Velvet Undercover (17 page)

“Of course I did. How could I resist, with that hair?” He smiles down at me and I blush.

“I hope the others didn't notice that I wasn't enjoying myself. I'd hate for my cousin to think I'm ungrateful.”

“Don't worry. No one could tell. They don't know you as well as I do.”

“Oh, you think you know me, do you?” I say this lightly, ignoring the tremors of unease in my stomach. I feel more like myself when I'm with Maxwell than I do with anyone else in the palace. I have to stop thinking of him as a friend.

Caution, Sam.

“I know there is much more to you than meets the eye.”

His voice is solemn and I stop walking to look at him. His eyes meet mine and I can scarcely breathe. “That could be said about anyone,” I finally say, and continue walking.

“Yes, but I think it's particularly true in your case. I heard you were in the family wing of the palace this afternoon.”

My stomach clenches and I almost falter. Does he suspect me of something? Is he fishing for information? Heart beating in my throat, I make a rash decision. I look at him from under my lashes and give what I hope is a flirtatious smile. “Actually, I was looking for you.”

It's his turn to be surprised. “You were?”

“Yes, I wanted to thank you again for the outing. I really enjoyed it.”

“I'm glad,” he says. “We must do it again sometime.”

Does he believe me? It's difficult to tell. “I'd like that.”

“I'm sorry dinner wasn't what you expected. You did look to be having an interesting conversation with the gentleman next to you, though.”

I frown. “Herr Haber? Yes. I've always loved science.”

“He's a chemist of some sort, isn't he?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say, wondering what it is he wants to know.

We reach my door and I turn to thank him. “I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come along,” I say.

“Then it was a good thing I did, isn't it?” He looks down at me and a wistful expression crosses his face. “You know what I wish, Sophia Thérèse?”

His mesmerizing dark eyes stare into mine and my breath catches. My gaze drops to his mouth before I jerk my eyes back up to meet his. “What's that?”

“I wish there wasn't a war going on. That I had met you in that little town outside Cologne . . . what did you say the name of it was?”

My mind goes completely blank. I stare at him as I frantically shuffle through German names. Why can't I remember?

The sound of whistling breaks the spell and I look away to see Mathilde coming toward us. “You're not supposed to have male visitors in this part of the house, Fräulein,” she warns as she passes.

I close my eyes for a moment in relief. “Good night,” I say, hastily unlocking the door.

“Good night, Sophia Thérèse,” Maxwell says, his forehead furrowed as if he's trying to figure something out. “Pleasant dreams.”

I shut the door. I'm caught between relief that our conversation was interrupted, and regret. I know exactly how Max feels. I wish I could have met him in my real life, too.

Dirty Tricks: Undercover sabotage that can run the gamut from disruptive pranks to assassination.

I
don't know whether it's the late night or the nightmares I have, but I awake tired and out of sorts. The strain of being Sophia Thérèse is wearing on me, and yet sometimes I feel as if I've always been a wellborn German girl. Samantha Donaldson, along with her life, is becoming more and more remote.

I feel as if I'm losing who I really am.

Plus, I can't get over the uneasy sensation that I'm missing something important. Like I'm on the edge of a discovery and yet I can't quite grasp the last piece. As I near the schoolroom, the rise and fall of heated voices reaches me and I pause just outside the door.

“You know this is the last chance you'll get,” I hear Mrs. Tremaine say.

Last chance to do what?

“I can't do as you want. I'm risking everything as it is. If anyone found out . . .” Lillian sounds on the verge of tears.

“As you wish. I think you're being unwise.”

“Perhaps, but I think you're deceiving yourself.” Lillian's voice drops and I have to lean closer to the door to hear her words. “Remember Napoleon's words, a throne is only ‘a bit of wood gilded and covered in velvet.'”

The word
velvet
reverberates in my ears. Is that a clue?

I hear voices down the hall and quickly step into the room to avoid getting caught eavesdropping.

“Good morning,” I say.

The effect of my greeting is like a shot going off. Both women startle.

“Good morning,” Lillian says quickly. “Mrs. Tremaine just offered to give the children singing lessons, but I told her it wasn't appropriate.” This last part is directed at Mrs. Tremaine, who just shrugs.

“You know where to find me if you change your mind.” Mrs. Tremaine gives Lillian a hard stare. “And I truly think it in your best interest to change your mind.”

