Chapter 20
Adolph walked slowly into the darkened hall of the von Starenberg villa, its high ceiling and paneled walls draped in black crepe.
His every step took great effort as he made his way to the salon where the archduchess awaited him, or, more aptly, he thought with a grimace, awaited the news she longed to hear…that Lady Kassandra Wyndham was dead…as dead as her own recently departed husband.
Outside the double doors, he inhaled a great breath. The archduchess would not be pleased, he thought miserably, then defiantly clenched his small hands.
“What’s the matter with you, Adolph?” he chided himself in an indignant whisper. The devil knew, he had faced worse before. Let the witch do with him what she would. He squared his narrow shoulders with false bravado and rapped boldly on the door.
“Enter,” a dusky voice sounded from within, bringing on a fit of trembling.
He swallowed hard as he opened one of the doors and stepped into the salon, then froze at the incongruous sight of his beautiful mistress, dressed from head to toe in black mourning.
Her topaz eyes gleamed in the candlelight, reminding him of a cat just before it pounced on its unwitting prey.
“What news have you, Adolph?” Sophia asked breathlessly, rising from her chair and walking toward him. “Have your little spy games paid off? Were you able to find your quarry?”
Adolph nodded slowly. “It was a perfect opportunity, milady, the one I had been awaiting for many weeks.” He looked down, gaining courage, then raised his head and steadily met her gaze, though he was quaking in his boots. “But it was not to be.”
“Not to be?” Sophia queried sharply, her expression hardening. “Spare me your riddles, Adolph. Tell me simply—does she still live?”
“Y-yes, milady,” he stammered, taking a small step backward, then rushed on in hasty explanation. “It was the Count himself who saved her from the wheels of the carriage. Death was so close, milady, only a hair’s breadth away—”
“Then you will have to try again, Adolph,” Sophia cut him off, gripping the starched fabric of her skirt and turning away. “And still again, if need be, until the task is completed.”
Adolph gaped at her stiff back, stunned by her simple response. It was so unlike the blind rage—and the beating—he had expected. “V-very well, milady,” he managed.
“Now leave me.”
Adolph turned on his heel so suddenly that he nearly bumped into the door.
With his heart thumping in his chest, he hurried from the salon and fled across the hall and up the stairs as if the hounds of Satan were snapping at his heels.
“I’m fine, Isabel, truly I am,” Kassandra insisted, throwing back the woolen blankets the Countess had draped on top of the goosedown coverlet on her bed. “It was only a scare, nothing more. I don’t have a fever, or chills, and I certainly don’t need these extra blankets. But I am tired—”
“Of course you are tired, Kassandra; forgive me,” Isabel interjected, her delicate features etched with anxious concern. She wrung her small hands together, at a loss. “Are you sure there isn’t something I may bring you—hot tea, perhaps, or a sip of brandy to help you sleep?”
Kassandra shook her head and settled back upon the soft pillows.
“You are so kind, Isabel, to worry after me so, but I think all I need now is a good rest.” She smiled and held out her hand, and Isabel rushed forward, squeezing it affectionately.
“With Prince Eugene’s dinner gala tomorrow, you should also get some rest.”
Isabel nodded. Indeed she was tired, and after this unexpected turn to the evening, she could hardly wait to seek the solace of her bed.
Her nerves were fairly frazzled. “Very well, then,” she agreed.
“I shall have Berdine sit outside your door for a while in case you need anything.” She bent and lightly kissed Kassandra’s forehead.
“I am grateful Stefan was there with you, Kassandra. I cannot bear to think of what might have—” She stopped abruptly, shuddering.
“Well, it’s enough that you are safe. Sleep well. ”
Kassandra watched as Isabel cupped her hand and blew out the candles beside the bed, then turned, and with a last glance over her shoulder, she left the darkened room.
Kassandra sighed heavily and closed her eyes, longing for sleep.
Instead her thoughts flew unbidden to the vivid image of the black carriage bearing down upon her.
She tensed, in her mind’s eyes reliving the terrifying moment, then just as suddenly her body relaxed as she recalled the soothing strength of Stefan’s arms.
It was as if he had come out of nowhere to save her from certain death, she mused, remembering the stricken look on his face, his breath warm and comforting against her hair.
And he had said something to her…What was it?
She tried in vain to recall his words, but they escaped her, lost forever in the panic of that moment.
Another face, malevolent and cold, loomed suddenly in her memory, and she shivered despite the warmth of the coverlet drawn up under her chin.
