Stolen Splendor

Table of Contents

Chapter
1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Epilogue

Chapter
1

Vienna, Austria

November, 1716

"Are you sure you won't accompany me,
Kassandra?" Countess Isabel von Furstenberg ventured one last time as she
twirled in front of the full-length mirror, admiring the shimmer of the morning
sunlight as it played across the lilac watered silk of her gown. She loved
beautiful clothes, especially wearing them to galas, and today she wasn't going
to just any gala. She had been invited by Charles VI, emperor of Austria, and
his wife, Empress Elisabeth, to the Favorita, their country palace.

Kassandra Wyndham turned abruptly from the window, her
large amethyst eyes flashing with exasperation. She had already declined
perhaps a dozen times. But the heated retort died on her lips at Isabel's
hopeful expression.

Kassandra was truly fond of Isabel. After all, the
countess and her father, Miles Wyndham, Earl of Harrington and ambassador to
Austria, were planning to marry as soon as he returned from his diplomatic
mission to King George's home court in Hanover, Germany.

But, much as she liked Isabel, their interests could be
no further apart. She did not share Isabel's enthusiasm for court life and
intrigue. On the contrary, the thought of spending the day at a stuffy gala
surrounded by pompous aristocrats and their preening ladies—even in Isabel's
charming and lively company—was more than she could bear. Still, there was no
sense in trying to make Isabel understand. She would only be shocked if she
knew where Kassandra's true interests lay.

"Thank you, Isabel, but no," she said firmly.
"Perhaps another time."

Dismayed by the finality in Kassandra's voice, Isabel
glanced over her shoulder at her younger companion. "But what will you do
on such a lovely day as this, Kassandra? If you won't accompany me to the gala,
at least promise me you won't hide yourself in the library. Surely there are
other diversions than poring over those dusty books again."

"I think I'll . . . go for a ride today, and then
write Father a letter," Kassandra replied quickly, turning back to the window.
Her lie made her wince, especially in light of Isabel's kindness. But she had
no choice. She pushed aside the lace curtains, her finger tracing a pattern on
the cool glass. The sunny day outside seemed to beckon to her . . . crisp,
clear, tinged with a promise of excitement and adventure. Soon, she breathed to
herself. Soon.

Barely masking her disappointment, Isabel turned back
to the mirror. She fussed a moment with the small lace cap set atop her glossy
black curls, then attempted in vain to readjust the long lappets that cascaded
down her back in a froth of cream lace and lilac ribbon. "Oh, Gisela . .
." she began in frustration to her maid, who stood nearby.

"Please, milady, if you will allow me,"
Gisela murmured. With expert fingers the spry middle-aged woman first smoothed
the unruly lappets, then walked over to the dressing table and chose a
delicately painted satin fan with an ivory stick for her mistress. Her
footsteps were quick and light as she returned to Isabel's side. "Your
fan, milady."

"Thank you, Gisela," Isabel said softly, her
usual good spirits revived by her maid's thoughtful ministrations. "As
ever, your taste is exquisite."

Gisela smiled at the warm compliment. "Will there
be anything else, milady?"

"Only my velvet cape. If you would take it
downstairs, I will put it on just before I leave."

Gisela nodded, gathered the cape trimmed with luxuriant
blue fox from the bed,
then
, with a sideways glance at
Kassandra, quietly left the room.

Absently thumping the fan against the palm of her hand,
Isabel creased her forehead in thought as she studied Kassandra's reflection in
her mirror. The tall young woman reminded her so much of Miles . . .

Dear Miles. How she missed him. She had met the newly
appointed English ambassador and his nineteen-year-old daughter at a welcoming
reception shortly after their arrival in Vienna in July. Isabel had fallen in
love with him almost immediately, and to her delight, Miles had returned her
devotion with equal fervor.

At twenty-five, Isabel had almost given up hope of ever
marrying. It wasn't that she had lacked for suitors. There had been many a
dashing aristocrat who had sought her hand, but she simply hadn't found the
right man among them. It hadn't helped that her older brother, Stefan, had
never approved of any of them, claiming they were interested only in her great
wealth.

