A Scandalous Adventure (10 page)

Max stood at attention and stared back for a long minute before he spoke. “Three days. I will give you three days. If we have not found the princess by then, I will tell the prince everything. And if any harm comes to those ladies…” He saluted stiffly, spun around, and marched away.

Bradenham Abbey

Once their carriage had pulled to a stop, Lady Penworth flung the door open and leaped down the moment the footman lowered the steps. The butler barely managed to open the door of the Abbey in time to let her in.

“Where are they?” she demanded, barely pausing.

“The blue drawing room,” the butler called after her as she raced down the corridor, not bothering to remove her cloak or hat. Lord Penworth hurried along in her wake.

She burst into the drawing room, where her oldest daughter—Elinor, Lady Doncaster—was sitting beside her husband, Harry. Lady Penworth halted so abruptly that her husband almost crashed into her.

The Doncasters looked up in surprise. Harry jumped to his feet. Elinor, who was extremely pregnant, tried to rise but everyone waved her back into her seat.

Arms akimbo, Lady Penworth looked at her daughter, her anxiety giving way to irritation. “You look perfectly well,” she said accusingly.

“I am.” Elinor blinked. “Except for looking like a whale and being unable to find a comfortable position for sleeping, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?”

Her mother sat down in the nearest chair and pulled off her gloves, finger by finger, with great concentration. She laid them on the table beside her. Next she undid the fastening at the neck of her dark-blue woolen cape and pushed it off her shoulders onto the back of the chair. She then folded her hands in her lap and looked at her daughter.

“When one receives a telegram from one's daughter—one's daughter who is barely weeks from giving birth—and that telegram says, ‘Come at once,' it is not unreasonable for one to assume that something dire has happened.”

Harry's jaw dropped and he looked at his wife. “
That's
what you said in the telegram?”

Elinor looked defensive. “Well, telegrams are supposed to be brief, aren't they?”

“Not so brief that they strike terror into the hearts of the recipients,” he said, starting to smile.

Lord Penworth handed his hat, gloves, and coat to the servant who had followed them in. “Well, now that we are here with hearts beating normally again, perhaps you could tell us
why
we are here.”

“I'm sorry. I truly am. It never occurred to me that you would think…” Elinor broke off. “Now that I hear it, it does sound rather drastic, doesn't it? But the thing is, I don't know if it's something dire or not.” She looked at her husband.

“We've had a letter from Olivia, you see,” he said.

“Ah.” Lady Penworth nodded. “And what does your sister say?”

“Not a great deal. She says they are off to Sigmaringen for a few days to have an adventure.” Harry looked worried. “But that's all she says about it.”

“You know how enthusiastic Olivia gets,” said Elinor. “It could be anything from a trip to buy a new bonnet to an expedition to climb an unclimbable Alp. But I don't like the sound of that. We were hoping you had heard from Susannah and could tell us what it's all about.”

“Oh dear.” Lady Penworth and her husband exchanged worried glances. “We did have a letter from Susannah, a rather odd letter. All she said was that they were going to Sigmaringen, and she didn't know where they would be staying so we couldn't write to them.”

“That doesn't sound like Susannah.” Elinor looked worried as well.

“The situation doesn't improve,” said Lord Penworth, removing a paper from his pocket. “I had a letter from Augusta. It didn't arrive until today because she sent it to Penworth Castle rather than to London.”

Lady Penworth turned a look of astonishment on him.

“I didn't tell you about it because by the time I saw it, you were already distressed about Elinor's telegram.”

His wife closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Very well. What does she say?”

“That they are going to Sigmaringen, which we already knew. However, she adds that they are going to be staying in the royal palace, but we should not write to them there because they will be incognito.”

“What?” Lady Penworth leaped to her feet in outrage.

Harry and Elinor echoed her.

Lady Penworth began to pace back and forth across the room. “I'll wager Augusta sent that letter to Dorset on purpose. She knew we were in London. She just didn't want us interfering before they had their little adventure.”

“She wouldn't do such a thing, would she?” Harry looked shocked.

Lord Penworth looked not in the least surprised. “Yes, of course she would. That's why we sent Susannah with her.”

