Dark Splendor (23 page)

All were startled by Roman’s outburst, but
Wilhelm looked quite pleased as he motioned for them to be seated.
Roman left her and returned to his place across the table. Beside
her, Morgan held her chair. When she was seated, Morgan took his
place next to Roman. Eric had attended his sister, lowering his
head to whisper something in her ear. Soon they were all in place,
this strange group whose lives had been unstrung by the mania of an
old man.

Silvia sat opposite Wilhelm, he at the head
of the long polished table, looking small and sickly in his
high-backed chair. The gold brocade upholstery brought out the
sallowness of his skin. And as ever, his eyes were phlegmatic
yellow flames reminding Silvia of what he required.

The meal seemed interminable, and when it
was over Silvia could not remember what she had eaten, only that
she had gone through the motions and responded to the slight
conversation in a way that apparently satisfied Schlange. He had
the task of explaining the wherefores of the marriage and how he
had deemed it essential Willy have a companion and wife now that he
and Vivien were growing old.

“Ahh, yes,” Schlange contended. “A proxy
marriage in London many months ago. It was an exhausting search to
find just the right bride for my son.” He chuckled. “Silvia was as
anxious to be the chosen one as was I to make a suitable choice,”
he lied. “She was certain she could be content with a husband in
frail health.” His eyes met hers. “You have not been disappointed,
have you, my dear?”

She regarded him under her lowered eyelids,
wishing she dared to shout the truth. “I am most pleased,” she
whispered.

Schlange went on to explain the boy would
need someone to attend him when they were gone, and it was not a
job to be left to servants. Though not a conventional marriage,
certainly it was one that was mutually beneficial. Serpent Tree
Hall needed a proper mistress, he remarked, and Silvia could not
ignore Martha squirming in her chair, growing paler with every
indirect insult Wilhelm so carelessly dropped. Silvia’s heart went
out to the woman who had been so kind to her, and silently vowed to
do all in her power to lessen the sting of Schlange’s
callousness.

“Indeed, Uncle, I need a reprieve. I shall
be happy to relinquish my duties and enjoy the solitude and liberty
of an unhampered life.” Martha’s voice was soft and velvety as she
looked at Silvia. “It is past time Willy took a wife and this house
had a Schlange mistress.”

Silvia’s heart sank within her. She could
not believe Wilhelm had not at least bothered to express his thanks
to Martha for her years of diligence and devotion in running his
house.

Wilhelm continued his talk as if he had done
no more than ask a morsel of bread from Martha’s hand. He boasted
of what new prosperity would come to his empire now that his line
was to be continued. A short time later the meal was finished and
he insisted the special occasion required their retiring to a small
parlor for brandy. And since Silvia was the honored person, she
must sit by his side on the low green couch near the windows.

In the little parlor, the chairs made a neat
half-circle facing the couch, and had the gathering been so
inclined, would have been an ideal arrangement to foster a lively
conversation.

But as it was, there were only the
perfunctory and expected inquiries into Silvia’s background—which
Silvia circumvented—and a comment by Eric that she had done a
remarkable job of keeping Uncle’s secret.

“Though that comes as no surprise,” Eric
said blandly. “Uncle inevitably has his way, and none of us yet has
proven a match for his wit.”

Silvia had drunk too much wine, hoping to
dim her misery. Now, as she sipped the fine old brandy Schlange had
bidden Odin pour, the amber fluid burned her throat and made her
temples throb. After a while the conversation turned to other
matters, and even Wilhelm seemed to forget she was in the room. He
was lodged deeply into talk of shipping and trade.

Martha left her chair and strolled to the
windows. She stood there nervously wringing her small hands, her
back turned to them all. When she faced them again, her eyes went
first to Roman, but he was engaged in a serious discussion of
business and took no notice of her. Her eyes then sought Silvia’s,
and she nodded for Silvia to join her as she moved quietly toward
the parlor door. Willingly, Silvia rose.

“We’ll leave them to their talk,” Martha
whispered as she took Silvia’s arm. “Good night, Uncle.” Martha
touched Wilhelm’s shoulder as she passed. “Silvia and I ask to be
excused.”

