Behind the Mask (88 page)

“But I don’t want to dance with anyone but—”

“Georg,” he interrupted, nodding over her shoulder.

Abbi turned to see Georg and Elsa standing at the edge of the square, beaming with happiness. She squeezed Cameron’s hand and left to approach her friends. First she hugged Elsa, noting the tears in her eyes. Abbi knew well how she felt. Then she hugged Georg before she offered her hand. He took it and escorted her to the center of the square.

Cameron scanned the crowd and quickly found Magda and Lena. “My dear, sweet sisters,” he said, embracing them both at once. He took Magda’s hand, winking at Lena as he said, “You’re next.”

“How are you?” Magda asked as they walked to the center of the square.

“I’m the happiest man alive,” he said. “And what about you, my dear little childhood friend? Do you have any idea what it means to be with you again?”

“Yes, I believe I do,” she said with laughter.

“Abbi,” Cameron said and her eyes widened to see who he was with, “I believe you’ve met my baby sister.”

Abbi only laughed as she exchanged a firm embrace with Magda before the music began.

“I can’t believe it!” Abbi said to Magda while the men were taking their bows.

“We have a great deal to catch up on,” Magda said.

Abbi looked up as she stepped forward to curtsy, noticing how Cameron and Georg were talking and laughing. When Georg pushed his arm around Abbi to turn her, he said, “You appear to be holding up well.”

“For the moment,” she said. “I can’t believe you managed to keep all of this from me.”

“I have trouble believing it myself.” Georg chuckled. Then his voice became serious. “But whatever might come up in the future, Cameron will never wonder over your trust.” He smiled tenderly. “No woman has ever exhibited such perfect trust.” A moment later he said, “You are magnificent, Abbi.”

“Am I? I feel more terrified.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. You have everything you need already in your heart. Remember that.”

Abbi sighed, wondering what she would ever do without Georg. “Stay by me, always,” she pleaded. “I need you.”

“I will forever be there. I promise.”

When that set ended and it became evident that Cameron would be dancing with Lena, Abbi whispered to Georg, “What do I do now?”

“Just one more set.”

“But . . . who?” She glanced around, not wanting to do something inappropriate for a duchess.

“See the man in uniform . . . leaning against the lamppost.”

“Yes,” she said, realizing he meant the lieutenant who had already crossed her path a number of times today.

“Lieutenant Joerger. He’s worked very hard for your husband these past weeks. I’d say he’s earned a dance with the duchess. He’ll brag about it for weeks.”

Abbi chuckled tensely and offered her hand to the lieutenant. He looked surprised and momentarily flustered, but he proved to be a competent dancer. She noticed again the bruises on his face, and wondered what this man had suffered on her husband’s behalf. Looking at it that way, a dance seemed insufficient gratitude. When the set ended, he bowed graciously, saying, “A pleasure and an honor, Your Grace. Thank you.”

As he walked away, Abbi was relieved to hear Cameron announce loudly that he would be taking his bride home. Blaze appeared, led by an officer of the Guard, and Cameron helped her mount. She relaxed some when she felt Cameron behind her in the saddle, his arm securely around her. Once they were past the crowds with a portion of their military escort hovering on all sides, Cameron broke into a smooth gallop and Abbi caught her breath as they ascended the castle hill. Her heart took an unexpected leap as Cameron heeled the horse through the high castle gate and into the courtyard. The clattering hooves of the accompanying cavalry echoed off the walls of the fortress surrounding them.
Home
he had called it. In spite of her visit here this morning, the idea was too incredible to accept. A livery servant stepped forward to take the horse the moment they appeared. Cameron helped Abbi dismount and then picked her up in his arms.

“What are you doing?” she laughed, well aware that they were being closely followed by six men in uniform.

“I’m carrying my bride over the threshold—for good luck. Welcome home,” Cameron added, setting her down in the enormous entry hall. Abbi noted the two staircases moving up in opposite directions and recalled the social she had attended here. She wondered what she would have felt then if she could have foreseen this day.

