Their destination was a large, traditional inn, with empty corridors and silent rooms. Tor showed them into a private lounge. “Please wait here a moment, while I find my secretary.”
“Baumgärtner?” Bronwen asked.
“Yes.” His gaze met hers. “There is business we must deal with before…well, let us finish business, first.”
When he had shut the door, Annalies picked up her hand. “What comes next you may not enjoy, my darling. There will be harsh truths spoken—”
“I am not afraid of the truth,” Bronwen replied.
“You may resent being discussed in ways that make you feel uncomfortable,” her mother told her. “Remember that the only reason the discussion is being conducted is because the Archeduke wants the discussion, that he is forcing hands over you.”
Bronwen shuddered. “Is this the way marriage is arranged with your people?”
Her mother smiled. “Now you know why I ran away and married your father.” Annalies shook her hand. “Remember you are my daughter.” She let her hand go as the door opened.
Baumgärtner followed Tor into the room. He was older and frailer than Bronwen remembered. He stopped short when he saw her and Annalies and took off his spectacles. “Well, my…” He coughed and replaced the spectacles.
“Your Highness,” Tor said, “may I present to you my secretary and trusted advisor, Herr Aldous Baumgärtner? Baumgärtner, this is the Princess Annalies Benedickta Davies, daughter of the royal house Saxe-Coburg-Weiden and of the former Principality of Saxe-Weiden.”
Baumgärtner bowed low, his pointed beard jutting. “Your Highness.”
Annalies inclined her head. “Baumgärtner.”
“And this is Miss Bronwen Davies, the Princess’ daughter, whom you may remember from Yorkshire.”
“Indeed,” Baumgärtner said, taking her hand and bowing over it. “You are…changed, Miss Davies.”
“The change is purely superficial, I assure you,” Bronwen said. Her eyes widened at her own temerity. What had made her say that? “I mean,” she added hastily, “It is only polite to adopt the customs and habits of those one mingles with, to put them at their ease, is it not?”
Baumgärtner tilted his head. “Quite,” he said. “You are a commoner, Miss Davies?”
“My mother is a princess,” she pointed out.
“Your father is a bastard.”
“He is the unacknowledged son of Baron Monroe,” Tor said. “Perhaps we should sit?”
Annalies unbuttoned her coat and put it on the chair that Tor was indicating. “Not right now, thank you.” She was looking at Baumgärtner.
Baumgärtner was forced to remain standing—as were they all—because the highest ranked person in the room refused to sit. He cleared his throat. “The mother of your husband, your Highness?”
“A Welsh woman of common ancestry,” Annalies replied.
“I heard she was an actress,” Baumgärtner said.
“An opera singer,” Annalies replied. “She gave royal command performances many times. That is how Rhys’ father met her—at Kensington Palace.”
Baumgärtner’s brow lifted. “That is not public knowledge, is it?”
“No,” Annalies replied coolly.
Bronwen removed her cape as heat prickled its way up her neck. Indirectly, they were doing exactly what her mother had warned her they would do. They were turning her antecedents inside out, examining the minutiae and inspecting her teeth.
The discussion went on, as Baumgärtner and her mother tore apart her family tree, including grandparents on both sides and Annalies’ own branch of the royal family.
“Is it true that your father and your uncle both suffered the family madness?” Baumgärtner asked her.
Annalies hesitated for the first time. “Your sources of information are excellent, Baumgärtner. I must congratulate you on your thoroughness. Yes, it is true. The madness was inherited.”
Baumgärtner’s gaze flickered toward Bronwen.
“It manifests only in males, Baumgärtner,” Annalies said, with a touch of impatience. “Besides, Edvard’s grandfather was as mad as March bees. He would ride his prize stallion naked through Silkeborg, waving his cutlass and calling the villagers to arm against invading Vikings.”
Tor laughed, while Baumgärtner cleaned his glasses once more and replaced them. “I see I am not the only one to have investigated.”
Annalies inclined her head. “Thank you. Shall we finish this?”
