sounded unnaturally loud in the clearing. He cast a frowning glance toward his seconds, wondering why they weren't over here taking care of these details. Instantly, the two young men were at his side, bowing to the archduke.
Robert wasn't surprised to see Christina's watchdog standing at the archduke's back. He wondered wildly if she had asked Sergei to act as second to this man who was making their lives such a hell. Wanting this ordeal to be over, he turned back to his nemesis.
When Varek hadn't spoken, one of Basingstoke's seconds stepped forward and again politely inquired about the blades. This time the question was directed to Sergei. As mystified as everyone else, Sergei could do no more than turn to Varek with a raised brow.
However, the archduke was pointedly ignoring the trivial exchange, and was gazing out into the distance, his expression one of boredom. Idly, he was pulling his gloves through his hand, his stance relaxed and casual. When he finally spoke, his deep voice was loud enough to be heard by every man present.
“Lord Basingstoke, I owe you an apology. My manner was inappropriate last evening and my words to...” Here he faltered as he sliced a look of pure loathing at his opponent. Even the thought of addressing Christina as another man's wife was gall to him. “...to Lady Basingstoke was unforgivable. I concede this duel and hope that you will except my apologies.” There was no hint of contrition in the words just spoken, only imperious command.
Robert's surprised gaze darted about the clearing. An apology was the last thing he ever expected to hear from this man. Then it flashed through his mind that Christina must have had some hand in this unexpected occurrence. What had she promised the bastard? he seethed inwardly. Was she trying to make a mockery of him?
Varek studied the stunned man through narrowed eyes, the animosity in his moody glare almost begging him to refuse the apology.
It was on the tip of Robert's tongue to do exactly that, thrust the insulting apology back into the officious bastard's face when a movement on the edge of the clearing caught his and every other man's attention. He was not surprised when he saw Christina, astride a petit sorrel mare and accompanied by one of the grooms from the apartments, ride into the glade.
Varek saw at a glance that Christina looked exhausted. Her eyes appeared bruised, she was deathly pale and her attire was so disheveled, he wondered if she had slept in it. Still he couldn't help the surge of anger he felt at her for this added interference, and deliberately he turned his back to her. Instead, he directed his aching bitterness on the source of all his anguish, Christina's saintly husband.
However, the saintly Robert was staring at Christina with similar feelings, and Varek's ire rose even higher. What right did this pissant have to be angry with Christina?
“Well?” he drawled, drawing Basingstoke's inimical attentions back on him and well away from Christina. All the while he was praying the man would deny him the apology he now regretted with every fiber of his being. Deny it, you prick, Varek prayed as he glared at his enemy.
Suddenly, Sergei was at their side, his frowning attention directed on Robert with a force that could not be ignored. Whatever silently passed between the two men was unknown, but Varek damned Sergei's interference when Robert looked away first. Varek knew in that instant he would be denied the pleasure of killing him this day.
In the hours before dawn, he had thought long and hard on what Christina and Sergei had told him. His decision to bow out of this duel had come at the cost of a piece of his soul, for what he wanted at the basest level of his being was for this man to be dead and irrevocably out of Christina's life. A divorce was now out of the question for he knew Christina would never be able to leave a child of hers behind, which is what would be demanded of her if she left her husband. And no matter how desperately he wanted his wife back he would never ask such a sacrifice of her.
So where did that leave him? Absolutely nowhere. But, somewhere, down in the deepest shadows of his bruised heart, he still couldn't make himself give up on them completely. He just couldn't. Somehow there had to be a way. Unfortunately, killing her child's father was not one of them.
His voice ripe with ungracious spite, Robert said, “I accept your apology, your highness.” Then in a voice only Varek and Sergei could hear, he added in a vicious undertone, “This time. But we both know that it won't end here, don't we?”
Varek smiled grimly, “I am counting on it.”
Varek started to turn away, but Robert's hand shot out and grasped his forearm. “What did she say to you? What did she promise you if you begged off?” Robert demanded in an hoarse whisper.
Varek stared at the hand on his arm so long and pointedly that Robert finally released him, embarrassed at the disgusted look in the archduke's eyes as he deliberately dusted off his sleeve. Finally Varek looked up and sliced Robert a look of pure loathing. Stepping closer, Varek leaned in and without breaking eye contact with the worm, he explained in a voice coldly harsh, “I have never begged for anything in life, except perhaps my wife's kisses. And if you think so little of her honor and integrity, then let her go, for I assure you I value them above my own life.” With a final glance of disgust, Varek turned his back on the angry man and walked away.
The murmur of muted voices seemed to still as Varek walked directly over to where Christina still sat her horse. The face he turned up to her was impassive enough, but the stark pain in his eyes was a cruel testament of all he had suffered last night at her hands.
“Is this what you wanted, Christina?” His voice was a low murmur, for her ears alone, his hand curled possessively around her ankle.
