by Sue London
Had they truly been master and servant, the casual disregard for Casimir’s direction might be reason for rebuke. Instead he asked his kinsman, “How would you like to be introduced?”
Wladek gave the nearby noblemen a dark glance. “I have no interest in joining your social circles, książę.”
“If I’m książę then you’re szlachcic, ” he said, referring to the purported noble blood that flowed through their veins.
“They needn’t know that.”
“Well,” Casimir said, poking the younger man in the chest, “regardless of what role you want to play, you’ll be standing with me at my wedding.”
Wladek bowed. “As you wish, książę.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“They have no idea what we’re saying.”
Casimir turned to nobles behind him, changing back to English. “My apologies for the delay, my lords. My man here has surprised me by following me from Vienna when I didn’t expect him to.”
Wladek bowed again, this time to the nobles that had brought Casimir to the church.
Gideon clasped Casimir on the shoulder. “You didn’t tell me that one of your talents was inspiring loyalty.”
Casimir, not sure what to say, simply nodded and led the way into the church.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
George thought that if their first wedding had been unexpectedly sweet, this one was quite expectedly boisterous, full of jokes, toasts, teasing, and laughter. The earl had brought an entire crate of vodka to the celebration. Her brother James had been incredibly sweet in executing his duty in walking her down the aisle. Casimir and Wladek had taught everyone Polish country-dances and Wladek had even played fiddle music from their homeland.
Now, standing alone in the quiet of their new bedroom, the gaiety of the event from just a few hours ago seemed very far away. Casimir was downstairs somewhere with Wladek, most likely settling the servant in to his quarters. Gideon had insisted that the Rokiczanas take the remaining vodka home with them so she could only hope that they hadn’t continued drinking it. Then again, perhaps it would be easier to get the truth from him if he had over-imbibed. She sighed and began pulling the pins from her hair.
“Starting without me?”
She had been thinking so deeply that his voice from the doorway startled her. He closed the door and walked to her. His fingers deftly pulled the remaining pins as easily as she could have done herself. Why couldn’t this be all there was? The man who charmed her. The man who knew her body better than she knew it herself.
He gave her a soft smile. “This wedding night has you nervous? What happened to the bold woman who seduced me in Nuremberg?”
“Casimir…”
He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Think of England.”
Were that she were free to chuckle at that joke between them. But it had a different meaning for her now. She did need to think of England. She needed to know why he was here. Why he had never told her the truth of his past. She didn’t recognize her own voice as she hollowly asked, “Why is there a warrant for your arrest in Prussia?”
He drew back a full step, almost as though she had burned him. “How did you-Did Wladek-?”
She shook her head and looked down at her shoes. His eyes had looked fearful and hunted for a moment. She didn’t want to see it. Then she realized that meant she was still clinging to the fantasy. Biting her lip she raised her gaze to his again. He had mastered his fear, but was searching her expression for some sign. She had nothing to give him.
He sighed, his shoulders slumping. Waving to the small sitting area he said, “Sit. I have things to tell you.”
She perched on the small, upholstered chair as though the option of escape were important. He sat across from her, leaning over so that his elbows were braced on his knees. After running his hands over his face he clasped them, staring down at them instead of meeting her gaze.
“Perhaps I should have told you all this before, but it’s not easy to explain. I will assume that you aren’t familiar with Polish history?” He glanced up at her.
“No, not really.”
“Let me begin there. Five hundred years ago-”
“Casimir, please.”
He held up a hand. “A moment. It will be relevant. Five hundred years ago Poland was ruled by Casimir the Third, also known as Casimir the Great.”
George struggled to not interrupt him.
“Casimir died without a male successor, even though he had married many wives in his quest for an heir. One of the wives he set aside was Christina Rokiczana.” He finally met her gaze again. “Christina returned to Bohemia. Our family lore is that she did have a son. One she hid away to save from the court intrigue roiling around a powerful but desperate king.”
“You’re saying you’re descended from a king of Poland?”
