Stolen Splendor (8 page)

She rose from her chair, laying her small hand on
Kassandra's shoulder. "That lovely gown your father bought for you, the
silver brocade, would be perfect, Kassandra," she enthused. "I shall
send Gisela to your room by half past four to help you dress and arrange your
hair." She swept happily from the room, her thoughts already on the
difficult task of choosing her own gown.

Kassandra sat silently in her chair, absently toying
with a knife.

Perhaps it will not be so bad, she tried to convince
herself. The incident at Queen Anne's court had occurred long ago. Perhaps it
was time she let go of that awful memory and learned to enjoy the diversions of
the court.

Kassandra frowned. Well, if not enjoy them, at least
tolerate them, she thought ruefully. Besides, Stefan would be there. She would
have a chance to meet him at last, just as Isabel had said.

Kassandra took a sip of tea, wrinkling her nose. It had
already grown tepid. She pushed away her plate and leaned back in the chair.
Yes, Isabel had told her a great deal about Stefan over the past several
months, so much so that she felt she already knew him very well.

She knew he was courageous and committed, preferring
the life of a soldier to that of an aristocrat, that he was a man of honor,
respected by his peers as well as by the men he commanded, and as intelligent
as he was handsome.

Yet she also knew he was considered a rogue, a wickedly
disarming trait that caused Isabel no small amount of concern. Kassandra was
not so naive as to think that he had not had his share of women. One day
Berdine, the young maid, had told her of Stefan's current paramour, Archduchess
Sophia, in an animated outburst, then had clapped her hand over her mouth for
fear she had said too much.

Kassandra smiled. Whether Stefan was a rogue or not,
she was looking forward to meeting him. He sounded intriguing, and it seemed
they had at least one thing in common. Isabel had told her that Stefan had
chosen the life of a soldier because he disliked the idleness and selfish
pursuits typical of the Viennese aristocracy. He was one of a handful of
wealthy landowners who had decided not only to manage the affairs of his estate
as his livelihood, but also to serve in the Imperial army as an officer.

And Kassandra, though a peeress by birth,
raised
amidst luxury and wealth at Wyndham Court in Sussex,
England, had spent far more time in intellectual pursuits and attending to the
needs of the common people who rented and worked her father's lands than in the
feminine occupations more usual to her class: finely stitched needlework and
acquiring a rich husband.

Kassandra stood abruptly and walked toward the stairs.
Well, she was to attend the
reception,
it was time she
summoned a bath to her chamber. Perhaps, unlike the night before, she might
have a chance to enjoy it.

And perhaps, if she was lucky, she thought, this
reception might offer some diversion from the memories that continued to plague
her. She could only hope . . .

Chapter 8

"Countess Isabel von Furstenberg and Lady
Kassandra Wyndham," the liveried footman announced at the entrance to the
great ballroom, bowing courteously.

"Isn't this exciting?" Isabel whispered
behind her fluttering fan as she and Kassandra swept into the throng of guests
milling about the massive room. "And you look so beautiful,
Kassandra," Isabel said approvingly.

Kassandra's voluminous gown, with an underskirt of rich
brocade and a bodice and overskirt of shimmering silver satin, heightened the
creamy porcelain of her skin and the fiery highlights in her hair, and set off
to perfection her unusual amethyst eyes.

Isabel smiled behind her fan, recalling Kassandra's
concern over the low-cut neckline of her gown just before they had left the
estate that evening.

"But, Isabel, it's indecent," Kassandra had
exclaimed, tugging irritably at the bodice. But it was of no use. She could do
nothing to hide the provocative swell of her breasts, further enhanced by the
stiff upper molding of her stays, which made her every movement startlingly
revealing. "My other gowns have a bit of ruffle around the edge of the
bodice, a tucker. Surely—"

"Oh, really, Kassandra," Isabel replied,
laughing. "The tucker is well out of fashion. But you needn't worry that
you will stand out. All the ladies of the court wear such gowns."

Ah, but she does stand out, and ravishingly, Isabel
thought, elated that she had convinced Kassandra to accompany her this evening.
In her own rose-colored taffeta gown edged with delicate gold ribbon, she knew they
made a stunning pair.

