A Sister's Quest

by Ferguson, Jo Ann

  He put his fingers over hers on her glass. When she looked at him over it, his face was serious. “Liebchen, I wanted only to make you realize that you have done nothing wrong by being kind. Amidst this world where one word can have a dozen meanings, you are a welcome change. No wonder Prince Charming delighted in how you treated him.”

  “But he is a prince!”

  “True. He bears the title of prince and is the heir of Coxe-Saxony-Colburg, but he is only a man. Like every other man you know.”

  “No, not like every other man I know.”

  “What makes him so different?”

  At Alexei’s abruptly sharp tone, Michelle drew her hand from beneath his. How could she explain her unthinking words without revealing the truth hidden in her heart? She had not intended her words as a compliment to Bartholomew. Rather, her words spoke of how unlike other men Alexei was, but he would not want to hear how her heart ached for the moment when his arms were around her as his lips found hers.

  “I have never met a man who has only one name,” she returned with contrived sauciness.

  When he regarded her with disgust, she lowered her eyes. He made her feel like a fool. And why not? She was. Any woman who lost her heart to Alexei Vatutin was a fool. He was a man of the wind, going where chance took him.

  When Alexei excused himself to speak to an acquaintance, she sighed. She was making a muddle of the whole of this.

  “So sad?”

  She met Bartholomew’s smile. His eyes were innocuous compared to Alexei’s. She could not imagine him being involved with the subterfuge Alexei loved. If she had a hint of wit about her, she would forget Alexei, who wanted only to use her to further his ends, and welcome Bartholomew’s friendship.

  “I am not sad.” Her smile became sincere as she added, “Not any longer.”

  “Or frightened?”

  “Frightened? Of what?”

  “Of whom.”

  Michelle’s eyes widened when Bartholomew glanced in Alexei’s direction and back. Was she frightened of Alexei? Of course not … save for his effect on her hapless heart. She could not tell Bartholomew that.

  “Only a leather-head would be unafraid among the vagaries of power here in Vienna,” she replied.

  “You are as intelligent as you are lovely, Michelle.” Bartholomew took her hand between his. Again she was aware of the eyes following every motion they made, but she could ignore them all, except for the green fire from Alexei’s gaze.

  As Bartholomew lured her into conversation, Michelle relaxed. Nothing could make her forget her yearning for Alexei, but Bartholomew’s gentleness might help.

  Her smile faltered when Bartholomew asked, “Would it be possible to call on you to ask you to join me for a soiree tomorrow evening, Michelle?”

  “Call on me?”

  He smiled. “Don’t act awed of me. Please. Last time we met, I was simply your friend Bartholomew. Can’t it be the same this time?”

  “I am trying.”

  “So may I call on you?”

  “I …” She glanced toward where Alexei was talking to several people she did not know. His gaze met hers without emotion. She could not imagine what he would think of Bartholomew’s request.

  “Ah, your friend Count Vatutin,” mumbled Bartholomew. “Therein lies the problem.”

  Her attempt to smile was a dismal failure. “Mayhap under the circumstances—”

  “Curse the circumstances!” When she gasped, Bartholomew added in a more tranquil tone, “If your employer does not mind, would you accompany me tomorrow evening? Just a gathering of a few friends. I think they would be as charmed by you as I am.”

  “Bartholomew, that is impossible. Alexei depends on me to translate for him, and he may have plans for tomorrow evening.”

  “That is not what I asked. Would you go?”

  “The point is moot.”

  “Is it?” Raising his voice, he called, “Count Vatutin, would you join us, please?”

  Michelle wished she could disappear as Bartholomew’s question drew everyone’s attention once more. How had she gotten mixed up in this bumble-bath? And, more important, how would she extricate herself without insulting Bartholomew?

  “Yes, Your Highness?” Alexei asked without looking at her.

  “I would that the three of us speak together privately,” announced Bartholomew with the pomposity he never used when speaking to her. His command carried throughout the large room.

