Behind the Mask (103 page)

“Abbi, listen to me,” he spoke close to her face in a firm, gentle voice, “Gwendolyn Dukerk was no more well-born than you.”

“But she grew up among royalty, and—”

“Abbi, there is no law that says the Duke of Horstberg has to marry royalty. And if there were, I would change it.”

“Maybe you should reconsider.”

“Reconsider
what?
We’re married, Abbi. You’re going to have my baby. If that child is a boy, he will be the Duke of Horstberg one day.”

Abbi’s panic only increased. “How can I raise a child to that? How can I—”

“We’ll raise him together. I think you’re making a much bigger ordeal out of this than it really is. Now, try to calm down, and we’ll talk about this. I’ll help you through. I’ll be there for you. Everything will be all right.”

Abbi swallowed hard and looked at him skeptically. But her heart didn’t slow down any more than her breathing. “Exactly what
is
entailed in being a duchess?”

“Well,” he thought a minute, “it’s mostly just being by my side, especially on a social level. We socialize with dignitaries from other countries, and . . . well, there are things you can be involved in to serve the people if you choose. It’s really up to you how involved you become politically or—”

“I can’t do it!” she interrupted again. “Do you hear what you’re saying? Socially? Politically? Little more than a year ago, I didn’t even know who the royal family was. I’d never even worn an evening gown, or put a pin in my hair, or—”

“But look how far you’ve come in a year, Abbi. Don’t you see the natural grace you have?” He recalled how Lance had described her, and wished he could put words together to share those feelings now. “Can’t you see that you—”

“No, I can’t!” she insisted.

Cameron took a deep breath, attempting to remain calm. He felt so frustrated that he wanted to shout at her. But he knew that would only make matters worse. Calmly he asked, “All right, Abbi, what do you think the options are? What do you want me to do? Are you saying that you want to annul the marriage or—”

“No, of course not. I’ll be your wife. I just don’t want to be the duchess.”

He snorted a laugh at the incongruity of the statement. “It’s impossible to separate one from the other.”

“I’ll just . . . stay in the background . . . and have your children . . . and—”

He looked into her eyes. “You promised me that you would take on everything that went along with me.”

“Yes, but . . .”

“Are you telling me now that your vows had conditions attached? ‘I promise to cherish, honor, and obey, except in cases of taking on positions of royalty?’ That’s who I am, Abbi. It’s not by choice. But I know from experience that I have to live up to who I am, or I can never be happy. I need you by my side. You’re the one who made me believe in myself again . . . to see and understand what was really important.”

“But you’re a du Woernig, Cameron. I can’t be a du Woernig.”

Cameron couldn’t keep his frustration out of his voice. “You
are
a du Woernig! You have been for a long time.”

“I didn’t
know
that,” she shouted.

“Fine!” he shouted back. “Sue for an annulment. You’ve got grounds. You were led into the marriage by deception. You were under duress. You can just raise my son alone, and I’ll send monthly support to see that he’s fed.”

“That’s absurd!”

“Is it? You’re sitting there telling me you can’t be my wife, that you don’t want my name. Can you tell me any other options of making that possible? You know what, Abbi? I kept the truth from you because I wanted to protect you. I knew if you remained ignorant of my identity you would remain innocent. That’s all true. But there’s a truth I’ve hardly admitted to myself, let alone anyone else. The truth is that a part of me was scared out of my mind to tell you who I was, because I feared you would tell me to go to hell, that you wanted nothing to do with it. I knew deep inside what kind of woman you were, that a simple life appealed to you. That’s one of many reasons why I loved you so deeply. There are a thousand women in Horstberg who would give their right arm to be my wife. But not because they love me, or know me, or understand me. Only because it brings a title, and wealth, and power. They want the family jewels, and the family name, and the prestige that goes along with being a
du Woernig
. And I can’t even talk my own wife into thinking about what the name
du Woernig
even means.” He curled a fist in front of his face. “Do you know what I went through just to claim my name, so that I could give it to you with dignity? And now you’re telling me you don’t
want
it!” He pushed his hands into his hair and groaned. “Well, fine,
Your Grace!”
he spat. “You carve a hole for yourself and curl up safely inside of it, while I go out and serve the country like a bachelor king. But just remember. You’re the one who told
me
that I could hide from the world, but I would never know the love, and joy, and happiness that come from being a part of it.”

When Cameron’s speech ran down, he paused to absorb Abbi sitting there—tiny and innocent, huge tears welling up in her big green eyes. He heard the echoes of his own anger, and wondered what kind of man he really was. He took in the image of his trembling wife, and pondered what kind of perdition he had lured her into against her will. He considered all she had gone through for his sake, the worst being Nikolaus’s abuse. And he felt sick to his stomach. How could he not loathe himself for doing this to her, as much as he loathed his brother for the horrid situation he’d created? He could only leave the room, fearing he’d erupt all over again otherwise.

Cameron paced the common room frantically, fearfully, wondering how to undo what he’d done. He slumped onto one of the sofas and pressed his head into his hands, asking God’s forgiveness for his anger and begging for guidance and strength. “You led her to me in a dream, God,” he murmured into the empty room. “Is this not how it’s supposed to be? Did I wrong her somehow? Did I set my own pride and fear before her needs? Please God, help me understand! I need her by my side, or I will never make it. Please.”

“Forgive me, Cameron.” Abbi’s voice broke the silence that followed the ending of his prayer. He straightened his back, wondering how much she had heard. He prayed in his heart that they could find common ground to stand on in order to get through this adjustment. If not, he couldn’t imagine going on.

“It is I who must ask your forgivenness . . . for shouting at you that way. My father used to talk to my mother like that, and I
hated
him for it. I just . . .”

