So she snuggled in to Alec, smiling when he put his arm around her and drew her closer to make her more comfortable. She watched contentedly as the bleak countryside was left behind, the landscape transforming from endless plains of frozen fields without a house or tree in sight, to one where winter trees lined either side of the road, their black leafless branches covered in snow reaching out to one another across the narrow divide. There were hamlets of tidy red-bricked houses, large windmills by frozen canals, snowy fallow fields, all quaint and picturesque and with none of the damage that comes with war. It was as if war had never touched a clod of earth in this part of Midanich.
No one was more surprised than Selina when she woke late afternoon, with the convoy slowly moving across a bridge spanning a wide canal. On the other side of this bridge was an ornate gatehouse with double gates of black-and-gold painted ironwork thrown open for the visitors. Two soldiers, muskets over a shoulder, stood to attention in front of a sentry box on either side of the gates. They saluted General Müller as he passed through as the head of the convoy.
When Selina stirred and sat up, Alec removed his arm that had been holding her against him, and sat up too. Both took in the scenery of dense forest lining the canal as their sledge glided across the bridge. Looking past their driver to see what was up ahead proved more difficult, but soon the horses turned left into a quadrangle, bordered on two sides by a collection of long, low-set, two-story buildings of red brick, and at the far end, a large complex of stables. Beyond the stables were more buildings, set against the backdrop of dense forest, and appeared to be the officers’ barracks, which faced an encampment of many canvas tents occupied by the regular foot soldiers. There was also the usual weapon stockpile of cannons and cannon balls associated with a large military force. Soldiers were busily engaged in all manner of activities, and to Alec looked to be readying themselves to go into battle, and soon.
And while Alec was occupied observing the military encampment, Selina’s attention was focused in the opposite direction, across a second bridge and another set of ornate double gates, but these were closed and guarded.
The bridge crossed a moat which widened out into a small lake which surrounded its island castle.
This ornately decorated island castle was what Selina supposed a castle in a folktale would resemble. But it was not its size, for the building itself, with windows that ran all the way down to the water line, was no larger than any substantial red brick Queen Anne manor house back in England. It was its various components, mostly seen on the Continent, that set it apart from the English castles and houses: The very steep pitch to the mansard roof of slate, covered in a light dusting of snow; the large circular turret with its four levels of windows; and at its apex a bell-shaped slate roof with gilded motifs that had set into it a large ornate clock, that no doubt chimed the hours. Off to one side of this decorative turret was the main entrance, which had double doors framed by a carved entrance over-mantle of marble which looked to be something plucked from a Greek temple. The marble pediment was fashioned with classical figures, and atop it sat two gargoyles leering down at those who came to the front door. Most of all, this fanciful castle looked to be floating on the partly-frozen lake, for the red brickwork disappeared below the water line.
It was so quaint, so enchanting and inviting, that for several moments it was not only Selina but the rest of the sledge passengers who stared unblinking at the whimsical
schloss
and forgot their sorry predicament. That is, until a company of soldiers under command of their captain was marched up from the encampment to attend to the officers and their mounts, uncouple the sledge harnesses, unload luggage, assist the passengers to firm ground, and to take orders from General Müller.
The General dismounted, and after handing over the reins and giving orders to his subordinate, went over to Alec, who was helping Selina alight from the sledge.
He made the couple a short formal bow. “Welcome to
Schloss
Rosine—”
“Rosine?” Alec turned a frown on the General. “This is the Countess Rosine’s home?”
Müller watched Alec carefully, a glance at Selina. “Yes, Lord Halsey. It is. Her ancestral home, and the boyhood home of Prince Viktor, and the home of—my wife.”
Alec’s frown deepened, finding the General’s sentence ambiguous. He could not help asking, “Your wife?” Adding, because he didn’t want to appear rude or completely dim-witted, “Then we are only about an hour’s ride from Castle Herzfeld?”
“Correct.”
“Why did we not travel due east from Aurich, rather than head north to Wittmund before turning south? Surely the road as well as the route is more direct that way?”
