Love Me Again

by Wendy M. Burge

“Oh, here, madam, let me take him!” entreated his young nurse, Katie. “His lordship is getting too big a handful for you.”

  Laughing, Christina gave her son a smacking kiss on his flushed cheek and handed him gratefully over, her back straining. “He is, indeed. Goodness, in a few days he will be able to carry me about.”

  “Aye, my lady, that he will.” The girl set Eddie on his feet, and soon both heads were bent over his prize, still captured in the wad of netting.

  With a sigh, Christina sank down on the cool grass beside the duke's chair and accepted the glass of lemonade handed to her by a footman. “How are you feeling today, Edward?” she asked as she squinted against the sun, searching his pale features.

  He shrugged, offering her a faint smile. Biting her lip, Christina looked down at her glass and traced a drop of condensation down its side.

  It was so hard for her at times to look into his ravaged face. Once he had been such a handsome man, but the unending pain was taking its toll on his body. Over the last three years he had steadily lost weight till now he was only a shadow of what he had been. She finally had to admit to herself that he was getting worse. At this rate he would die of starvation and lack of sleep, for he denied himself the crutch of laudanum, preferring clearheaded pain to the hazy, heavy lethargy of the drug. The doctors had all been wrong in their protestations that there was nothing wrong with his legs, that it was all in his mind. God, how she hated them all! What did doctors know anyway? What good were they? Bitterly, she thought of all the years she had sought their help during her failed pregnancies. Again, none of them had any answers for her. They had probably thought it was all in her mind, too, she reflected with morbid humor.

  Still, one never knew; there might be that one miracle out there....

  Swallowing, she reached over and grasped his hand. “Maybe we should see that doctor in Prague. They say,”

  Covering her hand with his, Edward shook his head. “No, my dear. I'm through with all those quacks. I fear they have done more harm to me than good over the years. I wish to let nature take its course. ’Tis best, I believe.”

  Christina snatched her hand away and shifted away from him. Breathing deeply, she looked out over the beauty of the man-made lake. She didn't want to think about nature and fate and all that rubbish. Down that path lay only heartache and loss. Immeasurable loss.

  Clearing her throat, she tried for a lighter subject. “Robert should be home in a few days. I received a letter from him this morning. The suite is due to leave for Vienna by the end of the month.”

  When there was nothing but silence behind her, she turned and looked curiously up at her brother-in-law. He was watching her closely, too closely. She didn't like the look in his gentle gaze. “What is it?”

  “How do you feel about going to Vienna? You have never been out in society with Robert, and now with these plans to attend this Congress...” his comment trailed off.

  She stared at him perplexed, wondering why he sounded so worried. It was true that since she had married Robert in a secret ceremony in Italy and had arrived at Kerkmoor, she had chosen never to leave its borders. She wanted nothing to do with the outside world. She certainly didn't want tales of her gossiped about in the salons of England only to end up in a trail that could possibly lead Varek to her. Kerkmoor was her sanctuary and, thankfully, Robert had been content to let her hide away in the wilds of Yorkshire, never demanding that she act as hostess to his ambitions in London. And now, for the first time since their marriage, he was making a request of her, and in all conscience, she could not deny him. Even if it meant going to Vienna.

  Christina's eyes slid closed. Vienna. She knew every street and alley in that beautiful old city. She and Varek had spent the months after their wedding rediscovering everything there was to know about its history and people. Vienna was their city. How did she feel about going to Vienna? Terrified.

  Striving for calm, she took a sip of the cool liquid and almost choked, so constricted was her throat. “It should be interesting. History will be made during this meeting of the Allies, and I shall be proud to be a part of it.” How smoothly she had learned to lie.

  Edward looked down at his hands. When he spoke his voice was so low she could barely hear him. “The chances are great that you will see him again. You do realize this, don't you?”

