Behind the Mask (118 page)

“What on earth are you doing?” Georg growled, throwing the door closed. “Have you been here all night?”

Cameron wiped his hands over his face, realizing it was daylight. “I’m afraid I have.”

“What business was so important that you had to stay all night?”

Cameron grimaced as the question brought back his argument with Abbi. And now he’d only made the matter worse by leaving her to wonder why he hadn’t come to bed.

“Well?” Georg demanded when Cameron didn’t answer. “Was there some emergency I was not aware of that—”

“Abbi was angry with me, and . . .” He hesitated, attempting to gather his words, still half asleep.

“So, you slept in the office?”

“I didn’t intend to. I just . . . was trying to think of something to say to her to make her understand, but I . . .”

“Fell asleep in the attempt.”

“It would seem that way.”

“You’d better hurry and get cleaned up. We have a meeting at the bank in half an hour to go over those accounts with . . .”

Cameron glanced at the clock and cursed under his breath. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes.” He hurried upstairs to freshen up and change his shirt, hoping Abbi would be there, if only so he could apologize for not coming up to bed and tell her that they needed to talk later. But she wasn’t.

Riding at Georg’s side toward town, Cameron was grateful for the absence of military escort, and how that symbolized the progress he’d made. But his mind quickly strayed to his wife. He felt torn and uncertain. If he were honest with himself, he had to admit that since he had taken back his position, he’d never felt completely comfortable with the way it had changed Abbi’s life. Their argument on the mountain haunted him daily. She was trying to be brave and do what was right by him, but she hated this life and he knew it. Was he avoiding her with the excuse of work because he felt responsible for her unhappiness? At the very least, it was part of the reason. The things she’d said last night about his father weren’t settling very well, either.

Georg startled him when he said, “What, if I may be so bold, is Her Grace angry about?” Cameron said nothing and he added, “It wouldn’t be that her husband is neglecting her by working such long hours, now would it?”

“She doesn’t understand, Georg,” Cameron snapped.

“Understand what?” he replied calmly.

“My commitment to my country is . . . is . . .”

“More important than your commitment to your wife?”

“No, of course not, but . . .” He reminded himself that Georg was his closest and dearest friend. And if he’d ever needed advice, he needed it now. “She’s not happy, Georg. I wonder sometimes if I should have loved her enough to let her choose her own life.”

“She would have chosen you.”

“I’m not so sure,” Cameron said.

“I thought she was adjusting rather well,” Georg said.

“She’s pretending and I know it. And I know that I’m not there for her as much as she needs me, but . . . it’s like she’s asking me to choose between her and my country.”

“That doesn’t sound like Abbi,” Georg said. “Forgive me, but I’ve known her a lot longer than you have. I would guess that she simply wants to feel like she’s at least as important to you as Horstberg. How long has it been since you’ve shared a meal with her beyond Sundays, or—”

“You’ve been talking to her, haven’t you.”

“No, I have not,” Georg insisted. “But don’t start thinking that I’ve got brains enough to help you run the country, but I’m too stupid to see that your priorities are way out of balance.”

“You
have
been talking to her,” Cameron said.

“You
have a guilty conscience,” Georg retorted, and Cameron didn’t want to admit Abbi had said
that
too.

Silence brought the truth to Cameron’s mind, and he had to say, “Maybe I’m avoiding her because I can’t bear to see the evidence of her dislike for the life I’ve forced upon her. She’s lost so much for my sake.”

Georg made a contemplative noise. “When did you learn to be so deep and analytical, my friend?”

Cameron sighed. “I think Abbi taught me that. I think Abbi taught me everything that’s of any importance.”

A minute later, Georg said, “It’s just a thought, but I daresay she’d be much happier if she knew she hadn’t lost you, too.”

Cameron looked at him sharply and let that settle in. Following more silence, he said, “Abbi brought up my father last night.”

“She didn’t even know him.”

“She knows the impact his attitudes have had on me. Face it, Georg. Abbi knows me better than anyone; so much so that it’s almost frightening sometimes.”

“That’s the way marriage should be, in my opinion. What did she say about your father?”

“She said that I didn’t need to prove to my father that I was worthy to hold this position.”

“Ooh,” Georg said, mocking sudden pain. “She
does
know you.”

“Is that what I’m doing? Am I still letting him dictate my behavior from the grave?”

“You tell me.”

“She also implied that I was the same kind of husband and father that he had been.”

“Ooh,”
Georg said more dramatically. “That’s got to hurt.”

“Only because it’s probably true,” Cameron admitted, then he sighed loudly. “What kind of man am I, Georg?”

“The kind of man who is going to learn from his mistakes and continually strive to be better. The kind of man who isn’t going to let pride and fear stand in the way of what’s most important.”

Cameron turned to look at his friend. “It would seem you know me rather well, yourself.”

Georg smiled. “I will never know you the way Abbi does. You should trust her.”

Cameron sighed, knowing Georg was right. He was always right.

During their meeting at the bank, Cameron felt distracted with thoughts of Abbi. He wasn’t so stupid that he couldn’t see the truth. If Georg and Abbi had both said the same things, there had to be validity to it. He was wrong. And whether or not Abbi was uncomfortable with her new way of life, avoiding her was only contributing to the problem. He thought of his father’s bad example in the way he’d treated his mother, and he marveled at how deeply it had affected him. He’d often been harsh and selfish with Gwen, rationalizing that her bad behavior excused his own. But Abbi deserved better than that. With rare exception, her anger toward him had always been for the purpose of wanting him to become a better person—not to put herself above him. He wondered if it might be possible to ever overcome such bad cycles, and then he decided he’d already come a long way in the time he’d known Abbi. He just had to be humble enough to keep improving, as Georg had suggested.