  Michelle stared in disbelief when the servants escorted the other guests out. Bartholomew wielded his power with the ease of one accustomed to it from birth. Within minutes, they were alone.

  “Count Vatutin,” Bartholomew said as soon as the doors were pulled closed by a silent servant, “I have asked Fraulein D’Orage to accompany me to a small gathering tomorrow evening.”

  “Do you want to go, Liebchen?” Alexei asked.

  She saw Bartholomew’s lips narrow when Alexei spoke the endearment. Dampening her own lips, she asked, “Do you want me to go?”

  His smile was as cold as the snow-laden wind. “You are free, Liebchen. A woman held against her will becomes unappealing. If you wish to go with Prince Bartholomew to this tête-à-tête, I see no reason why I should gainsay you.” He laced his fingers through hers and drew her closer.

  She knew she should say something, but all words vanished when she gazed up into his eyes. Tell him that you want to keep me close. Could she will him to speak the words that clamored in her heart? Tell him that you are just jesting, that I mean more to you than just an employee.

  “After all,” Alexei said, “Prince Bartholomew wishes only your company among his other guests. What we share needs no one else.”

  A heated blush fanned across her face as his gaze held her imprisoned in its emerald fire. She hated this farce. In an anguished whisper, she pleaded, “Don’t, Alexei.”

  As if he had not heard her, he said, “As I said, Your Highness, she is free to do as she wishes during the evenings when I do not need her to interpret for me. You understand, of course, that all her nights are mine.”

  “I understand perfectly, Count Vatutin,” Bartholomew replied in a tone as taut as his lips. “Now that we understand each other, tell me what you Russians think of this new plan proposed by Talleyrand and the French delegation.”

  Michelle listened in disbelief. They understood each other? Mayhap, but she did not understand either of them, and she suspected she never would as long as she was a pawn between them. Neither Alexei nor Bartholomew would accept the other as a part of her life for long. She did not want to think about what would happen then.

  Chapter Ten

  Michelle knocked on Alexei’s door—the one from the hallway, for she pretended there was no door connecting their rooms. Even so, she had no privacy in her rooms. She always changed behind a dressing screen and glanced over her shoulder to make sure Alexei had not entered her room.

  When she received no answer, she opened the door. She thought Alexei would be here, because he had told her to let him know when she and Rusak left for the appointment with Herr Professor Waldstein.

  “Alexei?” she called.

  He did not answer, but she saw him bent over his desk, scribbling fiercely. She entered the room, staying close to the door. In spite of herself, she stared at the huge bed. Why had her dreams for the past two nights been of being there with him?

  She was crazy! She was certain of that. For the past two evenings, Bartholomew had escorted her about Vienna. They had laughed together, and he had delighted in sharing gossip with her about those they met. Yet, in her dreams, she was always with Alexei, who was making it clear during their waking hours that he been sincere when he told her their relationship should be only business.

  He stood and faced her, the brilliant blue stripes of his waistcoat glowing in the sunlight. “What are you doing here?”

  She dragged her gaze up from his waistcoat to the open collar of his shirt, which displayed taut skin across his muscu
lar chest and then up to his face. A rage unlike any she had ever seen tightened on his mouth. She took a step backward. “You asked—”

  “Why didn’t you knock?”

  “I did!” She squared her shoulders and gave him a scowl as icy as his own. She was grateful for this anger, which kept her from staring at his honed muscles. “A courtesy you never offer me, because you walk into my room whenever you wish.”

  He swept the pages he had been writing on into a drawer. “Never come in here while I am working, Michelle. Never!” He put his face close to hers. “Do you understand?”

  “I understand. You can disturb me as you wish, but I must not speak to you without your permission.”

  His hand under her chin tilted her head back to meet his gaze. Sorrow edged his voice. “How can I keep you safe if you sneak in and see things you should not see?”

  “Things? What things?”

  “Don’t ask questions I cannot answer, Liebchen.” He caressed her cheek. “You must trust me on this.”

  “Trust is not something you inspire.”

