A Scandalous Adventure

by Lillian Marek

  What she had yet to see was a way out that did not require marching through the public corridors, all of which were lined with footmen awaiting the orders of the residents of this complex. There must be discreet passages for the servants who kept the rooms gleaming, but the doorways for those were too well disguised in the paneling for a mere visitor like herself to find.

  Eventually she realized that the basic design of the castle was not all that complicated. When they had arrived, they had gone through the iron gates of the castle walls into the first courtyard. The medieval wings surrounding it housed the offices of the castle staff in small, dim rooms with slits for windows. The only part of the medieval castle still in use by the court was the great hall.

  The Renaissance rooms, serving various official functions, surrounded the second courtyard, culminating in an enormous ballroom dividing the second courtyard from the third.

  Around the third courtyard were the private rooms, in what was almost a separate palace built in the eighteenth century. Their suite of rooms was in the south wing, while Prince Conrad resided in the north wing. Susannah asked and was told, reluctantly, that the Herzlos clan was also housed in the south wing, but on the lower floor.

  She wasn’t sure if a lower floor meant higher or lower status, but at this point she didn’t really care. They had been walking so long on these marble floors that her feet were beginning to hurt.

  Finally, Olivia noticed that Lady Augusta was leaning rather heavily on the general’s arm and whispered something to the prince. He promptly invited them all into his private quarters.

  These proved to be much cozier rooms, filled with comfortable chairs and with the draperies open to let in the sunshine. Even the paintings on the walls were cozy—genre scenes with rosy-cheeked children. Not particularly good ones, either. The sentimental sort, full of apples and woolly lambs. If Conrad was the one who had chosen them, his taste in art did not seem to be terribly sophisticated. Or he truly was childish.

  Almost immediately a servant brought in coffee and cakes. This appeared to be the inevitable form taken by Sigmaringen hospitality. Susannah did not mind. The cakes, which came in an enormous variety, were delectable. There were sweet buns filled with fruit, sponges with cream filling, bundt cakes rich with almonds and raisins, and so many varieties of biscuits that she never saw the same one twice. Just breathing in the rich, sugary odor was going to make her fat.

  Between the pleasure of being off her feet and the delight in sampling a new biscuit—this one chocolate with a filling of raspberry jam—it took Susannah a bit of time to realize that Olivia and the prince seemed to have forgotten that there were other people in the room. They were too busy looking at each other like a pair of mooncalves.

  That could not be a good idea.

  Susannah was not concerned about the prince. He was doubtless a nice enough fellow, but he could take care of himself. Her concern was for Olivia, who had a tender heart. Too tender. As if by caring for others, she could make up for the care she had never received from her parents.

  Olivia must not fall in love with the prince. The pretense was one thing, but the reality would be an absolute disaster. Nothing good could come of it.

  Susannah turned to Lady Augusta, only to discover that lady and the general equally engrossed in each other. Susannah raised her eyes to the heavens, or at least to the ceiling. What was happening here? This would be fine if they were safe in London, where they could all flirt safely to their hearts’ content, but they were in Nymburg. Had they forgotten why they were here? Had they forgotten the danger of their situation? Had they lost all sense?

  Was she the only sane one here?

  She coughed. No one noticed.

  She coughed more loudly. They still did not notice.

  This was ridiculous.

  She reached over and balanced Prince Conrad’s coffee cup on the edge of the table. Then she sat back and stuck out a foot to jiggle the table.

  Success.

  The coffee cup fell to the floor with a satisfying crash, splattering the prince’s trousers with a mixture of coffee and whipped cream. He jumped up. Everyone else jumped up. Olivia began dabbing at the mess with a napkin. Aunt Augusta fluttered and the general hovered. Conrad assured everyone that it was nothing.

  Susannah rang the bell for a servant, who promptly appeared, assessed the situation, and began to clean up the mess. At least the royal servants had some sense.

  “I don’t know how that happened,” said Conrad apologetically, apparently forgetting that princes are not supposed to apologize for anything.

  Susannah waved a dismissive hand. “One never knows what will happen while one is distracted.” She glared at Aunt Augusta, but that lady, whose age should have given her some notion of propriety, simply looked confused.

  While one servant was carrying out the remaining dishes and pastries, another entered with a message for the prince. Looking delighted by the distraction, Conrad announced that Captain Staufer requested an audience.

  Well, it was about time he put in an appearance. Susannah did not know what the appropriate demeanor was for a woman who had been passionately embraced and then ignored, so she decided on chilly indifference.

  She tightened her lips and tried to appear uninterested, but she could not keep from immediately turning to look at him.

  Max entered with a broad smile, saluted the prince, who seemed delighted to see him, and greeted the rest of the company. Their meeting should have been easy enough. A cool smile from her would have been appropriate.

  Unfortunately, he was accompanied by a pair of huge dogs and one small one, along with a short, wiry man. The wrinkles on his face claimed he was an old man, but the vigor of his step and the twinkle in his eye denied it.

  The small dog, which looked vaguely like a red dust mop, was on a leash. The other two, with heavy cream-colored coats and dark masks, stood calmly beside the count, observing the company with intelligent eyes. She had never seen dogs quite so large—their heads were well above her waist. They made the carved lions she had seen earlier seem positively puny.

