Love Me Again (27 page)

Meaning the man didn't listen to his wife, Castlereagh assumed with a flash of anger at the dolt. The man should have sent for her son a month ago when they were all aware of the slow progress of the Congress. Unfortunately, he was becoming disenchanted with the ambitious young viscount since the Congress. Perhaps he should just transfer Basingstoke's service to Wellington's staff now and be done with it. Let the duke straighten him out; he was used to dealing with the sulks of young men. After all, he had an army of them to deal with.

“Of course I will, my dear. I will discuss it with him as soon as he arrives. Well...” he quickly finished his coffee is one long swallow. “I need to get back to my work.” Standing, he bowed over her hand. “This has been a pleasure. Thank you for inviting me to join you.” Then with a nod to Sergei, he was gone, his strides long and hurried, as if he couldn't wait to get back to his office.

Christina turned to Sergei with shining eyes. “Oh, Sergei, to see Eddie again! Come, let's go make the arrangements!” With that giddy thought, she was up and hurrying out of the crowded room.

Sergei followed more slowly, concerned about how Robert was going to take another directive in regards to his wife.

Castlereagh was correct in his assumptions. England recalled him, and now he must defend his actions before the House of Commons. For the viscount it was just one more irritation heaped atop a growing stack of failed attempts in the negotiations that seemed to do nothing more than amble aimlessly about in an unending circle of petty squabbling.

Despite this, Castlereagh held to his optimism that the Allies would come together, and he hoped his dear friend, the Duke of Wellington, would succeed where he had obviously failed. Castlereagh was if anything pragmatic, and he knew his inherent coldness had not endeared him to the more earthy Europeans, with whom he found himself at a distinct disadvantage. However, the hero of the Peninsular Wars could do no wrong as far as most of the world was concerned, and Castlereagh fervently prayed that Wellington's considerable charm would ultimately win England's concessions.

Castlereagh was also true to his word about Robert, for not a week later he finally arrived in Vienna. Upon his arrival Castlereagh immediately closeted himself with Robert for several hours. When he emerged he did not hide the fact that he was in a sullen rage, of which Christina bore the brunt. They shared a quietly hostile supper and then, without a word to his wife, he retired to his room. The few days he remained in Vienna were conducted in the same manner, except that he did not even dine with her. Soon he was gone again, and it was from Castlereagh that she learned he would remain in Paris with Wellington. He was now assigned to the duke as attaché, a promotion for him. It was quite obvious to Christina, though, that Robert had not considered it so.

Her husband had left only one directive for her: Eddie was to remain in England.

At her husband's abrupt departure, Christina could only feel a building rage at the callous way he had treated her, as if she was of no more consequence than one of his mistresses. She was tempted to write to Edward and invite them to Vienna and damn Robert to hell if he gave her grief over it.

But she didn't. For despite all her growing animosity against Robert, she could not rid herself of an underlying sense of guilt. Robert was a man of pride, just like most men, and his self-respect had certainly taking a beating during this assignment. Perhaps if she had been a better wife, Robert wouldn't be treating her so harshly.

So, she was determined to try harder to be the wife he expected, even if it killed her. And if that meant avoiding Varek to within an inch of her life, then she would do it.

Yet no matter what happened at the negotiation tables, or how her life was being torn asunder, the Congress never lacked for entertainment as it inexhaustibly danced on; its intrigues, its foibles, its excesses were celebrated with a flamboyance that impressed even the carefree Viennese. And in the midst of all this carnal exuberance, Christina was sunk in miserable loneliness. She missed her baby. She missed her brother-in-law, the duke. She missed the haven that Kerkmoor had become for her. But, most of all, deep in the very heart of her soul, she missed her life of six years past when she had walked these very streets at Varek's side.

However, the news Laure shared with her one sunny morning gave her a new outlook on life that was just as dazzling as the sun reflecting off the newly fallen snow.

“I am going to have a baby.” Laure's calmly spoken announcement was belied by the look of giddiness in her eyes.

With a squeal of delight, Christina swept the slighter woman up into her arms. “Oh, Laure, how wonderful! When?”

