Chapter 7
Kassandra stepped from her room, somewhat embarrassed at the lateness of the hour. She was sure it was already well past midday.
Each time she had opened her eyes that morning they had closed heavily once again, as if she had been drugged, and sleep had held her fast for another hour.
At last, drowsy and dulled, she had forced herself from bed, and once up and about, she had begun to feel more like herself.
Surely after a light repast of buttered bread with her favorite raspberry preserves and a cup of strong hot tea, she would feel as good as new.
Kassandra moved down the corridor, laughing voices carrying up to her from the high-ceilinged foyer.
She paused to listen. She could not make out the words, but she recognized Isabel’s animated voice.
The other, a man’s, deep and resonant, was unfamiliar to her, at least from this distance.
She heard footsteps crossing the polished floor and the sound of the heavy door at the front entrance closing firmly.
She walked to the staircase and looked down, but the foyer was now empty.
Perhaps Isabel and her guest had stepped outside, she thought, holding the mahogany railing as she descended the stairs.
The shrill neighing of a horse startled her, then she heard the pounding of hooves upon the packed dirt of the drive.
Curious, she moved to one of the tall windows flanking the front door and pushed aside the lace curtain.
Isabel was standing on the last step leading down to the curved drive, her hand uplifted in farewell, her gaze following the cloaked figure of a rider on a spirited black stallion as it disappeared into the trees bordering the lawn.
Isabel turned, smiling happily, and began to walk back into the house, suddenly spying Kassandra at the window.
Her lively blue eyes lightened with excitement and she swept through the door, her skirts rustling and swaying.
“Oh, Kassandra, did you see him?” she asked breathlessly.
Kassandra flushed bright pink, chagrined that she had been caught spying behind the curtain. If Isabel had another gentleman friend besides her father, well, that was none of her business.
She had discovered it was an accepted practice in Vienna for women to have both a husband and a lover, and husbands their mistresses in addition to a wife, a surprising arrangement that was openly encouraged.
She had been shocked at first, but then had decided that at least it was not as hypocritical as the surreptitious affairs rumored to be so rampant in the English court.
Just because Isabel and her father weren’t married yet did not mean the Countess might not already have a handsome paramour to keep her company during her father’s long absence in Germany, Kassandra considered, though in her heart she hoped this was not the case.
“I only saw a rider, but I did not see his face—” she began, deeply flustered.
“It was Stefan!” Isabel blurted gaily, noting the heightened color on Kassandra’s cheeks and the way she was nervously twisting the silken fabric of her skirt.
A look of feigned indignation crossed her delicate features.
“Oh, Kassandra, really! My heart has room for only one man, despite Viennese customs, and that man is your father.” She laughed merrily.
“Come now, have you had anything to eat?”
Kassandra shook her head, astounded that Isabel had so clearly read her mind.
“No? Well, let’s go into the dining room. I have so much to tell you.” Isabel wound her arm through Kassandra’s, and together they walked into the adjoining room. They had hardly sat down at the table before Isabel rushed on.
“I had hoped you might come downstairs before Stefan left for the city, but I decided it was best to let you sleep, especially after yesterday,” Isabel said kindly.
“When did he arrive?” Kassandra asked. She winced inwardly, Isabel’s innocent remark an unsettling reminder of the events of the day before. No, it was done and in the past, she told herself defiantly, willing herself to think of more pleasant things.
Stefan. She felt a flicker of disappointment that she had missed him. She nodded to the serving maid, who filled a cup with hot tea and set it on the table in front of her.
“Fetch some of that marvelous bread that the cook baked this morning, if you would, Berdine,” Isabel murmured to the young girl, who bobbed her head and hurried from the dining room.
She turned to Kassandra. “Gisela came to my door at three o’clock in the morning to tell me Stefan had just arrived at the estate.
I barely had time to put on my robe before he was there in my chamber. ”
Isabel smiled happily. He had looked so handsome and dashing in his uniform, standing so tall in the threshold. She had flown into his arms, tears of joy streaking her face, relief that he had survived yet another military campaign flooding her. He was all the family she had…
Isabel sighed. No, now was not the time to think of her dear parents or her sweet sister, Gretchen, only twelve years old when she had died in Vienna’s plague of seven years ago.
Besides, she thought, Stefan was home now, and she had Miles…
and Kassandra. She looked at the young woman beside her, intent upon buttering and slathering with jam the warm bread that had just arrived from the kitchen.
Kassandra was so lovely, so spirited, Isabel mused.
She would be the most wonderful stepdaughter, and hopefully…
the perfect sister-in-law. That is, if Kassandra and Stefan took an interest in each other, as she was hoping they might.
She could not think of a better match for her brother than the young Englishwoman.
Kassandra set the knife upon the table and took a bite of bread, savoring the tart flavor of the raspberry preserves.
She could not believe how hungry she was.
She smiled at Isabel, noting that the Countess was studying her frankly.
Again she was struck by the color of her eyes.
She had seen such a color only once before…
“Now, Kassandra, I have more exciting news,” Isabel began, her voice breaking into Kassandra’s thoughts.
“Tonight there is going to be a welcoming reception at the Hofburg for Prince Eugene and his officers, and it would please me so much if you would attend.” She rushed on excitedly.
“Stefan will be there. I have told him a great deal about you in my letters, and he is looking forward to meeting you.” Isabel held her breath, as if gauging Kassandra’s reaction to her news.
Kassandra swallowed the last of her bread, her gaze meeting Isabel’s.
She hated the thought of disappointing the Countess—she looked so hopeful—yet she hated those damnable court functions even more. The stuffy protocol, the gossip, the awful intrigue, the self-serving lords and their haughty ladies. She shuddered to think of it.