Riding away from the bank, Cameron asked Georg to oversee delegating assignments to the advisory council and setting up a system that was more time-effective for Cameron—even if it meant hiring more employees. Georg gladly agreed.

“Yes, I was wrong,” Cameron admitted, and he offered to buy Georg a drink.

They stopped at the pub, where Cameron ordered breakfast instead of the usual beer, since he’d not had time to eat before they’d left the castle. While he ate, they discussed more specifically how to delegate the different problems they were dealing with, and Georg made some notes. Cameron thought of Abbi and hurried to finish. He wanted to hold her in his arms and tell her how sorry he was. He would be nothing without her, and he’d been a fool to allow himself to forget that so quickly.

Abbi shared breakfast in the dining room with Magda, then she headed back to the bedroom, wanting to lie down and ease her backache. She wondered where Cameron was and felt sick at heart to think of the anger she’d expressed to him. Had her words driven him away from her irrevocably? She wished she had been more restrained and loving in conveying her needs. With the emotional residue hovering between them over her previous irrational behavior, their relationship had become fragile, and she needed to be more sensitive. She thought of what a difficult adjustment this had been for him, and all that he’d been through to get where he was now. And yet her own difficulties were impossible to ignore. She felt as if they’d fallen into a cycle of hurt and misunderstanding that seemed impossible to break. But she couldn’t deny her deepest fears. And if her husband was lost to her, it was difficult to think of even wanting to live at all.

Walking from the dining room, Abbi cursed the length of these halls, realizing she was extremely uncomfortable. She finally made it to the office, and it occurred to her that she must look horrible when an officer standing close by asked if she was all right. She politely told him she was simply tired, and went inside, surprised to see Lance sitting behind the desk, going over some papers with a few officers.

“Oh, forgive me, Captain,” she said. “I assumed His Grace would be here and—”

“Your interruption is welcome, I can assure you,” Lance said, stepping toward her. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No,” she forced a smile, “thank you. I’ll talk with him later.”

Before she could leave, he said to the officers, “We’re finished for now. That is all. I need to have a private word with Her Grace.”

The other men were gone quickly, and Abbi found the door closed, leaving her alone with Lance. “What is it?” she asked, wondering if more concerns of danger had come up.

He motioned her to a chair, then leaned against the edge of the desk. “Are you all right?” She looked away and he added, “You once told me that we would be friends forever.”

“And we are,” she said.

“If you don’t feel it’s appropriate to talk to me about whatever is troubling you, I understand. But I’m worried about you. Something’s not right. You deserve to be happy.”

Abbi couldn’t begin to know how she might explain the enormity of the situation, and perhaps it
wasn’t
appropriate for her to be discussing her marital problems with him. Still, his concern was touching, and she knew his motives were nothing less than perfectly honorable. He was simply that kind of man.

“My husband is having an affair,” she said.

He made an astonished noise. “Where on earth did you hear something like that?”

“I didn’t have to hear it, Captain. I’m an intelligent woman with eyes and ears.”

“It’s impossible!” he said. “He wouldn’t do that to you. He loves you with his whole heart, Abbi. He loves you more than I ever could.”

Abbi met his eyes then. She had to ask, “Are you the kind of man who would put your duty to country above the woman you love?”

He looked thoughtful. “Would my answer incriminate my duke?”

“Perhaps.”

“If you give a moment’s thought to our history, you know the answer to that question.”

Abbi knew he was right, but had to say, “No, Lance, he does not love me with his whole heart. His passion is divided. His time and attention make it very clear that I am not woman enough to keep him content and happy, and so he has taken a mistress.”

“Abbi, there must be a mistake,” he said.

“There’s no mistake, Lance. He’s cheating on me. The lady’s name is Horstberg.” She saw the understanding—and relief—come into his eyes. Then compassion. “She has a far greater power over him than I could ever have. She has lured him away from me. And I hate her for it.” She sighed loudly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Captain, I’m feeling unusually tired and very pregnant. I’m going back to bed.” She left the office without waiting for any attempt on his behalf to console her.
Nothing
could console her.

Abbi started up the stairs toward the bedroom, and stopped halfway when her backache suddenly tightened all the way around her middle. When the pain let up, she moved slowly up the remainder of the stairs. At the landing she had to stop as it happened again.

“Oh, help,” she murmured and sat down on the top step. When the pain eased, she started back down the stairs, halting twice to endure a contraction. She had been with Elsa when her labor began, and she had no doubt what was happening now. But Elsa’s pains had been much further apart at the beginning. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Abbi called the short distance down the hallway to the officers standing near the office door. “Could you get the captain for me please? Immediately.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” one of them said, and Abbi slumped onto the bottom stair, wondering whether to feel excited or scared to death.

“What is it?” Lance asked, appearing at her side.

“Where is Cameron?” she asked, forgetting any use of formal language.

“He had a meeting with the bankers, and then I suspect he would have gone to . . . Abbi, are you . . .”

She looked up, surprised to hear him use her name in front of the officers nearby, who had followed to see what the problem was. His eyes were wide with concern. She nodded, certain he knew what was wrong. She leaned her head against a bannister post as Lance turned and barked orders. “You! Get Dr. Furhelm here. Tell him the duchess needs him—now!” The officer ran down the hall as Lance pointed to another. “You! Find His Grace. Take two men with you. Split up if you have to. Don’t come back without him.”

“Yes, Captain,” came the reply, and he too was off.

“And you,” he pointed to a third man, “tell the maids to prepare Her Grace’s room. They know what to do.”