An enormous amount of servants were gathered in dress uniform, apparently aware that the duke was bringing home his bride. But of course they would have known; the festivities were to be held here. Abbi wondered if Marta had been planning it this way all along. No doubt. There were also more officers waiting on both sides of the door.

Cameron addressed the servants with ease. “This is Abbi du Woernig, the new mistress of Castle Horstberg.”
Abbi du Woernig
. She still couldn’t believe it. She thought of how long her name had legally been Abbi du Woernig, and she’d had no idea. The servants all bowed and he went on, “You will heed her word as you would mine. There is much to do. Our guests will be arriving soon. You are dismissed. And thank you.”

Abbi sensed these people were not accustomed to being treated with civility. She could well imagine how Nikolaus must have treated them. She wondered for a moment if Nikolaus had returned, but surely great precautions had been taken to see that he had no access to Cameron. The officers surrounding them were a good indication of that.

A manservant approached Cameron and whispered something in his ear. “I’ll be right there, Franz,” he said, then he turned to a young maid lingering nearby. “Berta, please show Her Grace to my rooms where she can freshen up and rest. I’ll not be long,” he added to Abbi, then he quickly ascended the staircase to the right, three officers in front of him, and three on his heels. Were such precautions necessary right here within the castle? She watched him until he disappeared, unsettled to be separated from him at all.

“Your Grace?” the young maid curtsied. It took Abbi a moment to realize she was being addressed.

“Yes, Berta,” Abbi replied and the girl looked pleased to be called by name.

“You will come with me, please.”

“Of course.”

Abbi followed her down a long hall, unnerved by the four officers who followed. They went up a different staircase while Berta spoke comfortably. “You must pardon the condition of His Grace’s rooms. He requested we leave it be as there was much to be done for the wedding festivities.”

“I understand,” Abbi replied, her mind still stuck on the title
Your Grace
being connected to herself.

At the top of the stairs, Berta opened a door which the officers flanked as if they intended to remain there indefinitely. Abbi followed Berta into an enormous room, at least twice the size of the common room in the mountain lodge, with a massive canopied bed and elaborate furnishings. It was far grander than any of the other bedrooms Abbi had seen in the castle, and more tasteful than Nikolaus’s room had been. She thought back to her evening here with Nikolaus, and the ironies chilled her.

“I believe you’ll find what you need to freshen up,” Berta said. “If there’s something else you want, just ring.”

“Thank you, Berta,” Abbi said and the girl left.

Alone at last, Abbi was overcome by a torrent of emotions. Earlier she had only wanted to be alone and cry, and now the tears refused to come. Instead they tightened her chest and stung her throat as she took in her surroundings. She noticed one of the trunks that had been on the landing in Cameron’s mountain lodge, the one where she had found his uniform. It was evident now that beneath the uniform had been the ducal robe, the medals and adornments that had been added, and the crowns they now wore. She contemplated how upset Cameron had been when she’d found the uniform, yet even then she had assumed the very least possibility. How would she have felt if she’d dug deeper? How would he have responded? In spite of the ironies, the reality of Cameron’s position made it evident just how valid his concerns had been. He wasn’t just an ordinary man with precarious knowledge. He was a du Woernig. And his brother was still at large. The thought provoked a cold chill and she pushed it away.

Abbi glanced at her reflection in the mirror and felt as though another woman were looking back at her.
She
was a du Woernig. She touched the crown on her head as if it might burn her. Her hands slid down over her face, as if she almost expected it to feel differently. The changes were overwhelming, even frightening. Her emotions vacillated between euphoria and panic, and a part of her wanted to just sit down and cry like a baby, but she reminded herself that she was a duchess now. Guests would be arriving, and she had to be presentable. Cameron had achieved his quest and she had to be supportive. There would be plenty of time to deal with her emotions later.

Abbi turned her attention from the mirror, if only to distract her thoughts. The room was indeed disorderly, and she could easily imagine Cameron taking over the castle and frantically making preparations to see that all was secure in order to get to the wedding. The clothes he’d worn when he’d come to her room last night were thrown on the bed along with his crossbow, and his boots were nearby on the floor. Abbi felt nostalgic to see the shavings of his beard in a basin on the bureau, along with hair that had been trimmed from his head. She touched the loose hair tenderly and then prompted herself to get freshened up before he returned. She was smoothing her hair the best she could with the veil in place when Cameron came through the door and closed it behind him. Seeing him as the duke took her breath away all over again, but with the way he stared at her, she had to believe he was feeling the same way.

