Susannah was not sure just how to explain without raising her mother’s ire even further. “He did not know who I was, you see. He did not recognize my name, so he did not realize whose daughter I am.”
“Which only goes to show what a benighted backwater this abominable excuse for a principality is. For heaven’s sake, child, the Austrian emperor had no trouble recognizing our name when you were in Vienna, and this piddling little count of yours was unable to do so?”
“That is not fair, Mama, and you know it.” Susannah was getting a bit annoyed at being treated like a wayward child. “The emperor might know who the Marquess of Penworth is, but he is not going to assume that any Tremaine who appears is a member of the same family.”
Lady Penworth sucked in a long, calming breath before raising her brows. “And was there some reason for you to be keeping your father’s position a secret?”
“It just never came up.” That sounded sulky and Susannah knew it. More explanation was obviously needed, so she took a calming breath of her own. “I did not realize how important Max is. I thought he was just an ordinary officer, and I didn’t want to intimidate him.”
“Really, Susannah, this is so preposterous I don’t know where to begin.” Lady Penworth leaned back and closed her eyes. The silence had grown uncomfortable long before she sat up again and looked at Susannah. “Are you quite certain that this marriage is real?”
“Oh, yes, it is real. We were married in a church with a priest and any number of Max’s relatives and the people from the village. Oh, Mama…” She reached out to hold her mother’s hand. “I did so wish you were all there. It was all beautiful, but I missed you so.”
Her mother did not seem to be appeased. “And such little details as a license? Banns? Your parents’ permission? I know you are of age, but still, those are customary even in this benighted place, I assume.”
Susannah paused for a moment, uncertain. “I don’t think any of that matters. It’s Max’s village, you see.”
“His village? He lives in a village?”
“Oh no. He lives in a castle. He owns the village. Quite a number of villages, actually. His estate goes on for miles and miles. I just meant that everyone does what he says.”
“That’s preposterous.” Mama was beginning to sputter. “I don’t care who he is. There have to be laws and such. Even Queen Victoria can’t simply order a clergyman to perform a marriage out of hand.”
“It seems to be different here. It’s a bit feudal. On his estates, Max seems to be pretty much the ruler.” Much as Mama enjoyed travel and exploration, Susannah suspected that in this case she was having difficulty appreciating what was “different.” Explaining all this was difficult, since Susannah didn’t really understand it herself.
* * *
Max entered the prince’s study and almost stumbled. Conrad was seated in the leather chair behind the broad expanse of the desk, looking very much in command and very much like his father. The resemblance had never struck Max so powerfully. It was not just a physical resemblance, he realized. It was the tilt of Conrad’s head, the stillness of his hands as they rested on the desk. There was no doubt that the man sitting there was the prince. It was… Max did not know what it was. Disconcerting? Odd? Definitely new.
To the side, staring out the window, was Lord Penworth. He turned at Max’s entrance and regarded him with less fury but no more fondness than at their first encounter. “His majesty has assured me that you must not be considered a fortune hunter, and I will accept that you believed this hasty marriage would serve to protect my daughter, but I tell you, sir, I cannot like it. I cannot.”
To Max’s relief, Lord Penworth spoke in German. Oddly accented, but quite fluent. Max forced himself to meet the older man’s eyes. “I can understand your anger, my lord. I…” He was not sure what to say, how much to say. But this was Susannah’s father, now his father-in-law. Not someone who would shortly vanish from his life. He deserved the truth.
So he blurted it out. “You are in the right. I should have asked about her family. But I…I wanted so much to have Susannah for my wife that I seized on the excuse. I told myself that she was alone, vulnerable, and that marriage with me would protect her. And that much is true. As my wife she will be safe, always. I myself will protect her, of course, but my people as well. You will never need to have fear for her well-being, I swear it to you.”
“You wanted her for your wife?” Lord Penworth took a step toward Max. “That is what matters to you, what you want? And what of what my daughter wants? If I see the slightest hint that my daughter is unhappy, or even uncertain, I will have her home in a trice. And I don’t care if you are the prince’s chief advisor.”
The prince’s chief advisor? What was… Max gave his head a quick shake to clear it. That was a question for later. “You must, of course, speak with my wife”—he put a light emphasis on the possessive—“but she will not turn from me.” At least, he did not think she would.
Lord Penworth bared his teeth, but before he could speak, the prince raised his hand.
“The countess—Lady Susannah—will, of course, decide for herself. I am sure you agree, both of you, that her wishes will prevail. From what I have come to know of her, I doubt any other way will be possible.”
Max caught the twitch of a rueful smile on Lord Penworth’s face before the cold mask reappeared. Yes, the father knew his daughter. But the husband knew his wife also. At least, he thought he did. He was certain. Almost.
The prince, however, had moved on to another topic. “Lord Penworth, since you appear to be the paterfamilias for all these ladies, I approach you. I wish to marry Lady Olivia. Do you give the approval for this?”
“Do I…? But…” The marquess looked utterly taken aback. It appeared to be an unaccustomed state.
