A Scandalous Adventure

by Lillian Marek

  Max realized that his mouth was hanging open and he snapped it shut. This was beyond belief. What sort of game did the princess think she was playing? Well, he wasn’t about to let her just vanish again. He marched after them, keeping them in sight without getting too close so they would think he had believed their nonsense.

  Not that it would have been easy to keep out of sight if they had bothered to turn around. Even without the white-plumed shako on his head, his height—all six feet four inches of him—guaranteed that he stood a head above the invalids tottering along the paths of the spa gardens. He growled impatiently as a nurse pushed her patient in a wheeled chair through the intersection in front of him. His scowl frightened a hobbling man back onto the bench from which he had been attempting to rise.

  Unlike many of those in the gardens, the women moved quickly and gracefully, even the old one—the one who called herself Lady Augusta. They soon left the open expanse of the gardens, but the wide streets of the town made it easy to keep them in view. They walked past the colonnaded facade of the Kurhaus, where the hot-spring baths were located, but did not enter. He was grateful for that, since he would be unable to follow them into the women’s section.

  In no time at all, they arrived at the Grand Hotel, a yellow building so festooned with white columns and cornices and balconies that it looked like a pastry confection. As they entered, they were greeted with bows and smiles by the uniformed concierge and porters. So this “Lady Augusta” had not been lying when she said she was staying there, but had there been a “Lady Olivia” staying there as well? And for how long?

  He gave them a chance to get well inside the building before he approached one of the porters. “Excuse me, but those ladies who just entered—was that not Baroness Lengenfeld and her daughters?”

  “No, no.” The fellow smiled. “They are English, those ladies.”

  “Really? Have they been here long? I could have sworn I saw them in Linz only a few days ago.”

  “Not these ladies. They have been here for more than two weeks now.”

  “Two weeks, you say? All three of them?”

  “Indeed.” The fellow began to look at him distrustfully. “Why do you ask?”

  Max shook his head. “I thought… I must have been mistaken.”

  He turned and walked in a daze toward his own, more secluded hotel. This was impossible. Impossible. Unbelievable. Was Princess Mila—Lady Olivia, whoever she was—right? Was he going mad?

  He needed to talk to the general.

  Three

  Lady Susannah burst into their hotel sitting room and marched furiously about, her hoops swinging wildly around her, endangering the ornaments cluttering the numerous small tables. It was most unladylike behavior. She did not care. She did not feel ladylike at the moment. Far from it. “Of all the improper, infuriating, arrogant, high-handed, overweening, pompous, insolent…” She pressed her lips tightly together.

  “Have you run out of adjectives, dear?” asked Lady Augusta as she untied her bonnet and set it aside. “That was exciting, was it not? Positively exhilarating. But now, if you will excuse me, I believe I will take a short nap. Enjoyable though that little interlude was, I am not accustomed to so much excitement.” She smiled cheerfully at the girls and walked to her bedroom.

  “Oh dear,” said Olivia. “Did we hurry back too quickly? Have we tired her out excessively? She was walking quite energetically on the way back. More energetically than usual. Unless that’s why she’s tired now.” She sat down on the sofa of their sitting room and looked worriedly at the door Lady Augusta had just closed.

  Ignoring them both, Susannah continued to pace about, pulling off the remains of her hat. Its ribbons hung down, dirty and dispirited. It looked as if that…that creature had stomped on it. “Look at this! It’s battered out of recognition. And it was my favorite.”

  Olivia looked around at that. “It was? I thought you said this morning that you didn’t care for it and you wished the wind would blow it away.”

  Susannah had the grace to look a bit embarrassed. “Well, all right. It wasn’t my favorite. But that doesn’t mean I want some ill-mannered behemoth to be responsible for its demise.”

  “He was enormous, wasn’t he?” Olivia shivered delightedly. “Almost frightening, like the villain in a novel. Or the hero. You know—the dark, brooding one you can’t be sure about. You were really quite brave, the way you stood up to him.”