Müller was impressed with Alec’s knowledge of his country’s geography. “It is. But the largest force of Prince Ernst’s troops are occupying Friedeburg, believing His Highness and the rebel force are garrisoned at the palace until the winter thaw, which they are not. They are here.”
“Here? Prince Viktor and the majority of his troops are here, at
Schloss
Rosine?” Alec was surprised. But observing the number of soldiers and their preparations at the encampment beyond the stables, he knew General Müller was telling the truth.
“Yes. And with your help, we will take the castle and end this war before the winter truly sets in. Now you must both excuse me,” he said in German before turning to Selina with a bow and addressing her in fluent French.
“
Bienvenue au Château de Rosine, Mme Jamison-Lewis
. I hope you were able to have a pleasant journey. At least by sledge it was uneventful. This collection of buildings you see behind us is not only the unofficial headquarters of the army, but of Prince Viktor’s court. As such, there are comfortable quarters for the various court officials, foreign dignitaries, and nobles and their families loyal to our cause. Thus I am certain you will find the accommodation acceptable, and the company congenial. Most of the nobles do speak French. And I hope that while you are with us, you will think of yourself as an honored guest of His Highness Prince Viktor, and of my wife, his mother, the Comtesse Rosine. Please excuse me if I now leave you in some haste. I have not seen my wife or stepson in months.”
Alec and Selina silently watched the General make his bow, turn and stride off toward the castle, and such was their shock to discover this soldier was none other than the husband of Alec’s former lover of all those years ago, the Countess Rosine, morganatic wife and widow of Margrave Leopold, that were a feather to hand and they poked with it, the couple would have been knocked off their feet.
And that was the least surprising revelation awaiting them within the
Schloss
Rosine.
M
ID
-
MORNING
THE
FOLLOWING
DAY
, a carriage took Alec and Selina the short distance to the castle, even though it was a few minutes’ walk across the bridge. Another carriage followed, sent to take up their personal servants, what luggage they had been permitted to bring with them from Aurich, and the specially-crated mechanical gaming table.
Passing two sentries at the main entrance, and ushered inside by a court official in livery, they were met in the sparse entrance vestibule by an earnest young nobleman of middling height with a wide jaw and a mustache so luxuriantly bushy Selina could not help staring at his hairy upper lip, expecting it to spring to life and scurry away. She was so awe-struck she was deaf to his welcoming speech, first made in French for her benefit. He told the couple that on the orders of the Countess Rosine, they had been assigned an apartment within the chateau, adding as a confidential aside that this had taken some administrative juggling because the castle’s accommodations were full to overflowing now that the Rebel Court had taken up residence.
Hadrian Jeffries, Janet Evans, and the luggage were then sent off with a hovering liveried servant, and the Court Chamberlain turned on a polished heel and asked Alec and Selina to follow him. The Court and the Countess were awaiting them in the Mars Reception Gallery on the first floor.
Selina heard only one word in five, such was her preoccupation with the young nobleman’s mustache, and she quickly unfurled her fan and fluttered it close to her face to hide a spreading smile. The bushy mustache provided some light relief after the traumatic events of the previous few days. That is, until she latched on to the Court Chamberlain’s announcement they were about to be presented to a room full of courtiers, chief among these the Countess Rosine.
The prospect of coming face-to-face with Alec’s lover from his days at Friedeburg Palace set her heart racing. She had never met one of his lovers, nor wanted to. While married to George Jamison-Lewis she had heard whisperings of Alec’s exploits abroad, for he was quite notorious. But what happened at Continental courts was a world away from English Society and her world. Never in her wildest imaginings had she conjured up this scenario: Here she was on the Continent, at a foreign court, and about to make her curtsey to her betrothed’s ex-lover. She did not know whether to weep or laugh, and thus she chose the latter.
“Do you think all the men at this court are wearing a stoat under their noses?” she teasingly asked Alec, picking up a handful of her velvet and silk quilted petticoats, as soon as the Court Chamberlain turned on a heel and had the couple follow him up the flight of stairs.
“Regrettably, yes!” was Alec’s clipped response, keeping his gaze on the earnest young nobleman’s back.
