Love Me Again

by Wendy M. Burge

  Turning, she spied a very old and dear friend walking toward her. Smiling warmly, she held out her hand to Prince Adam Czartoryski, who had always been a special friend of hers and Varek's. Over ten years ago the Polish nobleman had been held as a hostage in St. Petersburg, where he became best friends with the Russian heir, Alexander. At the Russian court he had also met the beautiful Grand Duchess Elizabeth, his best friend's wife. The two had fallen instantly and deeply in love. Their affair lasted three years under the nose of Alexander, who strangely turned his head the other way during their affair. However, when Elizabeth gave birth to a dark-haired, dark-eyed baby girl, the Emperor Paul could no longer sit back and watch his son be humiliated. Czartoryski had been exiled to Sardinia, even against the vehement protestations of his son. Sadly, the lovers’ child had died a year later, leaving Elizabeth even more heart-broken.

  Though Czartoryski had been recalled from exile by Alexander upon his father's death, and made him a foreign minister at his court, the two lovers had strangely enough never been reunited. Now the prince was out of favor again, this time with his long-time friend, the Czar Alexander. His chances of reuniting with the empress in Vienna during the Congress were as slim as ever.

  As the prince took her hand and bent low over it, Christina noticed the gray in his dark hair. Since coming to Vienna and rediscovering so many of her friends of old, she was beginning to realize how much of her old life she really did miss. Many of these people had almost been like family to her, and she had to admit that it was good to see them again.

  “Adam, how have you been? It's been too long, my friend.”

  “How have you been, Christina?” he asked, keeping hold of her hand, his kindly gaze searching her face.

  Shaking her head, she laughed, as she looked him over. “My God, you rogue! You only grow more handsome with age.”

  “Now, aren't you sorry you turned me down?” he teased with a smile curving his sensuous lips.

  “You know very well that if I had accepted you, I would have kicked you silly when you started to make eyes at the empress.”

  “If I'd had you, I would not have made eyes at the empress.” Even as he jested with her she saw a deep sorrow cloud his dark eyes. The affair between those two had truly been one born of a deep love.

  Tears tickled Christina's nose as she looked at Adam. It was sad to think that now they had more in common then ever before. “Have you seen the empress?”

  He smiled ruefully at her, squeezing her hand before finally letting it go. “I dare not; Alexander has me watched constantly. I don't wish to bring his anger down upon her. She has enough sorrows to bear. It seems only the good are so cursed, eh?” He glanced at Sergei, standing a polite distance away. “I have heard Varek is in Vienna.”

  Not trusting her voice, she just nodded.

  “That rough, is it?”

  “That and more.”

  They looked at each other in sympathy, silently understanding and commiserating with each other's anguish. Suddenly, they both burst out laughing. “What a pair we make,” he chuckled. “A most unlikely couple of lonely hearts.”

  “I am married again,” Christina assured him hurriedly.

  Adam glanced sharply at her, then whistled. “I can just imagine how Varek is taking that bit of news.” Then mumbled under his breath, “The poor bastard.”

  Christina's brows rose in query. “Who? Varek?”

  “Lord, no!” he laughed. “How could one ever apply a hint of pity to Varek? No, I mean the poor man who is your husband.”

  Christina stiffened, her manner cooling slightly. “What are you implying, Adam?”

  His gaze was too candid as he confided, “I've been there, Christina. I know better than anyone what you are going through. How can the poor bastard win? You and Varek were born for each other. It was apparent to anyone who ever saw the two of you together. And what is killing you is that you know it, and no matter how faithful you will always remain to your husband, there still won't be a day in your life that you won't wish him in Hell and your one true love back in your arms.”

  She gasped, stepping back, feeling Sergei behind her. Anger and a sense of betrayal shivered along nerves already rubbed raw. “I thought you my friend, Adam?”

  “I am, my dear. That is why I can tell you the brutal truth. Do you think there is not a day that goes by that I don't wish the same fate for the best friend I ever had, and all because I covet his wife?” His words were brutal and stark.

  Yes, it was true. More and more she found herself wishing that she had never met Robert, had never been weak enough to marry him. If only she had been stronger...

