What Wild Moonlight (32 page)

“I— Yes, it does.”

Katya’s impression of Nicholas’s father—one that was reinforced by both Nicholas himself and by the dark, menacing portrait that hung in his study—was that of a harsh, cold, arrogant man who had little time or patience for either his wife or his sons.

“Has Nicholas spoken to you of the DuValenti curse?” the Comtesse asked.

She frowned, not quite sure how that was related to the subject at hand. “He mentioned that he believed the Stone of Destiny was cursed. Is that what you’re referring to?”

“Indirectly, yes. From the day that wretched stone was bequeathed to us, the men in this family have lost the women they loved. It is rumored that once we retrieve the stone, that tragedy will be forever lifted. Perhaps it is nothing but a bit of ancient foolishness. Or perhaps it is true, and that is the burden we must bear. I only know that my brother was deeply affected—forever changed, if you will—by that curse.”

Katya nodded somberly. “Nicholas told me his mother died when he and Richard were young.”

“She did,” the Comtesse agreed. “But I am not speaking of Marianne. I am speaking of the woman William loved.”

A heavy silence fell between them. “I see,” Katya managed at last.

“I’ve shocked you again, haven’t I?” the elderly woman said, her ebony eyes glowing. “You have a very expressive face, Miss Alexander. Far too revealing for your own good, I suspect.”

The Comtesse returned to the settee and settled herself on the firm cushions. She took a moment to arrange her gray silk skirts, then continued evenly, “Her name was Louisa. Her father was a bricklayer… or perhaps a stone mason, I don’t recall. Nor do I know how she and my brother met. Perhaps he saw her walking in the village, or crossed her path while out riding. In any event, I did not learn of her existence until William sent me an impassioned letter telling me that he had fallen madly in love. He sent page after page, extolling Louisa’s virtues and praising her extraordinary beauty. He intended to marry the woman. I knew from the moment I received his letter that he had written to me in order to gain my help in securing our father’s blessing and approval.”

“Did you help him?”

The Comtesse’s fingers tightened around the head of her cane. “No, I did not.”

“Why?”

“The woman’s father was a common laborer. Her mother took in laundry and mending from the local townspeople. Yet their daughter should marry the Earl of Barrington? Impossible.” She paused for a moment, studying Katya intently. “How sour and disapproving you look, Miss Alexander.”

“If your brother loved her the way you say he did—”

“Do you truly believe it’s that simple?”

“Yes, I do.”

A look of profound sadness was etched upon the older woman’s face. “If only that were true. Rarely are one’s passions so completely pure—and one’s life so free of duty and obligation to others that one can do whatever one pleases.”

“I don’t understand.”

“From the moment William was born, it was ingrained in him that his foremost obligation was to his title and his lands. To that end, he was destined to marry another member of the nobility. Years earlier our parents had made arrangements with Marianne’s family to arrange my brother’s suit. Although they were not yet formally pledged, in the eyes of society at large their courtship and marriage was a fait accompli. The course my brother’s life would take had long ago been charted by others. To throw it all away for the sake of some bricklayer’s daughter was an affront not only to our family, but to our status and position in society as well.”

“Is that how you replied to his letter?”

“Yes. That is exactly how I replied. Perhaps I was even harsher.”

The Comtesse fell silent for a long moment, gazing inward as though reviewing painful, timeworn memories. At last she continued, “In my defense, I assumed my brother’s fixation with the woman was nothing but a temporary infatuation. Or perhaps a way of putting off the burden of marriage. In short, I thought it would pass.”

“Did it?” Katya asked.

“No. It did not.” She paused again, then let out a heavy sigh. “I was William’s last vestige of hope. Without my support, he knew he stood no chance in going against our parents’ wishes. Had he done so, he likely would have lost his title, his lands, his financial support, everything he had. Then what could he have offered his bricklayer’s daughter?”

“Himself.”