He looked down at his hands again. “I’m saying I was raised being told that I was.”
“I don’t understand, why the distinction?”
He laughed. “I grew up in a glade in the forests of Silesia, being told these family stories. That we had this noble blood, duties to the people and the land, that one day we would rise by the will of the people to rule Poland again. A united, free Poland. But I grew up in what was little better than a hovel, Gini. We had the best of what our clan had to offer, but it wasn’t much.”
She looked at her husband. He had been perfectly turned out at the wedding, the picture of a modern European gentleman. Even now, with his cravat askew and cuffs rolled back he looked more a rich fainéant than a commoner. She would never have suspected he knew poverty.
“And as much as we loved Poland, we hated the Russian and Prussian noblemen who ran roughshod over her, taking land and wealth as though it was their right. Fortunately their confidence was so great, their pride so blinding, that they would travel throughout Poland without the proper protections.”
George felt her jaw drop open. “You’re a highwayman.”
“My father was. A very successful one. He was quite clever in his own way. When I was fourteen he sat me down and said that the mistake his father, my grandfather, had made was in not trying to change the system from the inside. My grandfather and many of the men in our clan were among those massacred outside Warsaw the year I was born. Learning from that, my father changed his tactic from the rabble rousing that my grandfather had done to securing funds for a different approach. He knew that he would never be accepted among the elite, so he told me that it was up to me. To attend their schools, make friends with them, become enough like them that I could travel in their circles and influence their decision. It was up to me to make them respect me as they must respect the next king of Poland.”
“Oh, Casimir.”
“Before he sent me to school he took me to his bank in Switzerland and made sure that I had access to all the accounts, should anything happen to him. I’ll just say that all those years of robbing nobleman had added up to a substantial amount. He finagled admission to an exclusive academy, I assume by bribery. That was how I started my education with the sons of Prussian noblemen. I didn’t look like them, didn’t sound like them, and hated them so deeply I can barely explain it. They returned that hatred. I was different, I was inferior. It was no lie when I said that I have suffered far worse beatings than that from Robert’s man. Most of them were my first year at academy.”
“You should have gone home!”
“I couldn’t. This was my duty. My destiny. I still believed, you see. I still believed that I was to be the king of Poland.”
George bit her lip, thinking of how stubborn James could be. “Then what happened?”
“Two things. One of my classmates, Heinrich, stood up for me. That was the first time anyone outside of my clan had done anything for me. And then in class one day a discussion started about the Sinti.”
“Sinti?”
“Rom. Romani. Gypsies. We’re not Sinti. We may really be from Bohemia or just from Silesia, I’m not sure. B
ut the description of how the Sinti would live, what they would do…”
“It sounded familiar?”
“Too familiar. It made me question. It opened my mind to considering that the stories of my lineage weren’t true. That someone in my ancestry had decided that this was a way to get what they wanted, and now we were just acting out the unfortunate result of a fraud. Because I do think my father truly believed. By the time he sent me to school he could have been living as a wealthy landowner rather than hording his money in secret banks.”
“Then what happened?”
Casimir clasped his hands so tightly together that they turned white. “Father was clever enough to know that the next thing I needed after education and friendships was an advantageous marriage. When I was sixteen I entered university and father arranged a marriage for me with the daughter of a minor Russian nobleman. See how clever? Friendships in Prussia, a marriage in Russia. It was all set up to help me navigate the politics when I came to power. By then I was already questioning those assumptions in my own mind, but I was a dutiful son. I met Mariya when I was seventeen. She was very beautiful but her German was worse than my Russian. We finally realized we both spoke French with some proficiency.” He gave a hollow laugh. “I thought I was so lucky. Already sure that I would never see the throne of Poland, but knowing that we had millions in the bank and now I would have a lovely wife. The wedding was set for that summer. Knowing that we would wed in mere months I made assumptions about her loyalty, her interest. I was naive.”
“You told her about your family.”