“As you wish, ladies,” Schlange replied
without a glance.

“Good night, sir,” Silvia addressed Wilhelm.
Her head throbbed but she forced herself to speak calmly. “It has
been a memorable evening, one I am certain never to forget.” Her
eyes rested briefly on Roman’s face but he countered her plea for
understanding with a look of heated loathing.

Wilhelm’s thin brows raised significantly,
his voice indulgently moderate. “Nor do I think you will easily
forget the significance of this occasion.” He smiled. “I bid you
good night, my dears.”

Eric stood momentarily, his eyes lighting
appreciatively on Silvia. He bade both her and Martha a hasty good
night. From Roman there was merely a nod.

Morgan, ever the eager gentleman, quickly
rose and escorted Silvia to the doorway where Martha waited. Did
she imagine Morgan’s hand resting too familiarly at her waist as he
also bade her good night? She could not forget that Wilhelm had
wanted her as bait for all his nephews. The horror of it both
sickened and frightened her. A sense of relief flooded her senses
as she saw the three cousins once again deeply engaged in talk with
their uncle before she and Martha had walked more than a few steps
away.

“They will talk for hours,” Martha said with
an air of conviction. “And I think for you this has been a
strenuous evening.”

You are kind, Martha, when you have little
reason to be so disposed toward me. It pains me that I have taken
what should more justly belong to you.”

“Dear Cousin Silvia. It is of no
consequence. Let us not speak of it.” Martha’s face was possessed
of such gentleness that Silvia’s own troubled spirit lessened a
mite.

Silvia’s eyes reflected her agony. “You have
been mistress of this house a very long time. I will need your
guidance, and only hope I can learn to be half as efficient as
you.” She managed a shaky smile. “I thank you for rescuing me, and
you are right. This night has been a great strain and I would like
to get to bed. Though—” Silvia paused to sigh sadly. “—I think I am
yet too filled with nervous excitement for sleep to come
easily.”

“Nonsense.” Martha shook her head and
reached out almost absently to lay slender white fingers on the
fiery emerald at Silvia’s throat. “The stone does you great
justice, Silvia. I have always admired it, and now I admire the
woman who wears it.” Her fingers lingered on the stone for a moment
while the emerald reflected hypnotically in Martha’s blue eyes.
Silvia thought she saw wistful envy in her expression. Yet Martha’s
solicitous attitude emerged instantly. “You only need a pot of my
tea, and you’ll sleep like a lamb. Like a sweet little lamb. I’ll
have it sent to your room directly.”

The special bedtime tea had become a
ritualistic end to Silvia’s day. Martha explained that the blend of
herbs she added to the tea leaves was from an old recipe handed
down in her mother’s family and had long been used as a soothing
beverage.

Silvia left Martha in the foyer and hurried
up the stairs. She had no more than gotten out of sight on the
second floor when she heard the sound of Martha’s voice below.
Silvia stopped and turned, thinking Martha might have called to
her, but she quickly realized it was Wilhelm to whom Martha was
speaking.

“Uncle, are you going up so soon?”

“Yes, child. It has been a splendid evening,
but I confess it has taxed my strength greatly.” He paused. “I
thank you for the preparations.”

“Uncle, there is a matter I would ask you
about.”

“Then be brief, girl.”

“You said the necklace would be mine, yet
you never allowed me to wear it. And then tonight...”

“The Cerastes Stone? It would have been
yours had not Willy married.”

“You might have told me in advance that I
had lost a family heirloom I treasured above all else. It was
shocking and embarrassing to learn with everyone else tonight.”

Wilhelm scoffed. “You haven’t the fire for
the emeralds, girl. Diamonds. Those are the jewels for you.” He
coughed and his voice rang with finality. “She is fire. You are
ice.”

Odin’s heavy footsteps thudded on the marble
stairs. Silvia supposed he was carrying Wilhelm to his room, and
she quickly hurried to her own door and shut it behind her.

Fire? Why had he compared them that way?
Fire and ice? It was a momentary diversion for her mind, but one
she could not dwell on when she was thinking of something much more
pressing. If the group in the parlor had broken up, there might be
a chance of seeing Roman before the night was out.

