by Minda Webber
He escorted Greta to the ballroom, where they stood like all the other guests. Introductions were made by Greta to her sister and Herr Nietzsche. Afterwards, they continued their conversation, this time including Rae.
“It’s a shame, really,” said Nietzsche, “but it seems we nobles spend half our lives waiting in some line or another. Someone to wake us, someone to bathe us, someone to make our food and pour our wine…and they always keep us waiting. I think it’s on purpose. Just think how we wait for those higher up to notice or befriend us. And now we must await the dancing, while the countess receives her guests for the ball.”
“Waiting for our hair to dry, which in my case takes forever,” Rae spoke up, her nose wrinkling. “Or waiting for flowers to come and tarts to bake and gowns to be made. It’s really quite trying,” she agreed.
Greta shook her head at her sister. She was also amused by the fact that Herr Nietzsche was trying to pull the wool over her eyes—in this case, keeping her focused on the mundane when the otherworldly was sitting in the room like a fat purple dragon.
She squeezed the man’s arm. “Did I not hear the countess order her butler to fetch some garlic, Herr Nietzsche? Yet you have made not a single comment about that.”
“Perfectly ridiculous. Fritz won’t get within an inch of that herb. Did I mention that the DeLuises’ chef is part French and guards his spices religiously?”
Greta let out a soft snort. “You are so calm. A rather canny sort of fellow, aren’t you?”
“Canny? I have been called many things, but canny…?”
“Wily. And disinclined to talk about a most interesting subject. Imagine, a vampire among us; and this pretty town could be brimming with vampires. Yet you calmly go on about this and that, jewels, dancing and wiener schnitzels.”
“I am ever a practical Prussian. Jewels, food and fine wine, not to mention my esteemed valet, are what I concern myself with. Surely such a pretty little English rose can’t be one of those monster-followers, always bouncing from one cemetery to another. Forever going on about men with pointy sharp teeth or hairy little men who chase their tails. It’s preposterous, my dear, utterly preposterous. Such beings would clearly be superior, yet we humans are the dominant force on earth.”
“I tend to agree that vampires and werewolves and other such things could rule us if they so choose, but perhaps they prefer the shadows. Vampires like cemeteries, which shows they lack sense. All that dirt and mustiness,” Rae remarked. Her brow furrowed.
Nietzsche shook his head. “You two are too lovely to be filling your heads with all these superstitions. Legends are just so…plebian. They’re for peasants who like to be frightened because their lives are dull otherwise.”
Rae turned to her sister, confusion filling her face. “Did he just call you plebian? We’re Protestant.”
Herr Nietzsche chuckled while Greta explained; then Greta turned back to him. “We have legends for a reason, sir. There is more on heaven and earth—”
“Oh please, my child, not Shakespeare. Nein. I know the quote only too well,” the author interrupted with a quick arching of his eyebrow. “Terribly overrated, that man. An atrocious dresser, and those tights! Why, a chicken has better legs. Confound it, why everyone should quote a man who couldn’t dress himself is beyond me. My writing is of a much more serious vein…and I look smashing in a cravat.”
Greta ignored his silly rambling. “Why are there so many legends in so many different languages about the same thing, if they are all lies and bedtime stories? There is never smoke without fire.”
Rae shrugged her shoulders, shaking her finger at her sister. “Greta, leave the poor man alone. Just because you choose to believe in monsters doesn’t mean they exist. And it certainly doesn’t mean that we want such a topic to dominate the evening. It appears that Herr Nietzsche here is not a believer.” This conversation was utterly dull, and she wanted to speak of more important topics, such as the handsome gentlemen all about the large and crowded ballroom. Hopefully the countess would soon finish with greeting her guests, and the dancing would begin.
“Not believe? Oh, my dear, sweet misguided child, of course I’m a believer,” Herr Neitzsche said melodramatically, patting Rae’s arm. “This is the Black Forest, after all. Look into its depths…and it will bite you.” And with those words, he excused himself to speak with another brightly dressed guest.
“What an odd little man,” Rae said as the two sisters watched his small, stout figure depart.
“I knew it,” Greta crowed. “There are vampires, werewolves and witches in Wolfach! And we’re going to find them.”