  “Frightening?” Susannah raised her brows. “I wouldn’t call him frightening. And he certainly wasn’t brooding. He was even laughing at me. Maddening is more like it. Aggravating. Infuriating. Insufferable. I’ve never been treated in such a way.”

  “But he was so very big. And he was so angry that he certainly frightened me when he appeared out of nowhere.”

  Susannah wasn’t listening. “Maddening,” she repeated. “Insulting. Completely ill-mannered and boorish. Paying absolutely no attention to anything anyone was saying. He had one idea inside that thick skull of his, and nothing anyone said would even penetrate.”

  Olivia tilted her head to the side and considered. “Well, he did listen to Lady Augusta. At least, he did eventually.”

  “Ha. Listen to her, did he? He certainly didn’t believe her. Didn’t you notice that he followed us back to the hotel?” Susannah flopped down onto a chair and scowled.

  “He did?” Olivia sat up in momentary alarm. “How do you know? You weren’t looking behind us.”

  “I didn’t have to. There are so many windows on the Kurhaus that they reflect everything several times over. Shop windows too.”

  “Does that mean he knows where to find us?”

  “Well, of course he knows where to find us. Aunt Augusta told him where we are staying, remember? He was following us because he thought she was making it all up. He’s obviously incapable of recognizing the truth when he hears it. As if a lady like Aunt Augusta would tell lies.” Susannah sat up straighter and drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair. She ignored the fact that Aunt Augusta was capable of making up all sorts of tarradiddle if it amused her.

  “Oh.” Olivia sat there chewing on her lip for a long minute. “Does that mean he still thinks I’m that princess? Is he likely to try to drag me off again? I don’t think I would care for that.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you. If he has any sense—and I’m not saying he does—but if he has any intelligence at all, he will ask about us at the hotel, and they will tell him how long we have been here. Sooner or later he will have to accept that we are who we say we are. After all, he can’t refuse to believe everyone in Baden.”

  Unable to sit still any longer, Susannah sprang up, shook out her skirts, and strode over to the window. Holding the heavy velvet drape to the side, she looked out at the busy street in front of the hotel. Busy, but not hurried. People walked slowly, many of them with the aid of canes. Even the horses pulling the open carriages plodded along, moving scarcely faster than the pedestrians. Every now and then a breeze would come along to swirl the leaves that had begun to fall. How depressing that the most exciting sight from her hotel window was the dance of autumn leaves.

  That was the problem with a watering place like Baden. People came here to be cured, and the only reason they needed to be cured was that there was something wrong with them in the first place.

  Most of them were elderly like Aunt Augusta, here because the warm spring baths would ease their aches and pains. The treatments did work, she supposed. At least Aunt Augusta was moving far more easily than she had when they arrived. And it was understandable that her mother had wanted her and Olivia to accompany Aunt Augusta. Everyone knew it would be difficult for the elderly lady to manage the trip on her own. At least that was the reason her mother had given. Susannah was beginning to have her doubts.

  Though why they had to come all the way to Baden, she still didn’t know. There were
plenty of spas in France or Belgium, much closer to home. Was there something special about the waters here? It was possible, she supposed. But she couldn’t think what it might be.

  With a sigh, she let the heavy drape fall back across the window, willing herself to calm down. Soon it would be time for afternoon tea, although here people had coffee, not tea. Coffee and pastries. The pastries, she had to admit, were delectable, most of them served mit schlag, with whipped cream. Everything seemed to come mit schlag. If she was not careful, she would put on a grotesque amount of weight, since she had nothing to do all day but stroll in those boring gardens and eat pastries.

  And every now and then, perhaps one of Aunt Augusta’s acquaintances would appear, with a son or grandson or nephew in tow. A very proper young man, who would say all the expected things, and who would expect her to be impressed by his brilliance or his position or his cravat. A very proper, very boring young man, who would be no different from all the very proper, very boring young men to whom she had been presented in London. Or in Dorset.

