The Gentleman’s Challenge Page 3

  “Oh, Priscilla!” Valeria grinned. “I have not seen you for years.”

  “Not since Father had me sent to Mother's estate for my education.” Priscilla Waterford, daughter of the Baron of Norfolk, pulled a face.

  “I shall need to be on door duty,” Valeria continued, and Priscilla pulled a wry face at her, understanding, “but as soon as all the guests are suitably welcomed, I shall come and find you.”

  “Good,” Priscilla insisted, and giggled. She greeted Henry, blushing, and then, more enthusiastically, the earl, who had sent out specially to invite her.

  “Almost done,” Henry whispered to her, and winked.

  “Good.” Her spirits were starting to rise, but she scanned the room, with a sense of growing urgency, for Ernst.

  The stream of guests was tailing off, and Mr. Perry moved forward, about to close the great wooden doors.

  “Wait,” Valeria whispered under her breath. She had seen someone, hurrying toward them.

  Henry shot a glance at Mr. Perry, who looked back quizzically at him, and at that moment the last guest came through.

  Ernst von Aichelburg was dressed resplendently in a gray jacket and cream velvet trousers, his hose soft gray and held in place with blue ribands. His tall, narrow frame was outlined in the doorway, the falling snow pale behind him against the dark night. Valeria felt her heart stop as he entered and took her hand.

  “A thousand apologies, Lady Valeria,” he said, and kissed her satin glove. Valeria felt her heart dancing. She grinned at him, and he looked up at her, eyes serious.

  “Ernst?” she asked, but he said nothing, only looked into her eyes once again, and, squeezing her fingers in reassurance, turned to Henry, who stood beside her.

  “Good evening, Henry,” he said, his thin face briefly enlivened with a small smile.

  “Hello, Ernst.” Henry grinned. He clapped him on the shoulder. “Good to see you finally arrive.”

  Ernst looked down, dark eyes pained. “Yes, of course. I had to come,” he said, without looking up. When he did look up, he met her eye, and his face softened to a look of overwhelming tenderness, mixed with regret. Valeria felt her heart twist. She had never seen so much love directed at anyone before. She had certainly never received such a look, or given one. Now she did both.

  Henry, seeing her gray eyes soften and glow with love, and witnessing the tender, awe-filled look on his friend's face, swallowed hard, his face sad. Then Ernst was moving along to greet their father.

  Henry touched Valeria's shoulder. “Door duty completed successfully.” He was trying to lighten the mood, and Valeria could have hugged him for it, though nothing could thaw the tendrils of ice around her heart. What was the matter with Ernst? Why had he arrived so late? Why was he so sad?

  The orchestra was playing a sarabande, the violins intense and sweetly-tuned.

  Valeria usually loved balls. Now, she bit her lip, looking about the crowded hall for the one person whose presence really mattered.

  She was rewarded in her efforts.

  “Lady Gray?”

  “Ernst!” Valeria looked up, surprised, as he appeared from behind her, a hand on her shoulder.

  They faced each other, silently, his eyes communicating something urgently with her, something she could not understand.

  “My lady, if you would, I ask you to accompany me upstairs? I would have a moment alone.”

  Ernst's accent was at its most Germanic, a state which told Valeria he was worried.

  “Of course,” she said, looking up at him gravely. “I must just excuse myself to my father.”

  She walked across the room to where her father was seated, reminiscing with a group of army officers, and excused herself.

  She and Ernst hurried from the room.

  Outside the hall it was dark, the corridor lit only with a few high candles, casting a ruddy light down the darkened passage. They walked quickly, Ernst's shoes clicking on the floor, and ascended the wooden staircase.

  “Ernst!” she breathed, as they pushed through the library door.

  “Valeria,” he breathed.

  They kissed. Arms tight about each other, his hand on her cheek, a kiss of savage passion, of longing and love and immediacy.

  “Valeria, I...” Ernst breathed.

  “Don't speak,” Valeria whispered. “Just...don't.” Somehow, she already knew what he would say.

