by Joan Wolf
"Why are you frowning?"
He jumped. Then he recognized the voice as belonging to Eva Zais, and he forced a smile as he turned to greet her. She was dressed in her favorite shade of green, which matched her eyes, and the candlelight in the room was kind to her. He said lightly, "I was having evil thoughts about Napoleon's marshal, who took the marvelous Tintoretto that used to hang on that wall."
She laughed and said something in return, and he made an effort to give her his attention. He was still speaking with Eva a few minutes later when he had the distinct sensation that someone was looking at him. He turned his head and met a pair of golden-brown eyes that immediately jerked away. Brilliant color flared into Charity's cheeks and she looked up at Gian Carlo and said something to him.
Sweat broke out on the Prince's brow and on the back of his neck. God. The look in Charity's eyes . . .
She knows, he thought. Dear God in heaven, she knows.
"Augustus?" It was Eva. "Are you all right?"
"Yes, yes, of course I'm all right."
He wasn't all right. He felt sick. He felt as if someone had just punched him in the stomach.
"You went rather pale."
He was saved from having to reply by the announcement that the musical part of the reception was about to begin. He gave Eva a strained smile and said, "I must escort my wife."
"Of course," Eva replied.
As Augustus crossed the floor toward Charity, his heart was hammering and two words kept repeating themselves over and over in his mind. Charity knows. Charity knows. She was looking at Eva and me. She knows, she knows, she knows . . .
At last he was standing before her. "My dear," he said. "I believe it is time for us to go into the Music Room."
She didn't look at him. Charity, who had the most honest eyes in the world, was afraid to look at him. Instead she looked at his neckcloth, nodded her head, and replied in a small voice, "Very well."
He held out his arm and, in a tentative gesture that just about broke his heart, she rested her fingers lightly upon it. Then, together, they led their guests into the Music Room for the performance of Beethoven's Eroica that the Prince had arranged to be played by the court orchestra.
There was another pair of eyes observing this byplay between Augustus and his wife and Augustus and his mistress, and the fireworks that ended the Ozbald Day reception were as nothing compared to those Princess Caterina put on for her only son when she asked to meet with him privately as the last explosion died away from the sky and the guests prepared to return to their homes.
"I am rather tired, Mama," the Prince said when he was confronted by his mother as they returned from the garden where they had observed the fireworks. "Couldn't this wait until tomorrow?"
"No, Augustus." Princess Caterina had draped a magnificent sable-lined cloak over her gown when she went outside to view the fireworks, and as they stepped back indoors she beckoned to a servant to take it from her. "What I have to say to you cannot wait."
The Prince's lips tightened. He said with controlled impatience, "Very well, Mama. We can go into the Music Room if you like."
The princess looked around the crowded room. "No one can leave until you do, and I do not think you will wish to have what I say to you overheard by anyone else, Augustus. I recommend that we go to your apartment, where we can be in privacy."
The Prince repressed a sigh. He was in no mood for his mother's dramatics, but there was no courteous way to avoid her. "Very well, Mama," he said, and offered her his arm.
He took her to the sitting room where he had found her taking tea with Charity the other day and sat beside her on the sofa. "Now," he said, his clipped voice indicating that she should be as brief as possible. "What is the problem?"
She lifted her forefinger, with its long, perfectly tapered nail, and pointed it at him like a weapon. "You, Augustus. You are the problem. What can you be thinking, to take up with a mistress so soon after you are married?"
He was thunderstruck. This was the last thing he had expected her to say. He opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out.
Princess Caterina had not finished, however. She lifted her chin, which was still remarkably firm for a woman of her years, and threw another thunderbolt. "I am a woman of the world, Augustus. I understand perfectly that men have wives and men have mistresses. But at least have the decency to wait until your first child is born!"
The Prince could feel the blood drain from his face. He looked away from his mother, unable to meet her eyes. There was a long moment of silence, then she said, "Never did I think that I would have to say this to you, my perfect son, but I am ashamed of you, Augustus."