Casimir nodded. “About our legend, about my doubts. About my grandfather’s role in the uprising. And she seemed interested. Curious.”
George found herself covering her mouth with her hand. Casimir’s reaction, his tone, made it clear that something horrible had happened.
He continued. “She went to the magistrate, Helmut. She told him everything, including things she made up to embellish her story.”
“Why?”
“To break the engagement.” His head was in his hands. “I had already gone back to university. I didn’t know of it until Wladek came to tell me I couldn’t go home because the magistrate wanted me arrested for sedition. That my father had already,” his voice broke,” already been executed.”
George crossed to him, kneeling in front of his chair and wrapping her arms around his back. After a moment he leaned his forehead on her shoulder, his arms wrapping around her as well. His sobs were quiet but she could feel his tears on her neck. After a moment he pulled her up into his lap. They sat there quietly, her curled protectively over him, until long past when the sun set.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Two days later Casimir was at the newly acquired offices of W.T. Investments. He had discussed it with Gini shortly after Gideon had offered the position and they had agreed that it would be a good use of his time for now. Of course, when she agreed she hadn’t realized he had a good bit of money in the bank himself. Just this morning she had asked him why he wanted to work. Business had never been of particular interest to him, but the opportunity to grow closer to the earl and duke by running their company was of very great interest to him. Gini still didn’t quite understand that, as much as he didn’t believe he would ever be the sovereign of Poland, he still loved his country with every fiber. He still wanted to do whatever he could to help them. He didn’t know what that might be, but suspected that being in the good graces of two of the more powerful men in England would never serve him poorly.
Gideon had been primarily running the business through one of his solicitors and making most of the decisions himself, but wanted to formalize it with his hiring of Casimir, and that included this set of offices. Casimir had already met the solicitor who would still be handling all the contracts, and the banker they worked with for financing. Now he was authorized to hire an assistant and whatever else he might need to make a go of it. It was intimidating, certainly, to be embarking on this venture. But Gideon insisted that he would be available for anything Casimir needed for as long as might be needed. He also said that Casimir would be wise to seek the countess’s advice on businesses to invest in.
The earl was just now running a finger over the windowsill with a frown. “I thought they had cleaned.”
Casimir chuckled. “If that’s my worst problem this week I will count it as a success.”
Gideon sat in one of the chairs, crossing his legs. “All right, then. Shall we begin?”
“Yes,” Casimir said, sitting, although he wasn’t sure quite what the earl was about.
“Why are you here?”
“As I recall, I accepted your offer for this position.”
“Hm. I mean why are you here?”
“Does it matter?”
“Intensely. Perhaps you recognize the quote, ‘Where the willingness is great, the difficulties cannot be great’?”
Casimir thought for a moment, translating it in his mind until he found a language where it was, indeed, familiar. “Machiavelli.”
Gideon nodded. “As I know the challenges with this business continue to grow, I want to ensure that you will not find the difficulties too great.”
“Why am I here? I’m helping my new friends the Earl of Harrington and Duke of Beloin.”
The earl laughed. “Yes, I’m sure that will buoy you up in your times of difficulty.”
“Of course it will. How could I disappoint you? Especially as I hope that one day you might help my aims in Poland.”
“Ah, that was what I wanted to hear. That this will fulfill your own goals as well as mine.”
Casimir nodded. “I think it will. If nothing else, it gives me something to do that will keep Georgiana close to her family for now.”
“I didn’t realize that was a concern.”
“With her mother so ill, I want her to have the opportunity to visit if she should want to.”
“I see. You know there will be travel required in this position? That is part of why I can no longer do all that is needed.”
“I’m sure Gini will be delighted when she can go with me.”
“I’ve given some more thought to your concerns regarding your homeland. And some reading as well.”
“Yes?”
“Perhaps if we focus on things that can’t be as easily taken from the people as land. Skills and education. Industry.”
Casimir was intrigued that the earl had used the term ‘we’. Why had he so quickly invested in a man hardly known to him? Was it simply the relationship between their wives? “I’ve had similar thoughts.”