“Now that was not at all fair,” said Elinor. “You shouldn't expect Susannah to rein in Aunt Augusta. You can't do it yourself.” She stopped and a slow smile appeared on her face. “On the other hand, Susannah might have decided that she'd like a bit of adventure herself. It's high time she broke out of that prim-and-proper mold.”

Her parents looked at Elinor in surprise. Then Lady Penworth, unaccustomed to uncertainty, said, “You may be right. About her wanting to break out, I mean. I'm quite certain you are right that we were unfair in expecting her to shepherd Augusta, who is old enough to be her grandmother. That still leaves us with a problem. Susannah is all alone in a strange country with no one to watch out for her. She certainly can't rely on either Augusta or Olivia for help.”

“If they were going to be in Sigmaringen for only a few days, they should have left by now. It's been a week since we got the first letter.” Lord Penworth was frowning. “We should have heard from them.”

“Something has gone wrong,” said Harry. “Olivia is my sister. I should go…”

He looked at his wife. His very pregnant wife who had a sudden flash of panic in her eyes before she resumed her look of calm interest.

“No, Harry. You cannot possibly leave Elinor at this point,” said Lady Penworth. “Phillip and I will go.” She began putting her gloves back on. “After all, we were the ones who sent the girls off on this trip.”

Lord Penworth nodded. “We can set out tomorrow.”

It was just as well that Mama had taken them to Paris in preparation for this trip, Susannah thought. Her own gown didn't matter so much—well, of course it did. One's gown
always
mattered, and she loved the blue and lavender brocade of hers. The color made her eyes look more violet than blue, and the rich fabric was enhanced by the simplicity of the cut. It was perfect for a lady-in-waiting—rich but not gaudy.

However, what mattered for this ball was Olivia's gown, and tonight she was wearing one of her own, not one of the princess's. It was of pale-gold satin, almost the exact shade of Olivia's hair, with lace-trimmed scallops over an underskirt of soft green. The same green trimmed the wide bertha collar that skimmed over the top of her shoulders, baring just the right amount of space for the filigree necklace of gold and peridots.

The sight made Susannah sigh with pleasure. It also made her nervous. Was Olivia having doubts? Did the fact that she was wearing her own gown mean that she wanted to stop being the princess? A grand ball in honor of the princess did not seem the best time for such indecision.

Olivia did not look as pleased with her appearance as she should. She held herself very still as the maid adjusted the ribbons in her hair and twisted a ringlet into the proper position, but she did not seem to be taking any interest in the process.

Lady Augusta sighed impatiently. “Really, Your Highness. Anyone would think you had never attended a ball before.” She waved a hand to dismiss the maid and waited for the door to close before she began to speak softly. “Surely you are not worried about your ability to play this role. The prince, the court—everyone has accepted you. And the prince seems quite entranced by you.”

Olivia's lower lip stuck out the way it did when she was about to be stubborn. That was enough to worry Susannah. There were times when Olivia was impervious to reason. She took Olivia's hand. “What is the matter? Is it the danger? Are you afraid? If that is it, I will tell Max and he will have us out of here tonight. You know he will.”

“No, no, it's not that at all.” Olivia wrapped her arms around herself and looked angry. “It just isn't right. The prince has been so kind, so trusting. We should not be playing this dreadful trick on him. Think how humiliated he will feel when he discovers it. We should tell him what is going on. We really should.”

That prompted a snort from Lady Augusta. “Stuff and nonsense. Just what do you think will happen if we tell him what has happened, or what we
think
has happened, since we do not really know? I'll tell you what he will do. Like a child, he will run to Count Herzlos and ask what to do—because that is apparently what he has always done. It seems to be accepted here that Conrad is the prince, but Count Herzlos is the ruler. And then? Why, then Herzlos will confront his son, who will realize that his only recourse is to stage his revolution immediately and kill the prince, the count, and all of us. Is that what you want?”

Susannah felt slightly ill. What Aunt Augusta said sounded frighteningly possible. On some level she had known all that. She just hadn't thought of it in quite such brutal terms.

Olivia grew pale and looked about to burst into tears. “I feel so sorry for him.”

“Stop that,” commanded Lady Augusta. “You are not to pity the prince. It seems to me that the problems in this country have been caused by his weakness. If he had taken up the reins of government himself and not just sat there in his pretty uniform, he would not have been vulnerable.”

“He's not weak,” insisted Olivia. “He's kind. All of you seem to think that's some sort of weakness, but it isn't.”