The Prince gave up trying to defend himself and buried his head in his heads. "Oh God, Mama," he groaned. "You are right. I have behaved like a perfect ass. And the worst part is that Charity knows. I saw her looking at Eva and me tonight. Jesus. I have been such an idiot!"
The princess stared at the long cramped fingers of her son buried in his blond hair. "But why, Augustus? Charity may not be a beauty like her sister, but she is a pretty girl and, believe me, she is much much nicer than that other one. Are you in love with this Baroness Zais?"
He shook his head. "No, Mama, it is nothing like that." Slowly the Prince raised his head, and then, looking straight ahead and not at her, he explained to his mother the promise he had made to his bride to delay the consummation of their marriage and the effect this had on him.
The princess was aghast. "Never did I think a son of mine could be so stupid," she informed him. "So, once you found yourself in such difficulty, instead of turning to your wife, you took up with your old mistress?"
Put like that, it did sound stupid. "Yes," the Prince said, staring at the carpet.
Princess Caterina arose from the sofa and walked to the fireplace, where she turned and faced her son. The Prince was forced to look up from the carpet to her face, and she announced with deliberate drama, "Well, Augustus, it must stop. If your father was here he would tell you that your duty to Jura is to produce an heir, and you cannot get an heir from your mistress! You must go to Charity, apologize to her for what you have done, and beg her to forgive you and to take you into her bed."
The Prince tried to imagine such a scene and winced. "Oh God, Mama, I have made such a botch of things. I doubt if Charity will ever want to speak to me again, let alone take me into her bed." He looked with a mixture of apprehension and hopefulness at his mother, who had maintained her posture before the fireplace. "Do you think you might be able to speak to her first? You know, explain things a little bit? I mean about Eva and such?"
It was the first time in both their memories that he had ever asked her to do anything for him, and the princess looked immensely gratified. She made a sweeping gesture supposed to indicate maternal warmth. "I will be happy to do that for you, my son. Then, when you go to see her, the explanations will be over with and all that will be left is the apology." She gave him an angelic smile. "I am sure you will manage that charmingly."
"I would be so grateful to you, Mama," he said thankfully.
She was radiant. "You know I would do anything for you, Augustus, my beloved son."
Charity sat in front of her dressing table and stared into the mirror while her maid brushed her hair. She looked exactly the same as she always did, she thought gloomily. The misery of the day hadn't aged her one bit. Her skin was still fresh and clear, her hair was shining, and she didn't have circles under her eyes.
It's terrible to be young, Charity thought. No matter how much you suffer, you still look the same.
Her maid finished brushing her hair and began to divide the whole mass into three strands to braid it for the night. "Did you get a chance to watch the fireworks, Anna?" she asked.
The two young women discussed the fireworks while Charity's hair was arranged into a single long braid and secured with a pink velvet ribbon. Charity had just risen when a knock on the door surprised them both. Anna came back with a note fro
m Princess Caterina requesting an interview immediately.
Charity was heart sore and tired and Augustus's mother was one of the last people she wished to see, but courtesy and curiosity won out. "Of course I will see Princess Caterina. She can come along here to my dressing room, if that will be convenient."
"I will say so."
The Italian servant went to inform his mistress of Charity's answer, and Charity dismissed Anna and began to walk up and down in front of her dressing table in her pink velvet dressing gown and small pink slippers. Much more quickly than she had expected, the door opened and Princess Caterina, still dressed in the golden gown she had worn to the reception, came in.
"Good heavens," the princess said, stopping dead just inside the dressing room door and staring at Charity, who stood in front of her dressing table. "No wonder poor Augustus thinks he is married to a little girl. You are encased from toe to chin in pink velvet. And the braid!" Shaking her head, the princess commenced to advance upon Charity. "No, no, no, no. My dear, if you want a man to think of you as a woman and not a child, you must try to look like a woman and not a child."
