Behind the Mask (107 page)

The woman smiled and glanced only a moment toward Abbi before she leaned closer to Cameron and said, “They say it was the love of a fine woman, who softened his heart and gave him the courage to reclaim his country.”

“Truly?” Cameron said, and turned to look at Abbi, his adoration as evident as it had ever been. But Abbi turned away, feeling self-conscious, perhaps alarmed to hear them speaking of her so boldly. “She must be inexplicably amazing . . . considering how very hardened his heart must have been.”

“Indeed,” the woman said, and they both laughed. Abbi was left feeling uneasy, but she didn’t bother to analyze the reasons. She was only relieved when the conversation ended. Cameron bought a large amount of carrots from this woman and paid her a ridiculous amount while she had them put into a bag by her son.

“God bless you, Your Grace,” the woman said.

“And you,” Cameron answered with the same intensity.

As they were walking away with his purchase, Abbi whispered, “I hate to point out the obvious, but I’m certain there are adequate carrots in the kitchen. I don’t think anyone expects the duke to be buying vegetables.”

“And who says I’m taking them back to the castle?” he asked and laughed while they walked, hand in hand. Abbi turned to look at him, loving such genuine laughter. He then sobered and added, “I forgot to tell you something. It happened the day Nikolaus was buried.”

“What?” she asked, feeling concerned.

He told her of a woman who had stopped him on the street after the funeral was over; she’d waited to speak with him. He told her of the woman’s gratitude, and how it had touched him as much as it had angered him to hear that her husband had been wrongly executed. Cameron stopped walking and turned to look into Abbi’s eyes, and she realized they were at the edge of the square, away from anyone who might overhear. He said with earnest, “She asked me to express my appreciation to you, on her behalf. I forgot to do that before now. She also said that we would be in their prayers.”

“That’s very sweet,” Abbi said. “But why appreciation to me? You are the one who—”

“You are the one responsible for making it possible for me to be in a position to make a difference in these people’s lives.”

Abbi looked down. “You give me too much credit, Your Grace.”

“No, Your Grace,” he lifted her chin with his finger. “I could never give you enough credit.” He pressed a brief kiss to her lips and smiled.

Abbi wanted to tell him that any woman could have done as much. She simply happened to be the woman in a position to give him the love he needed. She was relieved when his attention was diverted to a group of young boys playing in the street. By their dress and manner, they were clearly very poor, but Cameron stepped into the middle of their game, teased them and made them laugh and then set the bag of fresh carrots down, saying, “I happened upon this. Divide them up fairly and take them home to your mothers.” The boys responded eagerly to his offering.

Cameron laughed and walked away as if it were nothing. He then guided Abbi back into the crowd, and she realized that Captain Dukerk was at her shoulder again; she doubted that he’d ever gotten too far away. If it was protection he offered, she certainly preferred him over anyone else. But the entire situation left her lingering with the sensation of being in a dream—a marvelous and terrifying dream. All she could do was keep Cameron’s hand in hers and try to remember how grateful she was to have him alive and free, and to have his ring on her finger.

Abbi panicked when Cameron announced that he and Georg were going to the pub. At her obvious distress, Cameron said, “Now you don’t expect us to go hover at the dressmakers, do you?” He chuckled softly. “My sisters will take very good care of you. We’ll meet you back here.” He kissed her and started to walk away, pausing to say to Lance, “I’m leaving her in your care, Captain.”

Lance lifted a teasing brow toward Abbi, saying, “What a pleasant duty.”

Cameron chuckled, and Abbi sensed that this was a display of trust, not unlike his willingness to allow Lance to care for her if he’d been killed. “But,” Cameron lifted a finger, smirking as he said, “I won’t have you flirting with my wife.”

Lance chuckled. “Only enough to keep you humble, Your Grace.”

Cameron left with Georg. Lance and another officer followed Abbi, Elsa, and Cameron’s sisters to a dress shop, where the men made themselves comfortable outside while the ladies entered.

