Princess in Love (30 page)

There was a hint of melancholy in her voice when she mentioned going home.

Leopold waved quickly to dismiss a groom who came running to assist him. The groom
immediately retreated.

“Eventually,” Leo replied, “but for now, he will take me only as far as Brussels.
It will be some time before we can leave Belgium. We must first account for all the
dead and wounded and organize ourselves for the march.”

The setting sun cast a glistening glow upon the golden hues of Rose’s hair, and her
eyes shimmered like gemstones when she looked at him. “How long before you must leave?”
she asked.

“I cannot say for sure. A fortnight, perhaps.”

She sighed heavily. “I don’t suppose you could return to visit us again? I doubt we
will be moving Joseph for at least that long.”

He considered it for a moment, but felt as if he were fighting against a current that
threatened to sweep him downriver to a place where he imagined himself sliding over
the top of a giant waterfall, plunging headlong into the swirling white pool below—and
taking Rose with him.

No. He had to grab hold of something. He could not pull her over the edge. He must
not return to see her again.

“I suspect I will be kept very busy in Brussels,” he said.

She inclined her head at him. “That’s not the real reason, is it? Surely, Leopold,
we know each other well enough by now to speak the truth.”

He paused a moment, then shook his head at this impossible situation. “Sometimes I
don’t know what the truth is. All I know is that I have to find a way to stop loving
you, Rose, and I don’t know if I can do it.”

Before he had a chance to prepare himself, she asked the burning question that would
plague him forever. “What happened to us in Petersbourg? How could there have been
any secrets? Why didn’t you tell me about your family?”

“I was ashamed,” he replied. “Ashamed of my past and how I was so greatly influenced
by my father for all those years. When you and I danced at the Coronation Ball, I
thought he had given up his foolish ambitions. I just wanted it all to disappear.”

A terrible sorrow filled her eyes. If only he could take her by the hand and run away
with her.

But she was a princess, wed to the future emperor of Austria. She would most certainly
be missed.

“I wish you had told me about it,” she said. “We could have warned Randolph, and you
would never have been arrested.”

He nodded. “Believe me, I’ve thought about it a thousand times and I torture myself
when I imagine what could have been. But as you said, we cannot turn back time. We
can only go forward. At least I will be content knowing that you are happy and living
a wonderful life.”

She looked up at him with stricken eyes that were on the verge of spilling forth a
flood of tears.

“But
I
won’t be content,” she replied, “for I will not be able to think of
your
happiness, not if you are locked away for the next twenty years. Tell me what to
do, Leopold, and I will do it.”

He stared at her closely. Did she mean she would run away with him? Would she do it
if he asked? Would she leave with him right now, this very instant?

She was breathing hard, waiting for him to say something.

He looked up at the inn where her husband lay recovering.

“You
will
be content,” he said, closing his eyes as he spoke the words, “knowing that you have
allowed me to reclaim my honor. It will have to be enough.”

She moved closer, laid her forehead on his chest, and wept quietly. He forced himself
to keep his hands at his sides, to resist the urge to hold her.

“I will ask Joseph to insist that you receive a full pardon,” she said. “Then at least
I will know that you have your freedom. Perhaps you could write to me sometimes. I
must know how you are.”

He took hold of her shoulders and gently pushed her away. “That wouldn’t be wise,”
he said, feeling as if he had just been pierced through the heart by a lance on the
battlefield.

“So this is it, then?” she whispered. “Good-bye for the last time?”

“Yes. That is how it must be.”

She bowed her head and nodded, while he struggled with the desire to pull her into
his arms, taste her sweet lips, and know the ecstasy of her heart, body, and soul—freely
given to him, and him alone.

But she was no longer free. Destiny had other plans for her. She would be a great
empress one day, and he would always be her secret champion in all causes from afar.

Turning away, he put his foot into the stirrup and mounted his horse.

Rose stepped out of the way and lifted a hand to shade her eyes from the blinding
glare of the setting sun.

“Travel safely,” she said.

“And you as well. Give my best to Joseph and tell him…” He paused.

“Tell him what?”

He shouldn’t say the words, for there was too much meaning in them, but he did so
nonetheless. “Tell him I said he is a very lucky man, and that Dr. Harris was right
about one thing at least. Your husband stands under a shining star.”

With that he galloped off, knowing that for once in his life, he had done the right
thing. As he reached the outskirts of the village, however, he found he could not
go on. He reined in his horse under a giant oak tree, dismounted and sat down under
it, where he sat alone and wept for a very long time.

Chapter Thirty-one

Three weeks later, Rose stood in the stable yard at the inn, upon the very spot where
she and Leopold had said their final good-byes.

Since that day, Joseph had made significant progress and his wounds were healing well.
Dr. Samson had served them devotedly and agreed to accompany them all the way back
to Austria, for it would be an arduous journey and Joseph would require continued
medical attention. There was some talk of appointing Dr. Samson to the office of palace
physician at the Hofburg, for he was highly skilled and brilliant in his field.

All that would be decided later, of course. For now, Rose must let go of all hope
that Leopold might come to visit them at the inn one last time. She didn’t even know
if he was still in Belgium. He could already be on his way back to Petersbourg.

At any rate, it was time to leave the village of Waterloo. Joseph had already been
assisted into the coach, and she mustn’t keep him waiting.

But oh, it was not easy to leave. She found herself gazing up the road, imagining
that Leopold might somehow know she was leaving today and would come galloping on
his magnificent chestnut charger to bid her a final farewell. In her heart she had
called to him and stared out the window for many hours over the past few weeks.

But he did not come.

Now it was time to leave.

With a brave but aching heart, she walked to the coach and climbed inside.

