Stephanie Laurens (2 page)

Stepping back, she ran her eyes once more over Frances, then nodded. “Just remember—Frederick is head over ears in love with you, no matter what that silly little voice in your head whispers.”

Turning, Frances met Nell’s eyes, and grinned. “Thank you, sister mine.” Stretching up, Frances touched her cheek to Nell’s, found Nell’s fingers with hers and squeezed, then drew back.

A deep
bong
resonated throughout the palace.

“That’s it—the dinner gong.” Frances whirled toward the door. “We should go.”

“Indeed.” Moving smoothly forward, Nell paused by the door. “But without any unseemly rush.”

They glided, side by side, down the long corridors and down the ornate stairs. In her dark violet-purple silk gown, a perfect foil for Frances’s paler beauty, Nell drew almost as many eyes as—and, indeed, many more openly admiring glances than—her younger sister. She was aware of the fact, but neither returned nor acknowledged any of those glances; her focus was on Frances, on being her sister’s support.

The fabulously ornate drawing room—the Germanic states did so love their gilt and crystal—played host to an army of elegantly garbed courtiers, but everyone was disposed to be delighted and accommodating, and the hour Frances spent on Frederick’s arm, being introduced to those who would shortly become her subjects, passed easily and without incident. Somewhat to Nell’s surprise, while she’d seen Robert the instant she walked into the room—and he’d seen her—he kept his distance, leaving her able to concentrate on Frances without distraction.

For which she was grateful . . . except that not knowing where in the crush Robert actually was, knowing he was near, but not knowing in which direction, distracted her anyway.

It was almost a relief when he eventually appeared at Frederick’s side to whisper in his friend’s ear that dinner was about to be announced.

As a stentorian announcement that dinner was served rang out over the room, Nell steeled herself to take Robert’s arm when he offered it—only to have a gentleman, one of the lords of the court, gallantly step in to offer his arm and lead her in. Uncertain of protocol and precedence in this court, she glanced at Robert; he’d been waiting to catch her glance and nodded.

Plastering on a smile, Nell inclined her head and accepted, settling her hand on the gentleman’s sleeve and allowing him to lead her in her sister and Frederick’s wake. Not exactly disappointed, but a trifle off-balance with the steeling of her nerves that was no longer required.

To her considerable relief, her prediction of the table placements proved to be sound; she was seated opposite Frances, with the attentive courtier beside her. At the very last, Robert took the seat on her other side, opposite Frederick, and the meal began.

One of Frederick’s male cousins sat on Frances’s other side, and for much of the meal, between the cousin’s questions and Frederick’s comments, Frances was absorbed enough to prevent any unease or uncertainty showing through. Nell, more than socially adept enough to maintain a conversation with her dinner partners while simultaneously monitoring Frances’s every word, was wondering if, perhaps, the entire dinner would pass without any episode . . . when, as the dessert plates were being set out, she saw Frances press back in her chair, and start rather furtively glancing about . . .

Then Frances remembered her instructions, drew a deep breath, and looked across the table. Nell was waiting to catch her gaze, to smile and nod and, across the width of the table, project all she wished she could whisper in her sister’s ear . . .

It worked. Well enough for Frances to breathe more calmly. After a moment, Frances gave a tiny nod, then Frederick spoke to her and she turned to him, and if her smile was a trifle wobbly, and significantly less strong than it had been earlier, yet still she smiled and went on.

After watching Frances for a moment more and detecting no further eruption of uncertainty, Nell inwardly sighed and shifted her attention to the courtier by her side.

From Nell’s other side, Robert cast her a sharp glance, but her face was averted and he couldn’t see her eyes, much less catch her gaze. But he’d seen . . . something. Whatever it was—whatever it was that had happened with Frances—it had made Nell tense. Tense as if about to spring forward to avert some incipient disaster.

Which did not bode well for a perfectly scripted wedding.

Robert glanced at her again. She was now animatedly engaged with the local lord; he could almost feel a wall between them—one she kept high.

What was it that had just happened? And what was going on?

He would, he suspected, get no chance to extract answers to those questions tonight, but answers he would have—and soon.