  Adam drew a gentle finger along Christina's flushed cheek before he stepped back and gave her a bow. Without another word, he turned about and sauntered off, idly swinging his cane as he walked. Most people who noticed this impeccably dressed gentleman would have thought he had not a care in the world.

  Christina hurriedly stepped forward. “Adam.”

  He paused and looked back.

  “Come and call on me. Please. It is so good to see you again, and there is still much we have to say to each other, years to share.” Sergei took the card she held out and crossed the distance to deliver it. Adam smiled warmly as he accepted it and tucked it safely in his pocket. There were not many doors opened to him lately; Czar Alexander had seen to that.

  “You know where my residence is,” he called back. “The door will always be open to you when you need a sympathetic shoulder to cry on. Hell, I just may wet your cheek with a few of my own.” He touched his cane to the brim of his hat in a jaunty salute before he disappeared into the crowd.

  Christina stared after him, a frown creasing her brow. “Is true love always so doomed, Sergei?” she murmured, “And if so, then why do we bother?” Not really expecting an answer to her gloomy musings, she turned and climbed into the carriage.

  * * * *

  The next day was too beautiful to be wasted indoors with another interminable afternoon of the usual squabbling between the ladies of the committee, so Christina begged Sergei to escort her out on an aimless afternoon of wandering through the menageries along the avenue Jaegerzeile. The weather was brisk and clear, and for the first time in a long while, Christina was able to relax. She even let Sergei tease her into a full-bellied laugh that had her gasping for air. It felt so good, she laughed again just for the sheer pleasure of it.

  Together they paused to watch a couple of dwarfs on stage dancing with some puppets. Then, hearing the roar of a lion, their curiosity pulled them along. Christina turned toward Sergei, intending to point out some monkeys to her companion, when a head of golden hair caught her eye. She stopped short, staring, her breath caught in her throat.

  Sergei, unaware of her preoccupation, had walked a few paces ahead of her before he realized she was no longer at his side. Looking back, he was startled at the ravaged expression on her pale face. Following the line of her vision, he spied Varek standing near the cage of a tiger. In his arms was the most beautiful little girl he had ever seen. She was the image of her majestic father. Quickly, he retraced his steps back to Christina's side.

  As if he sensed her behind him, Varek turned and looked straight into Christina's eyes. The laughter on his face died slowly; then he gently set his daughter on her feet and led her over to them.

  He bowed courteously to her and gave Sergei a brief nod. “Good morning, lark,” he greeted her warmly, his voice low so only she could hear.

  Christina couldn't seem to find her tongue. Her gaze was riveted on his daughter. Oh, God, his daughter. The child she couldn't give him. She didn't know what she felt. Her breathing was erratic, she had broken out in a cold sweat and the ground beneath her tilted. Varek's child by another woman. This beautiful little angel should have been hers.

  Almost in a daze, she sank down onto her heels so she could look into the child's eyes. She was so like him! The brilliant ice-blue eyes, wide and unblinking, framed by an abundance of da
rk lashes. The bold, slashing brows, so much darker than her hair, frowned solemnly at her. Christina reached out to touch a fine textured curl that was still the white blond of childhood, but with age it would darken to the deep honey rich shades of her father's silken hair. Looking sideways, she saw her little hand engulfed in her father's gentle grasp.

  Swallowing thickly, she gave the curious little girl a smile. “Hello. I'm Christina.”

  Crowding closer to her papa's leg, she poked her thumb into her mouth. Squatting down beside them, Varek gently tugged his daughter's thumb out of her rosebud mouth. It came out with a smacking pop. Christina didn't know whether to hug Varek, his child, or to run.

  “Say ‘Hello’ to the pretty lady, Tina,” Varek's low voice rumbled softly as he wiped the sticky thumb on his kerchief.

  Dutifully, the child repeated, “Hello.” Then she dipped a clumsy curtsey.

  Tears prickled her eyes as Christina looked into Varek's intense gaze, which seemed to possess her completely. “Tina?” she whispered.