Lady Augusta held up a hand. “Whether he is kind or weak is not the issue at the moment. Do you want to put Captain Staufer and General Bergen at risk, to say nothing of Susannah and me?”

“Oh no!” protested Olivia.

“Then stiffen your spine. Now that we have put this masquerade in motion, we have no choice but to follow it through. Hold up your head and remember that you are a princess.”

Lady Augusta flung open the door, and Olivia did as she was told. It was the princess who walked into the corridor to lead the procession to the ballroom. Susannah took a deep, steadying breath and followed.

Sometimes Lady Augusta could be quite frightening, Susannah thought. That thought was followed by another one. Would Lady Augusta be quite as vehement about preserving the secret if General Bergen were not involved?

They had seen the ballroom on their tour of the castle, but that had been in the daytime. Susannah had thought the white and gold space cold and cavernous. Intimidating. Certainly not at all appealing. Now, however, it was magical. Three enormous gilt-and-crystal chandeliers, each with three tiers of candles, hung in a row down the center of the room. A dozen smaller ones marched down either side, brilliantly illuminating the festivities. Flowers, banks of flowers, perfumed the air as in an eternal summer. The sweet strains of a few violins floated over the chatter of those awaiting the start of the ball.

For a moment, Susannah forgot all about the masquerade, the danger, Olivia's fears, and Aunt Augusta's warning. The splendor of the scene drove all those worries away. She had wandered into an enchanted world.

She had never been to a ball at Buckingham Palace—such frivolity had died with Prince Albert—but she could not imagine that the Queen had ever presided over an event so lightheartedly joyful. It was not just the magnificence of the room and the glamour of the guests. Yes, the women wore beautiful gowns and dripped with jewels. Yes, many of the men wore splendiferous uniforms and glittered with decorations so that they were even more colorful than the women. But Susannah suspected that the real source of joy on this occasion was the prince.

He had greeted his princess with a look of delight that cast a glow over the room. When he held her by his side as he welcomed people to the ball, a faint sigh of pleasure rose from the onlookers. The court was as delighted with the princess as the prince was, and as the crowds greeting her arrival had been.

Susannah felt a twinge of something. Guilt? Not really. Concern, perhaps. It was not quite the earlier worries returning. This worry was something new.

Olivia was such a perfect princess that she was going to create problems for Princess Mila when she reappeared. But from what Max and the general had said, Mila was a foolish and self-centered girl, so perhaps Susannah's concern should be for the prince. It was the reverse of all the fairy tales. His charming princess would turn into a toad.

She shook off the regret. Mila was the princess he was supposed to get in the first place, and all they were doing was preserving his realm for him. He would have to be grateful for that when he eventually found out what had been happening. But she doubted that would happen. He would have to be inhuman to be anything other than furious at the deception. To be offered happiness and then have it snatched from you? She knew how she would feel, and it would not be grateful.

Enough.

She could do nothing about the prince and his troubles, present or future. For tonight she was going to set all her fears and worries aside, seize the moment, and enjoy it. The problems would still be there in the morning, but for once in her life, she was going to ignore her responsibilities.

This night was going to be for her.

Never again would she dance in a royal ballroom. It was quite possible that never again would she dance with Captain Maximillian von Staufer.

She stepped forward to take her place beside Max in the opening polonaise, and her breath stopped when she looked up at him. He was magnificent. He was tall and strong and incredibly handsome. He was a knight in shining armor, no matter that instead of armor he wore a white uniform festooned with gold braid. Instead of a shield, a green velvet cape lined with gold satin hung over one shoulder.

The warmth in his eyes when he looked at her fanned an unaccustomed flame inside her. His hand enveloped hers, and even through their gloves, she could feel the heat crackling, welding them together.

They moved through the gliding steps of the procession, bowing and twirling as the dance demanded, but she felt separate from all the others. It was as if she and Max were the only ones there. The orchestra slipped into the first waltz of the ball, and she was spinning to the music with only his strong arm around her to keep her from flying off into space.

Susannah had heard this music before. It was one of the Strauss waltzes that had been played when they were in Vienna. It had been lovely then. Now it was perfect.
Dum-de-dah
,
dum-de-dah
—rising and swirling, inscribing itself in her heart. Never would she lose this melody. This music was hers for all eternity.