  “Valeria, my father is gravely ill. He has called for me. I must go.”

  “I know.” Valeria squeezed her eyes shut, holding back the flowing tears.

  “Oh, Valeria,” Ernst breathed. “If only I could refuse! I would take you with me, have you beside me forever. I want that more than I can say.” He took her in his arms then, pressing his face against her hair in a gesture of such tenderness and devotion that Valeria felt her throat close with her tears.

  “I cannot bid you farewell,” she managed at last. “I refuse! I cannot say it...” Her voice broke on a sob.

  Looking down at her, Ernst stroked her hair. His mouth twisted in a bittersweet smile. “Then don't,” he said, gently.

  “Don't?”

  “Say auf wiedersehen.” Ernst smiled softly. “That way, I have a promise. I will know I shall see you again.”

  “Oh, Ernst!” Valeria wrapped her arms around his tall form, weeping. “Oh, Ernst!”

  They held each other close a long moment and kissed, tenderly. He looked into her eyes, his dark eyes level and tender. He smiled, a smile so sad it made her heart clench. She swallowed, and nodded as he stepped a pace away.

  “Auf wiedersehen,” Valeria managed.

  Her gray eyes looked into his, brimming with tears. Then she bent her head and sobbed.

  “Auf wiedersehen,” he whispered softly in return. He reached out and grasped her shoulder, kissing her on the top of the head. And then he left.

  Valeria stood in the darkened library, lit only by the grate, eyes wide, unfocused. Heart numb and empty. He had gone. He had left.

  It was only much later that she could sob again. Standing in the cold, dark library, she sobbed and thought that she would not ever stop.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  DISCOVERY

  DISCOVERY

  The snow was still falling, and Valeria woke with a head that ached from crying. The fire had died in the grate, and she opened her eyes to a world gray and silent. With waking came memory, and with memory came sadness.

  “I wish I never had to wake,” she groaned, sitting.

  The cold bit into her bare shoulders, hidden only by her loose golden hair, and her breath was a cloud in the icy room. None of that mattered. All that mattered was memory. Ernst was gone.

  Valeria rose stiffly and went across to the ewer and bowl on the washstand and splashed her face, wincing with the iced cold. She lifted her lace powdering-gown from the chair at her bedside and draped it about her shoulders, still shivering. The cold was within her, it seemed, and would never be expelled.

  Walking past the mirror on her dressing table, she noticed the reflection of her own face. Narrow and thin, with dark rings printed under her eyes and her hair, loose about her shoulders. She looked like a specter, eyes wide and tragic. She looked sharply away.

  As she did so, her eyes fell on the table below the mirror. Propped up, between the ivory brushes and comb and the little bottle for her pearl-headed hairpins, was a cream-colored envelope.

  Valeria picked it up, her curiosity outweighing her deep sadness. One glance at the handwriting set her heart soaring.

  “Ernst!”

  Fingers trembling, Valeria tore open the envelope. Taking the letter over to the window, Valeria sat in the velvet-lined chair and began to read.

  My dearest, sweet Valeria,

  I write to you, though I am lost for words. All words seem trivial before the blankness of this sheet and the enormity of all I wish to say.

  I love you, sweet Valeria. Now that I face the prospect of leaving you, I think I realize I have always known it. Fro
m the first moment, when we met in the vast hall, you with your golden hair all loose, and your gentle smile! It seems so long ago, and yet I shall never forget how I felt. Despite all the strangeness in my world – the uprooting, the loss – in that moment, I felt I had come home.

  Sweet Valeria! Now that I must travel far, remember that my heart is always with you, my mind is never far from you, and my soul will not know peace until I am beside you. We may be far apart, but I shall not be content unless I know that I shall see you. I ask you to write to me and alleviate my torment. Let me know that I may see you again.

  Leaving you in body, but never far in heart or soul,

  Your Ernst

  Valeria wiped the page, blurring the ink with the tears that had fallen there. Her vision was misted, but her smile was wide, making her cheeks ache. She set the letter down, very carefully, on the windowsill, and stood.