"I'm so happy you are here with me,
Kassandra," Isabel enthused, raising her voice to be heard. The din that
echoed off the high frescoed ceilings was almost deafening, laughter and
conversation from bewigged gentlemen and their sumptuously dressed ladies vying
with the festive melodies being played by court musicians beneath an arched
alcove.

Kassandra forced a bright smile. Though she knew she
could not match Isabel's enthusiasm, she was determined to give the evening
half a chance. She stared around give wide-eyed, at the gilded splendor of the
Hapsburg court. Though her father had come here several times for audiences
with Charles VI and his ministers, this was her first visit to the Hofburg. She
had to admit she had never seen such a ballroom, not even at the royal palace
in London.

Mirrored walls reflected the light from a long row of
gleaming gilt chandeliers, each one holding hundreds of slender tapers that
flickered brightly, their radiance casting a golden glow on the richly colored
paintings on the ceiling and the polished parquet floor. High, arched windows
looked onto the magnificent gardens, and pairs of liveried servants,
resplendent in white powdered bob wigs and uniforms of blue brocade edged with
silver threads, stood at attention beside tall, latticed doors that opened onto
a curved terrace.

At one end of the ballroom tables had been set up for
the banquet that would follow the formal reception, the fine Bruges lace
tablecloths graced with gleaming silver candelabra and crystal wineglasses. The
white chairs placed around the tables were upholstered in
a
plush
red velvet brocade; white benches with gently curling legs and
matching red cushions were set against the walls for guests who needed a
respite from the constant standing.

"Kassandra," Isabel said reproachfully,
though her eyes twinkled, "you're staring as if you've never seen a palace
before." She slipped her arm through Kassandra's and guided her along.
"Come, we must first be presented to Their Majesties and Prince Eugene of
Savoy. Then we must find Stefan. I haven't seen him yet, but I'm sure he's
arrived by now."

Kassandra felt her face grow hot at Isabel's teasing,
but she quickly swallowed her embarrassment as they took their places in the
winding receiving line. In no time at all she was standing in front of Their
Imperial Majesties, Charles VI and his consort, Empress Elisabeth, who were
seated on a raised dais at one end of the room. She curtsied deeply as she was
introduced, her gown spreading out upon the floor in shimmering ripples of
silvery satin.

"How lovely you are," the fair-haired empress
murmured kindly, after Kassandra had kissed her hand and risen to her feet. She
turned to her husband, who sat stiffly at her side.

"Charles, this is the daughter of Lord Harrington.
If you recall, Countess Isabel von Furstenberg is betrothed to marry the good
ambassador upon his return to Vienna."

As the emperor acknowledged her with a nod, Kassandra
thought fleetingly how truly like a Hapsburg he looked, with his prominent chin
and protruding lip. His somber black court dress was in striking contrast to
the iridescent blue silk of his wife's gown and the richly colored fabrics worn
by his courtiers. Isabel had told her that the emperor chose to follow the
strict code of etiquette and dress adhered to in the Spanish court, where he
had spent most of his youth.

"I had heard Lord Harrington had a daughter, and
now I wonder where he has been hiding such a charming young woman these past
months," Empress Elisabeth continued, glancing back at Kassandra. She
smiled sweetly. "For I believe this is your first time at court, is it
not?"

Kassandra nodded, blushing. "Yes,
Your
Majesty," she said.

"Well, now that you have graced our court, we hope
to see much more of you during your stay in Vienna. I'm sure that we have many
young gentlemen who would be most delighted to make your acquaintance."

Kassandra smiled weakly, her mind racing. Sweet Lord,
now she would never be free of court functions! But she had no more time to
think as Isabel took her elbow and steered her to where a rigidly erect officer
was standing a short distance away. Instinctively she curtsied.

