A Scandalous Adventure (9 page)

No. The prince was introducing Olivia to Lezo. She reached out timidly to the dog, who stood there phlegmatically. Aunt Augusta was sitting stiffly erect, but her expression as she fondled the small dog on her lap was unexpectedly indulgent. As usual, they were not paying attention to Susannah.

Perhaps Max had not noticed her reaction either, for he continued to speak in an undertone. “You are all safe at the moment because Hugo does not know what is happening. Is this the princess? Is this an imposter? He does not dare to say anything or do anything until he knows, and it is difficult for him to find out. He sent a messenger last night, but the messenger ran into some of General Bergen's troops.” Max smiled. “There are troops on all the roads leading from the castle. We should be safe for a few days more.”

“And the princess?” Susannah darted a glance at Olivia. “The real princess, I mean. Are you any closer to finding her?”

Max lifted a shoulder. “We can only hope. At least we will no longer waste our time searching the routes leading out of the country. Now I have asked my people to find out what they can from the servants on Hugo's estate. They may know something and be willing to speak of it, at least to other servants.” He grinned. “Hugo thinks all peasants, especially those who speak Schwäbisch, are fools. This does not endear him to those who work on his estate.”

Susannah nodded, trying to look attentive. Of course Max needed to concentrate on thwarting Hugo and finding the princess. That was his duty, and she would not want him to fail in it. Her own thoughts, however, kept returning to the kiss he had pressed on her palm. The warmth of it did not seem to fade.

Too restless to sleep, Max took himself down to the palace gardens just as the dawn was breaking. He filled his lungs with the cold, crisp air drifting down with the mist from the neighboring mountains. Already he could smell the approach of winter.

He hated it here in the palace. Always and everywhere there were plots and counterplots, backbiting and jostling for position. General Bergen was always jealous of Count Herzlos's influence over the prince, the count was jealous of the general's control of the army, Hugo and Helga were jealous of everyone, and the courtiers were in constant turmoil, trying to decide which one to support today and which one would be on top tomorrow.

Prince Conrad seemed to ignore it all—or perhaps he simply accepted it as the usual way of things. Did he not see his own responsibility in this? If he did not take control of his principality, if he continued to leave the reins of power dangling, there would always be someone trying to pick up those reins himself. Someone like Hugo.

Max rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the tension in his muscles. How he longed to be back in his own castle at Ostrov, among his own family, his own people, where there was none of this insanity. Would he ever be able to return there to stay, or would he be trapped here forever, protecting a prince who could not seem to protect himself?

A movement in the mist caught his eye and immediately he was on guard, every muscle tense, his hand at his sword. Then the movement resolved itself into Lady Susannah, accompanied by Lev, and suddenly his spirits lightened.

Dressed simply, with a large shawl wrapped around her against the morning chill and with her dark hair just pulled back with a ribbon, she looked absurdly young. He felt a rush of tenderness, more than tenderness, at the sight of her. She was reaching out to touch a flower, caressing its petals.

His footsteps on the gravel path must have startled her, because she swung around, alarmed, until she recognized him. He was glad to see that Lev had also gone on guard.

“You are an early riser,” he said.

She nodded, turning back to the flower, fingering its light-pink petals. “I like the peace of early morning. The silence when there is no one around.”

“Should I leave?” He didn't want to, but he could understand the yearning for solitude.

She looked up quickly, flushing slightly. “Please don't. I didn't mean you. You aren't…” Her color deepened, until it almost matched the flower she was caressing.

“I am not someone you are responsible for?”

“Yes,” she said, sounding almost guilty. “It's not that I don't love them, you understand.”

“I know precisely what you mean. We sometimes feel the need to snatch a moment just for ourselves.”

They stood there in companionable silence, not quite touching.

“Is that a rose?” He bent his head toward the bush in front of her. “Is it not late in the year for roses?”

“Yes. This one is called Autumn Damask. It has a lovely fragrance. Can you smell it?”

Indeed he could. It was the scent of Susannah, richly fragrant but with something sharp. He couldn't tell her that, so he simply nodded.

“I love this rose for its history as well as its scent. It's descended from the cuttings that crusaders brought back from Damascus, and they say it may be the rose that the ancients called the Four Seasons Rose of Paestum. It humbles me to think that this fragile flower has survived for hundreds, even thousands of years.”

“A reminder that our worries are not nearly so important as they seem?”