  I can scarce believe it! He loves me!

  She laughed. He had said as much. Why was it that, only now that she saw it in writing, did she acknowledge the truth of that?

  Why have I been so foolish? Of course, he does! She giggled and shook her head at herself. Her arms wrapped around her body, she sat back down again, still grinning.

  Her misery had lifted. Yes, he was far from her. Yes, it might be many, many years before they met again. But he loved her. He had promised that they would meet. He had said he wished her to always be near.

  She laughed aloud.

  Her mood lifted, she ran to the door and pulled the bell to summon her maid, Matilda, to help her dress.

  An hour later, she dismissed her, and set herself down at her writing desk to write a letter for delivery that afternoon. With any luck, it would arrive with the same tide as Ernst did, and be waiting for him when he arrived at home. Thank goodness she knew the address! Still grinning, she reached for pen and paper and began.

  Dearest Ernst,

  I have been mourning your departure, but discovery of your letter has turned my tears to joy. I can scarce write of how my heart soared, reading your words.

  Know that I feel as you do, and have always done, since I saw you first – the quiet boy with the solemn eyes whose gaze met mine, and understood me. I have loved you since that moment, and my heart goes with you until I am beside you once again, or you with me.

  At Wilding, all is quiet and melancholy without you, and, though life continues in its usual strain, I would scarce have noticed any changes, so miserable was I in your absence. Your words have brought me life, my dearest. Confession of our love has brought blossom to this winter land. I fancy I can almost feel the wind which will, one day, bear you back to me.

  Kissing the air you breathe and the wind that ruffles your hair,

  Your Valeria

  Smiling, Valeria sanded and folded the letter and then sealed it with her personal seal. She set it down, carefully, beside her writing things, for Mr. Perry to hand to the mail-coach when it arrived.

  Wrapping her arms around herself as if to contain her delight, she stood and danced lightly from the room.

  She wondered if she should practice at the pianoforte. She smiled to herself. Why ever not? It had been too long, and her fingers would be stiff and her performance rusty.

  Oh, how could I think I wished not to live? Valeria walked quietly into the drawing room, to sit before the piano.

  Two hours later, when she was lost in the beauty of a Beethoven piece, eyes shut, someone called her name.

  “Valeria?”

  Valeria sat bolt upright.

  “What? Oh!” she gasped. “Henry.” She smiled up at her fair-haired brother, who stood in the door.

  “Sister,” he said, smiling. “You look well.”

  “Thank you, brother.” Valeria glanced down at her hands as she continued playing, smiling warmly. “I am.”

  “That is well, sister,” Henry agreed. “I had thought to ask if you would join me at the Ratherly's estate? They are having a card party and ball next week.”

  Valeria continued to smile her secret smile. “Strangely, brother, yes. I think I would like that.”

  “Good, good! I wanted you to meet Arthur Merriot, and Richard Howard, and Hugh Miller.” He smiled at Valeria's raised brow. “Army colleagues,” he explained.

  “Oh,” Valeria said, mildly surprised. Henry had never wanted to join the army. It was odd to see him so enthusiastic now.

  “I think it could be fun,” he added, eyes twinkling. “We don't see many people, here in Wilding, do we?”

  Valeria chuckled. It was something Henry often joked about, the isolation of their father's remote estate.

  “Well?” He grinned. “It is true, isn't it?”

  “Yes.” Valeria smiled. “And I think it would be good for me.” Her eyes clouded as she thought of Ernst, and how the ball could help distract her when she started to really miss him.

  “It would be,” Henry said, feelingly. His blue eyes gazed at her with concern. Of all the household, he alone knew how deeply she had felt about Ernst. Valeria knew he knew, and she also felt his pain; Ernst had been his closest friend.

  “Well, then,” she said, brightly. “We shall attend the ball next week.”

  “I shall try to live up to my simply splendid sister.” Henry smiled and kissed her lightly on the top of her head.

