Deadly Peril (19 page)

While the Colonel read, Alec cast an eye over the half-dozen soldiers close by who had followed their Colonel’s lead and instantly come to attention, bayonet muskets over a shoulder. He then looked further afield, to the long row of somber-faced soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder, acting as an insurmountable barrier between their Colonel and the disembarked passengers. He saw that they, too, had come to attention, bayonet muskets at their sides and chins up, as if about to be inspected. He did not look at Selina, though he was keenly aware she was staring at his profile in mute astonishment, no doubt with a hundred—or perhaps just one—questions on her tongue. He wanted to smile, to find some light relief in the situation in which he now found himself. But just the thought of confessing past events of this diplomatic posting made him sick to his stomach, even after all these years, and instantly sobered his mood.

His gaze returned to Colonel Müller. The soldier’s thin upper lip was beaded with sweat despite the bitter cold. Alec guessed that underneath the man’s military frock coat and regulation issue shirt his body was a lather of perspiration. It wasn’t every day an ordinary soldier handled documents personally signed by not one ruler, but two; Margrave Leopold had been particularly revered by his subjects. Alec had some sympathy for the poor Colonel’s state of shock and did not wait for him to find further words of apology.

“Now that you are aware of the situation, Colonel Müller, I am confident of your cooperation, and your—loyalty.”

“Yes,
Herr Freiherr
! Of course
Herr Freiherr
!”

“Herr Baron will do.”

“Yes, Herr Baron! Of course, Herr Baron!”

“Good. You will have my party escorted out of this weather,” Alec commanded. “I require fitting accommodation—a house, not an inn. The British Consul, Herr Luytens, he was to have arranged this, and may already have done so. Find out. Our luggage from
The Caroline
is to be waved through Customs, and delivered as soon as possible. I do not want my guests inconvenienced more than they already are. Sir Gilbert Parsons, head of the English legation, is my guest and is to be given every courtesy. And you, Colonel Müller, will personally see to the needs of the elderly couple.” He permitted himself to smile. “She is an English duchess; he has arthritis and a bad temper if riled. You may have a sack of coal for your efforts—”

“Herr Baron, I hardly deserve—”

“—if the luggage is delivered undamaged and unopened. You will assist my majordomo, Herr Jeffries, who will oversee this process. Should he not be given your full cooperation, and he discover any item omitted, I will hold you personally responsible, Colonel Müller. Is that understood?”

“Perfectly, Herr Baron!” the Colonel replied. He quickly folded the two documents and retied the black ribbon. He held them out with a slight bow. “I will see to it all, at once. Herr—Jeffries will be given every courtesy, as will every member of your party. Herr Luytens will be found, as will the direction of the house he has arranged. Your luggage will not be touched—by anyone. Whatever you want, it is yours. Whatever you need, it is yours, Herr Baron! My men and I are at your disposal.”

Alec waved a hand in dismissal, eager to end the interview, and went to scoop up the glove he had dropped, but the Colonel was there before him. And when Alec put out a hand to take it from him, the Colonel saw it as a signal to pay homage to the House of Herzfeld. He caught at Alec’s fingers and pressed his lips reverentially to the intaglio of the Herzfeld family ring. To a man, the soldiers came to attention and saluted, the clack and stamp of their boots coming together on the cobbles, the only sound along the entire length of the canal.

It was with this salute that Alec realized that silence could be deafening. The Dutch-speaking officials inside the Customs House had been urged away from the warmth of the ovens to brave the icy winds to see what the fuss was about, and huddled together by the Customs checkpoint. Jagers stood immobile at the heads of their heavy horses come to a stop along the well-worn path beside the canal. Brawny stevedores, silent and watchful, sat atop cargo still to be offloaded from the gently rocking tugboats. And even above his head, high up in the spider web of complicated rigging of the tall ships, sailors dangled their legs from masts, precariously surveying proceedings with the seagulls for company. In fact, every man, woman, and child was silently fixed on this little drama unfolding before them. It was as if the Margrave himself had come amongst them. For the majority of the soldiers, a representative of the House of Herzfeld was being in the presence of their ruler, and as close as they would ever get to the Margrave. Everyone, civil and military, hung upon Alec’s every word.

