Princess in Love

by Julianne MacLean

  “I will never forget this night,” she said. “Not as long as I live.”

  They spoke very little on the return, but words hardly seemed necessary. Everything that mattered was contained in the bond she felt with Leopold while her head rested on his shoulder and he held her close, keeping her warm against the early morning chill.

  As they drew closer to the palace, however, the dread moved in like a dark cloud, and she knew it would soon be time to let him go.

  “We should say our good-byes now,” he said, “for if we linger too long at the gate, we may be recognized.”

  He pulled the vehicle to a halt and took her into his arms. “Wait for me,” he whispered. “When I return, things will be different. I will win Randolph’s support in Vienna and seek his permission to marry you.”

  “I am not worried,” she replied. “I know this is meant to be. But you must be careful in Vienna. Keep our plans secret from Randolph. He did not respond well to the idea of another man wooing me away from Joseph. Wait until he returns from the Congress. Only then can we begin a respectable courtship.”

  He kissed her passionately. Rose threw her arms around his neck. She could hardly bear it. She didn’t want to say good-bye, but knew she must. “It feels as if my life will stop and pause in silence while you are gone. Only when you return, will the music begin to play again.”

  He kissed her cheek. “I will be back as soon as I am able.”

  He drove closer to the gate.

  “Good-bye,” she quickly said as she shielded her face with her cloak and hopped out of the carriage. Hurrying across the lane, she ran past the guard.

  “Did you enjoy yourself, miss?” he teasingly asked.

  She did not respond, for she could see no humor in the moment as the horse began to trot away and Leopold was again pulled from her world.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Hofburg Palace, Vienna

  October 13, 1814

  In his pocket, Randolph carried with him at all times the private, intimate letter from his sister, Rose, to Archduke Joseph, heir to the Austrian throne and eldest son of their generous host, Emperor Francis.

  Randolph had hoped to deliver the letter the day he arrived, but was informed that Joseph had not yet returned from his diplomatic visit to Naples, though he was expected to arrive home at any time.

  As a result, Randolph went about the business of the Congress, meeting with the other European monarchs while establishing a strong rapport with Prince Metternich, the Austrian foreign minister and influential president of the peace conference.

  He also attended an important dinner with Talleyrand, the French foreign minister, and the following evening he and Nicholas were invited to the Duchess of Sagan’s salon at the Palm Palace, where he spent most of the evening wishing he were at home in Petersbourg with Alexandra, spending the hours alone with her, naked in bed. All he wanted to do presently was return to his apartments at the Hofburg and write to her about the events of the day and all that he had seen and experienced thus far.

  He regretted not bringing her. She was his queen, after all, and they were newlyweds, but she was in a delicate condition with her pregnancy and the palace physician had advised against it.

  Just then, the butler announced a late arrival to the Duchess of Sagan’s intimate soiree. “His Imperial Highness, Joseph Francis.”

  The duchess went quickly to greet him while Randolph put a hand to his breast pocket. Was he carrying Rose’s letter this evening?

  Nicholas appeared at his side just then. “Well, this is a surprise. Will you tell him tonight? Seems a shame. He only just arrived.”

  “I believe these things are best dealt with head-on,” Randolph replied.

  “At least let him have a drink first.”

  The archduke—who was an exceedingly dignified gentleman, richly dressed, with light blond hair and a freckled complexion—kissed the duchess’s hand, then lifted his gaze and spotted Randolph across the room. His expression brightened, and he excused himself from the duchess’s company.

  Randolph and Nicholas each greeted him. “Welcome back, Your Highness.”

  “Your Majesty,” he cheerfully replied. “What an unexpected pleasure. My father and I were pleased you could both attend the Congress. But first, please accept my sincere condolences over your own father’s passing.”

  “Thank you,” Randolph said. Nicholas nodded in agreement.

  “And Rose?” the archduke asked. “How is she? What a shame she couldn’t join you.”

  Randolph set his empty glass down on a table. “Yes, indeed. In that regard, I have a letter for you. If you will excuse me for one moment?”

  He left Joseph with Nicholas while he sought out their hostess to request the use of a more private location—her dining room perhaps. All the while, his heart was filling with dread, for he genuinely liked the archduke. He was not going to enjoy disappointing him in this manner.

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, the archduke lowered the letter to his side and sank into a chair at the table.

  Randolph, who was already seated, said nothing for a moment. He wanted to give Joseph an opportunity to absorb the contents of the letter.

  Joseph pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a heavy sigh. “Well, I suppose it’s good to learn these things at the outset, rather than let it drag on and on. Did she tell you why exactly? Was it something I did, or did not do?”

  “Of course not,” Randolph assured him. “She holds you in the highest regard, but I believe she was finding it difficult to imagine leaving Petersbourg.”

  Joseph nodded. “I see. Well … it would no doubt be difficult to leave one’s home country.” He paused. “I wonder if I should have done something more when I learned of your father’s passing. I fear I should have traveled to Petersbourg to be at her side. It was wrong of me to have placed so much importance upon the distance and the time it would take to make such a journey. I felt uncertain about it at the time. I should have spared nothing.” He met Randolph’s gaze. “I did think of her, and I was very sorry for your loss. Please apologize to her for me, will you? Tell her I bear no ill will toward her for this change of heart. That I understand and accept her decision. And thank her for the letter. It was very kindly worded. Did you read it?”