Only, the discussion did not end. It continued for another hour, while Bronwen tried to ignore that it was her future they were determining. Her gaze met Tor’s. He was studying her from across the room, while Annalies and Baumgärtner argued between them. His smile was small—the little one that lifted the corner of his mouth.
Her heart hurt. For a small moment, it felt as it had back in the library at Northallerton. Tor was just Tor Besogende and she had been simple Bronwen Davies. None of this silly formality had got in the way. She had been free to touch him, to speak as she wished.
Only, she had chosen to give that up, she reminded herself, in order to win Tor back…the real Tor this time, not the man who wished he was anything other than the Archeduke of Silkeborg.
Tor’s smile faded. “Enough,” he said.
“Your Highness?” Baumgärtner replied.
Tor shook his head. “I said, no more. This is getting us nowhere.”
Baumgärtner blinked behind his spectacles. “Your Highness, these things must be examined—”
“You’ve done more than enough of that already, both of you,” Tor said.
Annalies smiled.
Tor looked at Bronwen. “Tell Baumgärtner what you told me, about the water and the mill. All of it.”
Bronwen cleared her throat. “The paper mill is putting something into the water—most likely chlorine. That is what is making people sick in Silkeborg.”
Baumgärtner snatched off his glasses. “Impossible! We vetted the mill and the operations when it was constructed!”
“Then someone is lying to you,” Annalies said shortly.
Baumgärtner gasped.
“I witnessed my daughter’s investigation and I trust her conclusions,” Annalies added. “Hear her out.”
Baumgärtner opened his mouth to speak.
“Aldous,” Tor said and shook his head.
Baumgärtner closed his mouth again and looked at Bronwen expectantly.
A report was nothing more than a written essay spoken aloud, Bronwen reminded herself. She recalled the facts as she had uncovered them and explained to Baumgärtner what she had seen, what she had learned and the conclusions she had drawn.
When she was done, Baumgärtner leaned his knuckles upon the table next to him. He looked at Annalies. “Please forgive me, your Highness. I am an old man and this is…profound news. May I have your permission to sit?”
“Please do,” Annalies told him. She picked up her coat and handed it to Tor, then settled on the chair, as Baumgärtner fell onto the bench behind the little table. He was trembling. This time, he withdrew a big, white handkerchief from his pocket and cleaned his glasses with care. He replaced them and looked at Tor.
“The Council will be beside themselves when they learn this.”
Tor nodded. “We must investigate and establish the truth. If Bronwen’s conclusions are correct then the misery of the last decade will have been resolved. That alone is cause for celebration.”
“Indeed.” Baumgärtner pursed his lips. “As to the other matter…” He sat up, looking at Annalies.
“No more, Baumgärtner,” Tor said sharply. “I did not bring you here to find a way to object to the match no matter what. I am sure that if you were presented with the most impeccable antecedents and bloodlines possible, you would still find fault with them.”
Baumgärtner hesitated. “You know the Council will be more thorough than I could ever be. You must have their agreement to move forward.”
“No, I mus
t have your agreement,” Tor replied. “Your influence is all I need to move the Council to approve and you know it. This is the last great task you left for yourself after my father died, Aldous. Now you can see it through.” Tor looked at Bronwen. His expression warmed. “I love her and I don’t care who her great grandparents may have slighted, a hundred years ago. It is immaterial. I know who Bronwen really is. I got to know her in Yorkshire and you have just sampled the true woman beneath the velvet, Aldous. She has done a great service for Silkeborg. Do you not believe she will continue to serve our people, given the chance? That is the woman I want to marry and make my duchess and I want you to find a way to make it so.”
Bronwen let out a breath that shook. Her heart would not stop throwing itself against her chest. It hurt. She didn’t care.
Baumgärtner removed his spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose as if he was tired. “Then, your Highness, you’d better marry the lady.”
Tor looked at Bronwen’s mother. “Your Highness?”
She folded her hands on her knee. “You had better call me Annalies.”
