Love Me Again

by Wendy M. Burge

  Varek had no clear memories of Katerina Janecke, but she had made his mother's position at the court of Austenburg pure hell. It seemed her son had inherited her spite. Coldly, Varek looked down at him and responded with equal coldness. “If this is true, you were born a bastard and should count yourself fortunate that you were able to continue as chancellor after your mother's husband died.”

  Roget's eyes narrowed, the only sign of emotion he had shown since being led under guard onto the square.

  “Did you truly think this puny insurrection of yours would win you anything?”

  “Of course not.” He shrugged dismissively.

  That gave Varek pause. The man sounded too smug by half.

  Roget explained with a sullen sideways glare at Varek. “If you hadn't gone behind my back and dissolved the duchy, it would have all been mine. I have to admit that surprised me, for I didn't think you would want to deprive your beloved daughter her birthright.”

  Through stiff lips, Varek demanded, “Oh, do go on. You have us enthralled.”

  “It started many, many years ago, my plan. Actually, the day I became chancellor I set my plan in motion.”

  Roget had stepped into his father's shoes as chancellor the year before Varek married Christina. Not long after that, his father had died of a mysterious ailment. Because of that very mystery, there had been speculation of poisoning. Varek felt a chill run down his spine. “My father?”

  “Our father,” Roget reminded him gently, with a cold smile. “He was old anyway, and was not as appreciative of my work as he should have been.”

  Varek and Sergei stared at the reptile in astonishment. “This started all those years ago?”

  “I am known for my patience. You have mocked me for it more often than not. In truth, you should be thankful for my forbearance, for it kept your beautiful wife alive.”

  If Varek had felt a chill before, the icy shock that swept through his veins now almost stopped his heart. “What are you talking about?”

  “My whole plan hinged on your love for her, you see. I knew that with enough time you would set her aside to protect her. Then I would slip in another woman that you had no affection for to produce the required heir. I was praying it would be a girl, and you obliged me again. When she was old enough and I had gotten rid of you, I would have married my son to her, and the line would have reverted exactly as it should have, to my blood. I had made arrangements with the Count Wurstein years ago that upon his daughter producing the Austenburg heir he would have more wealth than he could dream of.” Roget shrugged. “It was a rather simple plan, really; it just required time.”

  Varek and Sergei stared at the man in revulsion. Roget returned their regard with such nonchalance that he was repulsive to watch. The man reveled in his machinations, appearing only slightly sullen that it had all blown up in his face. Hell, even the knowledge of his eminent death seemed not to bother him in the least.

  “But how did you know Varek would set Christina aside?” Sergei was too stunned to even think of the amenities of titles.

  “He was stubborn on that, unfortunately. It took six miscarriages to finally convince him to set her aside, and that was only after I had spread the rumor that the rebels were going to assassinate her in order to rid the duchy of the unproductive marriage.”

  Varek's head started pounding, his tongue so numb that he could barely get out the words. “You caused the miscarriages?”

  Again, the monster shrugged. “Certain herbs mixed together and added to her food or drink. It was not difficult.”

  “Why not just kill her?” Sergei wondered aloud as he stared at the reptile with sick curiosity.

  “I actually like the archduchess, and I knew with her dead, Varek would likely be unwilling to marry again, especially not to a woman of my recommendation, no matter how politically advantageous the match would be. You see I needed the heir to be of a family I could control. I would have had no power over any child Christina bore.” He glanced at Varek. “And with you gone, there would be nothing to stop me.”

  “You killed my children for your warped ambition?” Varek demanded in a frigid whisper of despair. “You threatened the life of my wife so you could manipulate me?”

  Roget's smile was Machiavellian as he gloated, “You have to admit it went splendidly till Bröchre failed at Waterloo.” Shaking his head, he commented sadly, “I had expected so much better of him, considering his reputation.”

  Varek stared at him in stunned silence for so long that Sergei looked over at him with a worried frown. The archduke's profile was stark, bare of all emotion, as he stood staring at his nemesis with an unblinking intensity that had the men about him fidgeting. Varek's face was as unreadable as a death mask.