“Something like that.” She smiled at him and then turned back to touch the flower. “My mother has this rose growing in her garden, and now my sisters, the married ones, have planted cuttings of it in their own gardens.”

“And you will one day do the same?”

“I hope so. That way, we will always have a piece of home binding us together.”

“A lovely thought.” He reached down to touch the velvety petals and brushed her fingers at the same time. “Lovely.”

She stilled for a moment as their fingers touched before she drew back with a sigh. “But roses are for another time. At the moment, we have responsibilities. I have to protect Lady Olivia, and you have to protect Prince Conrad.”

“Yes, we both have responsibilities, but…” He picked up her hand and placed it against his, palm to palm, their fingers entwined. “But I think that those responsibilities have become entwined. Do you agree?”

She stared at their hands, and the moment stretched out before she gave a tiny nod. “That worries me,” she whispered.

* * *

“Olivia…” Susannah began, but she didn't quite know how to continue. She didn't like to talk about her own feelings, so she hesitated to probe other people's. But she did need to talk to Olivia, and now, while Aunt Augusta was taking a nap, was an ideal time.

Olivia was happily draping a shawl in various ways around herself and examining the effect in the mirror. “The princess does have lovely things, doesn't she?”

“Yes, but don't you think it might be better for you to wear your own things?”

Olivia thought for a moment, still looking in the mirror, and then shook her head. “No, because when I'm wearing my things, I feel like Olivia de Vaux, and when I wear her things, I feel like a princess.”

“Yes, dear, but you
are
Olivia de Vaux. You aren't Princess Mila. Isn't it a little dangerous to get the two confused?”

Suddenly serious, Olivia turned and sat down facing Susannah. “You have no idea how wonderful it feels to be someone—anyone—other than Olivia de Vaux. When I stayed with your family, I tried to pretend I was one of the Tremaines, but I know I'm not. Not really, no matter how much you treat me like one of you. Any time I go out, any time I'm at a party or a ball, any time I'm even in a shop, I know that people look at me and think, ‘Oh, there's that de Vaux girl. She's the daughter of that dreadful Lady Doncaster. One of the Degraded de Vaux.' And they wonder if I'll be a whore like my mother.”

“Oh no, darling Olivia, no one could possibly think that way about you.” Susannah jumped up to put her arms around her friend. “Not possibly!”

Olivia leaned into the hug, not quite crying. “They do, you know. Some of them like to whisper just loud enough for me to be able to hear them.”

“Who?” Susannah demanded. She pulled back and straightened up, preparing to do battle as soon as they returned to London.

“It was Mary Penobscot and her set this season.”

“That rat-faced scarecrow? How dare she! That nasty little piece of work is jealous of everyone. You're so sweet and pretty that she knows you make her look like the viper she is.”

Olivia managed a slight laugh. “Well, she was slithering around so much that your mother decided to send me on this trip with you and Lady Augusta.”

“She never said anything to me.” Susannah sat down with a frown.

“Well, of course not.” Olivia did laugh now. “You would have charged into the ballroom and started pulling Mary around by the nose.”

“Humph. Well, it's long enough to serve as a leash.”

They sat there for a few minutes while Susannah considered the ways she could make Mary Penobscot's life a misery as soon as they got home. Then she remembered where they were right now.

And what their immediate problems were.

“Olivia,” she began again, “about Prince Conrad…”

“Isn't he wonderful?” Olivia smiled dreamily. “He isn't just handsome. He's kind and considerate and not at all domineering or arrogant. Not at all what I thought a prince would be like. He's…he's
sweet
.”

“Yes, dear, he's very sweet, but you have to remember that he
is
the prince. He's supposed to marry Princess Mila. And you aren't really Princess Mila. It's just a masquerade.”

“I know that. It's just that I feel a bit sorry for him.”

“Sorry for him? But he's a prince. People don't feel sorry for princes!” Susannah was getting a bit exasperated.

“Yes, I know that, but he seems so lonely. As if he doesn't really have anyone to talk to. And from what Captain Staufer said about the princess, I don't think she's going to be much of a companion for him.”

“That is the prince's problem, not yours. Don't try to make him happy. Be a bit stiff and standoffish. Because we are going to vanish from his life as soon as Max finds the real princess.”

Olivia's head came up. “Max?”

Susannah could feel herself blushing. “Yes, well, he asked me to call him Max, and it seemed sensible.”

