Behind the Mask (129 page)

“That’s the captain’s job,” she said, and they left the room.

In the main hall, they found a dozen officers standing at attention and Captain Dukerk pacing casually in front of them, while the baron and a young woman sat nearby.

“He’s brought his daughter,” Cameron whispered to Abbi as they approached. “This is going to be about Nikolaus.”

“How do you know?”

“He was betrothed to her,” Cameron said. The baron saw them, and both he and his daughter rose to their feet.

“Your Grace,” the baron said, but it lacked any tone of respect.

“Baron,” Cameron said, facing him directly.

Abbi felt startled to realize how clearly she recognized the baron’s face. Of course, she’d met him at a social last fall, only briefly. But it was in her dream that she had seen his face most recently. She had also seen his daughter, who stood nearby. Something in her expression hinted at the cold, cruelty of her father. But her eyes looked timid and afraid.

Captain Dukerk took his place at Cameron’s left, tossing a discreet smile toward Abbi as he did. Abbi stood just to the right of Cameron and a step behind, waiting, as she knew he was, to hear the reasons for this visit—and for the baron’s unquestionable anger.

“I won’t waste time with proprieties,” the baron said.

Cameron hurried to say before he could go on, “I understand you’ve been traveling for several months, which would explain why we’ve not had the pleasure of your company for quite some time. Apparently the time away has given you an opportunity to ponder your grievances against me.”

The baron simply said, “I demand to know who is responsible for your brother’s death.”

Abbi could almost feel Lance’s tension, even though he gave no visible indication of being affected. She noticed her husband lift his chin. He spoke firmly, “I am.”

The baron lifted a skeptical brow. “You killed him?”

“No, but I would have, given the chance. And I stand behind the man who did it without question. His identity is of no relevance to you.”

“He denied me what was rightfully mine,” the baron snarled.

“Rightfully
yours,
Baron?” Cameron countered. “I don’t know what my brother promised to give you in exchange for your daughter’s hand in marriage, but it was not his to give. Was it your intention to come here and illegally take one of my officers into custody to have him executed? I can assure you that the laws of Horstberg are capable of appropriately dealing with any such matter, and your arrogance in believing that you can cross my borders and have say in any such matter is as insulting as it is ludicrous.”

The baron was apparently unaffected by the logic of what he’d just been told. “And what exactly have the laws of Horstberg done to see justice met for your brother’s death?”

“Listen to me carefully, Baron, while I make myself perfectly clear. Had my brother not died at the hands of one of my officers, he would have been executed within hours. He was guilty of murder and treason on several counts, among other crimes. The evidence was irrefutable, and there was more than an adequate jury present. But even if that were not the case, his death was unavoidable, and I will
not
stand here and tolerate your questioning of my judgment.”

“He denied me what was rightfully mine,” the baron said again, as if he’d heard nothing that Cameron had said.

Abbi couldn’t hold herself back another second. The memory of her dream forced its way out of her mouth as she stepped between the baron and her husband, praying Cameron wouldn’t be angry with her. “Baron,” she said sharply, and he looked so astonished that she wondered if a woman had ever spoken to him in such a tone. “Your repetitiveness of the issue implies that you are not hearing what you’ve been told. Nikolaus du Woernig is dead, and we are all the better for it. You, of all people, should get down on your knees and thank God that your daughter was never subjected to his evil ways. At what price do you value any amount of political gain, Baron? It is evident that either you have no comprehension of the kind of man he was, or you are the most cruel and unfeeling of fathers. Since you are so determined to glean information related to Nikolaus’s death, allow me to explain it to you. After he had very nearly raped me and dragged me from my bed, he had a gun to my head while he was attempting to use me as a bargaining piece to keep the country his brother had taken. Nikolaus gained the country through cheating and murder, and that was the only way he knew how to get it back. He was a man who thrived on the ill fate of others. He bragged about his illegitimate children and the lives he had ruined through his complete lack of ethics. If you are the kind of man who would prefer dealing with someone like Nikolaus du Woernig, then you are no longer welcome within these borders. You have no jurisdiction or power here. The matter is closed.”

