Behind the Mask (99 page)

Georg came back to the present, noting Cameron’s expectancy. Georg simply said, “You need to know that Captain Dukerk’s allegiance to you was in place prior to the reclamation.”

Cameron looked at Georg and then Lance. “But you believed I’d killed her.”

“Yes, I did,” Lance said. “Or at least a part of me did. I admit that you did raise some doubts on that with the things you’d said.”

Georg listened as Lance repeated to Cameron his reasons for choosing to stand behind him. Cameron looked understandably stunned. When Cameron knew everything that Georg knew, he asked, “What brought you to such a decision, Captain? The last time we spoke you told me to leave the country.”

“Truthfully, I was testing you. Once I’d put the pieces together and realized what you were doing, I knew I could never live with myself if I did anything to stand in the way of getting Nikolaus out of that position—whatever the cost. But I wondered over your commitment. When you made it clear that you could not in good conscience leave the country, and you were willing to die for Horstberg’s sake, I knew I could believe in you enough to stand behind you.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Cameron said. “To tell you I’m grateful sounds so trite.”

“And vice versa, Your Grace,” Lance said. “I’m grateful for the risks you took to make this happen. And you should know, there was one other thing that let me know beyond any doubt this was the right course.”

“And what’s that?” Cameron asked, stunned and silently thanking God for the thousandth time as the evidence of His hand in all of this kept mounting.

Lance leaned more comfortably into his chair and showed a lazy smile. “It happened when I realized, beyond any doubt, that you were married to the Duchess of Horstberg. You may have the title and the bloodline, but that woman has this position in her blood no less.”

“Amen,” Georg said. Cameron could only listen with growing wonder.

“What she told me about her dreams certainly left an impression on me, but after you’d been shot, and I came to ask her if I could talk to you, I finally understood what had drawn me to her all along. She stood there and asked me what I would do if I had to choose between loyalty to her or to my country. And before I could answer, she said that she hoped I would stand for Horstberg. ‘You are her captain,’ she said with that perfect indignance she has. And then she told me that she was merely a simple woman with no heart to give me. And she clinched it when she spoke like a queen. ‘If you die for love or devotion, Captain, let it be for your country.’ And I knew. There was no other woman within these borders or out who could hold a candle to Abbi du Woernig.”

“Amen,” Georg said again. Then he realized that Cameron had a hand pressed over his mouth, his eyes closed, tears on his face. Georg exchanged a gaze of compassion and understanding with the captain. They both knew that Cameron’s emotions couldn’t help but be fragile after recent events.

Georg was prepared to slip quietly out of the room and take the captain with him, allowing Cameron some time, but a light knock sounded at the door. Cameron hurried to wipe his tears before he called, “Come.”

An officer stepped in, saying, “Her Grace wishes to see you, sir.”

“By all means,” Cameron said in a light tone that would never hint that he’d just been crying.

Abbi stepped into the room, and all three men rose to their feet as the door was closed. “You found us,” Cameron said.

“It took three servants to get me here,” she said, glancing around.

“It’s just down the stairs from the bedroom, Abbi,” Cameron noted.

“Maybe I exaggerated a little.” She smiled. “This is a beautiful room, and it’s huge.”

“Most rooms are around here,” Georg said. “Beautiful and huge, I mean.”

“I think I’ve spent more time in this room than any other in this place combined,” Cameron said.

“Does that count sleeping?” Abbi asked, taking a seat.

“Yes,” he added easily.

She said to her husband, “I was wondering . . . did Mr. Lumburg follow through?”

Cameron felt a little disoriented until he recalled that she had been privy to their conversation the previous morning. “Yes, it’s going very well,” he said. “Many people have been willing to help.”

“That’s good, then,” Abbi said.

“Perhaps I should go,” Lance said, “and leave you to—”

“No, Captain,” Abbi interrupted, “there’s something I need to say. I’m glad the three of you are all here.”

The men took their seats, and Abbi slid a sealed packet of papers across Cameron’s desk. He picked it up as she said, “If you open that you’ll note that it’s dated the seventeenth of August, 1813. The date is significant for me, because Blaze was born that day. And that’s the day my father put those papers in my care.”