  He smiled. “Enjoy your time in Vienna and your flirtation with Prince Charming. Do the work I need you to do, but keep your life separate from mine.” With a sigh, he released her and sat again at the desk.

  Michelle blinked back tears. Never had she seen anyone so alone. She took a step toward him, wanting to put her arms around him and offer him comfort … and more.

  His head snapped up, his practiced smile once more in place. “What did you want before I went off in a pelter?”

  “To tell you that Rusak and I are leaving for Herr Professor Waldstein’s school now.”

  “Do not forget you must be back to meet Prince Charming later.”

  “I would not forget something like that.”

  His eyes dimmed for a single heartbeat. With regret? she wanted to ask, but he gave her no chance, telling her to enjoy her afternoon.

  Michelle recognized his dismissal. She walked out, closing the door behind her. As it shut, she saw him open the drawer and pull out the sheets, his frown returning. Whatever he was writing did not please him.

  She wondered if anything—or anyone—could.

  The school was in a crowded part of the old city. As Michelle watched the lovely buildings pass by, she sighed. She hoped the day would take a turn for the better.

  The carriage slowed in front of an unadorned stone building. She must not show her distress. Rusak was already unnerved enough. That a man who had faced his enemies boldly was afraid of going to school did not surprise her. It was a world unlike any he had ever known. By the time Rusak opened the carriage door, she had pasted a fake smile on her lips.

  “Ready?” she asked lightly.

  He nodded.

  She said nothing as he handed her out of the carriage almost as gracefully as Alexei. She was glad for his help as they walked up the icy steps to the house’s door.

  Rusak hesitated, and Michelle lifted the heavy brass knocker twice. She watched Rusak, who kept looking back at the carriage as if he wanted to flee.

  A dour-faced woman opened the door. She nodded when Michelle greeted her.

  “Yes,” the woman said. “Herr Professor Waldstein is expecting you. This way.”

  She led them toward the back of the house. As they reached the end of the dark corridor, a door opened to spray the passage with sunshine. A little girl emerged, regarded them with wide eyes, and then scurried toward the front door.

  “Grüss Gott,” called Herr Professor Waldstein. “Exactly on time. It is a pleasure to see you again, Fraulein D’Orage. Come in and bring your friend with you.”

  As she drew off her cloak, Michelle stared about her. This room resembled her own classroom with its books and papers as well as tables for the students. Scents of ink teased her. The room was drenched in sunlight from the large window overlooking the street. Until now, she had not realized how much she missed teaching. The laughter of her students, their bright eyes when they understood, their ruffled brows when they did not.

  Smiling, she turned to Rusak, who remained by the door. “Herr Professor Waldstein, I would like to introduce Feodor Rusak. Due to an unfortunate incident, he is unable to speak.”

  “But you can hear?” Herr Professor Waldstein affixed him with an uncompromising stare.

  Rusak nodded.

  “Then join us.” The old man appraised him. “So you once could speak?”

  Again he nodded.

  “Good. Then you shall be able to learn far more quickly than those who have no idea of language. You, Herr Rusak, possess that knowledge. All we must do is give you the method to convey words again.” Without taking a breath, he ordered, “Sit At this table. You, also, Fraulein D’Orage.”

  Michelle smiled. Herr Professor Waldstein obviously expected instant obedience.

  Sitting across from Rusak, the old man continued, “I shall endeavor to teach you a new way to communicate. You must endeavor to learn. It is no more difficult than that. Now watch.”

  Michelle watched intently as Herr Professor Waldstein made various signs with his hands. He explained too rapidly for her to understand as his fingers flew. Some she could figure out, but others were as confusing as if the professor spoke Russian.

  “Slower, please, Herr Professor,” she begged. Rusak flashed her a grin, and she knew he was having the same problem. “I cannot remember all of this.”

  Herr Professor Waldstein smiled and pointed at Rusak. “You will listen and watch very closely. I see intelligence on your face. Prove that to me.”

  Stretching across the table, Herr Professor Waldstein shaped Rusak’s hand into the sign for hungry as he said, “This may be the most important sign you can make, for it serves a basic need.”