Abbi’s head spun as Magda and Lena supervised the choosing of many fabrics and patterns for both herself and Elsa, although their wardrobes would vary greatly due to their different positions. Cameron’s sisters helped select a few ready-made pieces that could be altered for Abbi to use soon. Elsa put in her opinions more on Abbi’s wardrobe than her own, while Abbi simply said, “I like that,” or “I don’t care for that.” The dressmaker seemed uncomfortably in awe of Abbi at first, but she gradually relaxed, and Abbi appreciated her comments on which colors suited Abbi and which did not.

Magda and Lena chattered continually about which event Abbi would wear which gown to, going on about people she’d heard Cameron talk about but she had yet to meet. Feeling as if she might scream, Abbi finally said, “Can we talk about something else? My head is spinning. Enough.”

The sudden silence startled Abbi. The dressmaker looked almost afraid. Abbi wondered if she had done something wrong. Was her every word to be taken so seriously? Telling herself that if she’d done something wrong she could certainly undo it, she cleared her throat and added, “Let’s just take this one day at a time, ladies. Forgive me. This is simply happening so fast. I can hardly take it all in.”

“As I could well imagine,” Lena said. “There have been some big changes in your life in a very brief time.”

Abbi appreciated Lena’s compassion. She glanced around the room. Even the dressmaker looked empathetic. But Abbi suddenly felt as if she couldn’t breathe, as if she were hiding behind some horrible mask, and she wanted to tear it off and toss it.

Declaring the need for some fresh air, Abbi left the others, figuring they could prattle over drawings and fabrics without her. She stepped outside, where Lance and the officer with him immediately came to attention.

“Is that necessary?” she asked Lance.

“Appropriate,” he said.

Abbi glanced at the other man, then Lance again. “Well . . . relax. It’s so . . . formal.”

She sat down on a little bench and motioned for Lance to join her. “At ease,” he said to the other man. “Give us a moment, please.”

The other man nodded and moved just far enough away not to be intrusive. She noticed him lighting up a cigar and was dismayed to realize they were sitting downwind.

“You seem upset,” he said. “Are you all right?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, appreciating the comfortable relationship they shared. “I made a simple request in there, and they act as if I’ve sent out a decree or something. I feel so uncomfortable with all of this. I’m not sure I’m up to it.”

“I think you’re doing beautifully, Abbi,” he said. “I can assure you there’s no reason to be concerned.”

Abbi reminded herself not to be so self-centered. She considered the changes in Lance’s life the past few weeks. She couldn’t resist asking, “Has it crossed your mind that we almost got married not so long ago?”

Lance looked more amused than surprised. “It has,” he said. “But I’m glad everything worked out the way it did.”

“You are?”

“Oh, yes. I care very much for you, Abbi . . . I’m sorry, Your Grace.”

“Please,” she drawled. “As long as no one is listening, Abbi is sufficient, I can assure you. You were saying?”

“I was saying that I care very much for you. In fact, seeing you as the duchess very much makes up for not having my sister as the duchess.”

“I didn’t know that until—”

“I know,” he interrupted, as if he shared her desire to avoid talking about the night Nikolaus had been killed. “Truthfully, I loved my sister, but she didn’t make a very good duchess. And I know now that she made some terribly poor choices, things that likely contributed to the way her life ended. I do believe this is what’s meant to be.”

Abbi wanted to argue with him. She had no question that Cameron was the love of her life, but everything that went along with him just didn’t suit her.

“You don’t seem convinced,” Lance said, as if he’d read her mind.

Abbi looked away. “I love Cameron very much,” she said. “I would do anything for him, but . . . I’m not sure I’m duchess material.”

Lance laughed. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” She scowled at him and he forced a sober expression, but it hinted at a fear of insulting royalty. More gently he said, “Of course you’re duchess material. You shine, Abbi. You have the ability to do
anything.
It just takes practice. Go ahead, give me an order. Act like a queen. Expect to have me do anything for you, and I’ll do it.” He went down on one knee and bowed ridiculously low.

“Stop that,” she said, but couldn’t help laughing.

“At least I got you to smile,” he said, sitting down beside her again. “It’s all right for you to act like a duchess, Abbi.”

“That’s just it. I feel like I’m acting.”

“That will pass, I’m sure. Go ahead, give me an order.”

“I can’t think of anything I want, except . . . perhaps we could sit elsewhere?”