“Are you now growing one, too?” she taunted, though she knew well enough he’d again been refused his razors, and thus his valet had not been able to shave him. His cheeks and chin were decidedly unshaven and had the beginnings of a beard. She supposed if she’d been refused her tortoiseshell hair brushes and Evans’ assistance to arrange her curls, she’d be ill-tempered, too. But she also knew he, like she, must be apprehensive at this audience with the Countess Rosine. Good, she thought. So he should be. So she goaded him further. “I would like to kiss a man with a mustache, just once. To see what it feels like. I’m sure it must tickle, and I will squirm and giggle. Will you oblige me?”
“No! But any number of young men here would be only too willing!”
When there was a long silence, Alec halted on the top step, turned and stared down at her, barely aware of his trite response to her playful banter. His thoughts had been preoccupied with wondering how they would be received, not only by Prince Viktor, but more importantly by the Countess Rosine. When, on the trekschuit, he had confessed his sordid past to Selina, she had declared that if not for his affair with Prince Viktor’s mother, the civil war may never have happened; there was more than a grain of truth in that, and it niggled. So, did the Countess blame him for what had happened to her and her son in the aftermath of their affair? Was she out for revenge, as was Prince Ernst? Would mother and son help or hinder his quest to rescue Cosmo and Emily? But most of all he wanted to protect Selina from any unpleasantness which might arise from this reunion and, frustratingly, knew he could not. Hence his uncharacteristic irritability.
His unblinking stare made Selina say with a sigh of regret, “Ah, my love, I wish you’d said yes…”
Alec saw the playful light in her dark eyes fade, as did her smile, when she dropped her gaze to the closed sticks of her fan, and knew his unfeeling remark had wounded her. So instead of following the Court Chamberlain across the passageway to a set of double doors where two soldiers in immaculate ceremonial uniforms stood as sentries, he pulled her into an alcove, and into his arms.
“Forgive me,” he said, kissing her forehead. “My apprehension is unwarranted. I know that whatever happens in that room, we will always have each other. No one and nothing means more to me than you. It has always been thus since your eighteenth birthday. You must know that, surely?”
She nodded and smiled up at him. “And what happened in your past, will remain there, if you let it. It is how you conduct your life today, and in the future that matters to me—should matter
to us
. So if we enter that room with that in mind, I know you will be able to deal with and overcome whatever these people demand of you… Agreed?”
He kissed her gently on the mouth. “Agreed…” Then stepped back and playfully pinched her chin with a smile. “But I draw the line at growing a mustache. That I won’t agree to!” He took hold of her gloved hand, and as he led her out of the alcove he gave it a little squeeze. “My nose is long enough without drawing further attention to it!”
“Oh, but I like your boney nose very much,” she responded and laughed when he huffed.
But her smile was instantly swallowed up looking past him to the double doors, which had been thrown open. Bright light, the low hum of conversation and warmth, beckoned.
E
NTERING
THE
M
ARS
Reception Gallery, they were instantly enveloped in a curtain of warm air. A large blue-and-white ceramic tiled heater in a far corner was responsible for the summer’s day temperature, and explained why those in attendance were able to wear their best silk gowns and spangled frock coats without the need for heavy velvets, furs, cloaks and muffs. The four chandeliers, and the floor-to-ceiling mirrors along one wall which reflected the candlelight and the light from the windows opposite helped to banish winter from this audience chamber.
There were at least a hundred people in attendance. All were positioned at the French windows with their view out across the partially-frozen lake to the military encampment, observing the soldiers of Prince Viktor’s rebel army being drilled on a parade ground that was covered in the crunch and crackle of thick frost.
At first glance, these courtiers were no different to those ladies and gentlemen Alec had seen time and again at the various courts across Europe. Always dressed to impress in their best silks, pomaded wigs, heeled shoes, and enveloped in a heady scent, flirtation and intrigue occupied their day. There was lots of teasing, laughing, and witty observations made, about the weather, a matron’s outfit here, a gentleman’s paunch over there, and the boredom of being at court, when it was anything but tedious. And always with an undercurrent of cynicism, and need—of wanting to be noticed, and greed—of expecting to benefit from the effort. Such was court life.