“Indeed. In my brother’s case, I believe that would have been enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw them walking together once—William and Louisa—shortly before he married Marianne. They were arguing fiercely, presumably about my brother’s upcoming nuptials. What struck me most at the time was my brother’s expression as he looked at her. I had always heard that love could transform a man. I knew in that instant that it was true. His face was an image of both agony and adoration, as though he were hanging onto her every word even in their bitterest moment, memorizing the way she moved, the way she spoke, the color of her hair, and the shape of her eyes.” The Comtesse’s gaze locked meaningfully on Katya’s. “The men in this family love very deeply, or not at all.”

Ignoring what appeared to be a blatant reference to her relationship with Nicholas, Katya asked, “What happened between the two?”

“My brother married Marianne, as was his duty. Louisa married almost immediately as well; a nobleman, I believe, but a man with no wealth of which to speak. I thought it would end there, but I was wrong.”

Katya frowned. “What do you mean?”

The Comtesse lifted her shoulders in a small, defeated shrug. “Marianne was the right woman for William only in regard to class and breeding. Although their marriage was civil, that indefinable spark that is so essential between two people was missing from the start. Marianne was kind and gentle, a doting mother to Nicholas and Richard, and a gracious hostess to their guests. But she was far too docile to suit my brother. Although we never spoke of it, I suspect she was unhappy in the marriage as well. Shortly after Richard was born she moved out of the bedchamber she had shared with my brother and into her own suite of rooms..”

Katya nodded thoughtfully. “And what of Louisa? Did your brother ever see her again?”

“Yes. On many occasions. But do not misinterpret my words, Miss Alexander. My brother never broke the sanctity of his marriage vows. Louisa lived only a few days’ ride away. Months would pass, then his longing to see her would grow so great that he could not resist the temptation of riding to her home just for a glimpse of her walking the grounds, running some small errand, or riding through the woods.”

“But he never spoke to her?”

A look of deep sorrow crossed the Comtesse’s normally reserved features. “After their break, she returned all his letters unopened and refused to see him when he called.” She paused, then finished softly, “I understand she died suddenly one winter of pneumonia. William didn’t learn of her death until weeks later. I believe a large part of him died with her.”

Katya turned her gaze to the portrait of Nicholas’s father, studying him in an altogether new light. “How very sad,” she remarked, then she returned her gaze to the Comtesse. “Do Nicholas or Richard know any of this?”

“No. My brother swore me to secrecy and I have honored his request—until now.”

“Why now? Why did you tell me?”

The Comtesse planted her cane firmly on the rug and rose to her feet, moving to stand before the portrait of her brother. She studied the painting for a moment in contemplative silence then turned and replied, “Because I do not want William remembered like this. Harsh, cold, arrogant.” She paused, then shook her head. “I am not trying to excuse my brother’s behavior. I am only attempting to offer an explanation for what made him the man he became. I believe the loss of Louisa cost him more dearly than any of us could have suspected. William grew more and more bitter as the days went by, more and more withdrawn. When Nicholas and Richard were young, I watched them struggle so hard to gain their father’s approval, desperate for some small sign of affection. But there was nothing there. Eventually they simply stopped trying. I can’t help but wonder what might have happened had they been aware that their father’s anger and withdrawal had nothing to do with them. Would it have hurt or helped had they known the truth?”

“I’ve found that withholding the truth rarely leads to a good end.”

From across the room, the Comtesse’s dark eyes glowed with satisfied victory. “Exactly,” she said. “Our lives are the sum of the choices we make. It has been my experience that the longer a secret is kept, the more damage it does once it is revealed.”

She knows. She knows who I am
. The thought jolted through Katya’s mind with a startling awareness that left her temporarily speechless. But surely that was impossible. Surely it was nothing but her own feelings of guilt that were making her read into the Comtesse’s words something that was not there.

Carefully considering her response, she asked, “When do you plan to tell Nicholas about Louisa?”

“As with any other matter in life, proper timing is essential. Although the explanation of his father’s behavior may mean little to him at this point, he deserves to hear the truth. He should have heard it long ago.”