Christina stared down at the hard visage of her love and she wanted to shout out No, this is not what I want! Instead her smile was pathetically weak, and her voice was raspy with exhaustion when she gave him the only answer she was allowed. “Thank you, Varek.”
He stared up at her with a sense of brooding despair, before he nodded and stepped back, his hand reluctantly falling away. “Don't thank me too soon, for I haven't given up on us yet.”
“Please, Varek,",”
“Don't even try,” he curtly cut her off, his glacial eyes condemning her. “I'm still reeling from our last conversation, so don't try to reason with me right now. At this moment I can almost hate you, Christina. Almost.” With this vicious condemnation echoing in her heart, Varek turned his back on her and strode over to his mount. Without another word to anyone, he lithely sprang into his saddle and spurring his mount around, left the clearing at a gallop.
Christina didn't dare watch him leave, for she was afraid that she would be tempted to put heel to her own horse and follow him blindly. Instead, she looked over at Robert and saw that he was busy with donning his outer garments. She watched him for a long moment, and when she decided he was deliberately ignoring her, she felt relief. She was eager to slip away and make her own way back to the apartment. As she turned her horse about, she changed her mind and decided to go to Laure's home instead. At least there she would be able to rest undisturbed.
Seeing a horse pull up alongside her, she smiled and turned to greet Sergei.
He, however, only offered her a fierce frown as he studied her closely. “God's blood you look terrible. When was the last time you slept?” he demanded irritably.
Sighing, she relaxed into the lulling rhythm of her horse's gait and shrugged.
“I can't remember.”
“Little fool.”
With a chiding moue, she glanced sideways at him. “You are not my nursemaid, Sergei.”
His lips twisted wryly. “I beg to differ with you, but that is all I am anymore.” Though his voice was teasing, the shadowed look in his eyes gave Christina pause. Frowning, she looked at him, a pang of guilty conscience warning her that something wasn't right. “Am I such a trial to you, my friend?”
Sergei's head jerked around and he stared at her in surprise. “Of course not! I was only teasing you. This only goes to show how exhausted you truly are if you are so sensitive to my senseless chatter.” Then he quickly started to regale her with antidotes of his latest conquest, a buxom fraulein from the kaufeehause down the street from his apartment. She might not be much to look at, but she made the best bloody cup of coffee in Vienna. Soon he had her laughing, and she gratefully clutched at his artful dissembling, refusing to worry about anything on such a beautiful day.
* * * *
Several nights later, the tension between Christina and Robert increased as she made inane excuses why she couldn't attend the ball at the Hofburg that night.
“What are you planning, Christina, to remain in hiding for the rest of the Congress?” He watched in frustration as she pushed away her untouched plate. Standing, she began to wander listlessly about the room.
“I really do not feel very well, Robert,” she reiterated with calm patience. “I haven't been sleeping well and this hectic pace is starting to wear me down. Don't forget it has been years since I have been out in society. I am more accustomed to the quiet life of Kerkmoor. It cannot be such a horrendous breach of duty if I forgo this one night; after all there will be another ball next week. And the week after that, and the next...” Her voice trailed off as if in boredom.
If only he could believe her, Robert despaired. “Why aren't you sleeping?”
She shrugged.
“Do you still love him?” He hated himself for pressing her again, but he needed to know.
With a sigh of disgust, she said flatly, “What if I do, Robert? I won't leave you for him. And I will not climb into his bed. What else do you want from me?”
“Your love, perhaps?”
She was beginning to realize she was trying to reason with a man she didn't know anymore. This man was a stranger. Snippets of her conversation with Edward all those months ago insidiously swirled into her tired thoughts. He had been trying to warn her. She should have listened, for she had no idea how to deal with this perverse side of Robert. She wasn't sure she even wanted to try anymore. She just wanted to go home.
Feeling resentful of having to beg for his trust, Christina knelt beside him and took his hands. “Robert, how can you think that I don't love you? What have I done to give you these doubts?”
Robert stared down at her with narrowed eyes, mistrust evident in every tensed muscle in his body. His hands rested heavy in hers, not wanting to give her an inch. “I see how you look at him,” he accused.
How could she possibly reach the understanding of a man who was so intrinsically selfish? Had she been living with blinders on all these years; only seeing what she had wanted to see?
“Robert, most of my life I spent loving Varek. For over ten years we were man and wife and we loved each other passionately. You may not like hearing this, but your wishing it doesn't change the past. You say you love me, and I have no doubt of your love, but you have to realize that what I am today is because of Varek. But Varek is my past. You are my here and now; my future. Isn't that enough?”
Christina was watching the turbulent emotions shifting in Robert's features, saw the bleak doubt in his eyes and knew with a sense of defeat that she had made no impression on him at all. Everything was a competition to him, and he already felt he was losing to Varek.
With a sigh, she dropped his hands and rose to her feet. She wandered over to the window and looked out over the twilit park. Knowing it was useless to ask again, she nevertheless entreated in a listless voice, “May I return to Kerkmoor?”