Joseph was stretched out on the opposite seat with his leg propped up on a pile of
thick brocade pillows to cushion against the swaying movements of the coach. It was
going to be a long journey, but he wanted desperately to return home.

“I am happy to see you,” he said, gazing at her with affection. “For a moment I was
worried you might decide to stay behind.”

She stared at him for a tender moment while the servants placed one last trunk on
the rooftop. “How could you ever think such a thing?” Reaching forward, she took his
hand in hers and kissed the back of it. “From now on, there shall be no more foolish
talk. We are going home, Joseph, and the war is over.”

Breathing deeply with relief, he leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes, while
Rose gazed out the window and said her own private farewell to Waterloo.

Chapter Thirty-two

Cavanaugh Manor, Petersbourg
Three months later

As the coach rumbled to a halt before the front steps of the home Leo never imagined
he would ever see again, he clasped his hands together and thanked God for this one
small mercy among so many painful sacrifices.

The coach door opened suddenly, and he looked out at the butler who was lowering the
iron step in the early autumn sunshine.

“Good afternoon, Johnson,” Leopold said as he climbed out and gazed up at the front
of the house.

“Good afternoon, my lord,” Johnson replied, as if not a single day had passed since
Leopold’s terrible fall from grace.

And how odd to be addressed that way again after eight months without a title, other
than “general.”

It had all been returned to him now. His service at Waterloo—in particular his actions
that saved the life of the future Austrian emperor—had been rewarded. He had been
given a full pardon, and his property and title of marquess had been restored.

He suspected Rose had something to do with it, but he would never know, for he would
not permit himself to ask.

“Leopold…” His mother hurried out the front door. “Welcome home.” She took both his
hands in hers and kissed them. “I am so happy to see you. The servants have been positively
brimming with excitement all day.”

“I am pleased to hear it,” he replied as he offered his arm to escort her up the front
steps. “Were we fortunate enough to hire most of them back?”

“Yes, every single one, even those who found positions elsewhere after we lost the
house. As soon as they learned you would be returning, they gave their notice and
dashed back here as fast as their legs could carry them.”

As they walked through the door, Leopold stopped and drew back in surprise when the
entire staff—lined up in the hall to greet him—broke into an enthusiastic round of
applause and cheering.

He had not expected such a homecoming, nor had he imagined how it would affect him.
A wave of emotion rose up within him, and he had to fight to keep his composure in
check as he shook hands with all of them.

“This is unexpected,” Leo said.

“Lord Cavanaugh,” Johnson said, “please permit me to say, for all of us, that you
have been dearly missed these past eight months. We are all exceedingly pleased to
have you home. Your heroism at Waterloo has thrilled and inspired us, and we are honored
to serve you again.”

Leo thanked him then turned to continue shaking hands with each servant.

A short while later, after the staff dispersed to resume their duties, Leopold accompanied
his mother to the drawing room for tea, where they sat together on the sofa.

As she poured him a cup, she said, “We are all so proud of you. I hope you know that.”

The entire country seemed to have gone to great lengths to show him he was no longer
disgraced. King Randolph had been more than generous in his praise.

“I feel very blessed.”

She handed him the cup and saucer. “But how are you otherwise? I do not wish to pry,
but I suspect you know what I am referring to.”

He took a sip of the tea. “I am as well as can be expected. It wasn’t easy, of course,
seeing Rose in Brussels, but I have made my peace with it. Now I must get on with
my life and put the past behind me.”

“I am sorry it didn’t turn out the way you wanted,” she gently replied.

“So am I.” He took another sip of tea, and was grateful for the silence as his mother
let the subject go.

He listened to the clock ticking on the mantelpiece.

A bird chirped outside the window.

Since the battle at Waterloo, he had become very aware and very grateful for how blessedly
quiet the world could be sometimes. He supposed he’d heard enough noise that one day
to last the rest of his life.

“It’s probably too early to speak of such things,” his mother said, “but have you
given any thought to the idea of marrying one day?”

He gave his mother a warm, forgiving look. “You are right about one thing. It is too
early to speak of it. I will require some time for my wounds to heal.”

He knew, however, that he would have to think of it eventually, for the title “Marquess
of Cavanaugh” was originally bestowed upon him for his past service in the campaign
against Napoleon. He was the first Cavanaugh, so there were no other heirs. Similarly,
all his father’s titles had been dissolved, therefore if Leopold died without issue,
this title and property would revert back to the crown.

It wouldn’t be the end of the world, he supposed, as long as his mother was taken
care of—and she would be, for she had her own money.

Nevertheless, he felt a responsibility to uphold the title, for the king had been
most generous in bestowing it upon him a second time. Such gifts should not be squandered.

His mother set down her cup and folded her hands on her lap. “Very well. I won’t push
you, Leopold. I only bring it up because I feel it necessary to warn you that you
may have to fight the young women off with a rather large stick. In particular Lady
Elise. You remember her, don’t you? She and her mother came to visit us last year
during those few weeks when it was so unbearably hot.”

Leopold chuckled softly as he recalled the flying fruit basket and the young lady’s
desperate attempts to attract his attention when he was blind to all women but one.

“I do remember her,” he said. “She was rather giddy if I recall.”

“Yes. She was too young for you last year, but she has matured. As it happens, when
she failed to catch your eye, she set her cap for Prince Nicholas. I am not sure what
happened between them exactly, but she was most decidedly disappointed.”

“I cannot say I am surprised,” Leopold said. “Nicholas is not the sort of man who
will wish to settle down any time soon.”

“That is true. More tea?”

He passed her his cup. She refilled it and handed it back.

“At any rate,” she said, “Lady Elise and her mother will be passing through here on
their way to visit relatives in the north over Christmas. They will only stay one
night. Perhaps it would cheer you a little to enjoy some female company.”

“I shall endeavor to be charming,” he graciously replied.