  Prince Conrad was regarding the dogs with approval. “A magnificent pair.” He turned to the others. “They are similar to the Leonbergers, but Captain Staufer breeds these himself. They are the finest guard dogs I have ever encountered.”

  “With Your Highness’s permission, I would like to offer one to Princess Mila and one to Lady Susannah, and the small dachshund to Lady Augusta.” Max turned to Susannah and winked.

  Olivia looked nervous. “They are very impressive dogs, Captain Staufer, but…but they are very large.”

  “Don’t worry about that.” Max smiled in encouragement. “I also brought Josef, their trainer. He will remain until the dogs understand whom they protect and until you feel comfortable with them.” The old man grinned at them cheerfully.

  Aunt Augusta looked at the small red mop. “Am I to understand that I am too old to need protection?”

  “Not at all, my lady. Little Hans here is a ferocious guardian for all he looks like an innocent toy. He will bark furiously at any intruder, and though he may not be able to knock down an enemy, he will most certainly attack his ankles.”

  “That is indeed true,” said the general with a smile. “They are very loyal, these dogs, and prompt to send out an alarm.”

  While Lady Augusta, with the general’s help, bent down to make the acquaintance of her small protector, Susannah stepped a bit closer to one of the large ones. She looked into a pair of dark eyes that looked calmly back at her.

  “This is Lev. His brother here is Lezo.”

  Max was watching her as he made the introduction so she nodded calmly and put out a hand. Lev sniffed it politely, and she was emboldened to scratch behind his ears. He seemed to enjoy that and tilted his head toward her. She ran her fingers through the thick coat and found it surprisingly soft.
When she looked up, she found herself ridiculously pleased to see the gleam of approval in Max’s eyes, but she concealed that pleasure by looking away immediately.

  “You are annoyed at me?” he asked. “Ah, you thought I had deserted you.”

  She looked up to deny it, but the words died unspoken. His eyes were not laughing now. They looked tender, almost caressing.

  “I will never desert you, never leave you in danger. So long as it is in my power, I will protect you. That much I can promise.” He took her hand.

  Her throat felt dry, and she licked her lips. “I do not ask for any promises.”

  “No, you do not.” His mouth quirked in a slight, sad smile. “And I cannot make all the promises I would like. Not right now. But I will do all I can to keep you safe.” He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss on her palm.

  It was just as well that Lev was so big. It was only the fact that she could lean on the dog that kept her from collapsing in a puddle as that kiss sped from her hand to pierce her heart and spread fire through her. It was an outrageous thing for him to do, here in a room full of people. Once she had begun to breathe again, she glanced quickly around to see if anyone had noticed.

  No. The prince was introducing Olivia to Lezo. She reached out timidly to the dog, who stood there phlegmatically. Aunt Augusta was sitting stiffly erect, but her expression as she fondled the small dog on her lap was unexpectedly indulgent. As usual, they were not paying attention to Susannah.

  Perhaps Max had not noticed her reaction either, for he continued to speak in an undertone. “You are all safe at the moment because Hugo does not know what is happening. Is this the princess? Is this an imposter? He does not dare to say anything or do anything until he knows, and it is difficult for him to find out. He sent a messenger last night, but the messenger ran into some of General Bergen’s troops.” Max smiled. “There are troops on all the roads leading from the castle. We should be safe for a few days more.”

  “And the princess?” Susannah darted a glance at Olivia. “The real princess, I mean. Are you any closer to finding her?”

  Max lifted a shoulder. “We can only hope. At least we will no longer waste our time searching the routes leading out of the country. Now I have asked my people to find out what they can from the servants on Hugo’s estate. They may know something and be willing to speak of it, at least to other servants.” He grinned. “Hugo thinks all peasants, especially those who speak Schwäbisch, are fools. This does not endear him to those who work on his estate.”

  Susannah nodded, trying to look attentive. Of course Max needed to concentrate on thwarting Hugo and finding the princess. That was his duty, and she would not want him to fail in it. Her own thoughts, however, kept returning to the kiss he had pressed on her palm. The warmth of it did not seem to fade.

  Fifteen

  Too restless to sleep, Max took himself down to the palace gardens just as the dawn was breaking. He filled his lungs with the cold, crisp air drifting down with the mist from the neighboring mountains. Already he could smell the approach of winter.

  He hated it here in the palace. Always and everywhere there were plots and counterplots, backbiting and jostling for position. General Bergen was always jealous of Count Herzlos’s influence over the prince, the count was jealous of the general’s control of the army, Hugo and Helga were jealous of everyone, and the courtiers were in constant turmoil, trying to decide which one to support today and which one would be on top tomorrow.

  Prince Conrad seemed to ignore it all—or perhaps he simply accepted it as the usual way of things. Did he not see his own responsibility in this? If he did not take control of his principality, if he continued to leave the reins of power dangling, there would always be someone trying to pick up those reins himself. Someone like Hugo.