Max took some consolation from that. At least someone else was sharing in the confusion. As for himself, his head was in a whirl as he turned to Conrad. “Marry Lady Olivia? But you were so angry…” His voice trailed off.
Conrad spread his hands on the desk and looked down with a secret smile. “It was not her fault.”
Penworth harrumphed and seemed to collect himself. “I was under the impression that you were to marry Princess Mila. Was I mistaken?”
“It is obvious that is now impossible, since she has run away. That duty has been removed of her own accord. So, is there any sort of—I am not sure what to call it—any problem, any impediment that would prevent a marriage between me and the Lady Olivia? Please, seat yourself and tell me what you think.”
Penworth settled himself and looked almost relieved to be asked to consider a less personal problem—less personal for him, at least. With a slight frown, he said, “I was under the impression that the heart of your difficulty was the need for an alliance with Hechingen. I can see that it is not possible for you to marry Princess Mila, at least at this time, but will it not anger her father still more if you immediately marry someone else?”
“Staufer can tell you that Gottfried will be angry no matter what happens. We will worry about that later. First comes the question of Lady Olivia. What say you?”
The marquess steepled his fingers while he considered how much to say. “It would be an unexpected match, certainly. Has Lady Olivia agreed?”
“She says it is impossible and tells me of her mother.” Conrad waved a hand dismissively. “English gossip.”
“Yes.” Penworth drew out the word. He was relieved that he was not the one who had to tell Conrad about the Dowager Countess of Doncaster. “But that kind of gossip reaches further when the daughter makes a marriage like this one. And Gottfried sounds like the sort of man who would not hesitate to use such gossip.”
A stubborn look came over Conrad’s face. “With gossip we can deal. Let us put that to the side. Her brother, would he have objections?”
“Not if Olivia herself wis
hed to marry you.”
“And there is no legal difficulty? Your queen, Victoria, she would not make problems?”
“Hardly.” Penworth permitted himself a smile. “Her own family is so entangled in marriages and relationships with the German states that she will doubtless be pleased by another connection.”
“Good. You will tell Olivia so.” A smile broke across Conrad’s face, a happy, boyish smile of the sort Max had not often seen in recent years.
“Then if you will allow me, Sire, I would like to go and speak with my family.”
“Certainly. You may depart. I need to confer with Staufer now.”
Max waited until the door had closed behind the marquess before he turned to the prince and burst out, “What is going on?” He took a deep breath to calm himself. “I apologize, Sire, but I am somewhat confused.” To put it mildly. “Since when am I your chief advisor? What has happened to Count Herzlos? General Bergen?”
“Calm yourself, Max. I seem to have conducted a palace coup of my own.” His mouth twisted wryly. “General Bergen is still licking his wounds after the tongue-lashing I gave him when I realized that this stupid comedy you have all been playing was his idea. I believe he is being consoled by Lady Augusta. As for Count Herzlos, he naturally resigned all his offices when I told him of the more tragic games his children have been playing.”
Conrad stood and went over to stare out the window. “He truly has served me well, you know. After my parents were assassinated, he saved us all. Without him, there would no longer be a Principality of Sigmaringen. But now…” Conrad sighed. “Even if this had not happened, it was time for him to go. He will take Hugo and Helga with him to his own estate and keep them there. I owe him that much. And I have given orders for the Black Star Regiment to be disbanded. Those who wish to remain in the army will be distributed among other regiments. But what shall we do with Angriffer?”
Max nodded. “Yes, I see the problem. We cannot put him on trial without bringing the others into it. But we cannot simply turn him loose. He is a viper, and dangerous.”
Conrad laughed shortly. “I envy my ancestors. They could have simply wrapped him in chains and dropped him in the Danube.”
“A temptation.” Max considered possibilities. “It will have to be exile, someplace far enough away that it will not be easy for him to return. South Africa, perhaps. He could make a life there, if he chose.”
“Yes. Good. I am tempted to order General Bergen to accompany him, but I fear the trip might be too much for him. Ah, well, it will be arranged, and we will have to trust that Lady Augusta will keep the general in line. They are quite extraordinary, these English ladies, are they not?”
Forty
A week later, the atmosphere was subdued as they gathered in the throne room to await the arrival of Prince Gottfried. All were seated in couples around the room. General Bergen and Lady Augusta were farthest from the throne, keeping themselves slightly hidden by one of the pillars. Both were still feeling abashed—and perhaps a bit resentful—after the scoldings they had received from members of the younger generation.
Max sat to the right of the throne, with Susannah by his side. He was still self-conscious about his designation as chief counselor and could not help feeling that it was due mainly to the fact that after the banishment of the Herzlos clan and the disgrace of General Bergen, he was the only one left standing. It was not a position he felt ready to fill, and something would have to be done about that. Still, they had eliminated the danger of the Herzlos twins and Angriffer, and Susannah—his wife—was at his side. He felt ready to face anything that came.
Susannah was less optimistic. Max and the prince had taken care of the physical danger with admirable dispatch, and as Max’s wife, she ought to be worried about the remaining threat to Sigmaringen from Prince Gottfried of the irascible temper. However, what really concerned her was Olivia’s future. She very much feared that her friend was going to end up with a broken heart. That she was so happy herself made her feel even guiltier about the unlikelihood of a happy ending for Olivia.