  She had no objection to propriety. Indeed, she valued it highly and prided herself on her own irreproachable behavior. It indicated respect for others. But was there some law that decreed that a man who behaved with propriety must be a fool and a bore? Couldn’t he also have a few ideas of his own?

  Olivia was still worrying, her lower lip caught between her teeth. “I suppose he isn’t really likely to come here, is he? I mean, we probably won’t see him again, will we?” She sounded less worried than regretful.

  “No, dear, we aren’t likely to see him again.” Susannah tried to keep the regret out of her own voice. At least the eruption of the enormous, though boorish, officer into their lives had meant that something happened today. She couldn’t deny that he was something out of the ordinary. He would be out of the ordinary in any setting, not just in a spa town full of elderly invalids. For one thing, he was so big and strong—definitely strong, with those broad shoulders.

  Ha. Those shoulders were probably all padding, like the ones on the guardsmen strolling around Hyde Park in London in their red tunics. She was not some silly schoolgirl to go mooning about because a handsome officer smiled at her. She knew better than that. There was probably nothing substantial to him at all.

  Of course, he had picked her up and tucked her under his arm as if she weighed nothing at all, but one could hardly consider that attractive in any way. Really, it had been humiliating, not exciting. He had picked her up and warned her not to hurt herself as if she had been a child. A weak, delicate little child.

  She wasn’t used to feeling delicate. She might be on the short side, the smallest one in the family, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t always been perfectly well able to keep up with the others, whether racing across the hills of Dorset or dancing till dawn at a London ball. No one had ever treated her as if she were delicate.

  She would never admit it except to herself, and she didn’t like having to admit it to herself at all, but she had rather enjoyed the feeling.

  She sighed. Aside from being big and strong, he was also quite handsome. Extremely handsome. Those dark curls, and those dark eyes laughing at her. Then there was the way he had laughed when she tried to drive him off—as if he thought she was being ridiculous but he enjoyed it.

  She should not be thinking this way. It had all been most improper. Even if she was a bit bored—and very well, she would admit to a certain degree of boredom—there was no excuse for her to be going over the encounter and remembering every second of it, every touch.

  It was high time to stop dwelling on something that was over and done with. Their little adventure had ended. It was back to pastries and whipped cream for her.

  Although she did wonder about his missing princess. How on earth does somebody lose a princess? Did someone steal her? Did she run away? What might the story be there? Something interesting, she was sure. Something exciting…

  Whatever it was, it was no concern of hers. She was here to watch over Olivia and Aunt Augusta, not to daydream about handsome German officers.

  “We had best freshen up,” she said. “It’s almost time to go down for afternoon coffee.” One of the high points of the day here in Baden—coffee and pastries in the coffee room, where a small orchestra played waltzes and polkas. No one danced, unfortunately, but the music was cheerful.

  Olivia obediently followed her into their bedroom and started laughing when Susannah came to an abrupt halt and gasped at her reflection in the mirror.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I look like—I don’t know what I look like. Nothing respectable, that’s for certain.” Several curls had slipped out of the snood holding the heavy bun of her hair in place and were hanging in disarray. There was a smudge of dirt on her nose, and a flounce on the shoulder of her dress was torn loose. Susannah pulled the remaining pins out of her hair and attacked it vigorously with a brush, as if she could beat her wayward thoughts into submission at the same time.

  Four

  By the time they had washed up and changed their dresses, it was time to go down. Twisting in front of the long mirror, Susannah checked the fall of the pleats in the rear of her peach taffeta afternoon dress. It was a dress she particularly liked—very simple and ladylike, with its high neck and no decoration other than the lace appliqués at the wrists and the lace collar, but the color always cheered her up, and she liked the rustle of the taffeta. It was a pity none but aging invalids would be about to admire her in it.