  Max rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the tension in his muscles. How he longed to be back in his own castle at Ostrov, among his own family, his own people, where there was none of this insanity. Would he ever be able to return there to stay, or would he be trapped here forever, protecting a prince who could not seem to protect himself?

  A movement in the mist caught his eye and immediately he was on guard, every muscle tense, his hand at his sword. Then the movement resolved itself into Lady Susannah, accompanied by Lev, and suddenly his spirits lightened.

  Dressed simply, with a large shawl wrapped around her against the morning chill and with her dark hair just pulled back with a ribbon, she looked absurdly young. He felt a rush of tenderness, more than tenderness, at the sight of her. She was reaching out to touch a flower, caressing its petals.

  His footsteps on the gravel path must have startled her, because she swung around, alarmed, until she recognized him. He was glad to see that Lev had also gone on guard.

  “You are an early riser,” he said.

  She nodded, turning back to the flower, fingering its light-pink petals. “I like the peace of early morning. The silence when there is no one around.”

  “Should I leave?” He didn’t want to, but he could understand the yearning for solitude.

  She looked up quickly, flushing slightly. “Please don’t. I didn’t mean you. You aren’t…” Her color deepened, until it almost matched the flower she was caressing.

  “I am not someone you are responsible for?”

  “Yes,” she said, sounding almost guilty. “It’s not that I don’t love them, you understand.”

  “I know precisely what you mean. We sometimes feel the need to snatch a moment just for ourselves.”

  They stood there in companionable silence, not quite touching.

  “Is that a rose?” He bent his head toward the bush in front of her. “Is it not late in the year for roses?”

  “Yes. This one is called Autumn Damask. It has a lovely fragrance. Can you smell it?”

  Indeed he could. It was the scent of Susannah, richly fragrant but with something sharp. He couldn’t tell her that, so he simply nodded.

  “I love this rose for its history as well as its scent. It’s descended from the cuttings that crusaders brought back from Damascus, and they say it may be the rose that the ancients called the Four Seasons Rose of Paestum. It humbles me to think that this fragile flower has survived for hundreds, even thousands of years.”

  “A reminder that our worries are not nearly so important as they seem?”

  “Something like that.” She smiled at him and then turned back to touch the flower. “My mother has this rose growing in her garden, and now my sisters, the married ones, have planted cuttings of it in their own gardens.”

  “And you will one day do the same?”

  “I hope so. That way, we will always have a piece of home binding us together.”

  “A lovely thought.” He reached down to touch the velvety petals and brushed her fingers at the same time. “Lovely.”

  She stilled for a moment as their fingers touched before she drew back with a sigh. “But roses are for another time. At the moment, we have responsibilities. I have to protect Lady Olivia, and you have to protect Prince Conrad.”

  “Yes, we both have responsibilities, but…” He picked up her hand and placed it against his, palm to palm, their fingers entwined. “But I think that those responsibilities have become entwined. Do you agree?”

  She stared at their hands, and the moment stretched out before she gave a tiny nod. “That worries me,” she whispered.

  * * *

  “Olivia…” Susannah began, but she didn’t quite know how to continue. She didn’t like to talk about her own feelings, so she hesitated to probe other people’s. But she did need to talk to Olivia, and now, while Aunt Augusta was taking a nap, was an ideal time.

  Olivia was happily draping a shawl in various ways around herself and examining the effect in the mirror. “The princess does have lovely things, doesn’t she?”

  “Yes, but don’
t you think it might be better for you to wear your own things?”

  Olivia thought for a moment, still looking in the mirror, and then shook her head. “No, because when I’m wearing my things, I feel like Olivia de Vaux, and when I wear her things, I feel like a princess.”

  “Yes, dear, but you are Olivia de Vaux. You aren’t Princess Mila. Isn’t it a little dangerous to get the two confused?”

  Suddenly serious, Olivia turned and sat down facing Susannah. “You have no idea how wonderful it feels to be someone—anyone—other than Olivia de Vaux. When I stayed with your family, I tried to pretend I was one of the Tremaines, but I know I’m not. Not really, no matter how much you treat me like one of you. Any time I go out, any time I’m at a party or a ball, any time I’m even in a shop, I know that people look at me and think, ‘Oh, there’s that de Vaux girl. She’s the daughter of that dreadful Lady Doncaster. One of the Degraded de Vaux.’ And they wonder if I’ll be a whore like my mother.”

  “Oh no, darling Olivia, no one could possibly think that way about you.” Susannah jumped up to put her arms around her friend. “Not possibly!”

  Olivia leaned into the hug, not quite crying. “They do, you know. Some of them like to whisper just loud enough for me to be able to hear them.”

  “Who?” Susannah demanded. She pulled back and straightened up, preparing to do battle as soon as they returned to London.

  “It was Mary Penobscot and her set this season.”

  “That rat-faced scarecrow? How dare she! That nasty little piece of work is jealous of everyone. You’re so sweet and pretty that she knows you make her look like the viper she is.”

  Olivia managed a slight laugh. “Well, she was slithering around so much that your mother decided to send me on this trip with you and Lady Augusta.”

  “She never said anything to me.” Susannah sat down with a frown.