  Christina's heart began to slam against her chest. She stared at Edward in shock. How did he know? No, she was just imagining something deeper behind his words. Wetting her lips, she asked coolly, “Of whom do you speak, Edward?”

  Edward pinned her with a look that took her breath away. The sympathy radiating from his perceptive gaze almost made her want to run. “I'm sorry, my dear, but I do know who you are. When you first arrived I had you investigated. It took me a while, but I did find out all about you. Why you chose to keep your background a mystery from my brother is your affair. However, as head of this family I could no more allow a stranger with no past walk into our midst than I would allow a member of my family to knowingly endanger their life.”

  The glass slipped from her nerveless fingers. She rose to her feet and stood staring down on this man whom she loved above her own husband. She felt hurt and humiliated. He knew all about her and her failures! Suddenly, she felt light-headed and close to swooning. Her breath came in tight little pants from which she couldn't seem to draw an even breath. He knew it all!

  Turning, she stumbled and would have run away, but Edward was too quick. He might look frail and weak, but his grip was strong enough as it bit into her wrist. In a fog she heard him clip out some curt orders and as if in slow motion all the people meandering about melted away. Vaguely, she heard her son calling to her, his voice sounding fretful.

  “Christina. Christina!”

  Blinking, she realized she was on her knees directly in front of Edward with both her hands clasped firmly in his and resting on his knees. She looked up at him and saw that he was talking to her. Dimly, she began to hear him.

  “...Do you understand me, Christina? It doesn't matter. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

  In amazement she stared at him and then laughed. She heard the tinge of hysteria in her laughter, but couldn't seem to control it. “Nothing to be ashamed of? If that is your belief, then you know nothing of me. Nothing!” She felt violated somehow now that all her past pains and losses were exposed. Angrily, she tried to twist her hands free of his grip, but he would not let her go. His hold was inflexible.

  “I know everything, your highness,” he said grimly.

  Managing to free herself, she surged to her feet. “Don't call me that,” she shouted down at him. “Don't you ever dare call me that again!”

  “Christina.” The sudden gentling of his voice and manner caused her to pause, and warily she watched him. What was she expecting him to do? Repudiate her? Mock her? She was too overwrought to think clearly, and so she just stared at him, waiting for him to make the next move.

  Silently, he held out his hands. She noticed they were trembling. “Come here. Please,” he entreated softly. Taking a deep breath, she looked about her, and even though she was still tempted to run, she slowly sank back down and placed her hands into his. When he pulled her closer, she went, laying her forehead against their entwined hands, unable to look him in the eye.

  What was she doing, raising her voice to him like that? Never had she raised her voice to this man who meant so much to her. Varek had been the love of her life and always would be. Years ago she had stopped punishing herself for the guilty sin of loving another man while married to Robert. And Edward had been a large factor in this momentous decision of acceptance, though he didn't even know it. Edward was like a cool, tumbling brook of soothing water, easing her life and making it that more bearable. Even though he was not all that older than herself, he was almost like the father she had never known, nurturing and supportive during the times she had felt the most alone. She knew that in his eyes she could do no wrong. And always wanting to rem
ain perfect in his eyes, she had striven to be just that. Perfect in every way possible: the perfect wife, the perfect chatelaine for Kerkmoor, the perfect mother. But now, how could she possibly be perfect when he knew her deepest secrets?

  “Does Robert know?”

  “I didn't feel it was my place to tell Robert. I know you are probably smiling at that absurd thought, but I have never tried to interfere between you and Robert. He appears content with what he knows of you, and you have your reasons for your silence. I have respected those reasons. After all, they are harming no one.” She heard him take a deep breath. “However, that all may change very soon now. Robert has always been a bit...” he paused for a minute before continuing with care, “Robert tends to be possessive of what he considers his own.”

  Christina looked up, a puzzled frown creasing her brow. “Possessive? Robert? I have never found him so.”