“Merciful heaven,” Georg muttered as he apparently perceived the implication first.

Cameron asked severely, “How do you know the date if you haven’t opened it?”

“He left an identical set with his father, which left me with both eventually. I opened one of them last night. That’s how I knew
before
Nikolaus showed up in my bedroom that he had killed Gwen. It’s all there.” Tears came in spite of her effort to hold them back. “I should have opened it a long time ago. If I had known . . . if
we
had known . . . but he told me never to open them if he were alive, and . . . I had no idea that he . . .” She couldn’t continue.

Cameron looked at the papers as if they might explode in his face, but he broke the seal and unfolded them. He scanned the first page, then the second. Then he tossed them scornfully to the desk.

“I’m not going to start questioning why everything worked out the way it did,” Cameron said, “and why it took four years to make it happen. We were all doing the best we could do under the circumstances. We can’t go back and change the past.” He looked firmly at Abbi. “But I want you to know that I am absolutely certain you should
not
have done anything more than what you did.”

“How can you say that when—”

“Abbi,” he interrupted gently, “after Nikolaus met you last year, he told your father in no uncertain terms that if anything got stirred up against him as a result of this, he would do you harm, or even kill you. He was using your safety to blackmail your father.” Abbi took a sharp breath and put a hand to her stomach as Cameron added, “We know he was capable. You did the right thing. We can all be grateful that it’s over now.”

Abbi nodded through ongoing tears. Cameron walked around the desk and urged her to her feet, holding her tightly in his arms. Georg picked up the papers to look at them, muttering quietly, “Unbelievable.”

“It’s too bad he’s already dead,” Lance said. “I’d sure like to—”

“Don’t say it,” Cameron interrupted. “It’s almost time for church, and I’m trying very hard not to take my anger with me. For the moment, I’d prefer that we focus on gratitude.”

“Point taken,” Lance said while Cameron wiped Abbi’s tears.

Abbi had forgotten it was Sunday, but she was pleased to discover that a private church service was held in the castle chapel at midday as a standard. She loved sitting through the service with Cameron’s hand in hers, and she focused her mind, as he’d suggested, on the gratitude she felt for how far they had come. They were together and safe.

Magda and Lena were there, as well as Georg and Elsa, and Abbi’s father, and Lance. Many of the castle servants and even some officers of the Guard were in attendance. The bishop of Horstberg officiated the service, and it was evident that after he finished with the morning service in the cathedral, he always came here. Afterward he talked with the family, expressing his joy that all had come together well. Then Cameron asked if they could speak alone. While Cameron was with the bishop, Abbi visited with her father for a few minutes before he left to take advantage of his newfound freedom and see some old friends. Abbi returned to her room with Elsa.

She was delightfully surprised to be greeted by Cameron’s dogs. Elsa told her that Georg had gone back to the estate for a number of things that morning and had brought the dogs with him. Franz had eagerly agreed to look out for the animals, since he had dogs of his own at home and was fond of them. Abbi asked Elsa if she knew who was seeing to Georg’s work on the estate, and Elsa told her that he’d taken care of hiring someone to take his place, but he hadn’t wanted her to know that he’d been planning to leave his job. One more point that left Abbi disoriented. But she focused on the loving attention the dogs gave her and their familiar connection to more simple times with Cameron.

A short while later, Dr. Furhelm came to check on Abbi. “His Grace sent for me,” he said. “He’s concerned for you. I understand you had quite an ordeal last night.”

“Yes,” she said, “but I’m fine.”
Physically at least,
she added to herself, and pushed away memories of the incident that smoldered uneasily inside of her.

“Still,” the doctor said with compassion, “we just want to be certain that you’re well before you leave on your honeymoon.”

Following the routine examination, he asked her some straightforward but embarrassing questions about her ordeal with Nikolaus. She wondered if Cameron had put him up to this, hoping to glean information without having to confront it personally. She was glad to be able to tell the doctor that Nikolaus had not raped her, and the scrapes and bruises were minimal and would heal. She could feel the baby moving, and he assured her that everything with the pregnancy appeared to be fine.

