Behind the Mask (38 page)

“The situation is very complicated. It will take time to put everything in order enough so that I won’t be putting myself, or you, or him, in danger. The man who sent that message is putting his life on the line for me—quite literally. And I’ll not move an inch until he tells me I can. That’s final.”

“But there is hope,” she uttered.

Cameron had expected her to be angry or hurt that he couldn’t go with her the day she left, but as usual he’d underestimated her. Abbi had the ability to look beyond.

“Yes,” he smiled, “there is hope.”

“You see. I knew there was a way. Do you feel confident this man will succeed?”

“Yes, I do. He’s never failed me before. He got me out of prison, in fact. I trust him with my life.”

“How long will it take? Do you know?”

“No, my love, I don’t. But I swear to you, Abbi, the same day I come off this mountain, I will find you. And then we’ll get married—again.”

Abbi smiled and sat down in the straw. “Why didn’t you want me to see this?”

Cameron’s expression became grim as he sat next to her and held her hand. “When you go home, news will spread about the woman who was lost in the mountains all winter and came home alive. If something suspicious gets stirred up—and inevitably, it will—I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if you were questioned by the Guard.”

“Why?”

“I’m a wanted man. You know that.”

“Is it more than Gwendolyn’s death?”

“I’m not going to tell you.”

“Don’t I have a right to know?”

“Yes, you do,” he sounded frustrated, “but if you
do
know, they could use you to get to me and that will endanger you further. I’ve told you far more about these circumstances than I ever should have. Abbi, you must promise me, by all you hold sacred, that if you are questioned, you know nothing. You don’t know my name, or where you were, or anything about me. Lie to them. Do anything to keep them away from you. Both of our lives could depend on it.”

Stunned by the urgency of his plea, Abbi could only gaze at him in bewilderment, speculating over what could possibly be so critical.

“Abbi, you must believe me when I tell you that if the wrong person finds out that you and I are involved, you could be in a great deal of danger. You must not tell anyone. Do you trust me?”

“I love you.”

“I know. But do you trust me?”

“With my soul, life, and heart.”

“And you’ll remember what to do?”

“I’ll tell them you were old and dreadful.”

He chuckled, grateful to her for understanding things that seemed so unwarranted. “You won’t be far from the truth.”

Cameron pushed her back in the straw and kissed her, then he tickled her until she was laughing tears. When they returned to the lodge, it took him half an hour to get all of the straw out of her hair. But he enjoyed every minute of it.

Lance ran from his office in response to the hasty report he’d just been given of a violent dispute that required intervention from the law. He could have just sent some of his men, but when he’d been told the part of town where this dispute was taking place, he felt the need to go himself. Generally it was an area he preferred to avoid. Its wretchedness was haunting, and the reasons for it were difficult to face. But as Captain of the Guard, he knew it was important to remain abreast of the condition of the people of Horstberg, and this particular place had certainly come to represent that condition—its deteriorating and pathetic condition. He feared that what was happening here somehow represented a disease that would continue to grow throughout the whole country if the infection were not boldly halted. But who could possibly stop Nikolaus du Woernig from breaking his own laws and doing as he pleased with the people of his country and their property?

Lance rode in haste with a dozen officers of the Guard toward their destination. They never went into this part of town without numerous forces. Normally he would take half that many men, or less. But this was different. As they approached, Lance could almost feel the darkness creeping toward him. The area had always attracted the less honorable activities of Horstberg, but it had still once been a thriving part of the valley, and very little trouble had occurred here. Now it had become wretched and forlorn, and it reeked of poverty. The majority of crime and domestic disputes of Horstberg came from this area of the valley, and Lance saw evidence of how it was growing worse each time he allowed himself to go there.

As they came through a grove of trees and moved onto the main street that was flanked with stark evidence of the depravity of human life, Lance felt literally ill. He’d expected it to be worse—because everything bad seemed to be growing steadily worse—but he’d not expected it to be
this
bad. The decline of Horstberg was on the rise, and it only took him a glance to know it. He didn’t need reports or graphs or meetings to know. It was evident in the desperate, sallow eyes that looked in fear at the small battalion that had just appeared. It was evident in their pathetic and disgusting surroundings that represented a desperate attempt to remain sheltered and fed.

Lance tried not to think about Nikolaus’s behavior and his direct connection to most of what was taking place here, but how could he not? It was simply a fact. In order to suppress his growing anger, Lance focused on the reason they had been summoned here. A woman and child had both received multiple blows from the man who was husband and father to them. She’d been in the streets screaming, which had spurred a neighbor to ride quickly to Castle Horstberg, seeking help from the law. The man responsible for the abuse was still in an uproar that had become very public since his wife had run out in the street, seeking help. He was shouting at her and everyone else who was trying to intervene and calm him down. He was obviously very drunk. Lance hated the reality that when these people didn’t have enough money to put food on the table, some of them always found a way to purchase liquor. But he hated even more the bruises and bleeding he saw on the face of this woman and the child clinging to her skirts.