“Sensible,” repeated Olivia. The corners of her mouth tugged up.

“We do have to work together, remember.”

Olivia didn't say anything, but her smile broadened.

“The problem is the prince.” Susannah was determined to change the subject.

Olivia sighed. “All right. The prince. You know, I really think we should tell him what is going on. This doesn't seem fair.”

“I know,” said Susannah. “I know. But that isn't our decision to make.”

* * *

“What did you need to see me about so urgently? It's getting too cold for conferences in the garden.” The general stamped his feet and shivered.

Max ignored the complaint. He thought the shivers were more playacting than anything else. The general didn't want to have to talk to him, so it was best to state his position baldly. “I think we should tell the prince what is going on.”

The general snorted dismissively. “That would be a disaster. Telling Conrad would be no different from telling Count Herzlos, and we know that would mean ruin for all of us.”

“I am not suggesting we tell Count Herzlos, but Conrad is the prince. He has a right to know.”

“He is a boy, Max, not a prince.”

“He is only three years younger than I am.”

“Years don't matter. You are a man, but he is still the little boy who obeys Herzlos's every command. He never thinks for himself. We cannot let him find out.” The general waved his hand dismissively and turned to return to the castle.

Max stepped quickly to block the general's path. “That is because no one tells him anything. He is told only the decisions, never what he needs to know in order to make the decisions himself.”

“And that is how it will be as long as Count Herzlos rules the prince. Don't you see? Hugo is actually playing into our hands.”

“Hugo is?” Max frowned. “By creating this disaster?”

“Yes.” The general smiled. “We can foil his plot. We will find the princess and expose Hugo. When the son's treason is uncovered, the father will be forced out. Even if he is not branded a traitor himself, he will be too shamed to be of any influence. Conrad will have to turn to us.”

“To us?” Max was horrified. “What do you mean, to us?”

“To the army, of course.” The general looked at him impatiently. “It is the army that can keep Sigmaringen free and independent. There is no need for alliances with Hechingen or any place else.”

Max exploded. “That is not your decision to make! It is the prince who decides whether or not Sigmaringen shall enter into an alliance.”

The general backed up a bit and made a placating gesture. “Of course it is the prince's decision. And once he is free of Count Herzlos's baneful influence, he will see who his true friends are.”

Max closed his eyes in despair. “You are just using this as one more step in your endless battle with Herzlos. Think, General, of the damage you can cause. We must let the prince know what is going on.”

“No,
you
think, Max. Think it through. If Herzlos finds out, his son will find out, and what happens then? There are two possibilities. First, Hugo will decide his plot cannot succeed. To save himself, he will make the princess disappear. Then he can deny everything and we are the ones who have plotted to foist an imposter on the prince.”

Max shook his head. Conrad was not a fool. He would see through that…wouldn't he?

The general continued. “The other possibility is that if his plans are far enough advanced, Hugo will set his little revolution in motion. Even if we manage to defeat him in the end—and there is no guarantee of that—all our lives will be at risk, the prince's most of all. You think those women are in danger now? Just think of the danger they will face in that situation.”

This could not be right. But…but the general might be right. Could Max insist on a course of action that would put Susannah in even more danger? “You don't know,” he said. “You don't know that Conrad would tell Herzlos. Not if we warned him that Hugo is involved.”

“But he might.”

“It is the prince's right to know,” Max insisted stubbornly. “You cannot keep this from him—not the princess's disappearance, not Hugo's plotting.”

“And you cannot put Sigmaringen at risk by placing such a burden on a boy who is not yet ready to bear the burdens of rule. Those who serve the prince have a duty to protect him, and sometimes that protection means we must conceal situations from him that he is not prepared to handle.”

“And the ladies who are engaged in this masquerade? What of them? This is not their country. Their loyalties are not involved. How can you expect them to endanger themselves for your purposes?”

With a flourish, the general dismissed that concern. “You can handle them. Lady Olivia thinks this is a game and looks no further than that. Lady Susannah—well, she could be a problem, but you can manage her. She may not be a fool but she is clearly enamored of you. You have enough experience with women. You can use her emotions to bend her to your will.”

“You dare to speak of her in such a way? You dare to suggest…?” Max could not speak, but his hand flew to the hilt of his sword.

The general's eyes widened, but he straightened and stared at Max. “Captain Staufer, you are a soldier, and you are under my command. I order you to keep silent.”