Gayle Buck

by The Hidden Heart

“Forgive me, your grace. I have but this moment returned from hunting. When I was informed of your arrival, I so much forgot myself in my eager wish to greet you that I did not go upstairs to make myself presentable first,” Lord Trilby said with a half-smile.

  The Grandduchess Wilhelmina Hildebrande nodded, accepting the necessity of his lapse in proper manners as a form of compliment to herself and to the esteem in which he held her. “It is understood, of course. You were not to know in advance of my arrival. Your secretary is a worthy and loyal man, Miles. He was not easily persuaded to permit me to indulge my wish to come upon Walmesley all unexpected.”

  Lord Trilby’s brows rose in surprised understanding. This was the explanation, then, for his secretary’s odd omission regarding any mention of the grandduchess. “If I had known of your intentions, I could have better prepared for your arrival, your grace.”

  The grandduchess flashed a thin smile. “I think we each have an understanding of why I should wish to do so,” she said, watching with satisfaction the sudden wariness that entered the Earl of Walmesley’s expression.

  She turned her head and gestured imperiously to a small voluminously cloaked figure who had stood apart during the conversation. When the young lady appeared to hesitate, the grandduchess reached out for her hand and firmly drew her forward. “Come, Marie. Do not be so shy with us. Lord Trilby, I wish you to meet my protégé, Fräulein Gutenberg. Fräulein, this fine English gentleman is the one whom I have told you so much about. Lord Miles Trilby, the Earl of Walmesley.”

  Lord Trilby shot the Grandduchess of Schaffenzeits a keen glance. As she met it, an expression of amused malice lit her heavy-lidded eyes. Lord Trilby thought his great-aunt knew very well what she was doing in pushing forward the young woman, and his thoughts were not charitable toward the grandduchess. He was reluctant to enter even so far into her schemings as to acknowledge the bride she had chosen for him. However, he was too well-mannered to parade his feelings.

  The Earl of Walmesley gathered himself to carry out his obligation with noble fortitude. With the politest of expressions he took Fräulein Gutenberg’s small gloved hand. She cast up a single glance at his face before lowering her eyes. The brim of her bonnet so shaded her face that he could not have studied her features even if he had wanted to do so.

  Instead of raising the Fräulein’s hand to his lips as he would assuredly have done with any other lady whom he had just met. Lord Trilby shook her hand in the most civil manner of which he was capable. This most impersonal of salutations was calculated to convey to his great-aunt that he was not as amenable to her plans for him as she might wish. His verbal greeting, too, was worded in such a way that the Grandduchess of Schaffenzeits could not mistake his stand. “Welcome to Walmesley, Fräulein. I hope your stay here is pleasant. I hope also that you will always retain fond memories of your visit to England.”

  The Grandduchess Wilhelmina Hildebrande gave a delighted cackle. The lines were now well and truly drawn. She liked nothing better than the struggle of wills and the maneuverings that came with such skirmishes. It was, after all, how she had managed to keep her own duchy intact for so long when all about her others were forced to fall in with the usurper Bonaparte. For now, however, she would let go the earl’s open challenge. There would shortly come a better time to demonstrate her strength and to engage forces.

  “My lord, I suggest that Marie and I repair to our rooms to put off our cloaks and make ourselves presentable for dinner,” the grandduchess said. She glanced significantly at the earl’s soiled hunting attire. “You shall make the required adjustments before rejoining us, of course.”

  Lord Trilby bowed, a faint smile on his face for the imperious command and the raising of the grandduchess’s brows as her sharp eyes swept his disheveled figure and muddied boots. “Of course, your grace. The footman will show you to your rooms.”

  The Grandduchess Wilhelmina Hildebrande nodded her satisfaction. “Come, Marie. You shall attend your toilette at once. We do not wish to keep his lordship waiting for us.” She started for the drawing-room door, her walking stick tapping dully against the carpet. The silent young Fräulein resembled a cutter in the tow of a competent old barge as she obediently accompanied the grandduchess.

  The Grandduchess Wilhelmina Hildebrande suddenly swept around on the earl. “We do not keep town hours while I am in residence at Walmesley, as you will no doubt recall. I am an old woman. I do not like to wait until the small hours for dinner, when it is time to seek to the comforts of my bed.”