R
obert did wonder if all he was detecting was caused by nothing more than the expected and excusable nerves, but Nell’s continuing protectiveness, let alone her family’s high social profile and the hours even the younger Frances would have spent in the most august of ton circles, all argued against that.

At the conclusion of the dinner, the entire company filed into the ballroom where the evening’s soiree was to be held. The dinner guests were augmented by additional guests invited to stand in the ballroom and be introduced, each in their turn, to their Prince’s soon-to-be bride.

Frederick, proud as any peacock, escorted Frances around the huge room. With her hand on Frederick’s arm, Frances smiled, nodded, and acknowledged curtsies. She spoke easily, with natural charm; although her voice was lighter and lacked the warmth of Nell’s contralto, Frances made a respectable showing.

But Nell, walking just behind Frances’s right shoulder, was on tenterhooks the whole time. Even when he wasn’t shoulder-to-shoulder with her in the press—a situation that raised tension of a different sort in them both—he sensed her focus, her unrelentingly fixed attention, the way she held herself in expectation of something going wrong . . . but what?

Nell knew better than to imagine that they would escape the soiree without any difficulty, not when Frances’s uncertainty had already broken through once. Luckily, Frances managed to hold the whispers at bay through most of the event, and indeed, guests were starting to leave and the crowd about them was thinning before the problem resurfaced and Frances’s confidence wavered, then fell.

With, finally, no one left to greet, Frederick turned to Frances and smiled. “Perhaps, now, we can stroll on our own and speak privately, liebchen.”

And suddenly Frances was breathless. “Yes—no! That is . . .” Attempting to draw her fingers from Frederick’s, wide—wild—eyed, Frances glanced around.

Nell stepped in, closer, using her body to physically block any move the slighter Frances might have made; heavens above, she could not bolt. Could not be allowed to, not here, not now, not ever. Sliding a supportive—anchoring—arm around her sister’s waist, Nell spoke to Frederick. “Your Highness, I regret to say my sister is dreadfully tired. What with the long journey and the subsequent full round of engagements, she’s sorely in need of a good night’s rest.”

Frederick was instantly contrite. “Of course, dear Lady Cornelia.” He looked at Frances, then gently, if awkwardly, patted her hand. “My dear, I am full of apologies—it has, indeed, been such an unrelentingly busy day for you. We should have been more considerate.”

With Nell’s arm tightening around her, Frances rallied. Lifting her head, she managed a wan smile. “No—it’s I who am full of apologies, sir. But I fear my sister is correct—I am wilting and in dire need of rest, and would like, with your permission, to retire.”

“Of course, my dear. Of course.” Frederick raised Frances’s fingers to his lips, then bowed gallantly and released her. “Sweet dreams, liebchen—we will meet again in the morning.”

Frances curtsied, as did Nell, then Nell looped her arm in Frances’s and together the sisters turned and left the now largely empty ballroom.

Standing beside Frederick, Robert watched them go—watched Nell’s head tip toward Frances’s. It was Nell who was speaking to Frances, while all Frances did was nod.

“Is anything amiss, do you think?”

Robert glanced up to see Frederick, puzzled, frowning slightly at the pair.

“Have we not done something we should, perhaps? Or have we been too demanding—”

“It’s not that—nothing like that.” Robert clapped him on the arm; Nell’s earlier words—that Frederick might have concerns or questions—echoed in his head. “It’s tiredness and, at most, just nerves. Don’t worry.”

Frederick’s frown lightened, but didn’t leave his eyes. “If you do learn that there is some problem, you will tell me, nein?”

“Of course. But trust me, there’s nothing that’s going to come between you and Frances and your appointment before the altar in six days’ time.” Of that, Robert was quite certain.

It was his job to make sure of it.

T
o Nell’s relief, Frances woke the next morning with renewed enthusiasm and no hint of any lingering nerves. That, of course, wouldn’t last, but Nell was ready to accept whatever boons fate granted her. Over breakfast, they learned that a tour of the town had been arranged for that morning; duly fortified, they met Frederick and Robert in the front hall, and left the palace in an open carriage with an escort of six mounted soldiers, more, Frederick assured Frances, for ceremonial show than out of any need for protection.