  Slowly, he nodded. “Tina Marie.” Christina's middle name was Marie. Christina's eyes slid closed to capture the tears she refused to let fall. Oh, Varek, my dear love. Even all those years ago he had been telling the world who was his child's mother in his heart.

  Blinking rapidly, Christina again studied his daughter. Tina Marie. If Varek was her soul mate, did that make Tina Marie her soul daughter? She almost laughed at the sad absurdity of it. Her voice quavered as she said, “She's gorgeous, Varek. You must be so proud.” When she again had control of herself, she dared to look at him.

  Still watching her intently, Varek merely nodded, his penetrating gaze speaking a multitude of his feelings, none of which could be spoken out loud at that moment.

  Taking a deep breath, she stood abruptly and stepped away from them. She had to get away. Now! Linking her arm with the silent Sergei, she smiled with false brightness down on them. “It was a pleasure meeting you, young lady. Be sure you tell your father to take you to see the puppet show.” Then she literally dragged Sergei away as she did what she was best at, she ran.

  Tina Marie popped her thumb back into her mouth, then tugged impatiently on her papa's arm to get his attention. But he wasn't looking at her; he was watching the pretty lady until she was out of sight. He looked sad again and she didn't like to see her papa look sad. Holding onto his cheeks, she pulled his face around to her. “You a'right, Papa?”

  Varek looked at his littlest love and felt a sadness swamp him that almost unmanned him. Christina should be standing beside them, not running away. Covering his daughter's hands, he pulled them to his lips and kissed them. “Oh, Tina, hopefully one day we will all be all right.”

  Standing, he lifted his daughter into his arms and determinedly strode toward the puppet show.

  * * * *

  “Are you all right?” Sergei asked, concerned, as his long-legged stride easily matched Christina hurried steps.

  “No. Just keep walking.”

  “He named her after you.”

  “Shut up, Sergei,” she snapped, her voice cracking. Her shoulders started to jerk, and Sergei quickly swept her behind a colonnade, offering her some privacy. Blindly, she turned into his arms and held on as if she expected a wave to sweep her away. “She should have been mine, Sergei! Why? Why?" Her body was shaking with tremors that had Sergei frightened. Ignoring the curious and frowning stares around him, he held her close enough for it to seep into her panic that she was not alone.

  Looking back through the crowds, he caught a brief glimpse of Varek, with his daughter in his arms again. He cringed at the stark pain etched on his friend's usually impassive face.

  Still trembling, Christina pushed out of his arms, and he was surprised to see her eyes dry. However, seeing the hard, brilliant cast to the glare she tossed about her, he much preferred the tears. He didn't like this stranger suddenly standing before him. Her body was as rigid as stone when she moved off, striding with hurried steps toward the British apartments.

  Sergei looked once more toward Varek and saw him gone. He stood undecided for a long moment, not knowing whom to follow. Then, with a sigh, he took off after Christina. God, in the mood she was in, she might charge across a street not caring what she walked out in front of.

  Enough was enough. Tonight he was going to write to Edward. If the duke was intent on playing God, then he could sure as hell fix this mess he had instigated.

  * * * *

  Two days after that heart-wrenching meeting with Varek's daughter, Christina's steps dragged as she let herself into the apartment, weary and heavy-hearted. She looked about the room as if in a daze, drawing off her gloves and bonnet. She was surprised to see a light on in the study and curious, as Robert was hardly ever in at this early hour, she walked into the cozy room.

  Her feelings were mixed as she noticed his figure sprawled in the chair before the fire, engrossed in a letter. Stepping closer, her heart skipped a beat. The crest on the letterhead was Kerkston's. Edward had finally written. For months she had waited impatiently for word from home.

  Tossing her apparel aside, her skirts rustled sharply in the quiet room as she moved eagerly forward to stand over Robert.

  Startled, he jumped to his feet and blinked down into her radiantly smiling face. Not having received such a show of warmth from her in weeks, he offered her a hesitant smile in return, bending down to give her a kiss.

  “We have finally heard from Edward?” were the first words out of her mouth, her gaze fixed almost hungrily on the letter in his hands. His smile died a swift death as he realized her buoyant good cheer had nothing to do with him. As usual. The letter fisted in a convulsive grasp as she reached for it. Perversely, he stepped away from her, holding it out of her reach.