Abbi turned to once again take her place behind Cameron. She took advantage of a quick glance to gauge her husband’s reaction, praying he would not be embarrassed by her outburst, or angry with her for behaving out of line. His expression was unreadable. Nothing was said for a full minute, while the baron was apparently trying to find some point to counter the issue. He finally said, “Your wife speaks very boldly. Perhaps you would do well to see that she remains more—”

“Baron!” Cameron interrupted firmly. “Her Grace is a very wise woman. She well understands the suffering inflicted by my brother. If you dare to speak ill of her, you will most certainly regret it. Now, do I need to have you bodily removed? Your grievance is with a dead man. I have no vindication to offer you. As Her Grace has stated, the matter is closed.”

Cameron barely lifted a hand before the officers behind him stepped forward. The baron looked startled, then he gave Cameron a harsh glare and quickly left. The officers followed him and his daughter out the door, as if to be certain they didn’t tarry. Abbi found herself alone with her husband and the captain. Both men turned to look at her, and she wondered if she would be politely reprimanded. While she was grateful that Cameron had defended her in front of the baron, that could have been as much to save face for himself.

Before she could speak, she heard Lance say quietly to Cameron, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“I’m the one who killed him and—”

“And that is none of the baron’s business,” Cameron said firmly. “I meant what I told him. Enough said.”

Abbi hurried to change the subject, hoping to clear the air. “Forgive me if I spoke out of line, or—”

“Captain,” Cameron said, “what is your opinion on how Her Grace handled the baron?”

Lance took her hand to kiss it, smiling as he met her eyes. “She is truly a queen, Your Grace.”

“Amen to that,” Cameron said and smiled. “I should bring you along for protection more often.”

“And it is good to see you looking so well, Your Grace,” Lance said to Abbi.

“Thank you, Captain,” she said and gently squeezed his hand before he let go.

Cameron took her hand and spoke over his shoulder to Lance, “See that the baron is escorted out of the country.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Lance said and hurried away.

Abbi felt painfully nervous as she and Cameron walked slowly up the long hallway, without another soul in sight. His silence left her uneasy. She finally said, “If I was out of line, all you have to do is—”

“You were not out of line.”

“I appreciate your defending me, but . . . now that we’re alone, you don’t have to spare my feelings, or—”

“Abbi,” he stopped walking and turned to face her, “in the future I would only ask that you . . .”

Abbi held her breath; she could feel the reprimand coming. But she was prepared to take it on with dignity, learn from it, and not let it undo her. “That I what?” she pressed when he hesitated.

“That you
never
hesitate to say or do exactly what you may feel inclined to say or do. Your instincts, your courage, your natural social graces are not something I have ever questioned, nor will I. Even
if
I might ever disagree with something you say, I will never feel anything less than perfect pride to hear you speak your mind in any situation. You were born to be the Duchess of Horstberg, Abbi du Woernig, and I am proud to serve by your side.”

Abbi could hardly breathe. She looked into her husband’s eyes and had to say, “You really mean it.”

Cameron felt tempted to cry as he saw something in his wife’s expression he’d never seen before. Since the day he’d placed the crown on her head, her position and anything associated with it had provoked doubt and confusion in her. But it was gone. He saw nothing in her eyes now but perfect confidence. She actually believed what he’d just told her. But to make certain he said, “Yes, I really mean it.” He started to walk again, holding her hand in his. “Do you want to know when I first realized you were destined to be the next duchess?”

“When?” she asked skeptically.

He chuckled. “It was right after I’d hurt my hand. I said something cruel. As you’ll recall, I was very good at that. You told me I was a fool; you told me to rot.” He chuckled again. “And you said you’d be praying for an early spring. I watched you walk away and thought . . . ‘Good heavens, she’s a duchess.’ But I forced the thought away. Like most thoughts that alluded to my future, I was too afraid to look at them. Still,” he shrugged, “that’s when I knew.”

Abbi looked at the scar on his left hand while they continued to walk. Then she kissed it. “I love you, Cameron du Woernig.”

“Yes, I know you do,” he said, kissing her hand in return. “And I love you . . . Abbi du Woernig.”