  “I often observe country hours when at Walmesley,” Lord Trilby said without betraying even by a flicker of his eyelids the untruth.

  The grandduchess’s thin lips stretched once more in a satisfied smile. “Good. I detest unpunctuality of any sort, whether in my meals or in my companions.” She sailed regally out of the room.

  Fräulein Gutenberg glanced briefly back at the earl before hurrying in her mistress’s wake.

  Lord Trilby waited a moment before he, too, left the drawing room. He stopped in the entry hall to inform the butler that the dinner hour was to be advanced before he continued up the stairs to seek the ministrations of his valet.

  Though he could not see or hear the reaction of the household upon receiving the news that country hours were to be observed, he could well imagine the consternation in the kitchen when it was realized that dinner had to be served two hours earlier than had been anticipated. He laughed quietly to himself. The Grandduchess of Schaffenzeits had just begun to make her firm presence felt, as he well knew. He shrugged. The grandduchess’s visits had always been stimulating.

  When Lord Trilby entered his bedroom, his valet was setting out attire for the evening. The earl indicated the knee breeches that were laid over the back of a chair. “You have anticipated me, Wims.”

  The valet came forward to divest the earl of his hunting coat and, when the earl sat down on the chair, to begin the task of pulling off his lordship’s muddy boots. “Indeed, my lord. I had heard that her grace, the Grandduchess of Schaffenzeits, had arrived.”

  Lord Trilby smiled. “The word travels quickly. I suppose that the rest of the household must also recall that her grace is a stickler for the old dictates.”

  The valet nodded, rising, the boots in his hands. “It is vividly recalled, my lord.” He set the boots carefully aside on paper that had been previously spread to receive them, where they would remain until his lordship had gone downstairs to dinner and he would be free to clean them.

  The earl laughed. He whipped off his neckcloth and carelessly dropped it to the carpet. In short order he discarded waistcoat and shirt, dispensing with them in the same manner. “So they should, after her grace’s last descent upon the house. All had to be rearranged and regimented according to even her grace’s most eccentric wishes, and there was the devil to pay if something was not quite up to snuff. It is to be hoped that this visit will proceed a bit more smoothly.” Lord Trilby grimaced ruefully, his thoughts veering to the grandduchess’s express purpose in coming to England. “I myself shall toe as fine a line as I may, but I fear that it will likely all be in vain.’’

  The valet cocked his head, pausing in the task of gathering up the discarded clothing. “Shall you be wishing powder for your hair, my lord?”

  Lord Trilby stopped in the act of shedding his breeches. He stared at his manservant, revolted. “Good God, no! One goes only so far in humoring the grandduchess’s preferences.”

  The valet permitted himself a small smile. “Very good, my lord. The bath is prepared, my lord.”

  Chapter Ten

  In a little over an hour, Lord Trilby returned downstairs. The butler quietly said a few words to him upon his descent of the last step, and Lord Trilby nodded. When he entered the drawing room, he found that the Grandduchess of Schaffenzeits and Fräulein Gutenberg had already preceded him. He was interested and amused to note that his great-aunt had chosen to attire herself in a round robe, high-waisted and very full, with a neckli
ne filled in with a fichu, which, however faintly, resembled the old court gown of days past. The Grandduchess of Schaffenzeit’s headdress was also on formal lines, being a toque of lame trimmed with a fine plume.

  Lord Trilby transferred his gaze to Fräulein Gutenberg in expectation of seeing the same formality of dress, but he was surprised. The Fräulein was robed in a simple round dress that set off an admirable figure. The low décolletage of the gown was trimmed lavishly with lace, adding piquancy to the swell of her firm bosom. Her dark hair had been dressed so that it appeared to be a fine cloud about her small, neatly formed head, and set off her dark brown eyes.

  Fräulein Gutenberg was a beauty.

  Lord Trilby was still grappling with the discovery as he advanced on his guests.

