A Scandalous Adventure (25 page)

Of Princess Mila, there was no mention. She had ceased to exist. Privately, however, Conrad intended to send her a handsome wedding present when she and Lieutenant Bauer reached their destination, wherever it turned out to be.

A royal wedding was not something that could be arranged in a matter of days. Or even weeks. The guest list had to include royalty and statesmen from around the globe, all of whom had to be placed in accommodations suitable to their status and not in excessive proximity to ancient enemies.

Banquets had to be planned to welcome the visitors. Butchers and bakers and candlestick makers began to plan ways to expand their businesses.

Activities were needed to entertain the guests during their stay. There would be balls and concerts and plays. That meant that in addition to the wedding guests, Nymburg would be hosting all the musicians and actors and performers. Extensions to hotels were planned, and householders considered how much they could charge for the use of a spare bedroom.

As far as Max was concerned, the greatest difficulty during those weeks was his attempt to convince Conrad that a prince needed a council of advisors, not a single man. Especially not if that man was Max, who felt utterly unqualified for the task of steering the ship of state, and who wanted nothing more than to take his wife home to Ostrov.

Conrad sat behind the desk in his private office and scowled at Max. “I am not asking you to do anything that Count Herzlos did not do. He had no council. He decided everything.”

“He had been doing it for decades when he became regent for you.” Max strode around the room in exasperation. “He had learned from your grandfather.”

“Yes, he learned from my grandfather. And that is why nothing was allowed to change.” Conrad's angry scowl remained. “He kept everything in his own hands. And that is why I know nothing.”

Max had no answer for that. It was perfectly true.

“That's why I need you. I can trust you, and you will tell me the truth.”

“Sire, I will always serve you to the best of my ability. And never again will I conceal the truth from you. But you need advisors who know things—things I know nothing of.” Max ran a hand through his hair in a thoroughly undignified gesture. “For example, I know we need more railways, yes. But—”

Conrad interrupted him, nodding impatiently. “We do. We need them badly if we are not to become a neglected backwater. But Count Herzlos disliked them, so they were never even considered. You see the need and tell me about it. That is what I mean.”

“But that is not enough! I can see that we need them—I have heard enough complaints from merchants, to say nothing of my wife's parents. But I do not know where it would be best to have them. Should they run to the mines? To the cities? Should they connect us to Berlin? To Vienna? And how should we pay for them? Should the state own them?”

“These are details.” Conrad waved his hand dismissively. “Any clerk can find the information for you.”

“Yes but…” Max shook his head in exasperation, and an idea came into it. “We could consult Susannah's father.”

“The marquess?”

“Yes.” Max seized on the idea. “He has been involved in the government of Britain, but he has no interest in Sigmaringen. He can use his experience, but he can also be neutral.”

It took a bit of persuading, but eventually Conrad agreed, and Max laid his problem before his father-in-law. Then he had to persuade his father-in-law to help.

That was not as easy as it might sound. Susannah's parents were still distrustful. Max had hoped his request for Lord Penworth's assistance would flatter them, at least a little, and lead them to look more kindly on their daughter's husband. What he got was a pair of icy glares. The sympathy the marquess had shown in his efforts on behalf of Lady Olivia did not seem to extend to Max.

“I realize Sigmaringen is not like other countries, but is it not your duty to serve your ruler in whatever capacity he asks?” There was more disdain than sympathy in Lord Penworth's tone.

Max could swallow the sneer at himself. The sneer at Sigmaringen was almost impossible to swallow. He reminded himself that he needed to conciliate his father-in-law, and beating the older man to a pulp would not accomplish this. Max did not, however, keep the stiffness out of his voice when he replied. “I would think it my duty to give my ruler the best advice I can, and that advice is that my loyalty and friendship are not enough. He needs the counsel of men more knowledgeable and experienced than I am.”

Lord Penworth stared at him impassively. Max had never known a man so adept at concealing his emotions. Still, Max saw—or hoped he saw—a slight glint of approval in his father-in-law's eyes.

“Very well. You are meeting with Prince Conrad again tomorrow at two? I will join you then.”

Max bowed with meticulous courtesy, turned, and left the room with two pairs of eyes boring holes in his back. He then sought out his wife and spent a few restorative hours in her arms.

In Conrad's private office the next day, Max spoke for what seemed like hours, trying to explain all the areas in which he lacked knowledge or experience.

Conrad kept dismissing Max's concerns, saying, “What I need is someone I can trust, someone who will tell me the truth. You are the only man I know who will do that.”

Finally, Lord Penworth spoke up. “If I may make a few comments, Your Highness.” He smiled courteously, almost diffidently. Max found it hard to believe that this was the same rigidly correct man he had spoken to the day before.

“I can understand your need for a confidant,” Penworth said, “but this does not have to be someone holding an official position. In many ways it might be beneficial to keep Count von Staufer in a private capacity.”

“Why?” asked Conrad bluntly.