She couldn’t resist asking, “What might your father have thought about what I said to the baron?”

Cameron chuckled. “He would have been mortified to have a woman speak that way to one of his peers—as I’m certain the baron was.” His laughter increased. “That’s one of many reasons it was so delightful.”

“And your mother?” Abbi asked.

“Oh, Abbi,” he said with intense admiration, “my mother would be so proud she would have cried. She would feel utterly vindicated.”

Abbi smiled. “I wish she were still alive.”

“So do I.”

“I would have loved to thank her for raising such a fine son. Her quiet influence is something I’m deeply grateful for.”

“Amen,” Cameron said, and kissed her hand once more.

The following day, Abbi was surprised to have Georg visit her while she was painting at the easel in her art room, with Erich sleeping close by.

“There’s something you need to know,” he said once they’d exchanged friendly small talk. “And I’m certain you will want to discuss it with your husband, but you need to know that I’m telling you this behind his back.” Abbi stopped painting. “He didn’t want you to know.”

“Then why are you telling me?”

“Because I believe you
should
know. I also understand why it would be hard for him to tell you, so that’s why I’m doing it for him.” Abbi set her brush down and turned fully toward Georg. “You need to know that he’d made very distinct plans to take you out of the country.”

Abbi felt puzzled. “He . . . mentioned several times a lengthy vacation, or—”

“I mean permanently,” Georg said. Abbi’s heart quickened, but she felt certain her assumptions couldn’t be correct, until he added, “When he realized how unhappy you were, he made the decision to leave Horstberg in the care of others, to take you away from here and never bring you back.”

Abbi put a hand over her heart as the pounding in her chest became painful. “No,” she muttered breathlessly. “He
wouldn’t!”

“That’s what I thought,” Georg said. He went on to tell her how Cameron had approached him, and how they’d planned to carry through his plan. He told her how they’d modified the plan to keep Cameron involved from a distance, but he reiterated Cameron’s determination to permanently prevent Abbi from ever having to serve as a duchess, or to be affected by the politics of Horstberg in any way.

“I never could have lived with it, Georg,” Abbi said, feeling her heart break on her husband’s behalf.

“You can say that now; your perspective has changed. When he made this decision, you were dying inside, and we all knew it.”

“But . . . it would have broken his heart.”

“It would have been very difficult for him, Abbi. But you need to know that as much he loves his country, he loves you more.”

Abbi hung her head and sobbed. Georg moved to her side and put his arms around her. “He’s grateful beyond words for the miracle that made it possible to stay here,
and
to see you whole and happy. We all know this is how it’s meant to be. But you needed to know, Abbi. Whatever challenges may come up in the future, you must never forget that given the choice, he chose you.”

Abbi held to her friend tightly, crying long and hard. Her feelings of letting Cameron down rushed back to her. If he’d made such a sacrifice for her sake, how could she have ever lived with disappointing him so completely? When she expressed the idea to Georg, he just smiled and said, “Abbi, you need to look at this through different eyes. He knew you were willing to give up everything you had for his sake. He was only willing to do the same.”

She couldn’t help sounding angry as she said, “When did I
ever
give him the idea I would give up everything? I was selfish and childish over the entire situation, and I—”

“Abbi,” Georg said, looking into her eyes, “we all heard you say it, and we all know you meant it. Having your life threatened did not diminish your courage even slightly when you told Cameron to choose his country.”

Abbi hung her head again, squeezing her eyes closed. “I
did
mean it, Georg. Then what did I do? I turned around and put him in the position of choosing all over again.”

“Not intentionally. I didn’t tell you this to incite guilt or regret, Abbi. You have no reason for either. I told you so that you would know how much he loves you.” He touched her chin. “Don’t ever forget . . . how much he loves you.”

For more than an hour after Georg left, Abbi curled up on the couch in her art room and wept. It took her a while to navigate past the guilt and regret that she felt, but once she put all the pieces together in her mind, she couldn’t deny how difficult the adjustment had been for her. She was only grateful to have come to her senses when she did. And just as Georg had suggested, she was deeply grateful for the evidence that her husband loved her so deeply, so completely. She would
never
forget.