“Good. I have been thinking of pursing investments on the continent and the details for one of the options in central Europe is already on your desk.”
Casimir rose to inspect the papers that he had assumed were more general in nature. “I know the Blumenthals,” he murmured.
“Excellent. See? I told you my talents included identifying and exploiting opportunities.”
The earl looked perfectly relaxed, sitting there in the mid-morning light. Anyone walking in wouldn’t suspect him capable of changing lives. But Casimir knew with a sudden clarity that this was the first time since he had overheard his classmates talking about gypsies that he could imagine a future. A worthwhile future. His forebears might have been charlatans, or deluded, but he would finally have an opportunity to do things that were useful to his people. All because of a man who made it sound like Casimir was doing him a favor.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
George frowned at the flower arrangement in the drawing room, moving the stems again to see if it was more pleasing. It would help if she could find some shears and change the heights, but the biggest challenge of setting up a new household was being woefully short on basic supplies. Because of her artistic talent everyone expected her to both enjoy and excel at things like this but in truth she despised flower arranging. Jacks’ little sister Samantha was really the best at it. Perhaps Sam would come over and do something with all t
hese flowers that Sabre had sent. The duchess had been very generous, and it was helpful since they had barely any furniture and no decorations. But drat, she hated to arrange flowers. Perhaps Wladek had an as yet unknown talent for flower arrangement. She would have to ask him when he returned from the market.
A knock at the door drew her from her frustration. She tried not to be too thrilled for the distraction. She also thought she needed to turn her attention to hiring staff.
The man she saw on the other side of the door was a surprise. “Mr. Sims?”
He gave her a grimace that she knew for him passed as a smile. “Mrs. Rokiczana,” he said with a small bow. Pointing to a nearby carriage he said, “Mr. Bittlesworth needs to see you.”
George felt the hairs on her arms and back of her neck rise. Following her instincts, she flung the heavy door closed, but Sims whipped his walking stick into the opening before it fully closed and the door bounced back. She had an impression of Sims’ expression of rage before she fled toward the back of the house. Bloody hell, why wasn’t she armed? Certainly there would be at least one knife in the kitchen? She had left the kitchens to Wladek, having no interest in them herself. Going upstairs to retrieve her weapons could be a dangerous mistake, as escape might yet be the best option and she didn’t fancy the idea of jumping out a window. Another one of Sabre’s vases of flowers was on a table in the back hallway and George tore it off the table to toss behind herself. She heard a crash and curse. Gaining the kitchen, her eyes flew about, looking for the knives. Bread. More flowers. No knives. She dashed around the table to put the large piece of wood between them as she continued to look for something she could use as a weapon.
Sims stopped at the doorway, his eyes narrowing. He twirled his walking stick in his hand, assessing her. “Come, love. Why won’t you see Mr. Bittlesworth?”
“Robert? I’ve already said everything I want to say to Robert. Tell him-tell him I already know.” The first thing she would do once she rid herself of Sims was make sure to have weapons strategically placed about the house. What she wouldn’t do for a flint lock right now. She eyed the door into the back alley and knew that retreat was her best option. Sims saw the direction of her gaze and hastened to put himself closer to that exit. She made a feint for the back door to get him to commit in that direction, then bolted straight over the table to the door that led back to the hallway. She felt a sharp pain in the back of her leg, accompanied by the loud crack of wood striking her, and stumbled into the wall, falling to the floor in the hallway. Bloody hell, the man was fast to have reached her already. She flipped on her back as he reached down for her and kicked him in the knee as hard as she could. His face creased in pain as he dropped. She wriggled away from him, gaining her feet to speed off again. Not knowing who might be in the carriage outside, she couldn’t go out the front. She let herself out the glass doors from the drawing room to the side garden. Sabre’s house was the closest of the Haberdashers. She ran there, ignoring the pain of her injuries and the curious stares from neighbors.