The Veils of the Budapest Palace (Darke of Night Book 3) (17 page)

“Are you well?” he asked, more gently, searching my face.

“Yes,” I said, sobering. “I just...I had bad dreams.” It was the same story I’d given Gizella, and it tripped easily off my tongue. I wanted to tell him someone had tried to kill me, but the words wouldn’t yet come.

His lips twitched, and he dragged his gaze free, looking about the room instead. “I used to come here too to feel safe after a bad dream.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You never talk about her, about them,” I said.

“No,” he said, refocusing on me. “I never do. Come on, Caroline, come back to your own bed. This one is musty and airless. I promise I won’t touch you.”

Feeling a little like an obedient child, I climbed out of the bed, took up my own candle and the oil lamp, and watched him try and fail to open the bedroom door to the passage.

“It was locked the first time I came here,” I said, frowning suddenly. “And yet the night you sleepwalked, you came in through that door.”

He shrugged, turning away and heading towards the drawing room instead. “They were all locked at one time. I suppose the servants forget sometimes.”

Except the servants, such as they were, never cleaned in here. Perhaps it was the old count who came to mourn his lost son and daughter-in-law.

In silence, I followed him through the sitting room, the drawing room, and the music room and out into the passage. We climbed the stairs side by side. I couldn’t help thinking of earlier times we’d done so, in companionship, or anticipation when we couldn’t wait for the excitement of love.

In the bedroom, he took the oil lamp from me, set it down on the dressing table, and lit it.

“To scare away the dreams,” he said.

“Thank you,” I whispered and hurried over to the bed. The pillow I’d flung away from me lay on the floor. He picked it up before I could. The linen case was torn, ripped in two places by my scrabbling nails. His gaze lingered on it before he tucked it under the others on the bed and stood aside.

I climbed in, and he threw the covers over me with rather studied carelessness. More than anything, I wanted to lie down with him, held close in his arms. Only that would frighten away the reality. Slowly, I lifted my gaze to his still face. All it would take was for me to hold out my hand.

He said, “You shouldn’t feel safe in that room. I found
her
there.”

“I know,” I whispered. My throat ached because he’d told me. “But I do.”

His lip quirked. “So do I. I’ll leave the door open.”

He walked away to his own little room, where I’d banished him, and took his candle in with him. He didn’t close the door, and I was glad. Whatever else, he was a man who understood bad dreams.

****

I
woke to the knowledge that someone was standing over me. Paralysed with fear, with memory of last night’s attack, I couldn’t even open my eyes. And yet I couldn’t just lie here and wait to be murdered. Prickles of sweat sprang into my palms. With massive effort, I curled my fingers, clawing the sheet, my nightgown, heard the tiny whimper of effort that escaped my lips, at the same time as my other senses began to respond. The watcher smelled of Zsigmund.

Even as I registered the fact, I heard the faint rustle of movement and forced my eyes open to face whatever was about to happen, flattened my palms on the mattress to sit up.

But he was already walking away from me. Fully dressed, he strode to the bedroom door and went out without looking back.

I let out a shuddering breath and finally sat up. What was the matter with me? Did I really still believe that Zsigmund could have attacked me? I hadn’t been afraid of him last night when he’d brought me back to bed and left his door open to comfort me. I’d seen him as my protector and had slept soundly in the knowledge.

But if he had been going to kill me, he could have done it easily. Even awake, I hadn’t moved. If I was to survive, I was going to have to think and act through my fear, not let it control me.

With decision, I got out of bed and rang for Duclos, my maid.

Fifteen minutes later, I went downstairs for breakfast, disturbing thoughts flitting through my brain. The maid who’d helped me dress could have been the one who’d held the pillow over my face. Any of the servants could. Any of the family could. István, who wandered out of the dining room with a vague smile as I entered; Gizella, who’d been awake when I knocked on her door in the middle of the night and who now sat dreamily over her coffee and breakfast; Gabor, who’d sat in the old count’s study, muttering foreign words as he slept upright with his eyes open. When I thought about it, Gabor was definitely strange. Although he’d borne no signs of having rushed downstairs from my room after trying to smother a struggling woman to death.

