Behind the Mask (100 page)

“I’ll be counting the minutes,” she said.

“You know, you don’t have to hole up here in the bedroom. You’re welcome to go anywhere in the castle.”

“I fear I’d get lost.”

“I’m certain any of the servants would love to show you around and—”

“Perhaps another time,” she said. “I’ll just rest here. Thank you.”

Cameron nodded and sighed. “I’ll be glad when this is over,” he said and left the room.

Abbi went to the window and realized she’d not yet taken the time to do so. The view of the valley beyond the castle was remarkable. Diverting her attention to the courtyard below, she saw at least a hundred men in uniform, waiting at attention alongside a hearse bearing an elaborate casket. The hearse was draped with the ducal colors of red, black, and gold, as was an open coach waiting behind it, harnessed to four black horses. Her eye was drawn to a huge flag flying over the castle gate that she’d never noticed before. The breeze held it unfurled perfectly for her to see the likeness of a shield, divided into three sections, with different symbols in each one. The du Woernig family crest, no doubt. But her blood quickened as she recognized the most prominent of those symbols: a red lion.

Distracted by movement below, Abbi saw Cameron appear with his sisters, who were dressed entirely in black. He helped them into the waiting coach, and Abbi tried to imagine herself there with them. The thought chilled her, and she was glad to be excluded. She felt certain, however, that her opportunity to hide in the background was only temporary.

Cameron walked to where his horse waited at the head of the hearse. She noticed then that Lance was waiting there also. They mounted their horses at the same time. The captain bellowed an order. Cameron lifted a black-gloved hand, and the entire procession moved forward in time to a slow, lamenting drum cadence that sounded like death. Abbi watched until the procession disappeared through the castle gate and the drums could no longer be heard. Then she lay down on the bed and cried.

Cameron was surprised at how many people lined the street to watch the procession go by. He wondered if any of these people actually felt sadness over Nikolaus’s death. But faces were unreadable, etched in a common expression of appropriate solemnity. He couldn’t help thinking what a contrast it was to his public appearance for the wedding the previous day.

As they neared the cathedral, which stood as a north boundary to the cemetery, a woman burst out of the crowd, screaming, “Murderer! You filthy murderer!” She was quickly restrained by two officers who fell out of rank to handle the situation efficiently.

Cameron discreetly asked the captain, “Was she talking about you or me?”

Lance looked surprised. “Whatever anyone assumed concerning Gwendolyn’s death is long in the past. I’m certain she’s referring to Nikolaus.”

“But the proclamation did not state who was responsible,” Cameron said.

“Wurtzur knew, and the men with him.”

“They’re in prison.”

“And allowed one visitor,” Lance stated. “I’m certain the truth will filter through.”

Cameron glanced discreetly over his shoulder to see the woman struggling against the officers’ restraint, as if she’d like to personally avenge Nikolaus’s death.

“One of his love interests, no doubt,” Lance said.

“No doubt,” Cameron said, wondering how many broken hearts Nikolaus had left behind. He doubted anyone else would mourn his loss, especially those who had been groveling in poverty due to their deceased duke’s indiscretions.

A minute later, Cameron said to the captain, “I hope you’re not feeling any remorse over what happened last night.”

“That I killed him, you mean?”

“That’s what I mean.”

“Not in the slightest,” Lance said, and the procession moved through the cemetery gate, toward the portion in the center surrounded by a high wrought-iron fence, where members of the royal family were buried. Nikolaus’s casket was lowered into the ground by the officers who served as pall bearers. The bishop spoke some ceremonious words over the grave. And then it was over. Cameron escorted his sisters back to the coach and ordered the procession to return to the castle. But he felt compelled to linger a few minutes over Nikolaus’s grave, well aware that the sexton was waiting to finish his job and fill in the hole. Cameron couldn’t conjure up a tear on his brother’s behalf. But his thoughts wandered through the childhood they had shared, filling him with a deep ache. He was surprised to feel a hand on his shoulder.

“Captain,” Cameron said. “I thought you’d returned with the rest of them.”

“I thought the captain’s main duty was to see that the duke remained safe. I’ll stay and see you back to the castle.”

Cameron glanced toward the gate where four other officers waited at attention, out of hearing range, their backs turned. Then he looked into Lance’s eyes and couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “We’ve come far in the last couple of days,” he said.

“Indeed.” Lance laughed as well, then his voice turned grim. “There’s something I think you should see.”

Cameron followed Lance past the open grave and the huge elaborate headstones of his parents. He paused for a moment to ponder his parent’s names engraved in stone, along with the elaborate tributes etched there. Then he walked a few more paces to where the captain stood, looking down at the ground. The paltry rock gravestone looked completely out of place here, surrounded by the ornate marble structures left to commemorate the lives of generations of royalty. But its eeriness came more from the meaningless memorial inscribed there.
Cameron du Woernig. 1786—1813.

The captain’s voice was compassionate as he said, “There was no service of any kind. No procession. No memorial. Nikolaus publicly declared that he would pay no honor to one who had died so dishonorably. Your sisters were furious, but he wouldn’t bend. It all takes on a whole new irony in knowing he was entirely responsible for the events that left us believing you were dead.”

“I
was
dead,” Cameron said, and put a hand to his chest as if it might quell the burning that gathered there. The building rage he’d confessed to Abbi rose uncomfortably close to the surface. He actually felt lightheaded, as if all the blood had rushed from his head to feed the anger and hatred boiling inside of him. He teetered slightly and felt the captain’s hand at his shoulder to steady him.

“What is it?” Lance asked quietly.