  When he abruptly turned to Baron Kinsky, who had been standing close by, listening to the ghastly confession, the men about him snapped to attention. “The execution will commence now,” he ordered curtly.

  The baron nodded at his Hussars, who grabbed hold of Roget's arms and led him onto the thickly sanded field of execution. Turning smartly on his heel, Varek strode over to where the firing squad stood at attention, and curious, Sergei followed close behind him.

  Varek stopped beside the officer in charge of the squad and quietly instructed him to tell his men to stand down. Though confused, the officer immediately followed the archduke's instructions. Varek then held out his hand to one of the soldiers, silently demanding his musket. The soldier stepped forward with a salute and handed over his firearm, which Varek took with a nod of thanks, then, with grim determination, he strode over to stand on the firing line. Sergei, seeing what his friend was doing, also confiscated a musket and took up his stance beside Varek.

  He looked sideways to see Varek glaring at him. “Do you deny me my right to stand beside you in this?” Sergei demanded indignantly.

  After a moment, Varek shook his head. Then he swung his burning glare on the officer and clipped out, “Proceed.”

  Still confused, and not sure what the protocol of this situation was, the officer looked to his commander-in-chief, Baron Kinsky, for instructions. Firmly, the baron nodded to him.

  Snapping to attention, the officer barked out, “Ready!”

  Varek and Sergei both assumed their positions and sighted across the expanse of patterned brickwork at the smugly smiling monster who had ripped all their lives apart.

  “Aim!”

  Together they raised their weapons and sighted on the yellow cross that had been painted crudely over Roget's heart. Varek's mind flashed back to all the years of pain that Christina had suffered through with each of the deaths, no, murders, of their children. Closing his eye, he aimed between Roget's eyes. He was sorry the bastard's death was going to be so quick and painless.

  “Fire!”

  The muskets spat out their justice and Roget was flung backwards, sprawling gracelessly on his back, his sightless eyes staring up into the sky, his traitor's blood quickly drenched the sand beneath him. A cheer rose up from the populace as they witnessed an end to an unwanted chapter in Austenburg's recently bloody history.

  Sergei turned with a grim smile toward Varek and with horror watched as a red stain blossomed on Varek's chest. Varek was also staring down in surprise. He dropped the musket and raised his hand, as if in confusion. Turning to look at Sergei, he stumbled and then crashed heavily onto the pristine bricks of the plaza.

  Pandemonium struck as the relative calm erupted into a fury of activity. The crowd quickly turned into a mob of panic-stricken confusion as the soldiers either rushed toward the archduke or took off toward the trail of smoke drifting lazily up over the west side of the square. The sound of gunfire could be heard over the screams of the people as they surged toward safety.

  Sergei vaguely heard the commotion around him as he fell to his knees beside Varek and gently rolled his limp body over and into his arms. Varek's face had bled white with shock and the motionless look in his eyes had Sergei calling out frantically, “Vare, do
you hear me?”

  Varek's eyes fluttered, slowly forcing his gaze to focus as he stared up at Sergei. Weakly, he smiled. “We forgot about Bröchre.” His voice was barely a rasp of sound. “The man certainly knows his business.”

  Sergei would have kicked Varek for his hellish sense of humor if he hadn't been lying in his arms bleeding to death.

  When Varek spoke again, Sergei had to lean close to hear him. “It seems my time of waiting in this life is over. Tell her I will find her.” Blood bubbled past blue-tinged lips and his breathing assumed a deadly gurgling sound in his chest that warned of a punctured lung.

  “Vare?” Sergei whispered helplessly, his heart pounding so loudly in his ears that he couldn't hear anything. “Can you hear me?”

  Again, Varek seemed to focus on his friend. He smiled as he raised a hand as if to touch Sergei's face, and murmured in wonder, “Lark?”