  Michelle watched as he curved his hand into the shape of the letter C and drew it from his throat toward his stomach. She smiled. That was easily understandable as the path food followed.

  Rusak struggled to copy the sign.

  “You, too, Fraulein D’Orage,” Herr Professor Waldstein ordered.

  She tried, but her fingers refused to obey.

  “Relax, Fraulein D’Orage,” he said with a chuckle. “No one expects you to master this in a single day. It will come slowly. You are babes learning to babble at your mother’s knee. You will learn. Your friend will learn.”

  When Rusak gave the guttural sound that served as his laugh, Michelle smiled. The competition between them to learn would be friendly. It astonished her how much she looked forward to it.

  Michelle’s life became a blur as she tried to fulfill her obligations to three men. Two afternoons each week, she went with Rusak to class. As Herr Professor Waldstein had predicted, their knowledge expanded rapidly. Her evenings were taken by parties she attended with either Alexei or Bartholomew.

  Most often, her evenings were with Bartholomew. She had heard enough whispers to know that he was escorting no other woman around Vienna. The only mention she heard of Alexei was in a laughing aside about the Russian count who was going to lose his mistress to Prince Bartholomew. She wondered if having her at the center of attention so no one would take note of him was what Alexei wanted. She never could be certain with him.

  In addition to her busy afternoons and evenings, she spent her mornings dealing with the needs of their odd household. She needed to buy food and cook for the few meals they took in the apartment. As the days flowed into each other, she grew accustomed to being exhausted. She had never guessed she would become tired of adventure.

  Today Alexei and Rusak had gone with her to the market. Alexei had spent the whole time talking with a pair of men who were determined not to let her see their faces. She had not asked Alexei about them because she knew she would get no answer.

  Returning to the apartment, Michelle reached for the door key in her reticule. She heard Alexei grumbling behind her and laughed. He had insisted on carrying all the packages instead of letting Rusak bring in some after stabling the carriage.

 
“Hurry!” he ordered. “These are going to slip any minute!”

  “I am hurrying!” She pulled out the heavy iron key. She put it in the lock, but the door swung open before she could turn it. “What …?”

  “What is it?”

  She ignored his question as she pushed the door open farther. Alexei had locked the door when they left, so how had it come ajar? Something crunched under her feet. A shard of glass! She stared about herself in disbelief.

  Every piece of furniture was upended. The settee and the chairs had been slashed. All stuffing beneath the cushions had been ripped away. Pictures hung awry on the wall. The few figurines that had been on the mantel lay in ruins on the floor. She saw a book on the hearth, its cover scorched beyond repair. The lamps were broken, leaving the carpet covered with oil-stained papers.

  Hearing a curse behind her, she gasped as the packages were shoved into her arms. Alexei rushed past her and through the arch. She slowly lowered the boxes to the floor as she listened to his heavy footsteps resonating along the wooden corridor.

  Michelle turned to close the door, but halted when she saw Rusak coming along the hall. He must have come up the back stairs. He looked into the room, and his mouth twisted with frustration. She knew he longed to ask the questions displayed in his blue eyes. The phrases they had learned were for everyday events. They did not have signs for this.

  Shutting the door, she leaned back against it. Her hand closed over her mother’s ring. This was Maman’s life, a life of secrets and enemies.

  Alexei erupted from the shadows near the arch and spat, “Damn fool!”

  “Whoever did this—”

  “I am not talking about our unexpected guests,” he retorted with a vicious smile. “I am talking about me. I should have …” He sighed. “Why don’t you hang up your coat, Michelle? Then you can help us clean up here.”

  She nodded. Tonight she was supposed to attend the theater with Bartholomew, but she would have to cancel that. She must devise a message for Rusak to deliver to Bartholomew. It would have to be a lie, for Alexei would want no word of this to filter past their door.

  She took a steadying breath as she put her hand on her room’s doorknob. She pushed it open and stared. Nothing had been touched. When she heard a deep chuckle behind her, she looked over her shoulder to see Alexei.