But then the Englishman had escaped them, and while he blamed Joanna, Joanna blamed him. So he was reluctant to want to share him, now he was back. He did not even want his sister to know Alec Halsey had returned. He wanted to keep it a secret from her for as long as possible. But he knew that for wishful thinking. His sister had an overwhelming desire to have her revenge on the Englishman for abandoning them. Even after all these years, and when she was at her lowest, when she railed against their father and him for keeping her locked away when he had promised upon their father’s death to set her free, it was Alec Halsey she blamed for her past and present ills. If he had stayed. If he had been a proper husband. If he had loved her as she loved him. If Ernst was more a man and less a milksop. If she had been a firstborn son and not a daughter, she and not Ernst would be ruler of Midanich. If only she weren’t consigned to living in the shadows. If only she could show herself to him, here in this room, now. If. If. If. If.
If
…
“W
HAT
ARE
YOU
doing here?” Joanna spat up at Alec. “I wish you’d never come back! I wish you’d drowned! Died of exposure. Been stabbed, mutilated—anything but be here now!”
“Ah! There you are,” Alec murmured with satisfaction. “It is good to see you, too, Highness. And to know you missed me so
very
much.”
“Missed you?
Missed you
? I’ve not given you a thought since the day you left!”
“Come now. You can do better than that,” Alec chided playfully, holding her hand and circling her slowly, moving them closer to the lattice screen, positioning them both so that those who watched on saw and heard every word. “Truth told, you’ve thought of little else but me. Weaving your web and waiting in the shadows; waiting the opportunity to strike back. Poor Cosmo. He had no idea what he’d walked into coming here.”
“More fool
he
. If he was ignorant of the pain you caused us, that’s your fault. His suffering is
all
your fault.”
“Yes,” Alec said sadly, and drew her closer.
His words and his touch cooled her anger and she willingly closed the gap between them. Her gaze searched his face, mouth quivering in anticipation that he would kiss her, he must, but her words belied her thoughts and her actions.
“I so
hate
you.”
“Yes, you must,” he murmured caressingly, dipping his head, moving his mouth close to hers. “You are a monster and a vile wretch, and yet for all that you have suffered in your own way, and for that I am sorry. I am here to end your suffering. Do you understand me, Highness?”
“Call me Joanna,” she pleaded, finally putting her arms up about his neck and pressing herself against him. “It’s Joanna. It’s
always
been Joanna.”
His mouth hovered so teasingly close she felt his breath on her lips. Her nostrils quivered, drinking in the peppery scent of him, and all she wanted, desperately wanted, was to take him in her mouth.
“Then,
Joanna
, do with me as you please… That is what you want, isn’t it?” When she nodded mutely, gaze riveted to his, he smiled. “Then I am yours to command…”
Unable to resist a moment longer, she pulled him down and put her mouth to his.
He closed his eyes, let his mind go blank, and accepted the inevitable. Where there was no choice, there was contentment. It had to be this way—to set Cosmo free, to set himself free of the past, to give Ernst peace and free him of the monster who ruled him, and through him, Midanich. Thus he allowed himself to succumb to the fantasy, to be caught up in the moment, to make this kiss every bit as passionate and all consuming as if they were truly lovers. Joanna had to believe it, and she did.
She melted against him, the kiss everything she had dreamed it would be, as it had been ten years ago, when she had gone to Alec’s room, seduced him, forced herself on him, and made Ernst part of it all. And for abandoning her she had been intent on punishing him and anyone he cared for. But now, with this kiss, all the fight, all the hate, all the torment, and all the artifice, drained away.
“A-
A
WOMAN
?
Gott im Himmel
! A
woman
!”
It was Captain Westover, and the words hissed from him watching the couple exchange a passionate kiss. He staggered back from the lattice screen, disbelieving, breath ragged, as if he’d been winded. He was confused; livid; betrayed. And he was having none of it. He hadn’t spent the past five years as Captain of the Household Guard, protecting Margrave Leopold and the Herzfeld royal family to be duped by a female—no matter how noble her lineage, and she Leopold’s daughter. She wasn’t entitled to rule. It was forbidden. And it was against nature for a woman to parade about society, rule a country, dressed and acting like a man! Ordering men about as if she were one of them. How could he have been so blind? Why hadn’t he worked it out for himself!? He stared at Haderslev and Müller, wild-eyed and shaking.