“You look so beautiful,” he said. “I’ve imagined you this way for so long, and . . . now I hardly know what to do . . . what to say.”

Abbi could only smile, feeling much the same. Except she had to admit, “I
never
imagined you this way.”

“I warned you about becoming involved with me,” he said facetiously, but with something grim in his eyes. Before she could comment, he added, “Forgive me for being so long. Our guests have arrived and they’re waiting.”

Abbi took a deep breath and held out her hand. “I’m ready,” she said, sensing a distinct tension between them.

Cameron took hold of it and placed a gentle kiss there. “Are you all right, my love?” he asked, vulnerability showing in his eyes.

“Yes,” she replied, squeezing his hand with reassurance. “I’m just feeling . . . overcome. We need to talk.”

“I know, and we will. But it will have to wait.”

Abbi smiled again to try and let him know it was all right, but he still seemed tense.

“And what of you?” she asked. “You seem distressed.”

“So much has changed,” he whispered. “I need to know that you feel the same for me.”

“Cameron . . . my love.” She pressed her hand against his face and whispered with conviction, “I love you.” He turned his lips to kiss her palm as he closed his eyes and sighed. “I love you,” she repeated, “and I always will.”

“Come,” he smiled, more relaxed, “we’ll talk later.”

When he opened the door, several officers waiting in the hall came to attention immediately, startling Abbi. “At ease, gentlemen,” Cameron said and walked past them, keeping hold of Abbi’s arm.

They followed at a comfortable distance that at least made her feel that she could talk with her husband and not be overheard. “Please don’t tell me that men in uniform are going to shadow my every step for the rest of my life.”

Cameron smiled. “Of course not. This is a temporary precaution until after the trial. And until Nikolaus knows where he stands.”

Abbi didn’t want to talk about that, but the conversation ended when they came to the head of a staircase which descended into a huge room that had been set up for an elaborate feast. Many people were standing about chatting, and Abbi recalled watching Nikolaus descend this very staircase with his sisters.
Cameron’s
sisters, she reminded herself. She felt a fresh quiver at the thought of Cameron and Nikolaus being brothers.

The officers flanked the top of the staircase and they all seemed to be waiting for something. While she and Cameron hovered in the hallway where they couldn’t be seen, she took the opportunity to say, “I know this is probably a stupid question, and I think you already said as much, but . . . are you older than Nikolaus or—”

“Quite,” he said with a firm edge to his voice. She let that settle in. Cameron was the firstborn son, the rightful heir.

“Here’s another stupid question. Were you—”

“If you want to understand something, Abbi, it’s not a stupid question.”

“All right. Were you actually serving in this position when you . . . were arrested?”

“Yes,” he drawled.

“Gwendolyn was . . .”

“The duchess, yes.” He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes, not seeming the least bit impatient. “Is there anything else you want to know?”

Abbi smiled weakly. “It’s nice to be able to ask you any question and know you’ll answer it, but . . . I can’t think of anything else at the moment.”

Cameron kissed her meekly. “I love you, Abbi girl.” He took her hand and set it over the top of his, as he had done earlier.

“I’m nervous,” she admitted as they moved to the top of the stairway.

“Just be yourself. This is your wedding celebration, not some royal forum.”

Abbi wondered what they were waiting for. Then the music stopped and all conversation ceased as every eye turned toward them. “May I present,” Cameron called, “my wife, the Duchess of Horstberg.”

Amidst cheers and applause, Abbi descended on Cameron’s arm. She was grateful when he escorted her directly to one of the many huge tables that were set up around the perimeter of the room. She was hungry and not much in the mood to socialize. Once she and Cameron were seated, everyone followed suit. Abbi had never seen such an elaborate feast, and she wondered how Marta had pulled it off since the castle servants couldn’t have been informed until yesterday.