Mrs. Tremaine sweeps out of the room, so angry that she gives me only a frigid nod. To my surprise, Lillian says nothing about the incident. The morning passes slowly. When we break for some air, I take out the chocolates I'd procured the night before and hand them out to all the children.

“Where did you get the chocolates?” the duchess asks when she and Marissa join us.

“Frau Sophia Thérèse gave them to us.” Prince Wilhelm licks melted chocolate from his fingers.

“You spoil them, Cousin,” the duchess says.

“I don't do it often,” I assure her.

“She only gave them to us because I promised not to tell the secret about her burbmark,” Prince Hubertus says.

I freeze as the duchess turns to me with an inquiring look on her face.

Lillian hushes him. “It's called a birthmark, Hubertus, and I told you we weren't to speak of that.”

Marissa's eyes narrow.

Think fast
.

“The secret is that it's shaped like a crescent moon,” I tell them all. “I told him that was my little secret. And it's all right if the children talk about it. It's plain as day, after all.”

“And quite lovely,” the duchess says. “Now, Hubertus, you promised to show me how you can walk the garden wall.”

I stand still as the duchess follows the children to the low wall surrounding the winter garden. I'm praying that no one can see the trembling that has seized my entire body. Lillian and Marissa kindly change the subject and my heart finally returns to normal.

That was entirely too close.

As I watch Marissa and Lillian talking, I'm wondering if Lillian is indeed Velvet. Why else would a mild-mannered governess have a gun? But if she is, then what is Marissa doing with someone else's travel papers? Could she have them as just a safety net? A way to get out of the country?

I see several men walking across the courtyard and recognize one of them as Prince Wilhelm. Lillian notices him
as well. “He may want to see the children doing their lessons,” she says to me. “He occasionally checks in on their progress.”

One of the guards flanking the prince is Maxwell, who acknowledges my presence with an almost imperceptible nod.

The tension is almost palpable when we reach the prince and the duchess.

“I don't have time to go with you to Potsdam,” Prince Wilhelm says to her. “I'm working on some critical negotiations. In case you haven't noticed, there's a war going on.” The prince sounds weary and his face is drawn.

“Oh, really?” the duchess asks, her voice deceptively sweet. “I thought you were too distracted by your singing lessons to worry about the war.”

He shakes his head, disgusted. “You know nothing. The only thing you have to worry about is where you're going to get your silk now that trade with China has been interrupted.” He turns to Lillian, whose eyes are downcast. “Fräulein, I would very much like to return to the schoolroom with you to see how the children are doing with their lessons.”

“Of course,” Lillian says.

She and I herd the children into the schoolroom while the duchess departs in a huff, with Marissa on her heels. The prince joins the older children as they write out their math problems on the chalkboard while the little ones watch. Prince Hubertus looks longingly at his father and I hope for
his sake that the prince remembers him, as well as the older ones.

“How are you settling in, Sophia Thérèse?” Maxwell asks, his voice pitched low enough so only I can hear.

“I'm doing well, thank you.”

“Are you craving more of that delicious gingerbread yet?”

The question comes out of the blue, and chills run down my spine. Frantically, I try to figure out if his words have a double meaning. Does he suspect that the bakery is a drop spot, or is he simply asking if I'd like to go on another outing with him? I glance at him from the corner of my eye, but he's staring straight ahead, his jaw tight. My eyes widen.
He's angry with me. Why?
I take a deep breath. “Sadly, it didn't taste as good as it did when I was young.”

“Things seldom do, Fräulein,” he says before moving to stand closer to the prince.

I stare after him, baffled.
What did I do?

Getting the children to settle back down into the routine of lessons is almost impossible after the prince leaves. Finally Lillian throws up her hands. “I give up; go ahead and take out your art supplies or your books. You can even play some games, if you like.”

The children give a raucous cry and the boys break out their marbles while the girls get out the watercolors.

“Does this always happen after their father visits?” I ask, helping her put away the schoolbooks.

“Yes. Thankfully, it doesn't occur very often.” She smiles, her pretty eyes tired. “Would you like me to order up some
tea after we're finished for the day? I feel as if we haven't had a chance to talk much in the past few days and I was looking forward to getting to know you.”

The wistfulness in her voice tugs at my heart and I place a hand on her arm. “That would be lovely.” I hesitate and then ask, “Are you all right, Lillian?”

Her mouth tightens and tears spring up in her eyes. “I just really love my position here. My own governess was such an inspiration in my life that while other young women were planning their debut parties, I made plans to teach. When I obtained this position, I couldn't believe my good fortune. And then the war began. . . .”