The General took him by the upper arm and pushed him further down the gallery so as not to be overhead by the couple. His voice was not much above a whisper and his words were rasped out, laced with shock at what he, too, had just witnessed. Never in all his days would he have thought to see the creature manifest in the blaze of candlelight before his eyes. He was all admiration for Alec Halsey’s skill in teasing the monster from her shadowy lair.
“Now you’ve seen it with your own eyes, Westover, and heard what was said, you surely understand now why Prince Ernst is unfit to continue as Margrave.”
Understand
? Westover understood all right! He now understood why Ernst was unable to grow facial hair; why beards and mustaches had been outlawed. It had nothing to do with an
unspoken truth
but because as a woman this so-called Ernst was incapable of growing facial hair in the first place! No wonder he had a pretty nose, large blue eyes, and wore long blond wigs tied up with ribbons. He even tittered and gossiped like a woman, too. He now understood why
Ernst
surrounded himself with a cadre of fops and whey-faced fools, all so that he—
she
—did not appear so emasculated. That explained why he’d never married, never once looked twice at a female, even when they practically threw themselves at him, all for the chance to become Margravina. He now understood why Leopold on his deathbed had bemoaned that if his line were to continue on after him, it would be through Prince Viktor, the son born to a commoner.
And there was only one explanation for what he had just witnessed. Westover addressed Baron Haderslev, who had followed the General and Captain further into the gallery.
“She’s insane, yes?”
The Baron nodded and sniffed. There were tears in his eyes. He could not bring himself to speak.
Westover whipped out his sword, the blade quivering in his shaking hand. “Good. I know what to do now.”
“Wait! Stop!” Haderslev pleaded, and would have gone after him, but was restrained by General Müller who used his own sword to keep the Baron inert.
“Let him be, Baron,” the General purred. “Let him do what should’ve been done a long time ago.”
“He’s going to kill him,” whimpered the Baron.
General Müller smiled crookedly.
“I heartily hope so. It will save me the trouble.”
I
T
WAS
OVER
before Alec knew what had happened.
Joanna moaned, went limp, and slumped against his chest. He caught her to him before she slipped out of his arms to the floor, and cradled her, unaware she had been fatally stabbed in the back, and through the heart.
But he knew something was terribly wrong when she did not respond to his voice, or touch. Her head rolled back, eyelids fluttering, and the blond wig slipped to one side. It was then he saw the large spreading stain, and the blood to the front of the saffron waistcoat, and knew she was dead.
He looked up, coming out of the mental fog that had enveloped him since the Princess Joanna had shown herself, and saw Captain Westover, face flushed with fury, bloodied sword in hand. The soldier wiped the blade clean between his gloved fingers and contemptuously flicked the blood off, and it sprayed across the floor. But he did not sheathe his sword. He stared at Alec with sneering contempt and took a step towards him.
Alec wondered if he was to be Westover’s next victim. He was still dazed by what he had just put himself through to open wide Westover’s eyes to the truth. He had expected the Captain to react, but not with murderous intent. And then Westover spoke, and Alec realized the soldier, despite what he had just witnessed and the conversation he had overheard, was still none the wiser to the larger truth. But that really should not have surprised him. For even with the facts laid bare, it was surely beyond the comprehension of most to appreciate precisely the nature and shape of the monster they were dealing with.
After placing the dead Margrave gently on the floor, Alec calmly faced Westover, a glance over at the gallery when Baron Haderslev and General Müller emerged. The Court Chamberlain scurried across and dropped to his knees beside the Margrave’s body and let out such a wail that it set the hairs up on the back of Alec’s neck. The old man was prostrate with grief, and threw himself across the body and sobbed.
“Not like this. Never like this,” the Court Chamberlain cried, sitting up on his knees.
He set to adjusting the Margrave’s blond wig so that it better framed his delicate face, then straightened out the frock coat, smoothing the creases, as if it mattered. He then took the Margrave’s arms and carefully placed them across his chest, so his dead master appeared merely at rest. And all the while he cried and muttered to himself. Finally, he kissed the Margrave’s forehead before sitting back on his haunches with head bowed to pray.