Charity tried to back away, but was trapped by the chair of her dressing table. "Unbutton that dressing gown," the princess ordered.
Hastily Charity unbuttoned her warm pink velvet outer garment to reveal the chaste, high-necked white cotton nightgown underneath.
The princess cast her eyes upward and declared, "I have wronged my son."
At those words, a healthy spark of anger flashed through Charity. Before she had time to consider the wisdom of her words, she shot back, "No, Princess, it is your son who has wronged me!"
Princess Caterina heaved a long sigh. "I know all about it, my child. That is what I have come to speak to you about. It cannot be allowed to go on. Augustus knows this—"
"He does?" Charity's voice soared dangerously high. "Then why hasn't he come to see me? Why has he sent you?"
The princess frowned. "I am about to tell you this, if you will give me the chance. Now, let us both sit down." She arranged herself on the comfortable chaise longue and gestured Charity to the far less comfortable dressing table chair. "Augustus has not come because he is embarrassed," she began. "He knows he has wronged you, and he does not know how to explain to you why he has acted as he did. So he has asked me to do that for him."
Charity sat, her back ramrod straight, and waited.
Princess Caterina made an airy gesture. "It is quite simple, really. Augustus is a man, men have certain needs, and if they cannot have those needs—"
Charity leaped to her feet. "I don't want to hear another word about men and their needs," she shouted. "Augustus has a wife. That is one reason why men have wives, so they can satisfy their needs. But instead of turning to his wife, he chose to go back to his old mistress. And I mean old," she added nastily. "Good heavens, Baroness Zais has to be as old as you are, Princess."
Had Charity been thinking clearly, she would never, ever have said such a thing. She most certainly did not mean to imply that the princess was old. The words she used were unfortunate, however, and they struck Princess Caterina in a most vulnerable place.
When the princess spoke her voice had cooled considerably. "Augustus felt he had made a promise to you not to consummate the marriage until you were ready. He felt that you had given him no sign that you were ready, and so, rather than disturb your innocence, he sought out Eva Zais. I have reminded him that his primary duty to his country is to produce an heir, and for that he must have congress with his wife. I am here tonight to determine whether or not you are willing to fulfill your marital duties."
Something had gone wrong. Charity was too upset to perceive what had happened, but she was not too upset to feel that something had happened. The princess was angry with her. She bit her lip and said, "I am sorry if I have offended you, Princess Caterina. I didn't mean—"
"Stop." The princess held up a commanding hand. "I asked you a question and I demand an answer. Are you ready to assume the physical responsibilities of marriage?"
Charity closed her hands into tight fists, stuck her chin in the air, and said grimly, "Yes. As long as Augustus gets rid of her."
The princess rose majestically to her feet. "You will never have to worry about the baroness again."
"Good."
"I will go now and tell Augustus of our conversation."
Charity felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. Will he be coming here tonight? She could have asked that of the Princess Caterina who had entered her dressing room, but she couldn't ask it of the cold-faced woman who was now staring at her so icily. "V-very well," she managed to stutter, and stood twisting her hands together as her mother-in-law left the room, closing the door emphatically behind her.
Slowly Charity moved into her bedroom. The bed had been turned back and warmed with heated coals, and Charity took off her pink velvet dressing gown and stepped on a footstool to climb into the billowy depths of the large gilt four-poster. She left the bedside lamp burning and sat up against her pillows, thinking over her conversation with Princess Caterina. Then she climbed back out of the bed, returned to her dressing room, and proceeded to unbraid her hair and brush it out until it spilled in a shining golden-brown mantle around her shoulders and down her back.
She returned to the bedroom, climbed back into bed, and thought some more. Next she unbuttoned the top three tiny pearl buttons that secured the neckline of her nightdress. She regarded the skin she had bared, then undid the next three buttons as well. She was wondering if it would be too daring to undo one more when she heard the latch on her dressing room door lift. Augustus stepped into the open doorway.