A faint smile touched Isabel's lips. At least Stefan
had not objected to this match. It was true that there was a seventeen-year age
difference between them, but Miles Wyndham was handsome, distinguished, with
abundant wealth and land of his own in England. Most important, he truly loved
her.

To her utter amazement, this time Stefan had finally
trusted her judgment and had even given his consent to their marriage in a
recent letter. She could hardly wait for them to meet each other.

Isabel sighed. That meeting would just have to wait.
Though Stefan was due to return from the Turkish campaign any day now, Miles
would be in Hanover for several months. Could it be only two weeks since he had
left? It felt so much longer . . . an eternity.

At least Kassandra had accepted her invitation to stay
at the von Furstenberg estate while her father was
gone,
Isabel consoled herself, glancing across the room. Her mood brightening once
again, she whirled around to face Kassandra, a warm smile lighting her delicate
features. "If you will not attend the gala with me, will you at least walk
with me to the door?"

Kassandra felt a surge of relief as she turned from the
window, grateful that the matter was put to rest—at least for now. She smiled
in assent and followed the countess from her chamber. Together they walked the
length of the long corridor, Isabel chattering excitedly about the outdoor
gala, then down the massive marble staircase to the light-paneled foyer.

Waiting by the front entrance, Gisela watched as the
two women gracefully descended the staircase. They were so different, yet both
women were strikingly beautiful. Her mistress, Countess Isabel, was dark and
petite, her curved figure unequaled in its delicate proportion, while Lady
Kassandra, almost a full head taller, was slim and lithe, with flaming red-gold
hair that reached to her waist, and stunning features.

Gisela elbowed the nearby footman, who was gaping
appreciatively at the two women. She could hardly blame him, but he was
forgetting his duties. "Open the door, man, and call for the
carriage!" While the red-faced footman hastened to obey, she hurried over
to Isabel. "Your cape, milady." Deftly she draped it around her
mistress's delicate shoulders,
then
smoothed the
velvet folds.

"Gisela, as you know, Lady Kassandra will not be
attending the gala today, so please see to it that her needs are well met while
I am gone."

"Yes, milady."

Isabel and Kassandra stepped outside into the bright sunshine,
and within a few moments a splendid lacquered carriage bearing the coat of arms
of the von Furstenberg family pulled around the curved drive.

As Isabel was helped into her seat, Kassandra looked
across the manicured lawns of the estate and breathed in the crisp autumn air.
Only a short while longer, she thought excitedly, and she, too, would be
summoning a carriage—but not to take her to a gala. No, she was going to spend
her day far differently.

"Give Miles my fondest, fondest greetings in your
letter, Kassandra," Isabel called out gaily, waving farewell as the
carriage rumbled down the drive. Then it was gone, disappearing into the dense
trees that bordered the lawn.

At last! Kassandra turned to the young footman and
flashed him a dazzling smile. "Please have a carriage here for me within
the half hour," she requested in her lightly accented German, trying to
ignore the effect her smile seemed to have on the youth.

"W-will you
be
traveling
far, Lady Kassandra?" the footman stammered. "I m-mean . . . not to
pry, miss, but the coachman must know—"

"Just into the city and back," Kassandra
tossed over her shoulder as she hurried back into the mansion. Then, as an
afterthought, she turned around and added, "Is there a carriage without a
coat of arms engraved upon the door?"

Puzzled, the footman nodded. "One, milady, though
it's rarely used and not quite as fine as the others
. "

"I'm sure it will do nicely. Please have them
bring it 'round." How perfect! Kassandra thought happily as the footman
strode off toward the stables. Such a carriage was exactly what she needed.

She rushed past an astonished Gisela and, holding up
the voluminous skirt of her morning gown, took the marble steps two at a time.

Kassandra could barely contain her excitement as she
rushed down the corridor and into her chamber, closing and bolting the door
behind her. She crossed to the armoire and flung open the bottom drawer,
pushing aside the carefully folded camisoles and linen underclothes,
then
pulling out a bulky package wrapped in white tissue and
secured with twine. It took her only a moment to tear open the package,
revealing a simple cotton gown in a flowered print of the sort worn by a lady's
maid, a petticoat, gray yarn stockings, and a small white cap modestly trimmed
with blond lace.