It should not have surprised him, but it did. It also made him exceedingly uncomfortable. But he knew the choice to leave his past buried for as long as possible, and remain incognito until he arrived on the other side of the country at Herzfeld Castle, had been taken out of his control the moment Selina had recklessly confronted three soldiers over a girl in their custody, and an old man being abused. All he had wanted to do was to avert a catastrophe. The arrival of a regiment had put paid to plans of a swift and surreptitious end to a dangerous situation. He then had no option but to reveal his identity to the Colonel. So much for entering Emden by stealth!

He wanted to blame Selina and her foolishness in interfering in what was not her business, and for endangering her life, but that would be petty. It was not her fault. The choice to remain incognito had been taken from him the moment
The Caroline
was boarded by pirates, and he learned the town was under martial law. But to be unmasked so publically, and with Selina as witness, had stripped him of every vestige of self-respect. He had been living with this black cloud from his past for a decade, and had successfully (or so he thought) managed to live with it if not completely put it behind him. Now that it had burst over his head there was no going back. But how to explain this episode in his past, in all its incredulous detail, and to the woman he loved, without being branded a liar and a fraud? That would take all his diplomatic dexterity. The outcome was entirely in her hands.

Thank God Selina did not understand a word of German, though that seemed a moot point. There had been enough in the gestures and expressions, not to mention homage paid by the military, for anyone but the blind and deaf to know something of great significance had just occurred, and he the center of it all. But now was not the time nor place to account for his sins, so he snatched back his hand, face brick red to be so revered, and roughly pulled on his glove to cover the ring and warm his cold fingers. He wanted to turn heel and stride away, instead he calmly offered his arm to Selina, saying blandly,

“You’ll freeze if I don’t get you within doors this instant. You’ve not experienced winter until you’ve spent it here, in this marshy wasteland of a country!”

Selina pulled the hood back up over her coiffure and put her gloved hand in the crook of his arm. She did not know what to say in response to what she had just witnessed, so quipped,

“Do you know, that’s the first two full sentences you’ve spoken to me since Harwich. No! I lie. Since Bath. Since you refused to speak to me on the stair at Barr’s of Trim Street.” Adding with a wry smile when he remained mute, “Perhaps after this little affecting display, I, too, should offer to kiss that most interesting intaglio you’re wearing? Or are the military the only ones required to pay you homage—whoever
you
are—
Herr Baron
.”

“Don’t add to the absurdity!” Alec snapped. “You don’t know the first thing about—about—any of it!”

Startled by his uncharacteristic harsh tone, Selina swallowed down her hurt and pulled free her gloved hand. “No. No. I do not. I—”

“Forgive me,” he interrupted with quiet apology. “I—I’m not myself…”

“Now there’s an understatement if ever I heard one!”

“Selina! I will—I will tell you—
everything
—but not
now
. Not
here
.”

“I wonder…,” she said, regarding him impassively. “Would you have felt the need to confess
everything
had you not been forced to it?”

A huff of laughter escaped him, but Alec did not hesitate in his response. He offered her his arm again and was relieved when she took it. They continued on toward the Customs House, soldiers at their back, and to the sounds of the dock coming to life again.

“Yes. Yes, I had every intention of confessing my sins—
to you
,” he stated. “But not until
after
we were married. And I would have told you as an aside; just one story of many adventures as a conceited junior diplomat; nothing of significance; nothing worth your worry.” He smiled down at her. “And all of it occurring before I had made your acquaintance—”

“When I was Selina Vesey—before my horrid marriage?”

“Yes. You were still in the schoolroom when I was posted here as Sir Gilbert’s secretary.”

They walked on in silence, Selina’s gaze on the Customs officials going about their business, but seeing none of it. She’d had a flash of insight.

“It was Cosmo and Emily’s kidnapping which changed all that for you, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“What—what
happened
—to you? What is happening—to
us
?”

“It’s—difficult.”

