Behind the Mask (84 page)

“Allow me to see you home, Mrs. du Woernig,” he said and motioned toward the hall. This was the same man who had called her
Miss
in the carriage. Obviously he’d known her name then, but had not been at liberty to say it.

“Thank you,” she said and rushed past him, struggling to keep a steady expression while storms brewed inside of her. Fear and relief, awe and trepidation, hope and doom all whirled together like a cyclone threatening to sweep away her ability to even remain standing. She marveled that she could put one foot in front of the other as the reality settled in deeper with each beat of her heart.
The Duke of Horstberg
. How could it be possible? In spite of the evidence she had seen and heard, she couldn’t get her mind to even accept it as truth.

In the carriage she wanted to curl up and cry like a baby, but she was surrounded by men in red and black uniforms—uniforms that had just taken on a whole new meaning. She recalled the day she’d found the coat of Cameron’s uniform in the lodge, and how upset he’d been. Now she understood. There were
so
many things she understood now, but at the same time, she felt more ignorant than ever in some respects. And knowing that it wasn’t over left her utterly terrified.

Abbi was helped out of the carriage in front of her home, but the lieutenant barely nodded her direction before he stepped back inside and it rolled away. She stood in the drive and watched it leave before she considered how to get from here to her bedroom before this rumbling torrent of emotion broke loose. Entering the front door, she was taken off guard to see Lance coming down the stairs, fastening the cuffs of his shirt.

“Good morning,” he said brightly. “You were apparently up early. I’m afraid I slept late after being out half the night.”

Abbi wanted to ask what exactly that had entailed, but she was more relieved that his sleeping in had prevented him from taking notice of the means by which she’d left and returned. Before she could comment, he added, “It would seem that Ramona has conspired for you and me to have brunch together. But she told me she couldn’t find you.”

“I was just . . . out . . . killing some time.”

“That’s exactly what I told her,” he said, sounding especially chipper. She doubted he would be so happy if he knew what she had just learned. But then, he would know Cameron’s true identity. He would have known all along. But did he know Cameron had taken over the country? As if nothing in the world were wrong, Lance added, “I assured her that you wouldn’t go too far on such an important day.” He took hold of her hands much as Cameron had done at their recent farewell. His eyes showed alarm. “Abbi, you’re trembling. Whatever is wrong?”

“Just . . . nervous, I suppose,” she said.

“You mustn’t worry.” He pressed a kiss to her brow. “Everything will be all right.”

How could she not recall Cameron saying it exactly like that not so long ago? Why didn’t she feel convinced? She wanted to discuss what she now knew, and what had happened this morning. But she couldn’t. Obviously Lance was ignorant of the current state of affairs, and she didn’t want him running off to the castle now to cause problems. Had Cameron and Georg planned it this way? To overtake the castle while Lance was caught up in preparations for the wedding? Of course they had. They’d admitted as much at the start. Every aspect of the situation took on new depth and meaning, and she felt like a fool for being so blind to what should have been obvious.

“Come along,” he said, keeping hold of her hand as he led her to the dining room, “let’s eat. You’ll feel better.” Helping her with her chair, he added, “I trust you slept well.”

“Off and on,” she admitted. Taking a breath, she forced some conversation if only to fill the silence that tempted her to focus too much on her own thoughts. “Business as usual last night?” she inquired, hoping perhaps to glean some information.

“Hardly usual,” he said, sounding rather perky. “Someone deliberately set a barn on fire, to start with.”

“Oh,” she sounded surprised, “was anyone hurt?”

“No, it was just an old barn; no serious damage. But while it was burning there were seventeen robberies reported in different areas of the valley. I suspect the fire was set for a distraction so the robberies would go unnoticed by the law until the criminals were long gone.”

Abbi felt a little queasy, wondering how
that
tied in to what she knew now. “There were no arrests made, then?”

“I’m afraid not. Whoever did it was very clever.”

She fought to keep up casual conversation. “You must have been up most of the night.”

“Yes, but I’m fine. Apparently a meeting was called early this morning at the castle for all of the Guard, but I received a message saying I was excused because it’s my wedding day.” He smiled. “Now wasn’t that thoughtful of Nikolaus?” He said it with sarcasm; they both knew Nikolaus would never be remotely thoughtful. But Abbi knew that Nikolaus had nothing to do with such orders. Cameron had said they didn’t know where Nikolaus was, or if he even knew that Cameron was alive.
They were brothers!
But a country couldn’t have two rulers, and if Nikolaus was at large, and Cameron had no idea how many men were loyal to him, then . . . She couldn’t think about that.

Abbi felt queasy again and her trembling increased. She forced a steady voice. “I thought Nikolaus was away.”

“He must have returned early. He told me he might make it back for the wedding.”

“Personally, I hope he doesn’t,” Abbi admitted and Lance smiled. She wanted to go back and rehash every conversation they’d ever had, and take into account the realization that Lance had known all along her husband was the rightful Duke of Horstberg. What would she have thought? His concern for her took on new depth, his divided loyalties a whole new meaning. But above all else, the precariousness of Cameron’s life came fully into perspective.
His very existence was a threat to Nikolaus’s power.

“Are you all right?” Lance asked, bringing her out of a stupor.

“I’ll be fine,” she said and excused herself to go dress for the wedding.

Again Abbi was prevented from having any time alone to respond to all she’d discovered. She found Elsa in her room preparing a bath, chattering excitedly about the wedding. Abbi could only listen and try to accept what she had learned, and the deepening of her fears as a result. The only thing she knew for certain was that her life would never be the same.