  Smiling, he brushed a tendril of hair behind her ear. “You have never given him cause to show it as you have never left Kerkmoor or gone out into society. But he can be difficult to deal with at times if he feels his toes are being trod upon. I believe it is because he has been relegated to what he felt was an inferior position as second son all his life. And I must admit that our father was at fault in regards as how he had always treated Robert.” He stopped there, not feeling comfortable continuing, though Christina could see he was tempted to tell her more.

  It was hard for her to see Robert in this light as she had never experienced that side of him. That is not to say that she had not noticed the coolness between the brothers. She would have to be blind not to notice it. But she had never seen any more in it than a typical sibling rivalry. After all, it was in every family she had ever grown up around, especially in the ranks of the upper nobility. Ambition was expected of the younger sons, and at some level resentment was to be expected. However, she had never detected any animosity between them.

  So, what was Edward not telling her?

  “You still love him very much, don't you?”

  Surprised by this sudden question, Christina didn't even pretend to misunderstand his meaning. Closing her eyes, she pondered how much she could expose of herself and decided that to this man who had already proved his faith in her, she would tell him anything he needed to know. So, for the first time in years, she spoke of Varek with an honesty that was almost a relief. “I know that I will never love another as much as I loved Varek. He is with me always on some level. When I look at the stars, when I drink a fine wine, every time I look at Eddie ... He is in the trees, and the flowers, in the snow, in firelight. Simply, he is a part of me.” She gave a prosaic shrug as if telling herself it wasn't such a big thing anymore, this loss of her other half. “He is my greatest weakness.”

  “A love like that can never be a weakness, my dear. It is a miracle and not to be taken lightly.” His understanding raked her emotions. She was the wife of his only brother. How could he possibly be so compassionate after her confession?

  “Oh, please, Edward, don't do this to me. It has been years since I have ached this much. You must believe me when I say I am happy here.”

  Edward stared at her for a long moment. “And what will happen if you see him again in Vienna?”

  Pulling away from him, Christina stood up. “Who is to say we will meet again?”

  Edward sighed, exasperation clearly written on his face. Abruptly, he asked, “Tell me true, Christina, what do you feel for my brother?”

  She glanced sharply at him, not liking where this was taking them. “What kind of question is that?”

  “Stop hedging and tell me true.”

  “I love Robert.” There was no hesitation in her reply.

  And you, my darling, are lying through your teeth and you don't even know it! Edward thought unhappily. After a moment, he offered hesitantly, not sure he wanted to do this, “I could write to Castlereagh. I am sure I could persuade him to rescind his request that you accompany the suite to Vienna as a hostess.”

  Christina felt a flash of relief; then shame quickly swamped her. This appointment as attaché to Castlereagh meant so much to Robert. If she refused to assist him would he think that she was trying to impede his chances for advancement? He was such a proud man, always chafing under the stigma of being the younger brother of the Duke of Kerkston, a man who was a very respected peer with society. Any advancement Robert made on his own he considered a leap toward his independence from Edward. Could she in all conscience deny her help to Robert, a man who had given her a son she adored and a life of serenity?

  Perhaps it was time to tell him the truth about her past. But even as this thought nudged her, she cringed, though in all honesty she couldn't figure out why. What was so wrong with Robert knowing?

  She rubbed her temple and thought long and deep, and knew irrevocably that if she ever met Varek again, her whole life would be disrupted in the blink of an eye. Just the thought of coming face-to-face with Varek terrified her. After all these years of painful healing could she survive a confrontation with her lost love?

  She was startled to realize that she was holding her breath. Heaven help her, if just thinking about meeting him did this to her, what would the reality of it do to her?

  Feeling the worst sort of coward, she slowly turned to look at Edward. The words almost choked her as she whispered, “Write to Castlereagh. Ask him if he would kindly excuse me from attending.” Then before she could call back the words, she fled, years of shattered dreams nipping at her heels.