  Confused, she looked into Robert's eyes and warily stepped back from the scowl he bent upon her. Her hands came up to twist together at her waist. She was having a hard time biting off the anger she was beginning to feel. Not another argument. “Is something wrong?” she asked hesitantly, striving to keep her voice calm.

  He offered her no reply as he stepped around her and headed for the door. She couldn't believe he was simply walking away from her.

  “Robert!” she bit out sharply.

  He paused in the doorway and turned partially toward her without looking at her. Again he said nothing.

  Taking a deep breath to tamp down her anger and confusion, she waved weakly at the letter. “How is Eddie...”

  “Fine!” he grated out, turning to fling a sidelong scowl at her. “He's just fine! How about asking how my day was?” With that dearth of information he left her alone staring in turmoil about the empty room. In the distance she heard the slamming of a door and the rage that swamped her had her trembling.

  From head to toe, her body shook. She was truly and totally enraged, and it felt cleansing. Striding over to the door, she did her own share of venting, and slammed the door so hard that the lintel cracked. With a strained smile, she inspected the damage. Not good enough.

  Looking around she spotted the new mechanical music box he had just purchased and was so proud of. He had a passion for mechanical knick-knacks.

  Very well. If he was going to act like a spoiled child, it was only fair she should be accorded the same privilege. Picking up the ugly box, she started to heft it at the abused portal, and then paused abruptly, the aborted toss throwing her off balance. Biting her lip, she weighed the substantial bulk in her hand, considering the damage it would cause. After all, the door and its delicate woodwork was not hers to destroy.

  A decision made, she stepped quickly to the window and, sliding it open, she casually tossed the expensive box out. She smiled smugly as she heard it shatter with a delightful tinkling of debris. However, she frowned quickly enough as a muffled curse exploded up toward her. Leaning out, she apologized abjectly to the disgruntled pedestrian and then surveyed her handiwork. Sighing with contented goodwill, she gazed about the beautiful plaza. Ven
ting her anger felt good. She should do it more often, she decided as she stepped back into the study.

  Closing the window with a snap, she dusted off her hands briskly and went to her room to change for dinner.

  * * * *

  The next morning when Christina sat down at her dressing table she noticed the letter from Edward propped against the mirror with a rose.

  She couldn't help the spurt of guilty anger she felt toward Robert. Why hadn't he just given it to her yesterday?

  Refusing to brood over Robert's twisted reasons for both the argument last night and his apology this morning, she hurriedly opened the letter and searched first for any reference to her little son. Soon she was laughing and wishing more than ever that she was back home.

  Twelve

  Lord and Lady Castlereagh bumped another chair as they executed a rather untidy turn. Their feet tangled and the lady was thrown off balance, almost falling to her knees. With curses aplenty, they paused, straightened themselves and then with dignified hauteur gamely tried again. Castlereagh's secretary, Peterson, sat oblivious at the pianoforte and banged out an inferior rendition of a waltz. He knew better than to pause, so on he continued, wisely ignorant of his superior's ungainly progress around the dance floor.

  Every other day, or when their hectic schedules allowed, the Castlereaghs met here and tried to teach themselves the intimidating steps of the Viennese waltz. So far they weren't doing very well. But they did try, saving themselves the embarrassment of the eyes of the snobbish European elite.

  Seeing a bit of color out of the corner of his eye, Castlereagh stumbled to a halt, catching hold of his wife, whom he had just thrown off balance. The music tinkled off into silence. Together the Castlereaghs stared a bit self-consciously at the appearance of Lady Basingstoke in the doorway.

  Smiling at the odd couple, Christina moved farther into the room. She liked the Castlereaghs. The viscountess at times was testy and difficult to deal with, but it was a fault that could be overlooked, for the devotion the two showed each other was so obvious. Castlereagh was handsome and elegant enough to be a rogue of the first water, but he truly loved his dowdy, overweight wife. It rather gave one an optimism that love really did exist for everyone and not just the beautiful.