  Valeria laughed. Patting her shoulder one last time, Henry walked almost silently from the room. Valeria, feeling a strange mix of joy, anticipation and sadness, closed her eyes a moment and then reached to turn over the page of music.

  Strands of Beethoven, sorrow and elation mixed, floated out of the room and down the corridor as she played.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A THREAT TO PEACE

  A THREAT TO PEACE

  “Ride, Henry! Go!”

  Valeria's laugh was snatched away by the chill wind as she watched her brother Henry hare off down the hill, chasing the wide-brimmed hat he had been wearing.

  It was springtime, three months after Valeria's birthday, and the first breezes had thawed the snow. With the breeze, the youngest members of the house at Wilding had ridden out.

  “He is quite impressive, isn't he, Arthur?” Valeria smiled at her companion.

  “Certainly, yes,” Arthur agreed. Arthur Merriot, son of the Baron Harling, was a handsome man with pale auburn hair and dark eyes. He looked across at her, smiling his easy smile.

  “And he has it, too! Go, Henry!” Valeria cheered, as he chased down and retrieved the hat, though Henry was too far away to hear her.

  Arthur laughed. “He will make a fine officer in the cavalry. Don't you worry about him, Lady Grey.” He smiled, though his eyes were solemn as he patted her hand.

  “Thank you, Arthur,” Valeria said, softly, and grasped his fingers – warm and vital – in her own. Of everyone she knew, he was the only one who understood how concerned she was for Henry, traveling to Germany to take up his post next month. She was glad that he had accepted Henry's invitation and come to spend the rest of winter with them at Wilding.

  “And,” Arthur continued, eyes dancing with mischief, “if he doesn't, I, as his fellow officer, will probably get shot for intransigence along with him.”

  They chuckled together.

  Valeria, catching her breath, looked up into Arthur's dark eyes. He was handsome, funny, wise. If she had not known Ernst, he would have been her perfect companion. And he was her brother's friend, and the sort of man of whom her father heartily approved.

  “Oh, Arthur.” She smiled at him. “Look after him for me, please?”

  “I will, my lady,” Arthur said, and lifted her white-gloved hand. In a gesture of surprising tenderness, he held it to his lips.

  Valeria felt her heart contract. “Oh, Arthur,” she sighed again.

  “My lady,” Arthur said, breath catching in his throat, “I shall protect your brother, as he will doubtless preserve me also. It would make it all worthwhile if I felt that I would see you... that I could speak frankly to you.”r />
  “Arthur,” Valeria sighed, and looked down.

  Over the last month of their acquaintance, Arthur and she had become good friends. She had not realized the extent of his attachment. Looking up at him, she drew in her breath.

  “I shall see. So shall we both,” she said. It was all she could think of to say.

  “I see that shall have to be enough,” Arthur said, a little sadly. His dark eyes met hers, and he squeezed her hand.

  “It shall,” Valeria agreed. “Oh, Arthur, I am sorry.”

  “Don't be.” His voice was gentle and intense at once.

  Valeria, heart aching, swallowed hard and rode across to where Henry, panting and breathless, rode back up the hill.

  “I caught it!” He grinned, his smile lopsided. He jammed the hat firmly onto his head, and turned to them, arms outstretched.

  “Nice work!” Arthur grinned.

  “Well done, Henry!” Valeria smiled, and rode in beside him, so that she could wrap her arms briefly around his chest in a congratulatory squeeze.

  “Thank you, sister.” Henry smiled and ruffled her hair. He turned to Arthur. “If Boney doesn't stir things up, we should be here for hunting season.”

  Arthur swallowed. “Yes.”

  Valeria felt a sudden stabbing pain in her temple, as if something struck her. That was her fear, her greatest worry.

  “Napoleon is behaving himself in Germany, is he not?” she asked Henry, gray eyes wide.

  “Well, he has talked of a Convocation of the Rhenish dukes,” Henry said grimly.

  “Enough of this for one day!” Arthur said brightly, waving a dismissive hand. He glanced at Valeria, as if sensing her worry, and she inclined her head in thanks. She did not want to talk about it.