  Randolph shook his head. “No, I believe it was meant to be private.”

  Joseph looked down at it. “She says she hopes I will forgive her. Tell her I do, and that I hope she will always consider me a friend.”

  They both stood up. Randolph reached into his pocket and withdrew the ring, which he had been carrying in a small velvet bag. He handed it to the archduke.

  An awkward silence ensued.

  “Well,” Joseph said. “I should probably make my excuses to the duchess and bow out early. I don’t think I will be cheerful company this evening.”

  “I am sorry, Joseph.”

  He waved a hand. “No, no. Please do not apologize. I appreciate her honesty, and it is best that we discover these things early on. Thank you for delivering the news personally, Your Majesty. It couldn’t have been easy.”

  With that, he bid Randolph farewell and left the duchess’s salon.

  Rand returned to the party and picked up a glass of claret from a footman’s tray.

  Nicholas approached him. “It couldn’t be helped,” he said. “At least it’s done. You have fulfilled your duty.”

  Rand nodded. “He took it well. He’s a good man. It’s a shame, really, that Rose couldn’t feel some affection for him. Perhaps I should have done more to encourage the match.”

  “Don’t punish yourself. Love is funny that way. Most of the time, someone gets hurt. You did the right thing. It would have been wrong to force her into matrimony, and it is best that the archduke found out sooner rather than later.”

  Rand finished the drink, then also made his excuses to the duchess and left the salon early, for after witnessing a good man’s heart being broken, he found himself miss
ing his own wife more than words could say.

  PART III

  Disappointments

  Chapter Eighteen

  Petersbourg

  December 3, 1814

  It hardly seemed possible, but here she stood at last, strolling with a feigned appearance of boredom around the potted palms in the palace conservatory, waiting for Leopold to meet her.

  Finally, he had returned to Petersbourg. He had come home early from Vienna for he could not bear to be away from her another day. He also claimed he had good news.

  What was it? Rose wondered impatiently as she paced back and forth upon the gray flagstones. He had not elaborated in the brief note he’d sent the night before. Other than that, they had not written to each other for fear of being discovered.

  But none of that mattered now. He was home at last, and in a few short minutes he would be holding her in his arms.

  The sound of footsteps at the entrance to the conservatory reached her from a distance, and a sizzling thrill of anticipation coursed through her.

  She stood motionless, watching and waiting … Was it him? Was it Leopold, her great love?

  At long last, he appeared from around a flowering rhododendron and stopped in his tracks when he spotted her.

  The rest of the world vanished while she took in the breathtaking sight of his tall, muscled form beneath an elegant dove gray jacket and pristine white cravat. He was so handsome in the bright wintry light shining in through the conservatory windows, she felt almost dizzy with awe.

  “My love,” he said, taking a few swift strides toward her. “I thought this day would never come.”

  All at once, the world came alive again as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. His lips were soft and moist, yet fiercely demanding. Her heart couldn’t keep still. Her flesh tingled with excitement.

  “I thought you would never get here,” she said, trying to keep her voice low when she wanted to shout out loud from the highest mountain.

  “How I missed you,” he replied, “but I am here now, at last.” He kissed her passionately until the chirp of a bird caused them to step apart and look up. “I thought we were alone,” he said good-naturedly.

  Rose watched the tiny sparrow dart around, up and over the treetops, just below the glass ceiling.

  “Sometimes I wonder if she wants to escape this place, or if she truly enjoys being here.” She met Leopold’s gaze. “There were days I felt trapped here just like that little bird. I wanted to break through a window and fly off to Vienna to be with you.”

  He held both her hands in his. “There shall be no need for broken windows, darling, for I am here now, returned to you.”

  They heard voices just beyond the entrance, so they began to stroll casually along the path.

  “Did you visit Alexandra?” Rose asked, for he had mentioned that he would do so first before coming to the conservatory. It had been his excuse to pay a visit to the palace.

  “Yes, I just came from the queen’s chambers. I had a stack of letters to deliver from Randolph, and she asked me about the conference. That is why I am so late. There was much to tell. She was curious about the peace talks and wanted to know all about the whirl of the social calendar. I believe she is missing her husband terribly.”

  “There can be no question about that,” Rose agreed. “She waits very impatiently for his letters. There haven’t been any for a while, so I am pleased you were able to deliver some. That will keep her occupied, no doubt. But you said you had good news. What is it, Leopold? Please, I beg of you, put an end to the suspense.”

  He glanced over his shoulder as if to check for prying eyes and ears, then stopped at a bench and invited her to sit down.

  “First, before I say anything, have you heard from the archduke? Has he accepted that your engagement is officially ended?”

  She clasped both his hands. “Yes. Randolph gave him my letter and returned the ring, and Joseph has since written to me to say that he accepts my decision and bears no ill will toward me. He hopes that we will be friends and wishes me happiness in the future.”

