The Prince and I (21 page)

Bozhy moj
, I cannot think of that.
Max forced a smile, which he was sure looked as fake as it felt. “I am sorry, but the lemonade has no ice and will be warm, which will displease my grandmother.”

The man gulped and nodded, still looking as if he expected Max to whip out a sword.

Max inclined his head and left.
Bloody hell, where did
that come from? I cannot think of it again. Tonight there is only our mission. There can be nothing else.

He put his thoughts under rigid control and went through their plan once more. And then again. It took a while, but finally his thoughts settled, his body easing to calm alertness. Everything became clearer than usual, a heightened sense of awareness filling him so that he noticed everything. As he walked through the room he soaked in the fleeting scents of various perfumes, the softness of the rug under his boots, the golden glow of the beeswax candles reflecting off the chandeliers’ crystals, the rustle of silk and fine wool.

He caught sight of Orlov near the doorway the servants were using to refill the pitchers on the refreshment table.
Good. He is right where he is supposed to be: ready to set the signal once we’re certain all is clear.
Golovin and Pahlen were lingering in the foyer, acting as if they were arguing over whose horse was fastest, although if one knew them, one would know such a conversation would involve fists, not words. Pushkin, flirting with a young lady and her mother, both of them flushed and pleased, stood near a window where he could easily see outside. The only men not in attendance were Demidor and Raeff, who were making sure two kitchen maids were doing as they’d been paid to do in the name of a grand prank: luring the guards to the barn to partake of some forbidden—and unknown to them—drugged wine.

Max looked at the clock resting on a mantel, satisfied that everything was working as planned. Still, he couldn’t ignore a growing sense of concern. Something felt . . . off. Which was totally ridiculous. They’d been
careful. More than careful. And things were going well so far.

Demidor and Raeff appeared in the doorway, looking relaxed and jovial as they wandered to the refreshment table.
So, now the guards are dealt with.
The clock chimed half past eight, and a new volley of tension moved between Max’s shoulders.
Murian will be approaching the ridge now. I hope she doesn’t—

“Your Highness,” came an unctuous voice at Max’s side. “Why so serious at our festive event? Don’t you enjoy opera?”

Max turned to find Loudan standing near. The earl was alone, a faint smirk on his narrow face. Max bowed. “I enjoy opera very much.”

“Good. I believe you will find this evening’s entertainment especially to your liking.”

“I’m sure I will. Of course, I would enjoy this evening’s performance more if I did not know my grandmother suffers because of your guile.”

Loudan’s smile grew fixed, and he said with obvious displeasure, “You are very direct, Your Highness. I dislike that.”

“I’m not a diplomat. We soldiers find direct speech more effective.”

“While I find it uncivilized. But fine. If you wish it, then we will put all of our cards upon the table.”

“I was under the impression that was something you never did—at least not in accordance to the rules of play.”

Loudan’s eyes flashed. “Are you are accusing me of something?”

“If I did, you would naturally demand satisfaction, as you did with Lord Muir.”

“Lord Muir got what he deserved.”

“Just as my grandmother deserved to be tricked into wagering something she did not own?”

The earl shrugged. “She had the crown in her possession and she wagered it, not I.”

“She wagered it at your urging.”

“I may have suggested it, but that is no crime.” The earl showed his teeth in a smile that did not reach his eyes. “I’d offer to allow you to purchase it back, but it’s too late. I’ve already sold it.”

“To whom?”

“I have been working through a courier, so I don’t know the true purchaser, nor do I wish to.”

It was hard to believe no one had killed this fool before now. The idiot had no honor at all. “If you were going to sell it, you should have given us first right.”

“But you see, I’m not really interested in you and your tiny country and your paltry heirloom. Someone else approached me about the crown before you even arrived. Someone looking for an old, respected token of authority, a crown with a history of power.”

Max crossed his arms to keep from reaching out and grabbing the earl by his scrawny neck. “Only a new regime would wish for such a thing; otherwise they’d already have their own. And I can think of only one country in such a position. Napoléon has recently declared himself emperor,
nyet
?”

Loudan sent him a sour look. “You fish in a dry
pond; I do not know who bought this crown. As I said, I haven’t asked and I don’t intend to.”

“How did this courier know you had the crown in your possession to begin with?”

“I have no idea. The man merely mentioned he knew I had it. Perhaps your grandmother told someone?”

“She told no one.”

“Don’t be too sure about that.” A sneer entered Loudan’s voice. “Everyone knows a Romany cannot keep a secret.”

Max’s hand curled into a fist, but he halted when he caught Orlov’s concerned stare from across the room.
He is right; I must keep my mind on the objective
, and not my desire to flatten this fool’s face.