Opposite them were her parents. They were somewhat less furious about their daughter’s marriage than they had been the day they learned of it. Lord Penworth had even had some interesting discussions about statecraft with Max as well as with the prince, both of whom were quite willing to listen to advice. But the Penworths were still far from happy.
Lady Penworth, in particular, continued to resent a wedding far from home and family. That her daughter would be making her home in a castle was not adequate recompense for the length of time required to reach that castle. Conrad’s promise to improve rail service between Sigmaringen and the rest of the world had not reconciled her to the situation. Her concern for Olivia was all that kept her temper down to a simmer at the moment.
Next to Conrad, on a chair that was not quite a throne, sat Olivia. She had spent the past week alternating between euphoria because Conrad truly loved her and despair because marriage to her would bring him disgrace. Judging from her pallor, despair was uppermost at the moment. Could she have fled, she would have done so, but she could not honorably leave the others to face Gottfried’s wrath. Not when her appearance was the only thing that had made the masquerade possible.
Conrad was the only one present who seemed to be at peace. Indeed, he seemed to be facing the future with serene confidence, certain that all would fall out as he wished.
The servants had been dismissed in the interests of privacy, though no one present would have cared to wager that the servants were ignorant of the situation. Still, even an illusion of privacy was better than nothing.
Breaking the silence, Lady Penworth asked, “Has there been any news of the princess?”
Max allowed himself a slight smile. “According to the telegram I received, the princess and the lieutenant managed to board a ship in Marseilles two days ago. There was some concern that they would not make it. The men I sent to follow them not only had to offer their carriage when the princess’s broke down, but found themselves serving as witnesses at the wedding.”
“But they are well and truly gone?” The prince couldn’t keep a slight tinge of worry from his voice.
“Unless storms of unparalleled ferocity have raged through the Mediterranean, they should be safely on the Atlantic by now,” Max assured him. “And definitely out of reach.”
“I suppose it was necessary to keep the news of his daughter’s elopement from Prince Gottfried until he got here.” Lord Penworth frowned at Max, sounding as if he was still not convinced of the wisdom of this course.
Susannah tensed at his side, as if about to leap to her husband’s defense. Max rested his hand on her arm and smiled reassurance when she looked at him. Only then did he turn to Penworth. “I thought it advisable. Gottfried flies into rages and has been known to issue rash orders when in a temper. This way, he will be able to rant and rave in private and will perhaps release some of the anger before he is in a position to order his troops into action.”
“It sounds as if the man is a fool.” Penworth made a grimace of disgust.
Max was not going to disagree with that assessment, and Conrad managed to restrain the smug smile of one who knows himself to be utterly reasonable.
“Surely he must see that an alliance is necessary for both of you,” Penworth continued, addressing the prince. “I will be honest. I do not see much chance of continued independence for any of the small German states. Either Bismarck’s Prussia or Franz Josef’s Austria will swallow you all up. An alliance, however, may give you the leverage to demand better terms for your countries and your people. If he does not see that, he does not deserve to be a prince.”
Now it was Lady Penworth who acted as the peacemaker, putting a restraining hand on her husband’s arm. “That may all be very well and good, my dear, but I suspect that this is not the time for a discussion of the duties and responsibilities
of a ruler. Like him or not, this Gottfried is the particular ruler that has to be dealt with, and it seems that tact will be needed—great, billowing bushels of tact.”
When her husband harrumphed, she continued, “You know how difficult it can be to deal with even our own queen when she gets some bee in her bonnet. I sometimes think there must be something about a crown that scrambles people’s brains.” Flashing a brilliant smile at Conrad, she added, “Present company excepted, of course.”
The prince smiled back. “I have noted the same in powerful ministers. Herr Bismarck is a prime example.”
Olivia had been growing increasingly fidgety during the discussion and now spoke up. “I begin to think I should not be here. Not here, sitting at your side. Surely this will only exacerbate Prince Gottfried’s temper.”
“No,” said Conrad with finality. “You are to be my princess. You must accustom yourself to the irrational people you will have to deal with.”
She gasped. “But I have not said yes!”
“You will.” Conrad smiled and patted her hand.
Max started to frown his disapproval, but then it struck him that some might say he had been equally high-handed in his treatment of Susannah. He glanced uncomfortably at her and saw from the laughing look she gave him that the same thought had struck her.
Fortunately for his pride, the trumpets sounded and the doors of the throne room were flung open.
“His Royal Highness Gottfried August Leopold, Prince of Hechingen, Prince of Marienberg, and Knight of the Order of Saint Willigis.” The herald followed this announcement with another blast of the trumpet.
They all stood to greet Gottfried. He marched in unattended, as was his wont. This was not a matter of humility but of vanity. Gottfried was a short man. He did not want to be towered over by the usual six-foot guards. Nor would he have tolerated a guard of men still shorter than he, which might have looked too much like a parade of children. Or dwarves. So unless he was on horseback, as he usually was out of doors, he walked alone.
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