  Sergei watched as Varek's eyes glazed over before falling shut, his hand dropping limply onto the ground and his breath sighing out. Sergei was left frantically searching Varek's neck for some sign of

  life. “No!” The word was wrenched from Sergei's closed throat. “Damn you, you can't do this, Vare! I promised her!”

  “Step aside,” a harsh voice commanded from above him. Looking up, dazed, Sergei found the emperor standing close beside him, his worried frown bent down on his cousin.

  “He's dead,” was the only thing Sergei could manage to say, as he clung to his friend's limp body.

  Nodding, Francis bent down and said gently, knowing well how close these two men had been through half their lives, “You must let him go, Massallon.”

  Before Sergei could even try to assimilate what was going on, Varek's body was lifted away from him and borne swiftly away through the crowds of weeping, screaming people converging from every angle. When Sergei looked around, the emperor was gone, too, and he was left alone, crouched over the ground that had just quenched its thirst on Varek's blood. The first sob, when it exploded from his cold lips, felt as if the hand of God had reached down and wrenched it from deep in his soul.

  And as he sat there doubled over with grief, his tears mingling with Varek's blood, he despaired of how he was ever going to be able to tell her.

  * * * *

  Sergei couldn't stay for the funeral, the thought of seeing Varek laid to rest too devastating, so he left the next day, and in his possession was the last will and testament of Archduke, Varek von Vischering. His mission now was to return to Vienna and escort Tina Marie to her new guardian, the Duke of Kerkston. Never in his life had he felt so weary and disheartened, and he deliberately prolonged the journey, unable to bear what faced him at its end. He was instructed by the emperor not to tell Tina of the death of her father, that it should be left until later, when she was settled in England. Sergei felt only relief to have that responsibility taken off his shoulders.

  What awaited him in England was punishment enough for his failure.

  * * * *

  Christina knocked softly, and upon hearing Edward's voice, she opened the study door and entered, being sure she closed it firmly behind her.

  Looking up, Edward smiled, and when he began to stand, she hurriedly admonished him to sit. With a groan, he settled back down into the large armchair, and she joined him in the companion chair before the fireplace. The room was freezing except for the snug little area before the blazing fire. After tucking the woolen throw back around his legs, she settled carefully into the generous seat, her mourning skirts settling about the pronounced rounding of her stomach. Tenderly, she smoothed her hands over Varek's child and again felt a thrill of sublime anticipation. When she had realized she was going to have Varek's child it had given her a new sense of direction after Robert's painful death. But now it was time to be honest with Edward, she couldn't go on deceiving him.

  “There is something you must know, Edward,” she began hesitantly as she fiddled with the fringe of her shawl.

  With a gentle smile, he cocked his head to the side and waited. Lifting her gaze she announced quickly, “This child is not Robert's.”

  Edward merely nodded, saying in his usual smooth voice, “I suspected as much.”

  Christina bit her lip, watching him warily, “I will leave if you wish.”

  Frowning, he leaned forward as he watched her closely, “Is that what you want?”

  “Heavens, no!” she choked out. “But as I will be giving birth to a bas,”

  He cut her off curtly. “I will never again hear such drivel out of your mouth, Christina. I am pleased that you will be having Varek's child.”

  Astounded, she blinked at him. “You are?”

  Now he began to fidget, his fingers clenched about the glass of brandy he was holding. “I believe it is my turn for honesty. I have sent one courier to Austenburg and another to Vienna, just in case, informing the archduke of his impending good fortune.”

  Christina could only stare at him in dazed wonder. “How could you know for sure it was Varek's?”

  “During one of our last conversations, Robert had bitterly recounted how your relationship had deteriorated in Vienna. He mostly blamed himself, but it was also quite apparent that there had been no congress between the two of you for months prior to Waterloo. I knew it could only have been your Varek's.”

  Raising her hands, Christina buried her face in them. “Oh, Edward,” she moaned, her words muffled, “I am so ashamed.”

  “Why?” he asked, perplexed.

  “That I didn't tell you right away. I didn't want you to be disappointed in me.”

  Smiling at her foolishness, he shook his head in mock despair, “Christina, you can be such a child at times.”