Lance quickly gave orders for the cause of the disturbance to be taken into custody until he could sober up, and for other officers to disburse the crowd and be observant enough to make certain all else was well. He sent one officer to get a doctor, making it clear that the cost would be taken care of. Nikolaus would never know that such things were occasionally taken out of his budget for running the country, but it was a very small percentage of what the duke spent on his own pleasures.

Lance personally dismounted and approached the woman, while her young son buried his face against his mother, apparently crying but ashamed of his tears.

“I’m Captain Dukerk,” he said gently to the woman. “Allow me and my lieutenant to escort you home.” He motioned to the man at his side and the woman nodded and began to walk with the child still holding to her. Lance and the officer with him followed in silence.

Once inside a meager dwelling that was tiny and a pathetic excuse for a home, Lance encouraged mother and child to sit down and told them the doctor would come to make certain they were all right.

The woman thanked him and said, “He weren’t like this before, you know.” She began to weep.

“Before?” Lance asked.

“Before we lost everything,” she said and sniffled, wiping her face with her apron, mixing her tears with the blood coming from a cut on her face. “I still don’t understand what happened. We was accused of breaking some law or other, but I don’t know what it were. We was always decent sort, or we tried to be. Then we lost it all. That nasty duke of ours took it all away.”

Lance looked discreetly over his shoulder at the lieutenant standing close behind him. They shared a glance of discreet disgust. While their frustrations of trying to uphold the law under such circumstances were rarely spoken, and then only in private whispers, the men employed to keep Horstberg safe were all thinking the same thing. He saw the fury in the lieutenant’s eyes that mirrored his own, then he put a mask of calmness in place and turned back to face the woman as she went on.

“That’s when my husband started drinking . . . and he got so . . . angry . . . and . . .” She dissolved into sobbing while at the same time trying to soothe her child, who was also weeping.

“I am so sorry for your predicament, madame,” Lance said, and he meant it. But he could do nothing to change it. If he even attempted to he would have his own legal charges to face that would probably put him before a firing squad. And he’d learned long ago that even if he had the resources to help those in distress, privately and discreetly, he could never help them all. It just never ended.

“What will happen to him?” she asked, showing compassion and concern for the man who had just beat her.

“Unfortunately,” he said, hating it every time he had to say such words, “what your husband did was not illegal, therefore we cannot convict him of any crime. Once he’s sobered up, I will talk to him personally and see if I can’t help him see sense, and then he’ll be coming home. I’m afraid that’s all I can do.”

“You’re very kind, Captain,” the woman said. “Thank you for coming.”

Lance could only nod and try to avoid thinking about how badly he wanted to return to Castle Horstberg, find Nikolaus, and break his nose. Instead he offered a few more comforting words, leaving as soon as the doctor arrived. He told the lieutenant to make sure everything was in order and he would see him later. Instead of going back to the castle, Lance went instead to the enormous and elegant cathedral that was Horstberg’s second most beautiful edifice. He sat on a bench near the rear, glad to be alone with his thoughts. The bishop’s assistant came in at the front of the cathedral from a side door and nodded toward him, but left again as if to give him the time he needed, and Lance appreciated the man’s perception. He bowed his head in prayer, knowing that nothing short of divine intervention could save Horstberg now. But reversing the ever-growing damage seemed as impossible as the parting of the Red Sea. He reminded himself that the Red Sea had indeed parted. He wanted to believe in miracles, and he believed that they often came in ways that were completely unexpected, but he’d had too many losses in his life, too much heartache, to
really
believe it was possible. Still, he prayed anyway. As long as he was Captain of the Guard, he could not give up hope that Horstberg could survive the reign of Nikolaus du Woernig.

With days passing, Abbi gradually digested the reality of being Cameron’s wife, finding a contentment that filled her so completely she wondered how she had ever lived without him. Their routine of doing together all that needed to be done continued much as it had before. In their spare time they often read, sometimes aloud to each other. They talked and laughed. And Abbi continued filling up the book he had given her with sketches. Looking through it one afternoon, she found the evolvement of her relationship with Cameron typified in the drawings. The mood and expressions of her earlier work were completely different from the ones she did now. But Abbi’s favorite was still the piece she’d done of Cameron sitting in the window seat months ago. She loved to look at it and imagine how she might have felt to foresee their relationship now.

On a sunny afternoon in late February Abbi announced, “Guess what today is.”

“Thursday,” he said without looking up from the journal where he was writing vigorously.

“That’s not what I mean, silly,” she said.

“I don’t know.” He looked up and took off his glasses. “What’s today?”

“It’s our anniversary. We’ve been married a month.”

“Really?” He laughed. “And I can’t imagine what life was like before then.” He reached out a hand and she took it. “One month closer to having to let you go,” he said sadly.

“You mustn’t think of it that way.” She sat on his lap and kissed his brow. “It’s one month closer to being a free man . . . to starting over again.”

“You keep telling me that,” he said.

“No sadness today.” She stood abruptly. “I’ve got something special planned for dinner. We’re celebrating.”

“Ooh,” Cameron said, lifting his brows, “then I’d do well to get my chores done early.”