“Late summer. Clemens is beside himself with joy. I think he is finally over her, Christina.” It was the first true smile Christina had seen upon her friend's lips since she had come to Vienna.

And, in truth, it had appeared that the prince's attentions had returned to his wife. He was only seen to notice his ex-mistress, the Duchess of Sagan, when the dictates of polite society requested it of him. Christina prayed with all her heart it was true. Looking at Laure's radiant face at that moment, Christina could almost believe that, indeed, love could conquer all.

If only...

Christina pushed that useless thought aside, refusing to allow thoughts of Varek to intrude on this happy occasion.

With buoyed spirits, the two ladies sat down for an animated chat, speaking of the up-coming event: a day of festive sleighing through the countryside to the Schrönbrunn, the majestic royal palace on the outskirts of Vienna.

Due to the warmer weather, which had turned the roads into a quagmire of mud and slush, the festivities had already been postponed twice. But with the new snow and the crisp freezing of the past few days, it seemed the event was on again, scheduled for the next day. Christina had to admit she was looking forward to it.

“Have you heard from Robert?” Laure asked with an abrupt change of topic.

Christina hesitated, then shook her head, not knowing quite what to say.

Laure raised her brows in question as she watched her friend closely. “Glad or disappointed?”

Christina fiddled with her cup and saucer, afraid to meet Laure's eyes. “Robert is not pleased with the situation. He barely spoke a word to me the few days he was here.” Sighing, she shrugged, then leaning forward she put her tea down. “I can't say I blame him. He is not a stupid man. I am sure he knows why he is being shuffled back and forth.”

“You must admit it is easier on everyone not to have him here.”

Raising her eyes, Christina stared at Laure with worry. “Is it? In all fairness, Robert should be at my side. He is my husband, Laure. If anyone should leave it should be Varek. Or me.”

Laure couldn't help but be aware of Christina's dispirited attitude in everything she approached this last week. She couldn't seem to relax, and her pallor was not the typical paleness of the aristocratic lady's complexion. Setting her teacup down, she asked as gently as she could, “Have you been with Varek?”

The look of outrage Christina sent her spoke more eloquently than any verbal denial could. Tactfully, she suggested, “Maybe that is the problem. Perhaps if you and Varek ... well, came together again it might ease some of the pain.”

Christina stared at her in abject horror. “Laure, what can you mean? If that were to happen I would be lost. That can't happen,” she was almost shouting when she cried out wildly, “Ever!”

Regretting ever bringing up the subject, Laure leaned forward and poured fresh tea. “My dear, I did not mean to upset you. It is just that lately,”

Christina gave a bitter laugh as she interrupted, “Lately? Ever since Varek walked back into my life I have been walking a fence. On one side is a placid, comfortable life with my adored child and a man who had treated me gently and respectfully. On the other is the love of my life, whom I yearn for with every breath in my body! On one side is the love of my son. On the other is the loss of my son. How should I be feeling, Laure? You tell me, for I certainly wish someone would.”

Surging to her feet, Christina began to pace in front of her concerned friend. Back and forth she paced, like a caged animal. “Every blasted night I lie in my lonely bed wondering why. Why am I denying myself something that is taken for granted between the majority of married couples throughout Europe? Even Robert has his little bits of muslin. So why, Laure?” she demanded passionately as she spun about and glared down into Laure's shocked gaze. “I'll tell you why. Because the moment I give in to my selfish desires I am scared to death that I won't give a damn about my child back home.” Christina's eyes were wild with pained confusion. “Then what, Laure? Some would shrug and say that I will have others. But even if I could, which is doubtful, considering our past, how could I ever forget my Eddie? Could you? Even for Clemens, whom you love just as fiercely as I love Varek, would you desert your children for him? Could you?” Her voice rose to a shrill pitch as she towered over Laure, who was now almost cringing back from the raging woman before her.

Knowing it unwise to mention the fact that Clemens
was
her children's father, Laure instead gave a vehement shake of her head. For, in truth, she understood what Christina was saying. “No, never! Never in a million years could I ever desert my children.”