  The ladies watched the Earl of Walmesley’s approach with varying degrees of interest. He could read nothing in the Fräulein’s expression, but he had no difficulty in deciphering the knowing look in the Grandduchess of Schaffenzeit’s eyes. She had anticipated his shock at discovering that the prospective bride she had brought to him was undeniably and devastatingly beautiful.

  Lord Trilby had recovered his equilibrium enough to be able to greet the ladies with an easy manner. “Your grace, Fräulein. I am honored that I am to have such fair company this evening.”

  The grandduchess looked over her grandnephew with a critical gaze.

  The earl was handsomely turned out. His dark, curly hair was brushed forward from the crown in the fashionable style. Lord Trilby’s brows quirked over the amused expression in his eyes as he good-naturedly withstood the scrutiny. The dark blue coat set his broad shoulders to perfection. The embroidered silk waistcoat that he sported was left open but for the last few buttons so that the frilled shirt beneath it was revealed. The old-fashioned knee breeches were lighter in color than the coat and admirably drew the gaze down to the muscular calves sheathed in gray stockings and the black pumps on his feet.

  The Grandduchess Wilhelmina Hildebrande nodded in approval. “You are a distinguished gentleman when you wish it, Miles.”

  Lord Trilby again bowed over her hand. “I shall take the rare compliment to heart, your grace.”

  The grandduchess cackled and snapped her fan sticks against his knuckles. “Now, make your pretty leg to Marie. A young woman has far greater appreciation for such nice accomplishments than does an old crone such as myself.’’

  Lord Trilby did as he was bidden. He raised Fräulein Gutenberg’s hand and gave a light pressure to her small fingers. He said in a polite form, “Fräulein Gutenberg, I welcome you again to Walmesley, and this time in proper form.”

  “Danke, my lord.” Fräulein Gutenberg’s voice was pitched low, and underscored, not unattractively, her own heavy accent.

  The Grandduchess Wilhelmina Hildebrande directed an imperious query at her grandnephew with a lifting of her scant brows. “I hope that we are soon to go in to dinner, Miles. The hour is already well-advanced, as may be seen by the mantel clock, and I do not like to be kept dangling by inept servants.”

  Lord Trilby glanced in the direction of the drawing-room door, where at that moment the butler had appeared. He lifted his own brow, and the butler nodded. “Yes, I believe it is time. Allow me to escort you, your grace.” He aided the Grandduchess of Schaffenzeits to her feet and then drew her withered hand through his arm. He smiled down at her sharp features. “Your company greatly honors me, your grace.”

  The Grandduchess Wilelmina Hildebrande pinched his sleeve with her clawed fingers. “Ah, you have ever had the smooth tongue in your head. In that, you closely resemble your father. I recall quite clearly that his lordship was a stubborn man, as well. We shall see whether that quality is so forthcoming and as ingrained in his son.” The grand-duchess gave one of her short cackles. Abruptly her mood changed. She rapped her cane on the floor. “We shall proceed, if you please, my lord!” Without glancing around, she ordered, “Marie, you shall follow.”

  Lord Trilby escorted the grandduchess to the dining room, where he saw that she was comfortably seated. It was a mild relief to him that one of the footmen leapt forward to perform the same office for Fräulein Gutenberg. He rather thought that the less attention he was forced to dispense, even in terms of the simplest civilities, to the quiet Fräulein, the better it would be for the preservation of his position.

  As Lord Trilby took his place at the head of the table, with the ladies placed at either hand, he glanced in Fräulein Gutenberg’s direction. Her gaze was lowered, and so whatever feelings might have been revealed in her eyes were hidden from him. He studied her features again, marveling once more at her unexpected beauty. Her face was heart-shaped and very lovely. However, not once had he detected even a spark of animation in either her expression or her manner, which, for him, detracted considerably from her natural charms.

  Lord Trilby thought there must surely be something lying behind Fräulein Gutenberg’s apparent passivity. He wondered what her thoughts were on being brought to England to wed a man that she knew next to nothing about. Surely she felt something. Had she agreed wholeheartedly to the proposed match or did she harbor private and thus far unarticulated reservations?

  An appalling possibility that had not previously occurred to him reared its head. Lord Trilby shot a narrowed look at the Grandduchess of Schaffenzeits, who was impervious to his sudden scrutiny as she directed the footman how she wished to be served her soup.