“
Difficult
?” She stopped and faced him, dark eyes full of concern. “Of course I cannot begin to imagine what-what—
difficulties
you faced on your posting here, but I have a great foreboding that in this wretchedly bleak place you are not the Alec Halsey I know and love—”

“Selina! I-I—Yes! No! You’re right,” he confessed. “I’m not
your
Alec; not here. Not until I accomplish what I’m here for—to free Cosmo and Emily. Foolishly, I’d hoped to spare you—Olivia—my uncle—and myself, the wretchedness of a confession. I now realize that for wishful thinking. That was never going to happen.
Please
. Let me get you out of this miserable cold, to somewhere where we can talk in comfort.”

She nodded but stood there a moment longer, ignoring the activity all around them, and Sir Gilbert making a scene with the Customs Officials demanding to know in French what the devil was going on. She looked up into his eyes and held his gaze.

“I believe I can manage any confession you care to make to me. God knows, I have one of my own for you, which you did not permit me in Bath, and which should have been made well before, when you came to Paris—”

“Selina, there is no need for—”

“Yes! Yes, there is! But, you’re right. Now is not the time for that, either. But…” She swallowed and pressed a gloved palm to his chest, over his heart. “Can you assure me that the Alec I love will return to me?”

“Yes,” he said with a smile, resisting the urge to caress her cheek. He could not afford to be open with his feelings in this place; the Margrave’s—and Luyten’s—spies were everywhere. “That’s a promise. When I have Cosmo and Emily safe.” He did not add, “
Because if I cannot save them, I cannot save myself
.”

E
LEVEN

S
IR
C
OSMO
was about to step outside his little room for the first time in over two months. Yet he hesitated. He wondered if he was about to be tricked—so his captors had an excuse to punish him. No sooner would he be in the passageway than he’d be set upon, accused of trying to escape, and he’d be dragged to the dungeons and there he’d be tortured and left to rot.

Despite the cold dank air in the corridor, a trickle of perspiration slid between Sir Cosmo’s shoulder blades. His hands were tied and he was surrounded by a swarm of soldiers, which gave him every reason to believe his fear justified. Perhaps he was being escorted to the dungeons, and not, as he was led to believe, to dine with the Margrave. Giving him hope would subdue him enough until it was too late to shout for help.

But even if he did shout, who would hear him? And who would care? The very idea he was off to dine with anyone, least of all the ruler of this God-forsaken place, set his back to stoop and a prickly heat to break out across his forehead. For all that, he began to shake, not with despair but with silent laughter, the sort of laughter madmen and hermits indulge in, and which is incomprehensible to others. And the more he thought about what his valet had just confided in him, the more hysterical with fear he became, convinced he would never leave Castle Herzfeld alive.

~   ~   ~

E
ARLIER
THAT
AFTERNOON
, Sir Cosmo was permitted to bathe, and not just with a jug of water and a basin. It was his first bath in a month. A copper was brought up, and a procession of sour-faced servants came and went with hot water. Soap and a washcloth were provided, and for his mattered hair he was given a comb and a spicy-scented herbal wash. But he was not allowed to shave. So he washed his full beard with the remainder of the herbal wash.

The Margrave wanted to talk to him about their mutual friend Alec Halsey, but said he could not do so while Cosmo stank like a latrine. Hence the bath. And once he was presentable he would join the Margrave for dinner. Cosmo could hardly believe it possible. He had not left his little room in two months. As he soaked in the scented water a dread came over him. Perhaps this was a ruse for a more sinister purpose?

But then Matthias appeared in the doorway, hugging a bundle of clothes to his chest.

Sir Cosmo leapt from the bath, taking half the bathwater with him, hastily wrapped the bath sheet about his narrow hips, and greeted his valet with open arms and a beard dripping water. Dear sweet Matthias, with his long nose and even longer face, was such a welcome sight his eyes filled with tears. More than once, when curled in a ball on his narrow bed in utter despair, he was convinced he’d never see his devoted servant again.

Matthias was just as happy and tearful. He quickly dumped the bundle of clothes on the unmade bed, hiding his astonishment that with a full beard his master was barely recognizable. But it was not only the beard… Sir Cosmo had lost all his fat. He was thin and wiry, his face gaunt and his sunken eyes held a haunted expression. It was a look Matthias recognized in the gaze of mistreated animals who feared approach because it was usually accompanied by pain and suffering.