What I couldn’t work out was why any of these people would
want
to kill me, unless it was so that Zsigmund could inherit my fortune. But even if he did, there were no guarantees that he’d spend it on his relatives or on this house. Most of the time, he seemed to want away from what he’d called the worst of himself. He’d spend it on the country estate. And on riotous living—he was who he was. The trouble was, although I could see him marrying me for my wealth, I couldn’t actually see him killing me for it.

Couldn’t you? You were afraid of him last night, and this morning...

I banished the thought and poured myself some coffee before sitting at the table opposite Gizella, who smiled kindly at me.

“No more bad dreams?” she asked.

“No, thank goodness,” I replied as lightly as I could. “I’m so sorry for disturbing you last night. My dream seemed to have convinced me you’d all been murdered in your beds! It seems so silly in the light of day.” I wished the rest of it did too. I wondered how long I would have to go on with this knot of fear and alarm inside me. At least it gave me a deeper understanding of people who lived with fear all their lives, fear of hunger or war or violence against them or their children.

“So what are you going to do today?” Gizella asked bracingly. “Is Zsigmund going to show you around the city?”

“No, I’m meeting Madame Borruth at the museum this afternoon.”

“Ah, well, that will be nice.” She seemed slightly relieved that I would have something to do. Otherwise, I suppose she’d have felt obliged to take me with her. She was always going to genteel meetings of some kind, though I wasn’t quite sure what they were all about. I realised I had no idea how István spent his days, though I was fairly sure it wasn’t generally with his wife.

I said, “I thought I might also visit Count Andrassy, since I never see him.”

Gizella cast me a wry look. “Trust me, it’s better that way. When he wants to see us, he comes out. He can be pretty...abusive if he feels interrupted.”

“So can I.”

Nevertheless, to have the best chance of avoiding such abuse, I considered asking János to request an appointment with the old man. In the end, it seemed too ridiculously formal, and I didn’t really want to say more than good morning and look him in the eye, mainly to see if he hated me enough to order my murder by one of his servants. Or family. So after breakfast, I simply walked up to his study and lifted my hand to knock.

The first voice I heard was indeed the old count’s, ranting, although it was very quickly interrupted by my husband’s voice. “I don’t care what you believe or say you believe! You call him off, or I
will
kill him.”

My hand froze with shock an inch from the door.

Inside, there was silence. Then the count sneered, “Even my influence won’t protect you from a murder charge. One word from me, and you’ll be tried and executed for treason anyway.”

“But you won’t give that word, will you?” Zsigmund snapped back. “You’ve already vouched for me, and you’d look pretty foolish denouncing me now. Where is Gabor?”

“How the devil should I know?”

Without further warning, the door was wrenched open and Zsigmund pulled up only just in time to avoid knocking me over.

“Caroline,” he said. For an instant, something warm leapt in his eyes. It might have been pleasure or even excitement, but he blinked too quickly and the expression vanished under his eyelids. When they lifted, his eyes were steady, his face neutral. “Were you looking for me?”

“Actually, no,” I replied. “I came to say good morning to your grandfather.”

“Good morning,” the old man snarled from inside. “Now take your damned husband away and school him in some manners. Get out of my sight, the pair of you!”

Zsigmund’s eyebrows flew up in a humorous expression before he closed the door and gestured me to walk with him. “Sorry. I’m afraid I—er—wound him up. I do that a lot.”

“He seems very easily wound,” I observed.

“That’s the other problem. We shouldn’t really live in the same town, never mind the same house.”

He glanced towards the stairs, where János’s toiling figure appeared.

“Major von Degenfeld awaits your convenience,” the servant panted. “In the drawing room.”

“Damn,” Zsigmund said. “Caroline, fend him off if you can, will you? I need to speak to Gabor, but I’ll be down in five minutes if he needs to see me.” Since he immediately turned and sprinted upstairs, I had little choice but to go and greet the major.

And, in fact, it struck me as I went that I was actually pleased to see him. A friend of the family who was decidedly not in their pockets. Someone uninvolved whom I could trust. Someone who actually looked pleased to see me when I entered the room.