“I gather that those who saw Count Herzlos before his departure had no difficulty believing that he had resigned for reasons of ill health. However, he was well known, not only in your country but throughout the region, and experienced. If his replacement is an inexperienced young man, your neighbors may view Sigmaringen as vulnerable.”

Conrad bristled. “Our army is more than able to defend Sigmaringen.”

“But it is always best to avoid the need for its use. And besides…” Penworth hesitated. “I do not know how much you are aware of the ambitions of Prussia.”

Conrad snorted. “Max is always warning me that Bismarck and Prussia want to swallow us whole.”

“Is he?” Penworth shot a quick glance at his son-in-law. “Well, I think he is right. And if it isn't Prussia, it is likely to be Austria. There is this business with Schleswig and Holstein distracting them at the moment, but sooner or later, they are likely to clash. You, all the small German states, are caught in between them. You must not look weak.”

“And you think that having Max as my chief minister would make Sigmaringen look weak?” Conrad looked incredulous.

“Frankly, yes. No one knows him—knows anything about him—outside your borders. You need to surround yourself with men of greater experience.”

Conrad snorted. “I know the men who worked with Herzlos. Age did not give them wisdom.”

“Perhaps not, but their gray hairs give at least the appearance of wisdom. You can ask them for advice, but you need not follow it. The fact that their names are known to your neighbors will be enough to provide reassurance.”

Conrad suddenly laughed. “Playacting! More playacting! Shall we begin another masquerade, Max? Is that what Lord Penworth recommends?”

Lord Penworth looked startled and then turned to Max with a slightly embarrassed smile. “I suppose that is what I am suggesting. So often what matters is the appearance of things.”

Max raised a shoulder in rueful acknowledgment. “And now we must learn what lies behind the reputations of others. Who are our friends and who are our enemies?”

“And whom can I trust?” A bitter smile twisted Conrad's lips. “Not any of the men who surrounded my uncle, but who else has any experience?”

“Don't be too hasty,” said Max. “Count Herzlos was no fool, and at least some of those who advised him are good men. Valuable men. Baron Helmundt, for example, knows a great deal about trade agreements and finance, and Schussman is a perceptive observer of the diplomatic scene.”

“Schussman?” Conrad blinked in surprise. “I thought he was a gambler.”

Max grinned. “And you would be wise not to play cards with him. But he can read the people in embassies as easily as he reads those around the card table.”

This time Conrad's laugh was more lighthearted as he turned to Penworth. “You see? This is why I want Max beside me. He notices things like this. He always has. People look at him and think that because he is so big, he must be dim-witted, and so they let things slip.”

“Yes,” said Penworth, regarding his son-in-law carefully. “Yes, I can see where that might happen.”

Max retreated to his rooms and his wife feeling somewhat relieved, but still frustrated. There was no way they were going to be able to retreat to Ostrov before the wedding, and no way they were going to be able to avoid the wedding preparations.

A week before the wedding, the sun had barely set when Susannah and Max tumbled into bed—their newly polished and mattressed and pillowed and bedecked bed in their newly painted and papered and draped chamber in their newly opened and extensively refurbished town house on the finest square in Nymburg. They lay there with their eyes closed, he with his arm around her, she with her head on his shoulder, too exhausted to move.

“Has it been difficult?” she asked as a good wife should.

“Today Conrad had an idea. He thought it would be good to go on procession around the country after the wedding. To introduce Olivia to his people.”

Her eyes popped open. “Goodness. How medieval.”

“That was his thought—to revive an old custom. I was obliged to remind him that the custom had fallen into disuse because few noblemen or towns could play host to the court without going bankrupt.”

She chuckled. “Not the sort of thing the prince would think of.”

“Apparently not.” Max sighed, but eventually the corner of his mouth tipped up in a smile. “Speaking of things one would not think of… You know Emil has been pressed into service at the palace?”

Susannah made a noise that could have passed for agreement.

“Well, he came across one of the servants the Russian archduke brought. The fellow was measuring the room that the Austrian archduke had been given to make sure it wasn't bigger than his master's.”

Susannah managed a small giggle. “Today I thought two of the bridesmaids—Lady Enid and Lady Bertha—were going resort to hair-pulling over the order of the procession. Each one was waving a genealogy giving her precedence over the other. Order was restored only after Aunt Magda decreed that they would be arranged in size places.”

“I wish she could order things at the palace as well. There is a clerk in the College of Heralds who has, I swear, become the most important man in the kingdom. He knows the order of precedence for everyone, down to the babes in arms. And he is the only one in the entire country—possibly the entire universe—who knows.”

“I am so glad we were married at Ostrov.”

“Even though I cheated you of the chance to have your family around you?” His hand had wandered up and was toying with the ribbon at the neck of her nightgown.

“They will be around me soon enough. They begin to arrive the day after tomorrow. You will not only meet them, but you will have to house them. All of them.” She was gently tangling her fingers in the hair on his chest.