He was still dressed in his evening clothes and was holding a candle in his right hand. He looked across the room into her widened eyes and said, "May I come in?"
Her heart was pounding. "Yes," she said. "Come in, Augustus."
He came across the floor and placed his candle on her bedside table, beside the lamp. Her heart was pounding so hard she was sure he could hear it. "Charity, I have come to tell you that I am sorry. After all that you have done for me, I hurt you. I am more sorry than I can ever say."
To her absolute horror, she felt her lips begin to tremble and her eyes to fill with tears. Not now, she thought in panic. Not now, when I am trying to get him to see me as a woman. She swallowed hard, trying to stifle her emotions.
"I hate her," she heard her voice saying gruffly. "I would like to boil her in oil and . . . and stake her in the desert to die of ant bites . . . and . . ."
"Charity!" But he was laughing and he sat on the edge of the bed and reached out and pulled her against him. "Poor Eva. Believe me, she does not deserve such a horrible end. It was my fault, for thinking you were still a child."
"I'm not a child!" she said it fiercely, angrily, as a challenge and a promise as well.
"I am very glad to hear that," he replied, and the arms around her tightened and she felt his lips come to rest on her hair.
I love you, Augustus, she thought, as she pressed her cheek against his shoulder and inhaled the wonderful scent of him. I love you, I love you, I love you .
19
Her hair under his lips felt like fine silk, just as he had always imagined it would. He lifted his hand and slid it under the silken fall to rest on the fragile nape of her neck. "I don't want to hurt you," he whispered. "I never wanted to hurt you, Charity."
The brown head that was buried in the shoulder of his evening coat moved in a negative gesture. She said, her voice a little muffled, "You can only hurt me if you turn away from me, Augustus."
He moved his fingers along the fine line of her jaw, caught her chin, and lifted her face away from his shoulder. Then he bent his head and kissed her. Her arms came up around his neck and her head fell back, her lips sweetly yielding to the pressure of his mouth.
She was so sweet. She tasted so sweet. With her arms around his neck and her head tilted back, her body was pressed against his and he c
ould feel every line of her through the thin cotton of her nightdress.
"Charity." His voice came out sounding like a croak. He moved his mouth over her face, kissing her eyelids, her cheeks, then coming back once again to her mouth. His kiss deepened and he held her closer. The blood began to pound in his veins. It took all of his willpower to lift his head, to make certain he wasn't frightening her. "Are you all right?"
She blinked, and then her face broke into its wonderful smile. "Oh my, Augustus," she said breathlessly. "Oh my."
Relief and desire flooded through him in equal measure, and he smiled back. "Does that mean you want to go on?"
She nodded twice. "It certainly does."
"Just a moment." Wasting no time, he stripped off his evening coat and white neck cloth and threw them on the floor. Then he began to kiss her again, leaning her back until she was lying on the pillows and he was bending over her. He felt her hand touch the back of his bare neck in a tentative caress, and the sensation was exquisite. Her high young breasts were pressed against him and he increased the pressure of his lips, asking her for more.
Her mouth opened for him and, hesitantly, her tongue answered to his. She was arched up against him, her lovely body taut and trembling. He slid a hand inside her nightdress and caressed her breast. It was as silky and smooth as the rest of her. He felt her nipple stand up against the palm of his hand, and he groaned.
He pulled away and looked down into her face once again. Her eyes were half closed and her mouth was swollen from his kisses. Under their heavy lids, her golden eyes watched him with wonder. He said softly, "Would you be very upset if I removed my clothing?"
She shook her head, her lovely hair swinging with the movement of her head. Her siren's mouth quirked mischievously. "Go right ahead."
He ripped his shirt over his head and stripped off his shoes, stockings, knee breeches, and drawers in record time, consigning them to the floor along with his shirt and neck cloth. Then he turned back to her, determined to woo her until she was dizzy with passion, until she actually wanted him to do what he wanted to do right now but would delay doing for as long as he humanly could.