Before Katya could summon a reply, the Comtesse strode regally across the room, pausing at the door to the study. “I do not know whether the DuValenti curse exists,” she said. “Perhaps the only curse that befalls the men in this family is that of loving passionately, but unwisely. I do hope for Nicholas’s sake that this is not the case.”

This time there was no mistaking the fact that she was speaking directly to her. Katya tilted her chin and met the older woman’s gaze. “I hope so, too.”

A whisper of a smile crossed the Comtesse’s stern features as she glanced around the study. “In the end,” she said, “that is all we really have.” She lifted her arm and gestured vaguely around the room. “The houses in which we live, the clothes we wear, the titles we flaunt, and the horses we ride are nothing but trinkets, silly little toys we invent to amuse ourselves while we pass our time on this earth. But to love with one’s heart and soul—and to be loved in return—surely that is a glimpse into heaven.”

On that amazingly unexpected statement, she turned abruptly and left the room, her gray silk skirts trailing in her wake.

As Katya moved through the backstage area of the Grand Casino, traces of the conversation she had shared with the Comtesse echoed through her mind, filling her with a quiet sense of resolve. It was time she revealed to Nicholas exactly who she was. In fact, she would have done so immediately, had he been at home. Instead she had resigned herself to speaking to him later that evening. Rather than feeling overwhelmed with worry about her decision, she felt remarkably unburdened, almost carefree for the first time since she had arrived in Monaco.

She paused at the backstage curtain to observe the act that was onstage. A beautiful French chanteuse and her handsome partner sang a romantic duet written especially for them. Once the song had ended, they would perform two stormy pieces from a Verdi opera, then finish with a heart-wrenching ballad. All in all, Katya estimated that she had roughly twenty minutes before she was due onstage.

She sneaked a peak at the audience. The theater was packed, she noted. Although the audience watched the chanteuse and her partner with expressions of polite interest, an air of subtle impatience seemed to fill the crowded room. They were waiting for her. The Goddess of Mystery.

Perhaps it was immodest of her to recognize that fact, but the evidence was inescapable. Every one of her performances had been sold out. She had built a reputation of renown throughout Monaco, to the point where she was recognized wherever she went. Despite Monsieur Remy’s constant requests that she add more shows to her schedule, Katya had consistently declined, claiming that the scarcity of her performances added more to her appeal than would making herself readily available to her audience.

But that was only part of her reasoning In truth, she had no desire to spend more time away from Nicholas than she already did. Although she enjoyed performing, it was not in her blood the way it had been in her parents’. She derived a certain amount of satisfaction from knowing she could perform her father’s repertoire of illusions with nearly the same level of skill that he had employed, but that was the extent of her pleasure. The rest of it was almost mechanical.

As she waited to move onstage, she mentally reviewed the changes she had made to her act. Nothing significant, really. She had added a routine in which she appeared to float above her assistants and had removed one in which she cupped fire in her palm. The rest of the alterations had been minor a few changes in costume and stage direction. The Silver Bullet would be performed last, as usual, but tonight she would pretend to catch the bullet in a silver bowl, rather than in her hand.

She turned away from the curtain and moved to check her props one last time. As she crossed the bustling backstage area, her eye was caught by a glimmer of glistening gold. Assuming that one of the dancers who had performed earlier had dropped a piece of jewelry, she bent down to scoop it up. But the item she found was distinctly male—and distinctly familiar. Balanced in her hand was a solid gold cuff link embellished with an onyx stone into which had been carved the emblem of the Maltese. Nicholas’s cufflink.

Her heart skipped a beat as a rush of giddy expectation surged through her. Smiling, she glanced around her, but saw no sign of Nicholas. Perhaps their paths had crossed, she thought. The backstage area was small but quite busy—with the various performers, musicians, and stagehands bustling back and forth it was not uncommon to miss someone entirely. He had probably gone to look for her in her dressing room. Anxious to see him—if for no reason than to receive a quick kiss for good luck before her performance—she hurried off to her private dressing room. She lifted her skirts and raced through the crowded halls. Barely managing to stifle a giggle of excitement, she threw open the door and breathlessly called out his name. Silence answered her. The room was empty.