Chapter 19
Margaretha
Captain Carrera sat on the low platform of the dais, looking quite pleased with his honored place between Father and me. Spending occasional afternoon outings with the Spaniard was bad enough without dining with him too.
Picking up a cut of bread, Father turned to the captain. “Is it true the Elector of Saxony’s death sentence was commuted to imprisonment for life?”
“Yes. He had to sign away his electorship to get it.” The unmannered Spaniard scooped up his pork with all five fingers and shoveled it into his mouth. “His cousin Maurice is the new elector.”
Thank goodness no such sentence had been passed on Samuel yet. He wouldn’t have an electorship to trade for his life.
Sucking the juices from his fingers, Carrera added, “You’ve no doubt heard the Landgrave of Hesse is a captive now.”
“What?” Father dropped his bread.
“He traveled to Halle to give himself up.”
Father’s face turned red, and he balled his hand into a tight fist. “And the kaiser didn’t hesitate to take him prisoner?”
“Is the kaiser still in Halle?” I asked. And was Samuel with him there? It was only a day’s hard ride away.
Carrera shook his head. “The kaiser’s in the Netherlands preparing his territories to receive their future sovereign, Prince Felipe.”
“What do you know of the prince, mein Herr? What sort of man is he?” Belinda’s eyes darted to me, revealing that she still held fanciful hopes of me winning one of the most powerful men in the world, Catholic or not.
“The German accounts of him are always unfavorable.” Carrera frowned. “Either he’s too carefree or too cold, too learned in Spanish customs or too ignorant to rule.” He picked up another slab of meat, and it seemed that was all the answer we were to get.
Belinda tried another tract. “Does he hunt?”
“Not as well as I do.” He wiped his coat sleeve across his mouth. “Hasn’t the vigor for it.”
Belinda kicked me under the table, and I looked at her wide-eyed, unsure what I was meant to do. She gave a pointed nod toward Carrera, evidently expecting me to say something.
I cleared my throat. “I know a little of hunting myself. Shooting, anyway. I haven’t yet practiced with game.”
“Is that so?” He twisted to face me, leaning his elbow on the table as he looked me over. “I’d be happy to educate you.”
I started to decline, but another kick from Belinda had me nodding my begrudging consent.
“The countess would be so grateful to you,” she said. “But we must not presume upon the good count’s generosity.” She peeked at Father through her lashes, and he froze with his spoon halfway to his mouth.
“Oh, certainly.” He lowered the spoon to its bowl. “I would take great pleasure in having you hunt my lands. In fact, I’ll take you out myself, and we can make a day of it.” It seemed Father was employing Belinda’s logic, making friends with his enemy to tip the scales a bit in his favor.
“If the countess comes, I am happy to accept.” Carrera bowed his head.
Belinda kicked me again, and this time I responded by grinding her toe under my heel.
She sucked in a sharp breath while I gave her my most innocent smile.
It was small retribution for the way she’d lectured me after French lessons with Friedrich, accusing me of losing my heart to him.
I’d assured Belinda that her fears were wholly unfounded.
Entirely.
My eyes flitted to the servants’ table, where I spotted Friedrich’s dark head bowed over his bowl.
Yes, I felt warmer and lighter whenever I was with him.
Yes, I looked forward to our lessons, storing up things to tell him, eager for the next time I could talk with him.
But that needn’t be more than friendship.
Friedrich lifted his chin, and I braced myself to meet his gaze, but he only turned toward the woman beside him, his lips parting in one of his scarce, bright smiles. When she gave him a playful elbow to his arm, my eyes narrowed, focusing on the back of her head to see if it was Ilsa.
“Whom do you study?”
Carrera’s voice made me jump, and I quickly laughed to cover my embarrassment. “No one.”
“But you do.” He lowered his head by mine and murmured, “You bear the look of a jealous woman. A woman grown up since our first meeting.”
My cheeks burned, and I floundered for something to say, but Carrera didn’t wait for an answer. His hand found mine beneath the table, caressing my fingers as he whispered, “Perhaps I can cure you of your jealousy.”
Panic tumbled in my gut, and I fought the urge to push his hand away, settling for a subtle scoot of my chair while leaning out of his reach.
It was enough that he didn’t pursue, but he turned back to his meal with a grin that proved him not the slightest bit deterred.
I’d need help undoing whatever it was I’d done.
I turned to Belinda, but she was looking past me, a shy smile curving her lips as she seemed to be gazing at my father.
“Belinda,” I said, and she lowered her eyes, a rare blush coloring her cheeks. “Why do you smile so?”
She shook her head. “Something amusing, that is all. You were too distracted with Carrera to notice.”
“Distracted?” I could barely keep my voice at a whisper. “He was seconds away from abandoning all propriety.”
Belinda choked on her wine, wiping her lips with the tablecloth and fighting a smile. “Lively, isn’t he? Don’t fret yourself too much over him; I’ll help you keep the dog on his leash.”
“Very well.” I nodded. “See that you do.”