Tor smiled. “Thank you. Now, if you will excuse me?” He stepped past both of them and picked up Bronwen’s hand. “Will you come with me?”
She nodded.
* * * * *
There was a widow’s walk at the top of the inn. There, the air was cold, but dry and the sun was dazzling. It warmed them as Tor moved along the walk, her hand in his. He stopped and looked out over the parapet and gave a great heaving sigh.
All of Brussels lay below them, looking small and fragile. The streets were gray with snow. The sky, though, was pale blue and clear.
Tor turned to her. “I was warned by the Council and by Baumgärtner, a long time ago, that whoever I chose to marry, I should warn them of the…drawbacks of my life and give them a chance to recant. Only, I don’t have to do that with you, do I?”
Bronwen held her hands together to hide their trembling. “You don’t have to warn me, no. You do have to ask me, though, so I have something to recant.”
He laughed. “I knew…as soon as I saw you last night, I knew.” He picked up her hand and drew her toward him. “The witch was gone and a woman the world would accept as mine took her place.” He brought his arm around her, holding her closer still. “You have already said yes, to everything. All of me. All of…this.” He waved his free hand. “The politics, the endless bureaucracy.”
“I will still need time to adjust to it,” Bronwen said. “That interview just then… It was harrowing, to listen to myself being discussed in third person, with my familial flaws poked and examined.”
Tor nodded. “I’m sorry about that. I had to let Baumgärtner run out of objections first, before I could make him consider you as a political asset and not just a duchess.”
Bronwen laughed. “I think that might be the nicest compliment anyone has ever given me. A political asset! I will be useful!”
Tor laughed, too. Then he let her go and got down on one knee. His thick, heavy hair fell forward over his blue eyes. “Miss Davies, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife, my duchess and the savior of my people?”
Bronwen nodded. “Yes,” she whispered. “To all of it.”
Tor stood and kissed her and for a moment it felt as though they were back in Yorkshire. Bronwen clung to him, breathless and tingling.
He held her face, his hands warm, despite the lack of gloves. “I love you.”
“I know.”
“Pretend you didn’t hear me tell Baumgärtner first,” he said. “Pretend I am telling you for the first time, for this is the true moment. I love you with a strength that scares me. You have no idea what my first night away from Northallerton was like. You did not see me walk the boards and scream at Baumgärtner. I went a little mad. That was when I knew I had made a mistake about you.”
Bronwen put her fingertips against his lips. “No, shh…”
He kissed her fingers and pulled her hand away. “There is no reason to keep me silent anymore. I am yours and always will be.”
Bronwen rested her hand on his chest, instead. “You should know I love you.”
“I do.” He brushed her hair. “I knew that, too, when I saw you last night. You’ve made a choice to be with me. You’ve chosen to give up that freedom you had found for yourself, for me. I think my heart actually stopped when I saw you in the ballroom, because I knew exactly what it meant.”
He kissed her gently. On the building next to them, a clock chimed and he groaned and rested his head against hers. “It is eleven o’clock,” he breathed. “The train to Denmark leaves in two hours.” He closed his eyes. “If we were just Tor Besogende and Bronwen the Witch, we could run away and elope and be together from now on. Only, the people of Silkeborg would be disappointed if we hand them a fait accompli of that magnitude. I’m afraid I must marry you with all the pomp and circumstance the duchy can muster and that will take time to arrange. Do you mind?”
“If you can stand it, I can,” Bronwen told him. “Only, can you be just Tor Besogende, for one more moment?”
His expression grew heated and he drew her to him again. “I thank God for the impulse that drove me to escape Scotland that day,” he murmured, his lips against hers. “Besogende will never truly disappear for you brought him to life and gave him a reason to exist.”
1866 Great Family Gathering
Anna handed Rhys the snifter and settled on the upright chair next to his armchair, as Natasha and Raymond came up to them. Raymond carried two dining chairs in one hand and held Natasha’s hand with the other and was not overtaxed.