Max uncurled his hand. “We will—”

The dinner gong sounded and Loudan straightened. “I must go, but . . .” He hesitated. “If I may offer a word of advice?”

Max raised his brows.

“You will wish to stay through the ending of Madame Dufond’s performance. The ending is where the magic really happens, isn’t it? Everything before that is . . .
anticipation.” The earl smiled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must resume my duties as host.” With that, he left.

Seething, Max watched the earl make his way through the room. As he neared the wide windows, the earl paused by a footman. The man was clearly one of his guards, for no footman would have had such a thick neck and awkward physical stance.

Loudan said a word or two, and the guard nodded
and left, pausing to look out the window near where Pushkin stood flirting shamelessly. While there, the guard lifted his hand in a quick gesture, before continuing on his way.

The guards were pulled off that side of the castle, so who could he be greeting, unless—
An icy hand gripped Max’s heart.
They’ve replaced the guard. So they know. Bloody hell, they
know.

Pushkin had seen the gesture, too. Alarm in his gaze, he excused himself from the ladies and crossed to the window.

Max joined him. Moonlight dappled the ridge and the slope of lawn leading to the castle, and as he looked, the moon reflected off metal. He looked more closely, alarmed at the number of black figures moving in the darkness.

His gaze flickered to the ridge.
She does not know the danger. I promised the guards would be gone—and now this.
His heart thudded sickly, his hands damp, his skin so tight that it compressed his breath. Was this how it felt to wait for someone going into battle? To be afraid they might come to harm, to worry beyond all common sense that they would fall and you would never see them again?
This is its own hell.

Pushkin cursed under his breath. “Someone has betrayed us.”

“Indeed. We must warn Murian and the others. They are in danger.”

“I’ll go,” Pushkin said. “You would be missed.”

“There must be a way that I can—” His gaze fell
on Tata Natasha, who was still near the doorway. He turned to Pushkin. “Inform the others that we have been betrayed. I’ll find a way to warn Murian.”

“What do you need of us?”

“Stay here, and be a very large presence. I will be as quick as I can.”

“Very well.” Obviously not pleased with Max’s decision, Pushkin went to inform the others of the change in plans.

Max reached Tata as quickly as he could.

She frowned on seeing him. “Where is my lemonade?”

He took her arm and pulled her aside. “We need you. Something has gone wrong.”

Her gaze sharpened. “
Da?
”

“We must have a distraction, one where you need escorting from the room.”

“How do—”

“My friends,” Loudan announced. “It is time for dinner.” He looked at Max and bowed. “Your Highness, we will follow you and the grand duchess into the dining room.”

Every eye fixed on Max. There was nothing to be done but act as if everything was well, and hope and pray with every fiber of his being that he’d said enough for Tata to understand what he needed.

She placed her hand on his arm and together they walked toward the door, Loudan and Lady MacLure falling in behind them.

Max squeezed Tata’s arm and she instantly cried out, and with amazing dexterity, collapsed upon the
floor. One moment, she was upright, and the next, she was a black heap, the rose skulls on her shawl taking on new meaning.

Cries arose, and Lady MacLure gasped.

“Tata!” Max bent to her.

She clutched her heart. “I fear . . . I fear . . . I am . . . dying . . . the world . . . grows . . . dim. . . .”

Bloody hell, a twisted ankle would have been enough.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine with a little rest. I’ll carry you to your room.”

Loudan snapped his fingers, bringing two footmen to the fore. “Help Her Grace back to her room.”

“
Nyet
,” Tata said faintly. “Only a prince may carry . . . a grand duchess.” She looked at Max. “Take me . . . to my room. I . . . must rest.”

He scooped her up and carried her toward the staircase.

“Wait!” She threw up a hand.

All eyes rested on her.

“Send a dinner tray delivered to my bedchamber.” With that, she threw her head back and pretended to faint.

Loudan’s gaze narrowed.

Teeth gritted, Max hurried up the stairs, his mind, heart, and soul hanging in pained suspense over a ridge in the dark night.

 Chapter 16 

Clouds passed in front of the moon, darkening the night into inky blackness.

Murian looked through a gap in the shrubs down the slope to Rowallen. The castle was aglow, its windows golden bright with hundreds of candles. “He’s burning through the entire inventory of candles,” Murian grumbled. “And for naught but to make it seem as if he were someone.”

“He’s been tryin’ to impress the locals fer a while, and now he has a prince to impress, too,” Ian said. “He’d do better if he’d jus’ returned tha’ blasted crown.”

Stationed nearby, Will turned to look over his shoulder. “What crown?”