  Leopold regarded her quietly. “I must tell you, Rose, that I met him while I was in Vienna. On more than one occasion, in fact. There were many dinners and balls. It was impossible not to mix with all the conference attendees, not to mention our Austrian hosts.”

  Rose felt a terrible pang of guilt in her heart. “You didn’t mention me, I hope.”

  He shook his head. “No, I promised I wouldn’t. I spoke to him about the peace treaty issues.… Honestly, if I had not made love to you before I left and felt certain that you were mine, I might have challenged him to a duel or taken some other drastic measures to triumph over him. I’m not proud of it, but my jealousy knows no bounds.”

  “I don’t mind that you are jealous,” she said with a smile. “I quite like it, actually.”

  He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “There is so much I want to tell you about the peace talks, but we must save that for later, for we don’t have much time.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “No, I must return to my apartments soon, before anyone misses me. It wouldn’t do for me to be caught unchaperoned with a handsome gentleman in the conservatory.”

  He smiled. “Of course not. Allow me to get straight to the point, then. Last week there was an organized hunt at Schönbrunn Palace. I spent some time with Randolph, and he told me of your broken engagement. I acted surprised of course, then he asked me quite bluntly if I still had feelings for you.”

  Rose drew back in surprise. “You are joking. I didn’t think he knew. I’ve said nothing to him about you since our meeting in England, but perhaps Nicholas did. They both remember how I suffered two years ago when everyone thought we were sweethearts, and then we weren’t. Whatever did you say?”

  “I told him I held you in the highest regard and regretted what happened between us. I even confessed that I was at that time secretly engaged to someone I had never met, and that is why I was forced to discourage your affections. I explained that it was over now and I was free. I did imply that I would like to court you again, if he had no objection.”

  “What did he say?” she asked, sitting forward slightly, powerless to curb her impatience.

  Leopold smiled. “He did not object, but asked that I wait until he returned from the Congress to ensure that any new courtship does not overlap with your broken engagement. He simply asks that we be patient. That is all.”

  Overcome with joy, Rose raised his hands to her lips and kissed them. “Oh, Leopold, I am so happy! But will the waiting never end? It has been so difficult. Sometimes it feels as if I’ve been waiting forever to be with you.”

  He glanced over his shoulder again, listening for intruders, then pressed his lips to hers, but only for a moment, for they heard voices again, echoing in the corridor just outside the conservatory.

  Rose forced herself to pull away from him when all she wanted to do was hold him forever.

  “I must go now,” she said. “When will I see you next?”

  “I will contrive a reason to visit the palace again soon. Continue to be patient. I will send word to you.”

  She kissed his hand quickly, and hurried out.

  * * *

  With Christmas approaching, Rose was kept busy with numerous charitable endeavors, which she helped Alexandra to organize and carry out. They paid visits to the poorhouses to serve soup and bread to the less fortunate, and they also embarked upon an ambitious project to engage the help of many aristocratic ladies to knit mittens for a gift-giving on Christmas Day.

  The event was widely publicized in the Chronicle, and the news provided an excuse for Leopold to visit the palace again to deliver a pamphlet about knitting to the queen, which he hoped would be of some use to her. He managed to get word to Rose the day before. Again, they met in secret in the conservatory.

  “When will Randolph come home from Vienna?” he asked as they moved behind a thick, fragrant rosebush. “I want to
court you properly.”

  “I want that, too,” she replied, “but I cannot afford to behave improperly. My family’s reputation is hanging by a thread as it is. Did you read what was printed in the Chronicle last week? They said Randolph was consorting with his former fiancée, the Countess of Ainsley, in Vienna, and it implied that he was unfaithful to Alexandra. I swear, will it ever end? I am certain it is yet another plot to damage Randolph’s reputation, headed by the Royalists, no doubt. They are always trying to remind the people that we were not born into royalty and are therefore unworthy of the crown.”

  “I read it,” he confessed, keeping his gaze lowered. “But you mustn’t worry about that. They are only trying to sell newspapers. Nothing accomplishes that as well as a good scandal. It will blow over. They always do.” He lifted his gaze again.

  She jumped at the sound of the bird chirping from somewhere above. “I am so afraid we are going to get caught. They will say I was unfaithful to my fiancé, and single-handedly destroyed Petersbourg’s influence at the peace conference.”

  “Do not fret,” Leopold said.

  How could she help it? Everything seemed so uncertain with Randolph and Nicholas out of the country, while the public was throwing roses at their new Tremaine queen. The Sebastian dynasty seemed somehow less secure.

  “Alexandra was terribly vexed by what they printed about Randolph and his former fiancée,” she said. “I fear she half believes it. You were there in Vienna. Did you witness anything? Did you see Randolph flirting with the countess?”

  Leopold inclined his head. “Are you worried there is truth to it?”

  “No, of course not. Randolph is in love with Alexandra, but sometimes appearances can create a whole new reality. Alexandra is trying to ignore it, but she cannot help but feel very alone. She has left her country behind, and must wait for the spring for her sisters to arrive. I do my best to assure her that everything is well, but the press can be so very cruel.”