Had it been the dwarf peering out at her from the carriage?
she wondered. It had all happened so fast, she really wasn’t sure anymore. Perhaps she had only imagined it…
No, she didn’t want to think of that odd little man, or the dreadful incident, anymore.
She rolled onto her side, plumping the pillows beneath her head, then froze at the sound of muffled voices just outside her door.
She could not make out the words, but she recognized Berdine’s girlish chatter, and the richer, deeper voice… Stefan’s.
Kassandra sat upright in her bed, her hand flying to her throat.
Sweet Lord, she had forgotten to bolt the door to her chamber!
She frantically threw back the thick coverlet and swung her legs over the side of the mattress, then ran barefooted to the door and slid the bolt firmly into place.
Relief swept through her at the sound of his footsteps moving down the hall, then they faded altogether.
Kassandra walked slowly back to bed, her forehead crinkled in thought.
She had not seen Stefan since they had arrived back at the estate.
He had carried her up the stairs and into her chamber, laying her gently on the bed.
For a fleeting moment it had seemed he wanted to tell her something, then Isabel had rushed into the room, clearly overwrought and demanding to know what had happened.
After a terse explanation on his part, Stefan had abruptly left them.
It was just like him to wait until Isabel had gone to her chamber, then try Kassandra’s door!
He was obviously thinking only of his own selfish desires, even after she had almost been killed.
She brushed off a niggling thought that he might have simply come to inquire after her, perhaps to see that she was well.
No, that was unlikely. Such concern did not match his true character!
Kassandra plopped down on the edge of her bed, then restlessly rose once again and moved to the window, the folds of her linen nightgown swirling about her slim legs.
She leaned against the sill and gazed out over the snow-covered lawn, glowing an eerie white in the light of the full moon.
Then she tilted her head back, marveling at the myriad stars glittering in the dark blue heavens.
It never ceased to amaze her how there could be so much turmoil in the world, and in her own life, yet the night sky was always so peaceful…
An odd shiver disrupted her quiet reflection.
Why did she feel someone was watching her?
She looked down, her eyes widening at the sight of a cloaked figure seated atop a black horse just below her window.
Though she could not see the rider’s upturned face in the dark, she instinctively knew who it was.
Her breath caught in her throat as Stefan sharply veered the stallion about in a spray of glittering snow and set off at a breakneck gallop down the drive.
In a moment he was gone, disappearing into the darkness as he had done so many other nights while she watched from her window, wondering where he was going…
Probably on his way to see his mistress, Kassandra decided, or perhaps some other tart he’d found in a tavern somewhere. A stab of jealousy pierced her, surprising in its fierceness. Yet she quickly stifled it and turned furiously from the window.
She didn’t care one whit where Stefan was off to! She threw herself on her bed, jealousy flaring in her heart once again as she imagined him in another woman’s arms, a statuesque beauty with almond eyes…and she knew she lied.
Heaven help her, she did care, more than she would ever admit. Her startling realization only made the harsh reality of her predicament even harder to bear.
Kassandra futilely pounded her fist into the bed, outraged tears filling her eyes. Bastard! To think he would use her only to beget children, yet all the while continue his whoring with his mistresses, too.
She cried until she was spent, her wracking sobs fueled by confusion, anger, and hopelessness, then she rolled onto her back and wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand. She felt dazed, numb, yet one thought echoed in her mind.
Somehow she had to find a way to defy him. Somehow…
Suddenly an idea of such simplicity, such clarity took her breath away. It was perfect! She turned on her side and leaned on one elbow, propping her head in her hand, her expression rebelliously determined.
“I will find a lover,” Kassandra murmured to herself.
If she was condemned to a loveless marriage, it would only be fair.
It was an accepted practice in Vienna for married women to have their paramours, obliging gentlemen who supplied the affection and devotion missing in many an arranged—or forced—marriage.
She, for one, had no intention of going through her life without ever knowing what it was to love and be loved in return.
Feeling a sudden chill through the thin fabric of her nightgown, Kassandra crawled under the coverlet and settled into the snug warmth of her bed, a plan taking shape in her mind.
Yes, that was exactly what she would do.
Though she wasn’t yet married, there was no harm in casting her eye about for a lover.
Then when the wretched day of her wedding finally arrived—if she could find no way to escape it—and she became Countess von Furstenberg, she would have someone to give her what Stefan would not…
Growing drowsy, Kassandra closed her heavy eyelids.
What would he be like? she wondered languidly, attempting to conjure a vision of her future lover.
Yet as sleep overcame her all she could think of was a man with piercing gray eyes with a hint of blue, hair as black as midnight, and a wry smile that even now dared her to enact her plan.