Murian sent Ian a hard look. She hadn’t told anyone but him about the lost crown of Oxenburg, as Max had seemed so loath to mention it. And Will was as big a gossip as Widow Reeves.

Ian looked sheepish. “ ’Tis naught, lad. Just a tiara lost in a game of chance.”

“Ye said ’twas a crown.”

“It’s bloody close to a crown if ’tis worn by a Gypsy queen, no?” Ian snapped.

“Oh. I would think so, aye.” Will didn’t seem to think the information warranted any more interest, thankfully, and he returned back to his duties.

The wind picked up and Murian tugged her cloak closer, glad of her warm breeches and high boots. She checked her rapier and pistol, then silently counted the arrows for her bow. She was ready. All they needed was their signal.

Will glanced up at the moon. “The clouds make it hard to see. My eyes adjust to the dark, and then ’tis light. And then they adjust to the light, and—”

“Fer the love of heaven, lad, we understood ye wi’oot the explanation. Now whist, and let us know when ye see the signal.”

“Aye,” Will grumbled, moving a bit farther down the ridge.

Murian said in a low tone, “Why are you so hard on the lad? You said yourself life hadna been fair to him.”

“Tha’ dinna mean he should get special treatment. It only means we should remember why he’s such a pain so we willna strangle him when he’s bein’ foolish.”

“And why is he—”

“The signal!” The shrubbery rustled as Will moved toward them. “ ’Tis time.”

“Let’s go, lass.” Ian started to rise.

“Wait. It’s wrong.”

Ian stared down across the lawn at the castle. “There’s a light in the window, as we were told.”

“It was to be in the second window from the end. That’s the third.”

Will looked disappointed. “ ’Tis the right room, and the right signal. Mayhap the prince’s men just got the wrong window.”

Murian shook her head as she stared at the castle. “Nay. Hold. Ian, do you see what I see? There, on the battlements.”

Ian looked, his expression impatient. “I dinna see—Och! Now I do.” His face grew grim. “There’re men stationed atop the castle. Tha’ is new.”

“Who put them there?” Will asked.

“The earl, no doubt,” Murian said. “But if we choose our path carefully, we should be able to get to the castle without being seen.”

She judged the angle of view the guards on the parapets would have. Finally, she nodded. “We’ll go down the far left side and swing back around toward the castle. Those trees should shield us most of the way. These clouds will help, too.”

Ian nodded. “Tha’ will work.” He arose and led the way, Murian following, Will trailing behind. They stayed low and took the slope a few moments at a time, pausing behind heavy thickets now and then before darting to a new location. They were halfway there when Murian caught a glimmer of movement to their right. She grabbed Ian’s arm and stopped him, Will close behind.

They stooped, silent and watchful. As they did so, the movement she’d caught came closer, and they
heard the chink of metal on metal. She peered in the direction of the noise. A guard walked past, silent and cautious, trying not to crack any branches along the way. The moonlight broke through and gleamed along the barrel of his pistol.
Guards! Bloody hell, they’re supposed to be gone.

She looked toward the castle and noticed their signal light had been extinguished. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Suddenly the door from the study was thrown open and Max’s deep voice rose loudly in the dark, singing a song in his native tongue. His words were slurred, as if he’d been drinking.
What is he doing?
She peered through the shrubbery, wondering if she should go closer.

The singing suddenly stopped. “Hold! Who goes there?” he said in a booming shout. “I’m a prince of Oxenburg and I demand you show yourself!”

There was a moment of silence, and then a man’s voice answered, “Beggin’ yer pardon, Yer Highness, bu’ we’re patrollin’ the hillside.”

Ian gave a muffled curse and grabbed Murian’s arm, tugging her back up the hill. Will led the way, peering anxiously as they climbed.

“Are you now?” Max slurred his words yet more. “And why is that?”

“We was ordered to, Yer Highness.” The guard hesitated and then added, “The earl heard there was to be a raid on the castle tonight, so ’tis no’ safe ootside. May I suggest ye mi’ wish to go back in?”

“A raid? Tonight? Why, it is likely to rain. Who
would plan a raid in such horrid weather? Only fools and drunkards.”

As if the world agreed with him, the first drops of icy cold wetness hit Murian’s cheek. She ground her teeth as she fought to keep her feet silent on their twig-covered path.
Bloody hell, how had Loudan known?

She looked ahead to where Will’s figure blended into the dark woods.
Was Ian right about Will? I can’
t believe ’tis him. He would never have demanded to come with us if he’d set a trap with the earl. No, it must be someone else. But who?

They reached the top of the ridge just as Max called a drunken good night to the guard. For a moment the prince stood in the open doorway, light outlining his form. Then, with a final lift of his hand, he disappeared inside.