“Countess!” He bowed over my outstretched hand. “How are you?”

“Very well,” I said. “Zsigmund will be down shortly. Would you like some refreshment? Coffee?”

“Oh no, thank you. Please don’t trouble.”

“It’s no trouble,” I assured him. “And, in fact, I would like to talk to you about something.”

“Of course,” he said, conducting me to the sofa. “Is there something I can help you with?”

I sat and indicated that he should too. He settled beside me on the sofa, half-turned towards me.

I folded my hands in my lap. In the past, I had always found the strength to say difficult things with frankness and found that openness rewarded. But I’d never in my life had to communicate anything like this.

“This is hard to say,” I began, “and you’ll probably think me insane. But I’ve come to believe I’m in danger in this house.”

Although his eyes searched mine and his brow gave the faintest twitch, his reaction was hardly what I’d expected. He didn’t look remotely outraged or disparaging. He didn’t even seem to be very surprised.

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” he said gravely. “But why should you believe so?”

I tightened my fingers together in my lap. “Someone tried to smother me last night. They held a pillow over my face until I almost lost consciousness. I can only imagine I was meant to die.”

Karl didn’t blink. He said, “Why did they stop?”

I frowned. “Stop?”

“You were about to lose consciousness. You must have been more or less overcome. And yet you didn’t die. I presume whoever was doing this to you stopped.”

“Well, yes. Perhaps he thought I was dead.” And yet had I not still been struggling, however faintly? He—or she—must have known that I was still alive.

“Or something disturbed him, perhaps? Did Zsigmund come in?”

My frown deepened. “No, not then...unless he was somewhere I didn’t look. Perhaps he entered the house and my attacker heard him...”

“Perhaps,” Karl said with an odd lack of expression. He stirred. “You actually looked for your attacker? Didn’t you rouse the household?”

“I spoke to Gizella. She said no one would dare enter this house. What did she mean by that?”

“Who knows?” He gave a small smile. “Perhaps that the count is a well-known martinet that most of Pest and Buda know to keep clear of. It’s certainly better to be on his good side. But go on. What did Gizella do?”

“Nothing. I only told her I’d had a bad dream. I think she went back to bed. I listened outside the count’s room to be sure he was safe. He was snoring, as was István, according to Gizella.”

“And Zsigmund? When did you see him?”

“I went to sleep in one of the disused rooms, and he found me there.”

“Did you tell him what had happened to you?” His face was very still as he regarded me.

I shook my head.

“Why not?”

I drew in my breath. “Because it struck me that if it hadn’t been an intruder, then it must have been a member of his family. How could I tell him that? He’s been through enough in this house.”

His eyes searched mine. “Zsigmund is fortunate to have so understanding a wife. But Countess, you must think of your own safety. You can’t stay here.”

I nodded. “I thought that. But then I wondered if Zsigmund is also in danger. In which case, I have to stay. I will try to look out for him, as he protects me.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “Does he?”

I nodded, and yet my stomach twisted because he’d asked the question.

Karl licked his lips, as though they were suddenly dry, and glanced towards the closed door before leaning towards me and saying low, “Look, I love Zsigmund as if he’s my brother, but I can’t pretend he’s the most stable man in the world. What happened here when he was a child has undoubtedly damaged him, and his temper is uncontrollable. Have you considered—just for a moment—that he could have been angry with you? Did you offend him in any way?”

Yes, I threatened to leave him, banished him to the dressing room, and refused him my body and my money.

“In no way that matters,” I muttered.

“Perhaps not to you,” Karl said gently. He took my hands. “Let me speak to him, convince him that you should stay elsewhere for a little, just until he is calmer—”

I stared at him. I opened my mouth to deny that Zsigmund was some kind of madman who had to be kept calm at all costs; it just didn’t fit. And yet at the same time, a small, insidious voice reminded me that I didn’t know Zsigmund very well at all. Just because I hadn’t so far seen that side of him didn’t mean it didn’t exist. I remembered how the fury in his face had frightened me when I’d first threatened to leave him and mentioned “settlements,” normally music to the ears of an impoverished husband with a rich widow as his bride.