Rae frowned. “Make sure to ask Aunt Vivian’s chef for some garlic cloves first.”
“Yes, I’ll be sure to do that,” Greta said, nodding. “We’re fortunate her chef is German.”
Rae frowned. She would never understand her sister. Why would the chef’s nationality matter? But she didn’t dare ask, for she didn’t want to extend the conversation any longer. Soon the dancing would begin.
The ballroom became a dreamily lit fairyland, swirling with colors from the twinkling chandeliers to the guests’ attire, and it was truly a spectacle to behold. Women wore ball gowns bedecked in jewels and flowing with delicate rows of spidery gold lace. The men, not to be outdone, sported brightly colored jackets and breeches. Large jeweled stickpins flashed everywhere, as did sparkling rings, and the dancers twirled in frenetic merriment. Rae found the effect dazzling. She nudged her sister. They had both just finished dancing and were waiting for Herr Nietzsche to bring them some punch.
“Isn’t Prussian Society just magnificent? Much more so than Cornwall. Although I can’t say much for your dinner partners tonight.” Rae glanced over at Herr Mozart, who was humming to himself and tapping a spoon on his champagne glass.
Greta glanced over and nodded at her sister. “It’s true, he didn’t offer much conversation. But he does hum most prettily.”
“My companions were not of the first water, either. The poor young man on my left was terribly gauche. He could barely string two words together,” Rae complained.
“Yet I noted that you smiled graciously and spoke with him quite kindly.”
“My beauty made him afraid, I fear.”
“So you eased his awkwardness by discussing the things he’s interested in,” Greta guessed.
“I hope so. And the next time he is seated beside a comely lady, he will remember his success.”
Patting her sister on the arm, Greta shook her head in amusement. “Rae, my dear, you are a contradiction in terms.”
Rae cocked her head. “Sometimes I don’t understand you at all.”
Laughing, Greta replied, “Nor do you understand yourself, I’m sure.”
Rae shook her head, narrowing her eyes. “I should pout over that remark…but I fear you are right.”
A lady danced by in a gown literally covered in sparking gems, capturing Rae’s attention. “My gracious, Greta, look at the rubies sewn into that lady’s gown! Someday, when I find my prince, I’ll have a dozen—nay, a hundred—gowns with inlaid jewels,” she remarked.
Greta barely nodded, recalling the Countess DeLuise’s comments. As her mind raced with possibilities, she began to plot the best way to view one of the demented monsters. Vampires in town were a marvelous discovery. Now she just had to find them.
“Greta, pay attention. If you won’t stare at the gowns, at least look at the gentlemen.”
Greta smiled at her sister’s one-track mind and then suddenly felt the breath leaving her body as she spied one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. He was talking to Rae’s past dinner partner. “Oh, my.” The man had dark blue eyes and coal-black hair, which was tied back in a queue, in the manner of many of the gentlemen there that night. “I wonder who that is with your dinner partner?”
Rae looked to where Baron Schortz was standing and noticed the handsome man beside him. “He is quite marvelous, isn’t he? He certainly puts the baron to
shame in looks. But, alas, he isn’t titled. I was introduced to him right before I was seated. His name’s Frank or Faust…von Hanzen or Hanzel, or something of that sort. You know recalling names can be quite tedious, and I’ve not the talent for it that you have.”
Greta slid her gaze back to her sister, disliking the interest in Rae’s eyes. If her sibling decided to set her pretty little cap for the handsome stranger, she herself didn’t stand a chance. “It’s not surprising he’s not titled. The handsome prince is a thing of fairly tales, remember.”
Rae sighed. “The handsome baron, as well. And to think! Our hostess had the gall to place beside me a mere baron, and a great hulking one at that. She must have windmills in her head. The man is smitten. All I did was smile, and he’s like taffy in my hands. It’s a shame, really, but he’s too bold for my taste—and too poor and too homely.”
Greta studied Baron Schortz for a few moments. “I don’t know, Rae, I find the baron an attractive man. Maybe not handsome, exactly, but compelling. His face has character, and those gray eyes are remarkably lovely.”
“You’ve had too much champagne.”
“One glass.” Greta continued to stare at both the baron and his handsome friend.
“Quit staring at them!” Rae complained. “The baron will think I’m interested, when that is the farthest thing from the truth.”