  She was just pinning on her hat, a small Italian straw that tilted over her forehead, when one of the hotel porters came to the door. He announced—a bit nervously, she thought—that a general wished to call upon the English ladies. Would they be willing to receive him?

  Susannah looked at Olivia. Olivia looked at Susannah. They both looked at the door behind which Lady Augusta was still preparing her toilette. They looked back at each other.

  Olivia looked hopeful.

  Susannah shrugged. Doubtless one of Aunt Augusta’s elderly acquaintances. At least the visit would be something new. “We would be delighted to receive the general,” she said.

  Lady Augusta joined them before their caller appeared. She was dressed in black, as she had been ever since her husband died three years ago. It was difficult to think of it as mourning garb, however, since her gowns were always in the latest style and of the richest material. This one seemed composed almost entirely of ruffles and shimmered and rustled as she moved. But Lady Augusta had never been a mournful sort of person. Her fashion choice may have been colored by the fact that black looked so dramatic with her white hair and flattered her fair complexion. Just now her dark eyes were sparkling at the prospect of visitors.

  Perhaps, thought Susannah, Aunt Augusta had been feeling a bit bored too.

  The general strode in, a tall, thin man with iron-gray hair cropped severely close to his head and a luxuriant mustache curling up at the ends. He carried a plumed shako under his arm and was dressed in a dark-green uniform liberally festooned with gold braid.

  Susannah’s eyes slipped right past the general to focus on the man behind him. A very large, handsome man, also carrying a plumed shako and dressed in a green uniform, though one with slightly less gold braid. The maddening bully from the garden. Susannah inhaled sharply. The bully was looking serious, but when their eyes met, he grinned at her and winked.

  Her breath caught and, for a moment, she forgot to breathe. She had not expected ever to see him again. Admittedly she had felt some curiosity about him, but she never thought he would turn up in her sitting room. And appearing not in the least ashamed of the way he had behaved in the garden. Picking her up and tucking her under his arm like a wayward two-year-old! Holding her under his arm, his very strong arm. She could feel her face heating at the memory, while he did not seem in the least bit abashed. He just kept grinning, as if delighted to see her.

  The general
, meanwhile, was staring at Olivia in disbelief. “Mein Gott,” he whispered in German. “I did not believe it. I thought you were imagining things, Max.” Then he fell silent.

  His focused stare made Olivia shrink back and seize Susannah’s hand. Susannah could understand her nervousness. For all her eagerness to please and be pleased, Olivia was apt to feel uncomfortable under scrutiny, and the general’s scrutiny was very focused indeed. Susannah patted her friend’s hand reassuringly. Protecting Olivia was a familiar occupation. Not at all like trying to keep her senses about her when a large, handsome, very male captain was looking at her as if he knew every uncomfortable thought that was running through her head. If only he would stop grinning.

  For her part, Lady Augusta was staring at the general, one hand pressed to her heart. She was the one who finally broke the silence. “Otto? Otto Bergen? Is it you?”

  Startled, the general turned to her and stared in turn. His eyes widened slowly in delighted recognition. “Augusta? Augusta Lamarche? Can it really be you?”

  She reached out her hand, and in two steps he was beside her, clasping that hand in his.

  “By all that is wonderful—and after all these years! And looking not a day older. How came you to be here?” He shook his head in amazement.

  Lady Augusta laughed softly. “Listen to you, Otto. You are as great a flatterer as ever. And a general? A very splendid one, too.”

  “Ach, such nonsense, these uniforms. But you—you are in black. In mourning?”

  She lifted a shoulder briefly. “My husband, George Whyte. But it has been more than three years now.”

  He nodded understandingly and patted the hand he still held. “I know. My Elsa died almost ten years ago. Still, one does not forget.”

  All three of the younger ones watched uncertainly as their elders seemed to have forgotten anyone else was in the room. Finally Susannah cleared her throat. “You know the general, Aunt Augusta?”