Making certain Odin had had time to reach
Schlange’s rooms, she eased the door open again and slipped out,
gliding silently down the corridor and stairs. She walked with
quiet caution toward the parlor, where they had gone for brandy.
The candles were out and in the dark room Silvia’s pulse quickened
with the disturbing thought that she had missed seeing Roman. She
was barely aware of a movement from a corner of the room until
there was a flicker of light and a candle flared into flame.

The light spread through the darkness,
revealing Roman standing by the mantel. She could see the reckless
anger in his face, feel the heavy barriers building between them.
With a few bold steps he came to a spot no more than an arm’s
length away. Her face turned ashen under his angry gaze and her
heart pounded so violently in her chest that she could feel the
weight of the necklace beating at her throat. Silence hung between
them like a cold barrier of ice.

Roman crossed his arms over his chest and
smiled a sarcastic, hateful smile that made her feel she had been
slashed with a knife.

Has the mistress come to survey her castle?”
He stood hostile and challenging, his eyes piercing hers. “Or
perhaps you cannot find your way to the marriage bed.”

Silvia felt heat rising to her face as she
breathed in sharply. His cross words hurt more than all the wrong
Schlange had done her. Her eyes tightened against the tears she
hoped to hold back. Did he mistake her flushed cheeks and
distraught air for impudence? Could he fail to see the anguish in
her expression? Suddenly, desperately, she ached to tell him all
that had happened, how his trusted uncle had deceived her. Yet her
mind only fastened on the incredibility of her plight as she became
acutely conscious of the rigidity of his body and the mockery in
his eyes.

“Roman, please,” she begged. “You must let
me explain what I can.” If only there were some way of letting him
know she had not deceived him, that she was not an artful,
discontented wife who had tricked him into making love to her.

“Is that to say you cannot explain it all?
Can you not tell me why you let me bilk my cousin out of his
marital rights?” His eyes blazed through with deep blue flames.

Silvia choked back a sob. Roman’s harsh tone
amplified her shame. “You were not guiltless in that.”

“No. But I have a care for those I love. God
knows Willy has little enough to enjoy of life. It appalls me to
know that I have robbed him of having a virgin bride.”

“It was never my intent to hurt Willy.” A
wretchedness of spirit swept over her. “Can’t you know that? Can’t
you believe it?”

“I can only believe you have played me for a
fool. I have been a witless participant in some crafty game you
devised. First you act the shy virgin on board ship, then you
become a practiced seductress here. I can only marvel that you
retained your virginity to this late date.”

Silvia’s cheeks flamed at the onslaught of
his fury. “Surely, Roman, you cannot believe what you say. I
practiced no deceit on you. What has happened was our destiny. I
could not have changed it, nor could you.” She lowered her eyes,
and her lips quivered tremulously. Yet there was one small spark of
joy in her heart, one small pearl of happiness that had formed in
the depth of her sorrow. If Roman blamed her, if he thought himself
wronged, then he had not been part of his uncle’s plan. Her voice
dropped to a whisper. “Nor would I have done so if I could.”

“Was it your destiny to go from my bed to
the arms of my brother?”

“No!” Silvia couldn’t imagine what Roman was
suspecting.

“Good. Or I think you will find destiny
leaves you with very little rest.”

“You are callous.”

“Do you call me callous? I am no recent
husband who has violated my marriage vows. No other has a claim on
me. Can you say the same, madam?”

“It is not as you think. This is no ordinary
marriage. It is...” she paused, weighing her words carefully before
going on.

“Arranged? That I know. Uncle has related to
us that already you find the arrangement lacking. That you may
require certain attentions Willy cannot fulfill. But does the poor
health of a husband make the vows less sacred or binding? I can
only hope that since Willy is not worldly he will not detect the
lack of...”

“My virginity?”

“Yes.”

Silvia’s teeth tugged at her lower lip. “How
well do you know your cousin?”

He leaned toward her and stared intently at
her face. “We played together as very small children. We
correspond. My cousin is a sensitive man with delicate health. That
I know. I regret his seclusion. But it is self-enforced, as he
finds conversation and activity strenuous since the accident.”