Anna turned to see if Rhys had noticed and resented the display of masculine strength, which was beyond him these days.
Natasha thanked Raymond and settled on the chair he placed next to Anna. Raymond sat on the other and crossed his legs.
“You’re looking much better now, Rhys,” Natasha told him.
Rhys scrubbed at his hair. “You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen me after we arrived back from Denmark in the summer.” He laughed self-consciously.
“That foggy London air isn’t doing you any good at all,” Raymond told him.
Anna kept her lips together. She had been saying for months now that the city was not conducive to good health. Rhys, though, was still a stubborn man.
Rhys sighed. “I should move to the country, yes? Grow old and moldy in a cottage by the sea?”
Raymond cleared his throat. “That would be a useless suggestion, wouldn’t it? Work is all you know how to do. Although Natasha and I did have an idea.”
“You and Anna should come and live with us,” Natasha said. “At Marblethorpe.”
“And that isn’t living in the country?” Rhys asked, his tone dry.
Anna held her silence once more.
“Not just to live,” Raymond said. “There is a law practice in the village that badly needs guidance. I’m not talking about a full partnership. You could help out from time to time. Teach them what you know. It would be criminal to not pass on your knowledge, Rhys. You’re one of the best barristers and solicitors in the country.”
“Teaching…” Rhys breathed, staring at Raymond. No, staring through him.
Natasha rested her hand on Anna’s knee. “Alice should come with you. Catrin, too, of course. Alice would love Marblethorpe. Brighton is barely an hour away and look what a day of sea air has done for her, already.”
Anna’s chest tightened and her eyes stung as she looked through the big windows at the croquet court. Alice was sitting, for she rarely had the energy to stand for long. She had defied Mortenson’s calendar and was still with them. She was laughing and clapping as the game proceeded.
Rhys caught Anna’s hand in his. “She looks happy,” he breathed. “If Marblethorpe can make her look that way, then…”
Anna nodded. “If we do this, then there is one other condition.”
Raymond raised a brow. “And that would be…?”
“I wil
l enroll at Oxford and study for my degree.”
“You?” Natasha said, startled.
“Yes, me,” Annalies declared. “If Rhys and Alice are well situated, as they will be with you, then I can study during the week and return to Marblethorpe in between. It is only four years. Four years pass quickly these days.”
“Annalies, you are a woman,” Raymond said, his tone neutral. “Oxford don’t allow women students. Cambridge will have Girton College—”
“Oxford needs to change its mind,” Anna said. “I have the influence to force my way in there, if the rest of the family stands behind me.”
“She has a point,” Rhys said. “Between us, we know everyone of interest in Britain.”
“Anna, you are not young anymore. You won’t be able to make use of a degree, even if they grant you one,” Natasha said doubtfully.
“I won’t be doing it just for me,” Anna replied. “I will be doing it for Sadie, who always wanted to and was denied. I’ll be doing it for Bronwen, who might have chosen that life for herself if she hadn’t met Tor. I will be doing it for the women who come after me, who should be given the opportunity.”
Natasha smiled. “I do believe you have the capacity to do just as you say. Very well then. Rhys?”
Rhys squeezed Anna’s hand. “This is what you want, my love? Why didn’t you say?”
“Because you weren’t ready to hear it, until now.” Anna smiled at him. “It’s time, Rhys.”
He nodded. “Yes, it is.”
* * * * *
When the knock sounded on the carriage house door, Jack jumped. No one knew he was here. He had crept away from the noise and the busy-ness for a moment. The carriage house was dusty and unused and a perfect hiding spot, only he had forgotten the memories he had made here.
He had been sitting on the stool, staring at the bed and naked mattress, when the knock came.
Cautiously, he opened the door.
Cian held up two glasses and a decanter by its neck.
Jack let the door go and moved back inside. Cian followed him.
“I thought you might call this year’s Gathering off,” Jack told him as he dropped the glasses on the dresser and uncorked the decanter. “You’ve been hiding away down here all year.”
Scandalous Scions Two Page 16