With Robert’s presence on the bench seat beside her once more pressing on her senses and her mind, Nell determinedly distracted herself by looking around at the neat squares, the well-tended houses, and the cheery flowers in window boxes hanging over the cobbled streets, while simultaneously keeping an ear on the conversation between Frederick and Frances, who were sharing the forward-facing seat.

The weather remained gloriously fine, and Frances’s mood continued in similar vein through the various organized halts. The first was at the Rathaus, the town hall, where they were welcomed by the mayor, bedecked in his robes and weighted down by gold chains, and a bevy of aldermen. Nell, hanging back in Frances’s shadow, was pleased by how graciously her sister dealt with the gentlemen—but then, in her usual state, Frances was customarily serenely assured.

After partaking of refreshments and chatting amiably, they departed for the town marketplace. There they walked among the populace—a delightful detour that had Frances laughing, setting Frederick beaming at the silvery sound. From the market square, they walked along a route lined with the town’s best shops, a diversion guaranteed to absorb Frances. She grew animated; there was so much to see and enjoy, and she openly shared her delight with Frederick.

So well were matters progressing that Nell started to wonder if, perhaps, the family failing had struck, but was now loosening its grip on her sister, even waning. She could only hope.

Robert had been striding along beside her, silent and far too observant for her liking. As ever, she was intensely aware of him physically filling the space next to her. For some irritating reason, her susceptibility to that awareness hadn’t died; she’d fully expected it would have after nine years of starvation. Refocusing on the couple ahead of them, she asked, “What’s next?”

“The cathedral. I thought it might be helpful for Frances to see the place before the wedding.”

Nell wasn’t sure how to respond. Yes, it might be helpful—but then again, it might not.

Robert’s gaze hadn’t left her face. “Is that all right? I know you went through the rehearsals in London, but walking into a large and overwhelmingly ornate space for the first time . . . I thought she might prefer it see it first.”

Nell forced herself to nod. “It’s a good idea.” And it was. She just had to hope there would be no unintended consequences.

The street they were walking along led into the cathedral square. An imposing, richly ornate stone edifice with a tall spire topped with a cross, the cathedral towered over the town, but was in turn overlooked by the castle, visible atop the hill behind the church.

The prelate and his deacons were waiting at the top of the steps before the carved wooden doors. Frederick led Frances up and introduced her. The prelate, a white-haired ancient, exuded kindness as he patted Frances’s hand.

Nell watched closely, surreptitiously sighing with relief when she detected no stiffening in Frances.

Robert dragged his attention from Nell long enough to greet the prelate and introduce her. She responded with her usual calm composure; she was one of those females who could simultaneously do several things at once and perform well on all fronts. She was tracking Frances like a terrier, alert to every little nuance of her sister’s mood, but she exchanged greetings with the prelate and even made him smile without giving any hint at all that she was concerned about Frances.

But she was concerned. Increasingly, Robert sensed that. And increasingly, he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

Turning, the prelate invited their party to follow him inside. They all did, pausing in the dim foyer to listen as one of the deacons related the history of the church. Then the prelate made a sweeping gesture, inviting them to follow him down the aisle. Frederick, with Frances on his arm, set out in the prelate’s wake.

Abruptly, Frances drew back. She made a small sound, then blindly turned away.

And Nell was there. She’d all but leapt forward to come up by Frances’s side, catching her sister—trapping her sister?—with one arm around her waist. “Actually”—Nell spoke over Frances’s head, which was turned away so no one there could see, to Frederick—“it’s thought by many in our family to be . . . possibly unlucky to walk down the aisle with one’s groom before the wedding.” With a gesture, Nell waved at the other aisle that led down the side of the church. “Perhaps we could walk down the side aisles, and”—she beamed at the deacon who had delivered the history lecture—“we might hear more about the church’s history as we go.”

Despite having no idea what was going on, Robert stepped up in support. “That’s an excellent idea.” For the prelate and the deacons, he added, “We’ll see more of the church that way.”