Cameron struggled to steady his breathing and willed his heart to be calm. Quiet rage accompanied his words into the open. “He took
everything
from me;
everything!
And for what? Purely for the sake of his own gain. And I wonder . . . if he hadn’t succeeded in framing me for murder, what lengths might he have gone to in order to frame me for treason.”

“I cannot imagine how difficult this must be for you,” Lance said, “but I think I speak for a great many people when I say that I’m glad he didn’t succeed.”

Cameron couldn’t comment. Looking down at his name carved in a headstone, he wanted to scream like a madman and cry like a child. He was grateful for the captain’s calming presence when he said, “I’ve already given orders for this to be removed and destroyed.”

“Thank you,” Cameron said tersely.

“But I think it’s a great credit to you, that you would give your brother an honorable burial, even though he had no honor.”

“He was still my brother,” Cameron said, and he kicked the gravestone with scorn.

Lance walked a few more steps and paused before an elaborate stone of white marble. Cameron joined him, reaching out to touch the name,
Gwendolyn Dukerk du Woernig
. A combination of emotions struck him all at once, but the reality of Abbi in his life put them all into perspective. He was grateful to have her a part of him now, and the past simply didn’t matter anymore.

“Let’s go home,” Lance said, urging Cameron away. “Your bride is waiting for you.”

They mounted their horses and rode slowly out of the cemetery, with two officers riding some distance ahead and two behind. It was proper protocol for them to ride close enough to offer aid or protection, but far enough to remain out of hearing range. Cameron was grateful for that as he took the opportunity to say, “I know you care for Abbi. In that respect, this must be difficult for you.”

“Perhaps a little, but . . . may I speak candidly, sir?”

“Of course.”

“I must confess, I felt drawn to Abbi the first time I laid eyes on her. Naturally I wanted to be around her, and I couldn’t help but want to marry her. When she told me the circumstances—that she was married and pregnant, but not certain if her husband was alive—I was more than happy to help her. I think I would do anything for her. But then, as I watched her, and the way people reacted to her in public, I realized that the love I felt for her was something quite common. Everywhere she went, men’s eyes were drawn to her. Women as well seemed to want to just look at her, as if they were fascinated. And yet she’s so completely oblivious to it. It’s as if she has no comprehension of this incredible . . .
something
that radiates from her. It’s impossible to put into words.”

“Yes,” Cameron said, “I know well what you mean.”

Lance chuckled. “I’m sure you do. The love I have for Abbi is a . . . gallant kind of thing, I suppose. I believe a thousand men would do for her for what I was willing to do. It’s as I told her; she has a way of making a man want to fall down in the mud just to keep her from getting her feet dirty. But it’s not the kind of love that could keep a woman like that happy for the rest of her life.”

Cameron watched Lance as he spoke, marveling at how perfectly he knew Abbi. Everything he said felt familiar and right, and yet to hear it described this way showed him a facet of the woman he loved that he’d never been able to pinpoint before now.

“She can walk into a room wearing worn calico, with her hair flying out behind her,” Lance continued, “and she takes your breath away, as if she were some kind of goddess—which makes it seem so natural to see her where she is now.” Lance turned to look hard at Cameron as he added, “Which, I believe, is one of the main reasons I knew you were the man who had won her heart. It seemed appropriate, somehow.”

There was a length of deep silence before Cameron said, “I’m truly indebted to you, Captain. I knew that what we were doing was precarious at the very least, and I did my best to put all of it into God’s hands, praying that it would come together. It’s evident you were an instrument in His hands. And I’m grateful.”

Lance’s voice was firm as he replied, “I consider it an honor, I assure you.”

Cameron was touched by Lance’s commitment, but he felt sure the deepest part of his loyalty was directed at Abbi.

A few minutes later Cameron asked, “By the way, I’ve meant to ask what happened to Captain Wacher.” Prior to his arrest, Cameron had worked with the previous Captain of the Guard for many years.

“He took an early retirement the moment he heard that Nikolaus had taken over. He made no qualms about refusing to work with him. He actually moved his family out of the country.”

“Smart man,” Cameron said with chagrin.

“We’ve exchanged letters here and there. They are doing well. He’s fulfilled his dream to make furniture, and does well.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Lance then added, “Nikolaus did some coercion to get me into this position. Those who ranked above me didn’t want to take it. I was reluctant. But many officers encouraged me, hoping I could have a positive influence on him. That was my intent, but I’m not sure I did much good.”

“Oh, I believe you did a great deal of good,” Cameron said. “There will probably be things we may never know, but I am eternally grateful for the position you were in last night. Enough said.”

They were both startled when a woman approached them, seemingly out of nowhere. The street was mostly deserted and quiet, now that the procession was over. Cameron felt relief at how quickly the officers dismounted and came between him and this woman, but the alarm on her face was disconcerting.

“Your Grace,” she said with fear and determination, “forgive my boldness . . . but might I have a word?”

“Of course,” he said, but remained in the saddle. “It’s all right, Lieutenant,” he added and the officers moved aside.

“I was waiting for you to pass by, hoping to speak with you, even though I knew it would be unlikely.” She wrung her hands nervously. Her attire expressed poverty.

“Go on,” he said when she seemed hesitant to speak any further.

“I simply must express my gratitude,” she said and her eyes became moist. “Before we had even heard news of your return, my children were eating the first solid meal they’d had in months. And just today we’ve been informed that our property would be returned, and we will now have a place to call home.”

Familiar knots tightened in Cameron’s stomach. He knew the property would not be returned if it had not been taken illegally. Those had been his orders. “And what pathetic excuse did my brother have for taking your property, madame?” he asked.

Tears fell and she wiped them quickly away. “My husband was wrongly accused of treason, Your Grace. He was . . . executed, and our property . . . taken. And here on the Sabbath it has been given back.”