Once assured that she was all right, their conversation turned to his longtime loyalty to Cameron, and how he’d been one of the first helping Georg as the revolution was planned and carried through. It was evident the doctor had known Abbi was carrying a royal heir long before she did.

Cameron came to the room, and Abbi realized the doctor had been waiting for him. She was pleased that he insisted on checking the wound he’d treated a few days earlier. The doctor was alarmed, as Abbi had been, to note the bruising on his torso. But he simply told Cameron to keep the bullet wound clean and take it easy, and he felt certain all would heal well.

“I’ll see the both of you in two weeks when you return,” the doctor said while Cameron was putting his shirt back on.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Abbi said.

“It is a pleasure to be at your service, Your Grace,” he said with a warm smile before he left the room.

Your Grace
. The words hung uncomfortably over Abbi each time she heard them in reference to herself. But in spite of her discomfort, she had pledged her unquestioning love and devotion to Cameron. She only prayed that she would not let him down.

As soon as the doctor left, Cameron said, “We need to go to supper. We’re eating early so we can take care of the burial.”

“Are you all right?” she asked while he tucked in his shirt.

“No, Abbi, I’m not all right. And I
know
you’re not all right.” She looked away, not wanting her own burdens to weigh him down further on such a difficult day. “But I’m trying very hard to be grateful for what I have gained, instead of angry over what I’ve lost—and the reasons for losing it. I have to get through this day in one piece, and I can’t think about it, or I will lose what little control I’m holding onto. I fear I’m going to fly into a rage and end up scaring the hell out of whoever happens to be nearby—and that will probably be you.” He lifted her chin with his fingers and looked at her closely. “But we’re going to get through this day, and get away from here and take some time. And when it
does
explode, I pray you will forgive me.”

“For what? For sharing your pain with me?” She wondered how he would respond when her own rage inevitably came to the surface. She smiled and added, “You’ve come far, Cameron du Woernig. You used to hide from me, and try to pretend you weren’t hurting. And now you admit it so readily.”

“You taught me well, my love,” he said and kissed her quickly.

Cameron held her hand as they went to supper, going down the stairs, past the ducal office, and traversing another long hall toward the dining room. Abbi stopped abruptly and tugged on Cameron’s hand, overcome with a strange sensation.

“What is it?” Cameron asked, noting her distracted expression as she turned and looked around herself.

“I’ve . . . seen this place before,” she said, furrowing her brow with deep thought.

“You’ve been to the castle before,” he said. “Surely you—”

“No, it’s not that. It’s more like . . .” The thought began to take hold and her heart quickened. She pointed to a nearby door. “What’s in there?”

It took Cameron a moment to remember. “It . . . uh, goes down to an old . . . dungeon-type room. It hasn’t been used for years.”

Abbi turned to look around herself again, paying special attention to the floor. Cameron felt more unnerved than he wanted to admit.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I saw this in a dream,” she said. Her eyes finally focused on him. “This is where you were lying when I couldn’t wake you up. It was right here.” She stomped her foot on the floor. “This door was open. And someone else was here.”

“You told me before it was Georg.”

“No, it looked like Georg, but it wasn’t him.”

Cameron offered what he thought was a logical explanation. “Georg’s son, perhaps.”

“Perhaps,” Abbi said. It felt right, and she liked the way it justified many years passing before this particular dream might come about. Still, it was unnerving. If she truly had foreseen Cameron’s death, she prayed it would be a very long time in coming.

“Hurry along,” he said, taking her hand. “There’s nothing to worry about. We’re together now, and everything’s perfect.”

Abbi managed a smile and they hurried to the dining room, where Magda and Lena were waiting. She found their company one of the few positive aspects of this arrangement. Even the huge dining room didn’t seem quite so ominous as the four of them huddled at one end of the table, chatting and laughing. Cameron seemed relaxed and at ease to be with his sisters. But the tension quickly fell back over him when the meal was over and Franz came to help him dress for the funeral procession. He went without the crown and robe, and Abbi realized they were only used for certain occasions. Instead he wore black arm bands to indicate mourning. When he was ready to go, Franz slipped away and Cameron bent to kiss Abbi, looking into her eyes with unspoken emotion. “I love you,” he murmured. “As soon as I return, we’ll leave.”