Christina seemed to come to her senses and, aware of what she was doing, took a couple of deep breaths. Turning about, she returned to her seat and sank gracefully onto the chair. With hands still shaking, she picked up her cup and saucer and took a fortifying sip of tea. When she looked up, her smile was forced, but calmness had settled about her again like a well-worn blanket. “Well, then, there you have it.”

Laure merely blinked at her. After a moment of speechless staring, she cleared her throat and said faintly, “Indeed. So what think you of this beautiful snow?”

The next morning, Christina and Laure were standing on the steps of the Metternichs’ apartments on the Josephplatz, looking about themselves with bemused interest at the congestion of gaily decked sleighs and horses. The sleighs were each supplied with expensive furs for warmth and the horses were adorned with ribbons and bows braided into their manes. Down the street, surrounded by a curious crowd, an enormous sled could be seen with an orchestra dressed in Turkish costume already tuning up to lend itself to the festive atmosphere. Christina and Laure's breaths misted in the frigid air with each laughing comment as they pointed out to each other all the equally beribboned and furred ladies who were loudly complaining of the cold and voicing their displeasure rather emphatically with the open sleighs, preferring enclosed carriages in which to relax.

“How shockingly dull of them,” Laure laughingly commented as they began to stroll over to the Metternichs’ personal sleigh, which was to transport them. Glancing around, Christina saw Sergei mounted on his magnificent Berber stallion and gave him a wave, which he returned immediately. She saw him turn his horse in her direction. The poor dear looked terribly bored. Actually, when she squinted at him through the brilliant morning sunshine, she could swear he looked as if he was suffering from a night of excessive drink. She hadn't seen much of him lately, as he had relatives not too far from Vienna, and she knew he was taking advantage of his time here to visit them. She never knew where he was on any given day. Sadly, she wondered if he was trying to wean her away from his companionship. Perhaps he intended to remain in Austria when she went home. She was about to walk over to him when an all-too-familiar voice murmured close behind her, “Good morning, lark.”

Taking a deep breath, she turned about and saw Varek, looking as magnificent as ever, his cheeks ruddy with the cold winter air and his eyes alight with laughter. Perched high on his chest was Tina, giggling and restless in his arms. Seeing the identical grin on her cherubic face was beyond her tenacious resolve to resist him, and Christina found herself grinning back as she reached up and pulled Tina's thumb from her mouth.

“We were hoping you would join us in our sleigh,” Varek beseeched with an underhanded determination that he knew could not fail. He knew she could no more say no to Tina than she could say yes to him. High above them, Tina was giving an enthusiastic nod.

Sliding a look of intense ire at him, Christina accused in a low growl, “You did this on purpose, didn't you?”

An innocent look of confusion crossed his face, wisely erasing his smug grin, “I have no idea what you are alluding to.” Politely, he nodded at Laure, and even gave Sergei a cordial nod of the head when he drew up beside them. “'Morning, Massallon. Ever the faithful watchdog, eh?”

Sergei looked at Varek's daughter, and noticed her watching him with a wide-eyed curiosity. Not helping himself, he looked back at Varek and gave a ferocious growl and barked.

Tina giggled, and announced loudly, “I like him, Papa!”

Varek gazed speculatively at his old friend, and after exchanging a long, speaking glance with Christina, he returned with a grudging smile, “So do I, my pet.”

Sergei froze in mid smile, and searched Varek's face with a questioning glance. Finally he muttered dramatically, rolling his eyes heavenward, “Well, that's a weight off my mind. Now if you will excuse me?” And tipping his hat at the group, he turned his horse and melded into the crowd, ignoring the teasing smiles that were cast his way by some of the local beauties.

When Varek again glanced sideways at Christina, he saw she was smiling, and softly she whispered for his ears alone, “Thank you.”

Sensing the sudden tension in her father, Tina looked at him and asked artfully, “Are you in trouble again, Papa?”

Varek cast Christina a smile that almost blinded her and murmured, as his heated gaze raked her from the toes of her boots to the tip of her bonnet, boldly lingering on certain points along the way, “As always, my pet.” Then his eyes met hers with a clash of audacious innuendo.