At that moment, Baron Schortz caught the ladies regarding him, and he smiled. He nodded to his companion, and the gentlemen began to make their way around the crowded ballroom floor.
“Oh, Greta, see what you’ve done? Heavens, I had enough of his company at dinner. I certainly don’t need to dance with him. I fobbed him off at dinner by saying my dance card is full. He’s besotted enough already, and I don’t want him hanging on my sleeve, scaring away any potential princes.”
Greta merely shook her head. “Your smallness is showing, my dear.” But inside, Greta’s heart was beating loudly. The very handsome Mr. Whomever was coming toward them. If only her sister would suddenly vanish into thin air or miraculously contract a spotty complexion. Then Greta might have a chance to catch his eye and perhaps even dance with him.
“Mayhap,” Rae concluded reluctantly. She knew she was rather vain, but she had just cause. Men had fallen all over her from the time she was twelve years old. “At least he’s bringing his friend with him. With such a face and figure, there might be enough for some ladies to forget their desire to be a princess.”
Rae risked a peek at the two towering figures making their way over, and noted how often the two stopped for brief chats with other guests. “Oh, Greta, I just can’t dance with the baron! He’ll probably step all over my feet. And I do so adore my new slippers. Besides, with his great weight he’d probably break all my toes, and then how would I dance the rest of the season?”
“Rae, get off your high horse and start behaving like the lady you sometimes are.” Greta gave her sister a scorching look and shook her head. “Sometimes your swelled head is enough to try a saint.”
“Well, you certainly aren’t a saint,” Rae retorted, embarrassed and annoyed.
The two objects of the Grimm sisters’ glances returned their interest. Baron Schortz couldn’t get over Miss Rae Grimm. He had never seen a vision as lovely, and he had learned discreetly from their hostess that she was related to Baroness Snowe. Much to his delight, the two sisters would be wintering in Wolfach. Miss Rae Grimm was a magnificent creature, and he wanted to get to know her better. She did so remind him of his first wife, Fiona.
Unfortunately, his crony, Rolpe von Hanzen, was also interested in the delectable Miss Rae. In their wild youth, they had sometimes hungered after the same female. Most times Rolpe won, but sometimes it was Fen. This would be one of those times, Fen vowed. Rolpe couldn’t possibly understand the need he’d felt when he first beheld Miss Grimm’s visage: a roaring of blood, a clouding of his mind and an unearthing of senses long buried. After four years of feeling hollow, he was suddenly fraught with emotion. The air smelled better, colors were more brilliant and his heart was singing in his chest. He would be the one to win Miss Grimm, not his friend.
The men bowed to each woman separately, and Fen introduced Rolpe to the elder Miss Grimm. Rae smiled prettily, causing Fen to lose his train of thought. She then interrupted the introductions by placing her elegant hand on his jacket.
“Baron Schortz, I hope you won’t think I’m presumptuous, but could I be so bold as to ask a boon?”
Greta glanced quickly at her sister, then took a peek at the tall, dark man beside the baron. He had a daunting reserve, and from his rather formal manner, Greta would peg him for a duke at least.
“Of course,” Fen said, honored to do anything at all for the lovely young lady before him. Her hair was aglow with light from a dozen chandeliers, and it burned like moonlit gold. She wore part swept up in some complicated style and braided with tiny seed pearls, but the rest hung down her back, thick and shiny. He longed to see that same hair gracing his body as she sat astride him, her glorious locks floating all around.
“How may I be of service?” he asked gallantly, though privately his thoughts were of ravishing her.
“My sister’s favorite song is playing, and I wonder if you would do the honor of dancing with her?” Rae asked, manipulating things to her satisfaction. She was not about to dance with this great hulking oaf when the extremely handsome man beside him was available.
Greta was taken aback by her sister’s forwardness, and wished to hide behind her fan. No lady should ever pose such a question as Rae had just done. It was unheard of and quite gauche. She smiled bravely at poor Baron Schortz, who looked vaguely distracted. She felt sorry for him, for it was evident that he’d been caught in Rae’s glittering web. But he politely nodded and led Greta away to dance.