“But they'll be diluted by the presence of my cousins.” He had turned his head and was nuzzling her temple. “Mmmm. Having you next to me here in this bed is having a remarkably reviving effect on me.”

Susannah smiled a smug, cat-like smile. She was feeling revived herself. “Are you sure?”

“Quite sure.” His voice was husky. And he proceeded to demonstrate.

* * *

Three days later, Susannah's family had arrived. When the ladies left the dinner table, Max found himself the focus of six pairs of eyes. They were not precisely unfriendly, but neither were they friendly. Distrust seemed to be the predominant emotion here. At least none of them had attempted to assault him so far. He was larger than any one of them, but there were six of them.

Three of them were Susannah's brothers. One of them was her brother-in-law and also Olivia's brother. Another was Olivia's brother-in-law. And the last one, a Frenchman who was also a brother-in-law of Susannah, seemed more amused than hostile.

“I know how you feel,” the Frenchman said. “I faced the same scrutiny when I married my Emily.”

“At least that was
before
the wedding,” growled the oldest of the brothers.

Max did not want to be on bad terms with Susannah's family. Dealing with her parents was tricky enough. In desperation he signaled the footman, who brought out glasses and a bottle of
obstwasser
.

“This is a kind of brandy we make here from apples and pears,” Max said. “I thought you might like to try it.”

Not long after the second bottle had been broached, it was agreed that Max was a very good fellow, even if he lived in this odd little country. Susannah could have done worse.

* * *

On the night before the wedding, Susannah and Julia, Olivia's sister, stayed with the bride. As foreigners, neither one could be part of the wedding ceremony. That honor was reserved for daughters of the most noble houses of Sigmaringen. But on this night, Olivia wanted to be with her dearest friend and the older sister who had protected her throughout her childhood, and they were all seated by the fireside.

The royal bride was looking panicked.

“You're not worried about the wedding night, are you?” asked Susannah. “Because I can assure you that there is nothing to be frightened about.”

“Unless…” Julia hesitated. “I don't know the prince very well. Is there something about him that worries you? Do you think he may be—how shall I put it—less than gentle?”

At that Olivia began to laugh softly. “Oh no. If you did know him, Julia, you would know that he is the sweetest, kindest man imaginable.”

“If you say so.” Julia continued to look doubtful.

Susannah suddenly realized what the problem was. “It's not Conrad. It's the prince!”

“But Conrad is the prince.” Julia looked at Susannah as if she were simpleminded.

“Yes, but…” Olivia looked at her sister as if asking for understanding. “Susannah's right. It's not that I don't want to marry Conrad. He's everything I ever dreamed of. But these last few months, all the preparations, all the people, all the protocol—that's what my life is going to be like. I will forever be on display in front of strangers, and I don't know if I can do it.”

“Olivia, think!” Julia said. “How much privacy have you ever had? You have lived all your life in front of servants. And if you do not give a thought to what you say or do in their presence, you should.”

“You can make time for yourselves,” Susannah said. “Yes, Conrad is a prince and you will be a princess, so much of your life will be lived in public, on display with everyone watching. But it is not so different for the rest of us. Julia's husband is in the foreign service. I'm sure that people are watching every move he makes, analyzing every expression that passes across his face.”

Olivia looked at her sister in concern. “Is it very dreadful?”

“Not at all. It's much better than facing the cats in London.” Julia grinned gleefully. “Now, you see, when the evening is over and I am at home with David, we send the servants away and I tell him everything I have overheard. It can be very helpful for him because I often hear women talking about what their husbands have told them.”

Olivia grinned back at her sister. “Then I will be able to help Conrad in the same way. I'll be useful to him.”

The conversation slowly turned to more important matters, shared memories and dreams, until all three women drifted off into untroubled sleep.

* * *

The day of the wedding, the second Saturday in June, dawned bright and clear, as was required for a royal wedding. The cathedral was bedecked in thousands of blossoms, the archbishop and the four attending bishops wore antique copes covered with splendid embroidery in gold and silver thread, and the choir sang the music that had been written for a royal wedding three hundred years before and sung at every royal wedding since then.

The bride wore a gown of cream-colored satin embroidered all over with pearls. The embroidery had been done by a dozen Sigmaringen needlewomen, and the designs were traditional Sigmaringen motifs.

When the prince and princess stepped out of the cathedral, the trumpet blares were drowned out by the cheers of the crowd. Those cheers accompanied them all the way to the palace as they rode slowly in the white landau pulled by six white horses. The joy of the crowd almost equaled the joy on the faces of Prince Conrad and Princess Olivia.

There was a wedding banquet in the palace, of course, attended by visiting royalty, statesmen, and diplomats as well as all the nobility of Sigmaringen, followed by a ball. Down in the town, there were more banquets and dancing for all the citizens of Sigmaringen, from the richest to the poorest.

No one went hungry that day, and there was music everywhere.