“Is running the answer to all your problems, Christina?” His question wasn't hostile, just curious.
Closing her eyes, she leaned her forehead against the cool glass and began to despair of her future with Robert. When they returned to England would it ever be the same as it had been? She could only pray that once she was back safe and secure at Kerkmoor, that Robert would return to his ambitions in London and leave her be. It was her only chance at regaining the happiness she had found at Kerkmoor.
Looking up, Christina saw that the moon was rising, a pale lambent glow in the distant sky. And Varek? Would he ever find his happiness somewhere? Would he one day turn all his magical love and devotion onto some other woman and forget her?
“I wish you to attend at the Hofburg tonight, madam.” Robert's demand was spoken gently, but unmistakably final.
Turning, she nodded and said wearily, “As you wish.”
“What I wish is for you to purge him from your heart. That is what I wish, Christina.”
They both knew that what he asked was impossible, so she didn't even bother to answer this absurdity. Instead, she turned her back on him again and looked out into the cold night.
Robert stared at her back, and bit off the recriminations he wanted to hurl at her. What did she want of him, a castrated bull in her bed?
A knock resounded in the room, startling them. Relieved with the interruption, Robert turned toward the door as the maid opened it. When Sergei strode in unannounced, as if he owned the place, Robert again bit off the surge of anger that infused him. Christina's devoted watchdog, another thorn in his side. He shot Christina a resentful glare, before moving toward the unwanted guest.
“What the deuce do you want?” he snapped as Sergei stepped over to the table and helped himself to a cold chicken leg.
Sergei glanced past Basingstoke and looked at Christina, and what he saw only made him tear into the leg a little more savagely. His slitted gaze slid sideways to meet Robert's, which he held until he finished the leg and tossed it back on the table. His voice was cold and clipped when he said, “Castlereagh has called a special meeting with his attachés. You are needed in the consul chamber.” Again, Sergei's gaze flicked over Christina. “Now.”
Robert actually looked relieved at the summons. “Fine.” With a slight bow toward his wife, he told her softly, “I will see you later, my dear. Shall I come back to escort you or will Massallon here offer his services?”
Before she could answer, Sergei assured him impassively, “I shall escort her.”
Robert paused, then sketched Christina another bow, not meeting her eyes. When he turned toward the door, she stepped forward saying firmly, “Robert, I would prefer your company, if it is not too much trouble.”
His head jerked around and he looked at her, a smile of relief spreading over his grim features. “No trouble at all, my dear. I shall be here no later than eight. Will that be enough time for you to prepare yourself?”
Returning his smile, she nodded. It faded as soon as he was gone. She looked sideways at Sergei and saw him frowning at her.
“You look like hell. You shouldn't be going at all.”
Sighing in agreement, Christina rubbed her tired eyes, thinking that the last thing she wanted to do was spend another interminable night making inane chatter with people who were much too interested in meddling in her life. To add to her troubles, Varek had been conspicuously absent from all the social entertainments the last few days.
After a moment of deep thought, she said quietly, “I told him about Eddie.”
Sergei inhaled in surprise. “Was that necessary?” The tone of his voice was an accusation.
Her eyes began to burn even more as she fought off the sting of tears. “I don't know. I didn't want to, but I thought it would make him realize how hopeless it all was, these dreams of his.” My dreams, too, she admitted sadly to herself. “It apparently worked for I haven't seen h
im since.” She looked at him, a question in her eyes.
Sergei shook his head, worry creasing his brow. “No, I haven't seen him either.”
Turning away, Christina gnawed her lip. “Would you check on him, Sergei? I'm frightened.” It took a force of will she barely had to hold back the tears. “You should have seen his face.” Her whisper was tortured, filled with self-loathing. “I hurt him, Sergei. I hurt him so much.”
The look she turned on him was so raw with pain that Sergei was at her side in the next instant, and wordlessly he gathered her close.
Christina laid her cheek on his chest, and sighed, “You will find him?”
“I will find him.”
* * * *
Within hours, Sergei presented himself at Varek's residence. He was told in no uncertain terms that his highness was not at home to visitors. The door was then closed firmly in his face.
Sergei blinked at the closed portal. Never had Varek turned visitors away from his door. Even if he did not see them personally, callers were admitted to his salon and offered refreshments and hospitality.
Backing down the steps, Sergei looked up at the row of windows that were Varek's private rooms. His eyes widened in surprise as he stared up directly at Varek, who stood at a full-length window, one hand holding back the drape, the other holding a crystal glass. He looked like hell; dressed in nothing but breeches and wrinkled shirtsleeves. It appeared he hadn't shaved in days, for a dark shadow covered his lower face, giving him a sinister, haunted quality.
They made eye contact for the briefest moment before Varek turned away, the drape falling back into place.
Sergei continued to stare up at the window, seeing nothing but the look of utter defeat in his friend's hooded eyes. It had been a long time since he had felt this helpless, and looking about the plaza, he wasn't sure what he should do next.
Love Me Again Page 9