She waved her hand in front of her face to ward off the aroma of the officer’s cigar.

“You shouldn’t have to move,” Lance said. “Tell him to put it out.”

“What?” she gasped. “I . . . don’t want to sound . . . audacious.”

Lance laughed. “Oh, Abbi, you are too precious. Just tell him. You don’t have to be audacious. But you can’t be afraid to give an order when it’s appropriate. It’s your place. But an order cannot be apologetic or insipid.”

Abbi figured that he would know. She admired the way he could be the captain when he needed to be. She drew back her shoulders and called to the officer standing a few yards away, “Put that thing out. It can’t be good for you with the way it stinks.”

The officer looked startled as he tossed it to the ground and stomped on it. “Forgive me, Your Grace,” he said sheepishly. “It won’t happen again.”

“Thank you,” she said and smiled.

“Very good,” Lance said. “Now, that wasn’t too hard.”

Abbi sighed. Actually it had been, but she didn’t want to admit it. She changed the subject by mentioning something she’d noticed more than once. “You don’t wear the dagger anymore. It was a gift from your father.”

Lance looked away and she saw the muscles in his face tighten. “Forever tainted,” he said. “Do you think I could ever look at it again without thinking of the way he held it to your throat?”

Abbi’s thoughts went more to seeing Lance plunge it into Nikolaus’s heart. She kept that to herself but knew he was thinking the same thing. He added with the firmness of a captain who knew he’d done what had been necessary, “The dagger is in the casket with Nikolaus. That’s where it belongs.”

“Forgive me,” she said, noting the darkened mood between them. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

He looked at her squarely. “It will always be a part of our history—as a country, and also personally. There is no good to be found in trying to pretend it didn’t happen. I only wish that . . .”

“That what?” she pressed.

He discreetly took her hand and squeezed it. She felt sure that his doing so in public with the duchess would never be considered appropriate. He spoke in little more than a whisper. “I only wish that I had known he was going after you, that I could have prevented whatever he did to hurt you.” She looked down and he squeezed her hand more tightly. “My regret is deep. You need to know that.”

“What’s done is done,” she said firmly. “I am forever indebted to you for saving me when you did. Enough said.” She sighed and forced the conversation elsewhere. “I suppose I should get back inside,” she said. “I don’t want them picking out something hideous for me that I’ll have to wear to some horrid social.”

“Good luck,” Lance said, and she went back into the shop.

After going over a lengthy list, the dressmaker offered to bring everything to the castle for a final fitting, when her work for both Elsa and the duchess was completed.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Abbi said. “We can come back.” Again the dressmaker seemed taken aback. Abbi glanced at Magda and Lena, wondering if she’d done something wrong. In that moment the reality sank in that she had more authority than they did. She recalled what Lance had told her and said to the dressmaker, “I’m certain it would be much easier for us to come here than for you to bring everything there. Send word when you’re ready, and we’ll return.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” The dressmaker was clearly pleased.

As the ladies left the shop and headed back into the square, Abbi asked, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, of course not,” Lena insisted. “We’ve always done it that way, having the dressmaker come out for fittings. That’s the way our mother did it, but then, she didn’t go out much at all. I must admit that it makes more sense.”

“I think she was clever to have thought of it,” Magda said, “and very considerate, as well.”

When they returned to the castle, Cameron informed Abbi that her father was coming to dinner. He had been staying at the house Abbi had grown up in, and there were moments when she envied him. She had suggested to Cameron that ownership of the estate should revert to Gerhard, and Cameron had agreed with enthusiasm. He’d had his solicitor draw up the paperwork, and tonight they would see that it was all official.

Gerhard was so happy when they told him that tears came to his eyes. Abbi cried a little herself. She was pleased to see her father having a chance to start his life over, and there was no one more suited to take the estate than he was. But Abbi longed to be there. The castle felt so foreign and confining.

“I do hope you can put up with Mother’s aunts,” Abbi commented. “They don’t seem too eager to go back to England.”

“Ah,” Gerhard laughed, “they’re delightful. They’ve been keeping me entertained. I’m glad for the company. It’s just felt so good to be home.”