"It is a pleasure, Lady Kassandra," Prince
Eugene of Savoy murmured in a heavily accented voice that affirmed his French
heritage. Gallantly he held out his hand and helped Kassandra to arise, then
turned to Isabel. "Ah, and Countess Isabel. Your brother, Stefan, has once
again proven an invaluable asset in our latest campaign. His bravery is to be
commended. "

Kassandra stood at Isabel's side, barely listening as
the countess and Prince Eugene discussed Stefan's valor in battle. She could
hardly believe that this frail-looking man with his swarthy complexion and
sunken cheeks could be the renowned commander of the Imperial army. She felt
awkward, fairly towering over him, while Isabel, a woman of petite stature, was
gazing at the famous general, the most hated and feared enemy of the Ottoman
Empire, eye to eye.

"Countess Isabel tells me you have yet to meet her
brother," Prince Eugene repeated, regarding her quizzically.

Kassandra started. "Ye-yes, that is true,"
she stammered, strangely flustered. She could not help but sense that the
general had surmised her thoughts. His dark eyes, the liveliest feature about
him, seemed faintly amused as he turned back to Isabel. Several other guests
soon joined their group, pressing around the general to hear more news of his
recent victories at Peterwardein and Temesvar in Hungary.

Oh, this was all going very badly, Kassandra chided herself.
Suddenly she felt very
warm,
her tight stays an
oppressive vise. What she would give for a breath of fresh air. She glanced
over her shoulder, gratefully spying a set of nearby doors that led to the
terrace. She grasped Isabel's arm and gently pulled her aside.

"Isabel, please excuse me, but I feel a bit
lightheaded. The air in the room is so stuffy. I think I'll step onto the
terrace for a while."

Concern touched Isabel's delicate features. "Would
you like me to go with you—
"

"No, I'll be fine." Kassandra stopped her,
shaking her head. "Please make my excuses to the general. And don't
worry,
I'll be back in a few moments." She whirled on
her heel and hurried across the room, nodding to the footmen standing on either
side of the doors, who quickly opened them for her.

As she swept onto the curved terrace, Kassandra paused
for a long, deep breath of the night air. She did not have her cape, but she
doubted she would need it. So far it had been unusually warm for this time of
year.

She felt refreshed immediately, the stirring breezes
working like a tonic to cool her flushed face. The rapid beating of her heart
gradually subsided, replaced by a feeling of calm as she looked over the
moonlit tranquillity of the formal gardens.

It seemed almost a magical night, a haunting night.
Thin banks of clouds hung across the sky, a fine gossamer netting against the
backdrop of blues that arced from the lightest turquoise at the horizon to inky
blue-black at the highest zenith. Myriad clusters of stars glittered like drops
of dew through the translucent clouds, reminding Kassandra of a spider's web.

The late autumn breeze rustled through the trees, the
crisp leaves that still clung to the half-naked branches shimmering and dancing
like undulating ghosts in the pale moonlight. There was a hushed quality in the
air, broken occasionally by bursts of soft, secretive laughter coming from
guests strolling along the darkened paths. A few flickering torches lit the
marble stairs leading to the gardens on each side of the terrace, glowing
beacons that seemed to illuminate the entrance into a mysterious world of
shadows and intrigue.

Kassandra moved slowly to the balustrade, her hand
sliding along the smooth polished marble as she walked to the edge of the
terrace. She hesitated for a moment at the top of the stairs, wavering
uncertainly. She relished the idea of a walk in the garden, but it seemed so
dark beyond the sputtering torchlight. Yet her only other alternative was to
return to the stuffy ballroom.

That dreadful thought gave Kassandra the impetus she
needed. She walked quickly down the stairs and onto a wide graveled path
flanked by tall, manicured hedges. As she moved farther away from the lighted
windows of the palace and her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she found that she
could see quite well in the moon's veiled glow.

To her surprise, there were quite a few guests in the
garden. Some strolled in thoughtful solitude, while others were seated on
marble benches beside classical Greek statues that shone an eerie white in the
moonlight. And then there were the pairs of lovers embracing fervently in
secluded alcoves or walking arm in arm, their heads close together as they
whispered in passionate conspiracy.

Kassandra walked quietly along the path, content to be
alone. She did not stop until she had reached a far corner of the garden, then
she leaned against a gnarled tree beside the entrance to a vine-covered alcove
and gazed up at the night sky. It was all so peaceful, she thought dreamily, so
peaceful . . .