So it had been ever since her first ball at the court of Queen Anne, when she was only fourteen.
The malicious conversation she had overheard between two ladies-in-waiting about her mother, Lady Caroline, the mother who had died at her birth, the mother she had known only through the beautiful portrait hanging in the main hall at Wyndham Court, came back to haunt her as if it were only yesterday.
“So that is the harlot’s child,” a stout, heavily rouged lady had whispered to a friend, yet loud enough for Kassandra to hear.
“Yes, and see how she resembles her mother, with those eyes and that flaming red hair, a damning color to be sure. To think Lord Harrington would have married that woman, knowing who she was, that she had been a whore on the streets of London!”
“You had best guard your son well, and see that he doesn’t dance with that harlot’s spawn,” the stout woman spat, a grin splitting her powdered face at Kassandra’s stricken expression, knowing she had heard everything…
“Kassandra, are you listening? Please say you will go with me,” Isabel pleaded with a hint of impatience.
Kassandra blinked, her thoughts dragged back to the present. “I-I don’t think so, Isabel. Surely I can meet Stefan here. Will he be returning to the estate before the reception?”
Isabel shook her head, a look of exasperation flitting across her face. “No, he said he had to go back into the city for the rest of the afternoon, to look for someone, and that he would meet us at the Hofburg.”
No doubt he was looking for Sophia, she thought, annoyed.
She loved her brother, but she had been sorely vexed ever since he had begun a dalliance with Archduchess Sophia von Starenberg, the wife to one of Charles VI’s court ministers, over a year ago.
She detested the woman and firmly believed Sophia was plotting to become Countess von Furstenberg after the death of her elderly husband, whether from natural or unnatural causes.
But not if I can prevent it, Isabel told herself determinedly.
It was time for Stefan to choose a wife and start a family, perhaps even retire from the military and manage the estate in person, rather than through lengthy correspondence written to her from the battlefield.
Lady Kassandra Wyndham was her best hope, and if she would not go to the reception tonight for the sake of meeting Stefan, perhaps there might be another way to persuade her…
“Kassandra, I must insist that you attend the reception with me, if only to represent your father at the court of their Imperial Majesties,” Isabel said, hoping this new tactic might convince her.
“It is an important occasion for Austria, to welcome its victorious army. Since Miles is not here, who better to stand in the ambassador’s place than his daughter? ”
Kassandra sighed. She knew Isabel was right.
Her father would be pleased to learn she had gone in his place, even knowing her intense dislike of such occasions…
and the reason behind it. Yet it was ironic that she would represent him at an event celebrating the Austrians’ victory over the Turks.
It was her father’s diplomatic mission to dissuade them from any further campaigns against the Ottoman Empire to protect the trade interests of England.
“Very well, Isabel,” she agreed halfheartedly.
“Good,” Isabel said, a smile curving her lips.
She glanced at the clock on the marble fireplace mantel.
It was already half past two; the reception began at six o’clock.
If she was to be ready in time, she would have to begin her toilette at once.
Such an important occasion demanded that she look her very best.
She rose from her chair, laying her small hand on Kassandra’s shoulder.
“That lovely gown your father bought for you, the silver brocade, would be perfect, Kassandra,” she enthused.
“I shall send Gisela to your room by half past four to help you dress and arrange your hair.” She swept happily from the room, her thoughts already on the difficult task of choosing her own gown.
Kassandra sat silently in her chair, absently toying with a knife.
Perhaps it will not be so bad, she tried to convince herself. The incident at Queen Anne’s court had occurred long ago. Perhaps it was time she let go of that awful memory and learned to enjoy the diversions of the court.
Kassandra frowned. Well, if not enjoy them, at least tolerate them, she thought ruefully. Besides, Stefan would be there. She would have a chance to meet him at last, just as Isabel had said.
Kassandra took a sip of tea, wrinkling her nose. It had already grown tepid. She pushed away her plate and leaned back in the chair. Yes, Isabel had told her a great deal about Stefan over the past several months, so much so that she felt she already knew him.
She had learned he was courageous and committed, preferring the life of a soldier to that of an aristocrat, that he was a man of honor, respected by his peers as well as by the men he commanded, and as intelligent as he was handsome.
Yet she also knew he was considered a rogue, a wickedly disarming trait that caused Isabel no small amount of concern.
Kassandra was not so naive as to think that he had not had his share of women.
One day Berdine, the young maid, had told her of Stefan’s current paramour, Archduchess Sophia, in an animated outburst, then had clapped her hand over her mouth for fear she had said too much.
Kassandra smiled. Whether Stefan was a rogue or not, she was looking forward to meeting him. He sounded intriguing, and it seemed they had at least one thing in common.
Isabel had told her that Stefan had chosen the life of a soldier because he disliked the idleness and selfish pursuits typical of the Viennese aristocracy.
He was one of a handful of wealthy landowners who had decided not only to manage the affairs of his estate as his livelihood, but also to serve in the Imperial army as an officer.
And Kassandra, though a peeress by birth, raised amidst luxury and wealth at Wyndham Court in Sussex, England, had spent far more time in intellectual pursuits and attending to the needs of the common people who rented and worked her father’s lands than in the feminine occupations more usual to her class: finely stitched needlework and acquiring a rich husband.
Kassandra stood abruptly and walked toward the stairs. Well, if she was to attend the reception, it was time she summoned a bath to her chamber. Perhaps, unlike the night before, she might have a chance to enjoy it.
And perhaps, if she was lucky, she thought, this reception might offer some diversion from the memories that continued to plague her. She could only hope…