“It’s all right,” she said, but she remained standing, several feet away, as if she didn’t want to get too close.

“No, it’s
not
all right. I deceived you. Maybe I should have had more faith; maybe I should have believed that being honest with you would put right on our side, and—”

“If I had been in your position,” she said, “I would have done it no differently. I’m grateful I didn’t know. If I’d realized the danger you were in . . . I would have lost my mind. And maybe . . .” she looked down, “maybe my own fears would have held me back from doing what is right by you . . . if I had known.” She looked up at him with tears glistening in her eyes. “Perhaps I should have faith enough to believe that we can get through this . . . together.”

Cameron closed his eyes and sighed. “Thank you, God,” he murmured under his breath. Already his prayers were being answered. As long as they held tightly to each other, he knew everything would be all right. Without standing up, he opened his eyes and held his hands toward her. Abbi stepped forward to take them, and he pressed his face into the folds of her dress.

“Abbi,” he murmured, “I love you. I love you more than life.” He looked up at her. “Don’t you understand? That’s what it really takes to lead a nation. If you and I love each other and stand by each other, it can’t help but radiate through the country.”

“No, I don’t understand . . . not really. But I’m willing to learn. I’ll do my best. That’s all I can offer.”

“Oh, Abbi.” He urged her to sit beside him and held her chin, looking into her eyes. “That’s all I would ever expect of you. I never wanted to bring a burden into your life, but I know that what I offer you
is
a burden in some ways. Still, it’s a good life, and I know we can find joy in it—together.” Abbi looked away and he asked, “Is that so difficult to believe, after all we’ve been through?”

“No, it’s not that. I’m just . . . afraid . . . that I’ll let you down.” He opened his mouth to protest but she held up a hand to stop him. “I just lost my head up there; I panicked. It’s all so overwhelming, but . . . I want you to know that I meant what I said. I would do
anything
for you, Cameron. Anything!”

Cameron held her close, grateful beyond words. Abbi drew back and looked into his eyes. “Teach me,” she said, emotion tinging her voice, “what it means to be a du Woernig.”

Cameron murmured and pressed a hand into her hair. “I love you so very much. You are so precious to me.” He held her close and let the subject drop for now. As long as he knew she was willing to work together with him to solve this, he had to believe that everything would be all right.

That night Abbi came awake to a strange sound. After orienting herself to her surroundings, she turned over to see Cameron sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands.

“What is it?” she asked and sat behind him, pressing a kiss to his back.

He drew a harsh sigh. “It would seem you’re not the only one having nightmares.” He stood abruptly and moved to the window, where she could see his silhouette against the moonlight. He leaned a forearm on the window frame above his head.

“Tell me,” she urged, remaining on the bed.

“If I had known . . .” he said. “When I was arrested . . . if I had known how completely responsible he was . . . I wouldn’t have come here when I escaped; I would have killed him.”

“Then it’s good you didn’t know.”

“Yes, I’m sure it is. But . . .
how,”
he groaned, “can I feel so much hatred for my own
brother?”

“It think it’s more pertinent to ask why he felt so much hatred for you. And I think the answer is simply that you had what he wanted, and your father encouraged him to covet it.”

“And now I know he was determined to find a way to take everything from me—one way or another.”

“But you have prevailed, Cameron.”

She saw him wipe a hand over his face and knew he was far more troubled than he was letting on. “What did you dream?” she asked gently.

“I was in prison. I dreamed it just as it happened. Nikolaus made it clear that I would not get a fair trial, and he was taking control of the country. Wurtzur tied my hands behind me and beat the hell out of me, swearing I would never get out alive.”

“Now Wurtzur is in prison, and Nikolaus is dead,” she reminded him, as if he might have forgotten.

“Yes, well it still
hurts!”
he shouted, and she recalled his admitting, the day of the funeral, that he felt a rage he feared would explode. “When I think of what he did to me, what I’ve been through, what
you
have been through . . .” He groaned again and started to pace, ranting hotly of the ugliness of Nikolaus’s behavior and how adversely it had affected him. He talked of the horrors that some of the citizens of Horstberg had endured. And he really got angry as he recounted how sick it made him to think of what Nikolaus had done to
her.
Abbi just listened, knowing he needed to free himself of the rage he carried. And after he raged, he cried. Four years worth of anguish bubbled out of him in heated spurts while she held him and cried with him. Then he stood again, pacing and ranting. His hurt was deep and justified, and she understood it well. After his emotions ran down, she told him so. Then she added firmly, “But we have to let go and move on.”

“I know,” he said, leaning once more against the window frame. “I’m just not sure how to do that.”

“It will take time, Cameron, but . . . you need to forgive him; we both do.”

He turned to look at her, and she felt his astonishment even though the room was dark. “How do you forgive something like this, Abbi? He took
everything
from me.
Everything!
And then when I fought so hard to get back what was
rightfully
mine, he tried to take it all again, hurting you in the process. He was evil and black-hearted and I
hate
him!”

“Your feelings are valid, Cameron. He hurt you beyond comprehension. But you can’t let what he did have power over your life, now that he’s gone. You have to forgive him; you have to find the good in this.”

“The
good
in this?” He gave a caustic chuckle. “I don’t know if that’s possible,” he said so bitterly that Abbi felt chilled.

She took a sustaining breath and spoke calmly in the hope of diffusing his anger. “Joseph’s brothers sold him into slavery. Slavery for seven years, then prison for seven years. Fourteen years, Cameron. He forgave them. He came to see the good in the outcome. Perhaps you should stop thinking about what Nikolaus took from you, and consider what he gave to you.”