Following Abbi’s bath, Elsa helped her into the gown and veil, but Abbi refused to have her hair put up. She knew it wasn’t conventional, but when had convention ever been her motivation? She wondered for a moment if it was inappropriate for the wife of a duke to wear her hair down in public. Then she recalled Cameron’s request when he’d helped her choose a veil. She felt disoriented to consider her every conversation and interaction with this man—and now to realize he was a du Woernig.
She
was a du Woernig. The very thought made it difficult to breathe.

“Are you all right?” Elsa asked, making her jump.

“Just . . . nervous, I suppose,” Abbi said.

“No need for that,” Elsa insisted. “Georg assured me not an hour ago that everything was perfect. I’ve not seen him so happy in months.”

“Is that right?” Abbi asked, attempting to accept Georg’s place in all of this. The complexities alone made her head hurt.

Elsa just smiled and made a final adjustment on the veil. “You look beautiful, Miss Abbi,” she said with a long sigh. “I will hurry and change, and meet you downstairs.”

“Thank you, Elsa,” Abbi said, “for everything.”

Once alone, Abbi couldn’t hold back a barrage of tears, but she’d barely begun to vent the tiniest bit of emotion hovering inside her when Salina knocked at the door. “Are you nearly ready, dear?” she called. “Lance has left for the cathedral.”

“I’ll be right down,” Abbi said, and forced herself to appear composed.

Downstairs the aunts fussed over how beautiful she looked. And Ramona’s attempt to comment on Abbi’s hair was thwarted by an elbow from her sister. Elsa appeared in a dress Abbi had never seen before, looking lovely and radiant.

“Georg got it for me,” she said to Abbi.

“You look exquisite,” Abbi insisted. Then more quietly, “Where
is
Georg?” She both needed his comfort and wanted to give him a piece of her mind. In truth, she understood the reasons for her ignorance—at least to some degree—and a part of her was grateful not to have known. But another part of her felt infuriated and terrified and completely off balance.

“He’s nearly ready,” she said. “He’ll be escorting your aunts in the carriage. I’ll be going with you, of course,” Elsa said with a grin, “to be certain that every hair is in place.”

Abbi wished she could share Elsa’s enthusiasm. She wanted this day to be over.

“I believe you’re all ready then, sir,” Franz said, meticulously checking Cameron’s uniform for any speck of lint. Franz was unquestionably loyal to Cameron, and he loathed Nikolaus deeply. The man had endured working with the duke for the sake of keeping his family fed these last four years—since he’d been promoted to Gerhard Albrecht’s former position as the duke’s valet. Nikolaus had told him then to do his job and do it well or he’d be out on the streets, and Franz had known he’d meant it.

While Cameron pondered his own image in the mirror, still trying to become accustomed to it, he considered Franz’s story and wondered how many thousands like him had been adversely affected, either directly or indirectly, by Nikolaus’s abuse and lack of ethics. The thought made his blood burn, but within a matter of hours it would be over.

“The lieutenant asked me to inform you that your escorts would be assembled in the courtyard as soon as you’re ready, and I do believe it’s time you were on your way.”

Cameron took a deep breath. “Thank you, Franz,” he said. “You’re very good at what you do. With any luck we’ll be able to keep working together for a very long time.”

“That is my prayer, sir,” Franz said. Cameron put a hand on his shoulder and smiled before he headed toward the door. He hurried down the stairs and past the ducal office before he realized that several men were waiting in the hall, between him and the door that led out to the courtyard. Cameron scanned their faces. There were five men, who each belonged to one of the two committees he’d met with this morning. They had all been unusually quiet during the meetings. With them were six officers, sporting the usual weapons, officers who had given Cameron no indication of their loyalty beyond their visible display in the courtyard earlier. But that could have been all for show as far as he knew. He’d told both the Guard and the committees that he expected to know where each man’s loyalties may lie. He wondered if that was the purpose of this little impromptu gathering.

“We would like a word,” a committee member stated, but Cameron didn’t know his name. He’d never served with him. Cameron noted there was no use of title or form of respect in the way he’d been addressed. He scanned eleven sets of eyes, finding distrust and skepticism. He wondered how he had managed to end up alone with such a mob while his protection was just out of reach. He had images of everything coming down around him now due to one simple oversight.

“Yes,” Cameron said, acting bored and impatient as if he had nothing in the world to be concerned about beyond getting to his wedding on time.

“You are terribly arrogant, young man, if you really believe that you can traipse in here and just snatch up a country as if you had the right.”

While Cameron prayed that someone with military expertise might feel the urge to investigate his tardiness, he fought away visions of being knocked over the head and dragged to a prison cell to wait for Nikolaus’s return.

Cameron cleared his throat and spoke with casual ease. “I’m just following my brother’s example. The difference is that I
do
have the right.” He sighed impatiently as if their impedance meant nothing to him. “Could we discuss this later? I’m late for my own wedding.”

“We’ll discuss it now,” he was told, and all six officers quickly surrounded him. Cameron had no means of defending himself. Even if weapons were traditionally worn with his dress uniform, he was severely outnumbered. He prayed that Abbi would forgive him for letting her down now. After they had come this far, it just didn’t seem right. He reminded himself that even with his death, hope was not lost for Horstberg, and Abbi would be well cared for. Still, it just didn’t seem right.

Cameron felt the barrel of a pistol press into his back, and a voice behind his ear said, “Walk. You know the way.”

Cameron knew he meant the keep. The very idea of going back into a cell made him physically ill.
Just shoot me and get it over with,
he thought. And then he did as he was told.