Fen was bemused. The delectable Miss Grimm had a kind heart, to make sure her sister was taken care of—and beauty in combination with a kind heart was irresistible. Although the elder Miss Grimm was not a stunner like her sister, she was still a comely lass. Even if, standing next to Rae, she did seem to shine less brightly.
Greta’s thoughts of her sister were not so kind. In fact, she was livid with Rae for once again practicing her tricks. Making Baron Schortz dance with her instead of the handsome stranger—but, then, why should she be surprised? Rae was always arranging things and people to get her way.
Noticing Baron Schortz’s quietness, she smiled politely. “I am sorry for my sister’s lapse of etiquette. She meant well,” Greta lied through her teeth.
He smiled back. “Please do not worry your pretty head. Although, the wahrheit—the truth—is that I would have asked your sister to dance first because I was her dinner partner. But as you are her sister, I would also have asked you.”
Greta sighed. The baron had politely reassured her that he would have asked her to dance, but at the same time had told her it was due to her sister’s influence. How tiring it was to be the less attractive sister!
As he twirled her around the floor, the baron asked more about Rae, gracefully maneuvering them around a slower couple. For a man as large as he was, he was quite agile, Greta saw. Up close, the baron’s dark gray eyes were truly lovely, and his smile was contagious. He might be a poor baron, but he had manners and was kind. Those were two qualities essential in a husband, if one wanted a marriage of contentment and had a dollop of sense in the head—which, of course, her flighty sister didn’t.
“I believe my sister has your admiration?” Greta asked gently.
He nodded, his expression sheepish. “I know I’ve only just met her, but she reminds me of someone I held in the greatest esteem. Is it so apparent?” His question was rueful.
“Only when you look at her. Which is a great deal of the time,” Greta teased. “She has always had a great many admirers. I believe they have spoiled her a tiny bit.” Perhaps he would take her hint and not be as besotted. “Because of her lovely features and hair, I must admit that Rae has had mu
ch made easy for her.”
He smiled back politely and twirled her, causing her to question whether he heeded her words. If Baron Schortz stood any chance at all with Rae, he needed to change his approach and appear rather aloof, behaving with a mere modicum of civility around her. He also needed a new jacket.
As Greta danced, she caught a glimpse of her sister dancing with Baron Schortz’s friend—clearly the most attractive man at the ball. Rae’s face was bright with laughter, her two dimples showing. It made Greta sad.
She asked, “Does anyone ever appreciate the easy gain?” Her question was earnest. The more smitten Rae’s swains became, the less Rae seemed to respect them. Most men fell for her at first look, and Greta had grown used to this situation. Still, just this once, Greta had hoped that this handsome man would have chosen her over her sister. There was something about his dark good looks and grand demeanor that called to her on a level she did `not understand, even if she found his presence a trifle intimidating. If only one of her other two sisters had come instead of the magnificent Rae, then perhaps the daunting Mr. Whomever would have noticed her first.
But that was not the case.
CHAPTER SIX
Prussian Pride and Prejudice
Insomuch as Rae was unaware of her sister’s dark thoughts, Rae was blithely enjoying her dance with the handsome Mr. von Hanzen. His face was well shaped, with high cheekbones and a fine nose that was neither too long nor too short but just right. His eyes were the color of bright blue sapphires, neither too light nor too dark but also just right. And he was dancing with her. Rae smiled up into his rather somber face, smitten.
“You dance divinely,” he complimented.
“Thank you. I’ve had a great deal of practice.”
Fürst Rolpe von Hanzen was not a man of many words. Highly intelligent and aware of his own consequence even more than everyone else, he was an arrogant soul who took what he wanted, lived life on his own terms and did not suffer fools gladly. Staring at Rae, he replied, “Indeed. Your dance card must always be full.” He knew that this beautiful creature had enraptured his friend Fen, a remarkable feat in itself, since Fen had practically buried himself in grief the last few years. Yet this lovely girl had touched Fen’s heart—and other regions, he was sure. From afar the lady was ravishing, but up close she was even more divine, and when Rolpe spotted her, he had instantly understood his friend’s need. Her ploy, however, to get him to dance with her instead of Fen, had left Rolpe feeling vaguely uncomfortable. He didn’t like being manipulated, and that was just what Miss Rae Grimm had done. Most likely, she had also unintentionally embarrassed her sister and insulted Fen.