  Her lips quirking, she murmured wryly, “Thank you.” Then she frowned before asking, “How long ago did you send the messages?”

  “A few weeks after Robert passed away.” The funeral had been a quiet affair, with only the immediate family and the servants present. Edward felt guilty at his lack of feelings on the death of his brother. Even though he had tried all his life to establish a closer bond between them, theirs had not been an easy relationship. Was it wrong of him to be secretly glad for Christina? His only regret was in knowing that she would soon be leaving Kerkmoor and returning to her husband's side. The thought of this huge house without her and Eddie was a desolate one, and it kept him restless at nights and depressed during the days.

  Christina was biting her lip as she thought of two months passing with no word from Varek. Alarm chased through her. Certainly if Varek had learned of her pregnancy he would, at the very least, have responded by courier.

  Seeing her fear, Edward quickly reassured her, “My dear, don't worry yet. Europe is still in upheaval and things will come about, but you have to expect the progress to be slow. Have patience. He will come.”

  Comforted only a little, she gave him a tremulous smile and nodded. Edward always knew best, so she would take his advice and not worry.

  At least not yet.

  Twenty-five

  It was a lazy autumn afternoon, with the first snowfall barely covering the brittle carpet of dead leaves, when Sergei finally arrived at Kerkmoor. As the coach turned down the broad tree-lined road that approached the elegant Palladian manor, Sergei felt as if he was coming home after years gone, he was that weary of heart. Behind the massive Corinthian portico was the woman he loved like a sister, and on his shoulders rested the horrendous task of telling her that the one man she loves above her own life was dead. Rubbing his eyes, he did not know how he was going to tell her.

  When the coach rolled to a stop before the broad steps that marched up either side to a high podium, Sergei saw the front entrance open immediately. As expected, the ever faithful Sefton appeared between the marble pillars, and when Sergei waved him down the man hurried down the left staircase, a broad smile creasing his usually somber features.

  “Mr. Massallon, how good it is to see you again! My lady will be so pleased.” Sefton's grin slowly fad
ed as he approached Sergei and saw the gloomy defeat on the traveler's weary face. “Is something wrong, sir?”

  He watched as Sergei climbed from the coach with a beautiful golden-haired angel draped in silent exhaustion over his shoulder. When he came to Sefton's side, Sergei inquired in a low murmur, “His grace is in residence, I presume?”

  “Yes, sir. The house is in mourning for the viscount.”

  Sergei froze at this unexpected news. “My God!” he whispered as he held Tina tighter. Now the thought of having to give Christina his sad tidings was even more appalling. Closing his eyes, he almost cried out at the cruel irony of it all. If only ... There was that damned if only again.

  Sefton had turned to motion to the footmen to gather the luggage when Sergei informed him that it was imperative that he speak with the duke alone before the viscountess was made aware of his presence.

  Concerned, Sefton nodded and immediately ran back up the stairs to inform his grace of Sergei's arrival.

  Slowly, dreading each step he took, Sergei climbed the stairs and reluctantly entered the huge hall. The light from the skylights above cast an incandescent glow about the marble floor and walls, and blindly his steps took him into the front salon. He wasn't worried about running into Christina as the family usually spent their time in the east wing, which was set back from the formal front entrance.

  It was not too long before he heard a strange tapping sound coming toward him, and turning, he watched in amazement as the duke carefully limped into the salon, supported between two canes. “Damn my eyes if you don't gladden my heart, your grace.” Sergei laughed out loud as he strode forward to shake Edward's hand. The duke was grinning back, his face flushed and excitement flashing in his eyes.

  “Well, you are also a sight for sore eyes. Christina will be ecstatic that you are finally here.” Eagerly he looked about the room; then with a confused frown he turned back to Sergei.

  Before he could ask, Sergei suggested that they sit down, for there was much to explain. After a moment's pause, the duke made his ponderous way across the room to a settee, where he lowered himself with a sigh. As Sergei also seated himself, Edward was studying the solemn little girl who was staring at him with weary interest.