It was harrowing to watch his ministrations and Westover was in no mood to witness such fawning grief. He ordered the Baron to get up off his knees and join Alec and General Müller. But when Haderslev swayed and his stockinged knee slipped out from under him, Alec went forward and helped him up.
Through his tears, the Baron looked up at Alec who was supporting him by the arm. “Ernst was a good, sweet boy who never meant anyone harm, but—”
“—he was weak, and infected with his mad sister’s evil,” Müller interrupted, unsympathetic. “Joanna was a she-devil. She killed her father and was slowly killing her brother.”
“Baron, you know better than anyone, that Ernst was dominated and tormented by his sister almost from the cradle,” Alec said. “Even in death she never left him. Now, at least, with his own demise, he can finally be free of her, and at peace.”
Haderslev nodded. “Yes. Yes. Finally. Ironic is it not that it took death to separate them…”
Alec raised an eyebrow. “Ironic? Herr Baron, believe me, that is the least ironic detail about this tragic state of affairs.”
Westover waved his sword menacingly.
“Get over here! I want answers before I have you all locked up!”
“Westover, your Margrave is dead,” Müller stated calmly. “And you killed him. The only person who is to be locked up is you, if you don’t come to your senses and realize what is happening around you!”
“Müller, where is Sir Cosmo? Is he safe?” Alec interrupted, a glance over at the gallery.
“He’s behind the screen being protected by a brute of guard. Have no fear. He is safe.”
“I must go to him—” Alec began and was stopped when Westover’s rapier poked the folds of his cravat.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Westover stated.
“There are three men behind that screen, and at least two of them require assistance—”
“No one is to move until I have answers,” Westover growled, pacing before the three men, wild-eyed and wondering at his next move. “One shout from me and this chamber will be filled with my guards.” He pointed his rapier at the corpse and addressed them all. “How long have you known about her, eh?”
“There is no
her
, Westover,” Müller answered with an impatient sigh when Alec and Haderslev remained silent. “That is the body of Prince Ernst, Margrave of Midanich. And you killed him.”
“Killed
him
?! That’s a woman!” Westover pointed his rapier at Alec but addressed General Müller. “The way she looked at him—kissed him—spoke to him—What do you take me for? He’d not kiss a man like that, even with a musket barrel to his head! Ha! You think me completely without wits? I know what’s going on here. That isn’t Prince Ernst, but his mad sister Joanna parading about as our Margrave!”
“How perceptive of you, Captain,” Alec replied calmly, though he could not keep the heat out of his face when he said, “I did indeed share a passionate moment with the Princess Joanna. She has always harbored an irrational affection for me. We had hoped that if I could
entice
her out of the shadows your eyes would be opened to the precise nature of the—er—
relationship
between Prince Ernst and his sister.”
“Relationship? I don’t care about that! All that matters is that dead body does not belong to Prince Ernst. It is a woman dressed as a man. And I did not take an oath to serve and protect a mad woman! Tell me what’s she’s done with her brother, or what you’ve done with him, or so help me, I will have you all tortured until you do!”
“But, Herr Captain, I assure you, that is the body of Prince Ernst,” Baron Haderslev replied sadly. “The Princess Joanna died when she was fifteen and is buried in the family crypt in the casements. She was mad almost from her cradle, though it took many years for Margrave Leopold and her women to realize just how mad. It was when she became a woman that it truly manifested itself in the most base ways. She became a whore, allowing her guards, her servants, any man who took her fancy, to mount her. She even tried to seduce her own father. Monster! And she used her whore’s ways to seduce and control Ernst. Disgusting foul creature! It was a godsend when she contracted measles and died at fifteen.”
“Ballocks! Everyone from the pot scrubber to you as Court Chamberlain, Haderslev, knows the Princess Joanna was a prisoner, and very much alive! She has guards, she has servants, and her father and her brother made regular visits to her chambers. What I don’t know, and what you are going to tell me, is when the switch was made, when His Highness died, or when he was killed, and you allowed her to take his place!”