She shakes her head and, with a glance at the children, lowers her voice. “It isn't easy, knowing my family in France might be in danger. That's all. Some days it's harder than others. And if given the choice to return home or stay here, I'm not sure what I'd do. . . .” Her voice trails off as she watches the children play. Then, with a quick glance at me, she gives a little laugh and waves her hand. “I'd stay here, of course. The children need me. I don't know why I'm so maudlin today. I must be tired.”

I think of my father and mother and nod. “Wars tend to tear families apart,” I tell her softly.

“Indeed they do. And there's no reason to mention this conversation. I wouldn't want to give anyone the wrong idea.” She gives me a sideways glance, her fair skin reddening.

“Of course not.”

She squeezes my shoulder. “I'm so glad you came. I've needed someone to talk to for a long time.” Her voice lightens. “Not to mention that the boys are just too active for one woman!”

She claps her hands. “Put your things away. Fräulein Sophia Thérèse will take you out to play in the Lustgarten.”

She leans toward me. “Let's see if we can wear them out before finishing up their French lessons.”

She shoos me off, and the children follow me dutifully out of the palace and over to the Lustgarten. As we leave the building, another guard joins us, and I tense. Maxwell is the only guard I'm comfortable with, though after his odd behavior this afternoon, that might change. After all, I'm a British spy taking care of the royal children. There wouldn't even be a trial if I were discovered—I'd be executed immediately.

Once we reach the garden, the children scamper off and I amble after them, trying to put my whirling thoughts into some semblance of order. What if I just asked Lillian if she's Velvet? I straighten, mulling over the idea. If she is Velvet, I'd know by her reaction. If not, I could make something up. Maybe tell her that one of the children told me that her middle name was Velvet.

Relief washes over me. That's what I'll do. If she is Velvet, she'll tell me what Mrs. Tremaine's involvement is. We can escape the country and I can get the information Captain Parker has concerning my father.

It could all be over soon.

I turn back to the children, who are playing a game of tag around the statue of Friedrich Wilhelm. Taking a seat on a bench nearby, I will myself to relax. The breeze is cool but intermittent enough that the sun has a chance to warm me before it blows again. I want to forget about Velvet, Miss Tickford, and everything else for just five blessed minutes. The muscles in my neck ache from days of nonstop tension.

It feels as if I'm on a carousel that never stops.

My relaxation deepens as the children run amok all around me. It's easy to forget that under their royal accoutrements—the imported linens and silk, the velvet and the gold braid—they're just children like any other children and occasionally need to be allowed to behave as such. And it is rather amusing watching the guards try to keep an eye on all of them.

So why are my instincts suddenly pinging, as if something's wrong? I almost feel eyes grazing along the back of my neck. Shivers race up my spine as I stretch, using the movement to look all around the park. The Lustgarten is strangely empty for such a lovely day, no doubt due to so many men off fighting. The feeling doesn't leave me, however, and when a dark cloud obscures the sun and the wind picks up, I use it as an excuse to call the children in.

“Come along, children. Line up, it's time to go in.”

As I gather my things, someone bumps into me so hard, I almost fall over the bench I'd been sitting on. After righting myself, I turn to see a man in a black suit and bowler walking swiftly away. It happened so quickly that it's hard to
believe it happened at all.

If not for the bit of paper he's left in my hand.

“Are you all right, Fräulein?” a guard asks.

I nod, my hand curling around the paper.

The children line up obediently and follow me to the palace with the guards bringing up the rear. My step quickens. I hurry inside, my heart racing. I need to get to my room and read the note. A feeling of foreboding presses down on me and the back of my neck prickles. LDB isn't supposed to contact me except in the usual manner. Something is very wrong. The children giggle behind me as I accelerate my pace, wanting nothing more than to get to the safety and security of the schoolroom. As we hasten through the Grand Hall, I see Maxwell, ahead of me, hurrying away from the staircase. His hat is askew; I wonder if he just came from the tunnel. I'm about to call for him when I remember the guards bringing up the rear. Instead, I turn to the children. “I'll race you to the schoolroom!”

I have the unfair advantage of being in front, but Prince Wilhelm is hot on my heels as we run. The other children fall a little further behind as I race up the stairs, two steps at a time. I reach the door moments before he does and we burst into the schoolroom laughing, knowing that Lillian is going to turn to us with a smile, asking us what all the commotion is about.

Only she doesn't, because she's lying on the floor in a pool of blood.