  Edward watched till she disappeared; then he turned to look out over the lake. He wondered if settling for the life she now had was ever going to be enough for Christina. He was not long for this world; he had resigned himself to that fact long ago. So, when he was gone what would happen to her? What would happen to her when Eddie was grown and gone? She would be so alone, for Robert would always be involved in his own selfish pleasures and ambitions. Edward couldn't stand the thought of Christina existing in a form of limbo, patiently awaiting the end of her life, convinced she was content with the lot that fate had demanded of her. How could he allow that when her soul mate was still alive and waiting for her? She deserved her one true love, for if anyone had been born to love, it was Christina.

  And sadly, he knew that he would never be lucky enough to be so blessed.

  Ever since that long ago day when Robert had brought Christina to Kerkmoor, he had secretly loved her. She had been so lost and alone; thin, pale and uncaring of what happened to her. Year by year, he watched Christina struggle to heal herself, dogged in her determination to thank Robert and himself for her new life. As she had turned Kerkmoor into a sanctuary she became obsessed with never leaving, even for short journeys about the countryside. Yet, even as he doubted that she would ever find happiness again, Edward had to admit that Christina was good for Robert. With Christina he was a different man; more mature and kinder of nature than ever before. If Robert was capable of truly loving anyone, he loved Christina, and even though Robert had participated to some degree in Christina's rehabilitation, he was still totally unaware of the private hell his wife had gone through to get to this tenuous place in her life.

  The worst period had been while she was pregnant, living day in and day out with her resigned dread of the inevitable miscarriage. Both he and Sergei had thought they had lost her the day she gave birth to Eddie, and both were thankful that Robert had been in London at the time. When she had given birth to her healthy son, Christina had been hysterical in a way that he hoped never to see again. They had made certain that there was a constant vigil at her bedside, fearful that she might try to take her life. Even Sergei had cried that night, cursing God and fate and the devil all in the same breath. It seemed that the only one glad to see the tiny new St. Pole into the world was his uncle. However, when the baby was finally placed into her arms, Christina had never cried again, and her son became her one reason for living, and living joyously. It was only for him that she had finally found the strength to put
her past behind her and move on to a future that was bright with promise.

  Edward clenched his fists. Was she truly happy in her life here? He knew only too well that contentment did not necessarily mean happiness, and God curse him, he only wanted to see her happy. No matter what the cost.

  What the hell should he do?

  With a curse, he spun his chair around and started to wheel himself toward home, ignoring the footmen who ran to his aid. During the laborious journey back to the manor he made his decision. He would not write to Castlereagh. He would come up with some story to tell Christina.

  “Damn you, von Vischering,” he muttered between clenched teeth, “you had bloody well better be the man I believe you to be. I am giving you this one chance. Only one before I bring her back here to safety.”

  Ignoring the pangs of conscience plaguing him about betraying his only brother, Edward held steadfast in this last task he had set himself before death finally found him.

  Two

  Vienna

  October 18, 1814

  The air was stifling yet sweet scented, as thousands of expensive tapers cast a romantic glow over the shimmering ballroom. All was pristine and a delight to the eye, the classical colonnaded pavilion built especially for this important gala. And as the gentle strains of Mozart's waltz floated through the marble halls, eighteen hundred of the elite of European aristocracy and diplomatic corps shifted along in congenial fluidity, jewels and medals proclaiming their rank and wealth. Yet Christina saw none of the opulent beauty around her. Her heart was bleeding for her oldest and dearest friend, Laure.

  Together they stood in a secluded alcove behind some palms, desperate for a respite from the onerous tasks of hostessing. The princess looked tired and tense, and following the direction of her gaze, Christina knew she would see Laure's husband, the great, manipulative, unfaithful Prince Metternich. The base cad! How could he do this to his gentle wife? How could he so publicly humiliate her? Didn't he care that he was making himself the laughingstock of the Congress? Christina's lips thinned in ire as she watched the way his stricken, puppy-dog eyes followed his former lover as she dallied shamelessly with her current amour.