She looked up into Max's eyes, his dark, dark eyes, and could not look away. One was expected to talk to one's partner while dancing—she knew that—but she could not think of anything to say. Her heart was overflowing, but with feelings she could not put into words. His eyes told her it was the same for him. They spun and whirled and floated on a cloud of music, alone in the universe.

Eventually the music came to an end, and slowly she grew aware of the quiet. Max had whirled her out of the ballroom and onto the balcony. The chill of the evening meant that they were utterly private here, but with his arms around her, she did not feel the cold.

“Suse.” He breathed out her name almost as a prayer. “Ah, Suse, there is so much I want to say, so much I want to promise, but I cannot. Not yet. Do you understand?”

She nodded. She could not speak, not now, but she did understand. Duty was something everyone in her family understood. Duty always came first.

But duty was not the only thing in the world.

She moved her hand from his shoulder to pull his head down to her. Then the voices from the ballroom penetrated her consciousness—voices that seemed to be coming nearer.

Regretfully, she stepped back, and after a moment, Max's arm loosened to let her go. He led her sedately back into the ballroom.

“Staufer.” The sharp voice made her jump, and she turned to see another officer, tall—though not so tall as Max, of course—and fair, with a thin, blond mustache. He was smiling, but only with his mouth. His gray eyes were cold and swept over her in a quick assessment before turning back to Max. “Will you introduce me?” he asked. His tone made it more demand than request.

Max looked at him with equal coldness, then turned to Susannah with warning in his look and in his voice. “Lady Susannah, may I present Lieutenant Dieter Angriffer, a friend of Baron Herzlos. Angriffer, Lady Susannah Tremaine, companion to Princess Mila.”

The lieutenant clicked his heels and bowed.

Susannah did not need Max's warning. This was the end of her plan for an idyllic evening at the ball. The romantic fantasies that had filled her mind on the balcony faded, leaving her feeling resentful at their loss. The resentment focused on Lieutenant Angriffer.

Although he was good-looking enough with his blond hair and chiseled features, there was something distinctly reptilian about him. The coldness of his pale eyes, perhaps, and the way they stared at her without blinking. However, she did not consider it politic to refuse his request for the next dance. That would be rude, and though there might be need for rudeness in the future—she was fairly certain that he was an enemy—that time was not yet.

The waltz began conventionally enough. They kept the proper distance apart, and he held her and danced correctly, without flourishes. The difference between this waltz and the one she had just shared with Max was indescribable.

The silence between them was a trifle awkward, but Susannah felt no need to break it. Angriffer was the one who had requested—demanded—this dance. And she still resented his intrusion.

Finally he gave a short bark of laughter. “You are not a fool, I see. You know to keep silent.”

That hardly needed a response, so Susannah remained silent. She kept her face averted, ignoring him, though she could feel his eyes boring into her.

He gave that barking laugh again. “Very good.” He sounded approving. “Where did Staufer find you? Are you whores? Actresses?”

She did look at him then, startled.

He looked back, studying her. “No, probably not actresses. When actresses portray ladies, they cannot avoid excess. Too much pride, too much condescension. You do it as if it is all natural. Minor gentry, perhaps? Impoverished gentlewomen?”

She found her tongue and spoke coldly. “I cannot imagine what you are talking about.”

“No need to play insulted with me.” His smile looked smug. “You see, I know where Princess Mila is.”

Susannah looked pointedly at the end of the room, where Olivia was standing beside the prince.

“An excellent imitation, I admit, but not the real thing.” Angriffer spun her into a twirl, beginning to enjoy the dance. “I was introduced earlier, and this one is much pleasanter than the real one. Princess Mila keeps whining and fussing. I was finding her quite irritating and came to ask Hugo what he wants me to do with her.”

She couldn't keep from stiffening, and he smiled at her reaction.

“Yes,” he continued, “all is known, at least in some quarters. I can stand up and say, ‘Your Highness, these women are imposters.' And then where will you be? On your way to the gallows?”

After a moment, during which Susannah thought frantically, she smiled slowly. “Oh, I don't think so, Lieutenant.”

“No?”

“No. Because, after all, what are you going to say? That this princess is an imposter, and I know because I have kidnapped the real one? Then you would be the one on the way to the gallows.”