  The earl pursued his incredible thought. It was not entirely improbable that Fräulein Gutenberg had been left completely in the dark. She could be ignorant of the grandduchess’s purpose in introducing her to himself. She might have been told that she was being brought along to England to serve in the capacity of a companion to the grandduchess, which surmise fitted exactly the fashion in which the Fräulein had been treated.

  Perhaps the explanation had been given to her that her inclination on the journey had been granted as a sort of favor to the young lady’s family in order to broaden her horizons. The future of a young and well-bred daughter of a noble family exiled from their own homeland was uncertain, at best, and an opportunity to expose her to the well-bred society of Britain would be looked upon with favor, especially if it resulted in a creditable marriage with a gentleman of name and means.

  Fräulein Gutenberg could be hoping to marry an English gentleman, but not necessarily himself, Lord Trilby thought. In short, the Fräulein might not know anything at all about the outrageous scheme that the Grandduchess of Schaffenzeits was determined to force upon him.

  Lord Trilby’s jaw tightened as he weighed the possibility and its ramifications. If it was as he speculated and the Fräulein knew nothing, then his cold manners toward her could only have wounded and offended. It was not in his nature to willfully inflict hurt or dispense deliberate insult, and yet that was the position he must already occupy if Fräulein Gutenberg was indeed not in the grandduchess’s confidence. It was an intolerable position,

  However, if he alluded in any way to the match proposed by the Grandduchess of Schaffenzeits, such intelligence could only come as a decided shock to the Fräulein. It might also serve as an unfortunate catalyst in crystallizing Fräulein Gutenberg’s previous unformed and nebulous ambitions. In that circumstance, he would himself have created the very atmosphere that he had hoped to discourage with his stiffly formal manner toward the young lady.

  On the other hand, if Fräulein Gutenberg was indeed aware of the role that the Grandduchess of Schaffenzeits intended for her, then he could not afford to change his manner. Anything other than the most correct protocol would erode his defenses, for a more friendly manner must inevitably lead the young lady to expect, in short order, some sort of declaration from him.

  Good God, what a convoluted coil.

  “My lord, do you not find the beef to your taste?”

  Lord Trilby was startled out of his reverie. He glanced up at the footman standing at his shoulder, then around the table, to discover that the soup had been r
emoved in favor of the main course. “I have discovered little appetite in myself this evening,” he said shortly.

  “I have frequently observed that one’s private reflections often make for poor company without additional stimulation. Although our intellect always assumes itself to be clear and certain, our mind still often feels itself to be beleaguered by uncertainty,” the Grandduchess Wilhelmina Hildebrande said obliquely. She regarded the earl with a thin smile on her lips, as though willing him to question her meaning.

  Lord Trilby did not succumb to the temptation. He did not need to ask for translation. He knew of old the devious ways of the Grandduchess of Schaffenzeits. She was toying with him, attempting to draw him into further uncertainty of his position.

  The way to circumvent the old lady’s scheming was readily seen, and that was to present the staunchest of defenses while at the same time rendering himself so disagreeable to Fräulein Gutenberg that she would refuse to comply with the Grandduchess of Schaffenzeit’s wishes. His dilemma was that he did not know enough about Fräulein Gutenberg’s situation, nor her place in the ludicrous game.

  He knew where stood the grandduchess on the board and how well fortified was his own position, but he had not as yet a clue to Fräulein Gutenberg’s position. She had been represented to him by the grandduchess as a free player, much akin to a knight or bishop who could at any moment put him into check. But the Fräulein could as easily be a pawn, and as such would require a modified approach.

  Lord Trilby inwardly groaned. It was a pretty dilemma, indeed, and he had a strong suspicion that it had not been brought about by accident. The Grandduchess of Schaffenzeits was a past master of manipulation and deceptive position. She had managed far longer than anyone thought possible the diplomatic dance with Napoleon Bonaparte, giving lip service to the self-styled French emperor without giving up the actual autonomy of her small duchy. When that had become no longer possible, she had gone into self-exile in St. Petersburg, with all her court in train, rather than bend the knee in allegiance to French rule.