He regarded her with amusement. “Definitely not a fool, not if you see the problem so quickly. You interest me.”

“And you also have another problem. How can you be certain that your prisoner is the real princess? Perhaps you have kidnapped an imposter.”

“Another possibility, which leaves us at a stalemate. Whatever shall we do?” He seemed both amused and pleased, as if enjoying this exchange.

“Well, you could always return the princess.”

He laughed out loud at that suggestion. “Somehow, I do not think that the baroness and her brother would think much of that idea.”

Susannah found his phrasing interesting. “The baroness is the one who would object? Not the baron?”

“You are quick indeed.” He looked at her with admiration. “Yes, the baroness is the one who plans, and her brother follows her lead.”

“But why is she so ambitious for her brother? Can it possibly make that much difference to her life? She is already the daughter of the country's first minister.”

“It is never wise to offend that lady. Her father should never have dismissed the suggestion that Conrad marry her with such disdain. Not that Conrad showed any enthusiasm for the prospect. And then when she turned her attention to the possibility of becoming Countess von Staufer, Max didn't even notice her advances to him.” Angriffer shook his head in mock reproof. “Helga does have her pride.”

“She is doing this out of wounded vanity? That is preposterous.” Susannah's common sense was outraged.

A touch of sympathy entered Angriffer's look. “A word of warning. It has not escaped her that Max is a bit taken with you. If she offers you a glass of wine, I recommend that you decline.”

As the music drew to a close, he whirled her to a halt just beside the prince and Olivia. Hugo and Helga were also standing there and acknowledged them with a nod. Angriffer stepped to Helga's side, and she placed a possessive hand on his arm while sending a look of cold calculation at Susannah. Her face smoothed out as she returned her attention to Olivia, who was standing up bravely but looked hunted.

The prince did not seem to notice this, though how he could be so oblivious Susannah did not know. Perhaps he was so accustomed to the Herzlos pair that he no longer noticed their vitriol.

“How curious that both your attendants should be English ladies,” said the baroness. “One would have expected you to bring your own compatriots with you. To keep you from being homesick.”

Olivia smiled sweetly. “That had occurred to me, but I decided against it. After all, this will be my home, and I do not need ties to another country. Lady Augusta and Lady Susannah are old friends from my travels and, as such, provide enough connection to my old life without distracting me from my new loyalty to Sigmaringen.”

“Bravo,” said Conrad. “The perfect answer from my bride-to-be.”

That comment, combined with Olivia's condescending smile, froze the baroness's smile into a grimace.

Ordinarily, Susannah would wager on her friend in this contest. Olivia looked so sweet that people frequently underestimated her, though she only defended herself when she was actually attacked. At the moment, however, Olivia was handicapped by her ignorance. She did not know that their masquerade had been exposed—at least to the villains of the piece.

Helga did not just suspect. She now knew that Olivia was an imposter and was trying to unmask her. All Olivia knew was that Helga was being poisonous, and she probably thought Helga was no different from all poisonous ladies she had encountered in London. Nor was Lady Augusta any help. She was off on the floor, waltzing with the general. Again.

In preparation for her next foray, the baroness narrowed her eyes and prepared to strike. “You know, Princess, I find myself puzzled by your accent. It seems a bit strange to me.”

The prince stepped in. “Really? It sounds charming to me.” He smiled at Olivia and lifted her hand to kiss it.

Helga seemed about to burst, so Susannah said, “To tell the truth, Baroness, your accent seemed a bit strange to me. A trifle countrified, perhaps. But then, I don't imagine you have spent much time at the court in Vienna, have you?”

“In Vienna?” The baroness spun around to look at Susannah. “What has Vienna to do with anything?”

“Nothing at all,” said Susannah, patting Helga's arm sympathetically. “I am sure there has never been any need for you to visit Emperor Franz Josef's court there. Just because Sisi—the Empress Elisabeth—made such a pet of Princess Mila, you should not feel slighted. After all, very few are invited to join the empress at Bad Kissingen.”

Susannah heard a snort of laughter from Angriffer. She also heard a hiss from Helga, whose claw tightened on Angriffer's arm. Hugo was saying nothing, just standing there looking rather as if he had indigestion. He was not the leader in this plot, Susannah realized. But whether the real leader was Helga or Angriffer, she was not sure.