“Children, children.” Lena sighed.
Theo intervened and separated the two by grabbing them by the collar and sending them straight to bed.
Lena stepped out into the front garden, fanning herself with her hands. Though it was late September, the month had been unusually warm. She inhaled the fresh evening air, leaning against the doorframe as she sought a moment of solitude. The quiet was a welcome reprieve, offering a chance to sift through the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions that had consumed her in recent days. She had tried to push them aside, but the image of the Duke kept resurfacing. It was impossible to ignore.
She wondered if he was attending theHofballtonight at the Imperial Palace, a grand affair of glitter and glamour. The papers were full of detailed descriptions about who might and who might not be there. Thousands of people were expected to attend. They said it was fashionable not to dance, even though it was a ball. She felt sorry for the poor musicians who’d have to entertain a crowd of people who did not appreciate the music.
A tall shadow separated from the chestnut tree and Lena froze. Was the agent waiting for her again?
“August?” She squinted into the darkness. The light from the nearest lamp post was faint and distant.
“Who is August?” a deep voice asked.
Lena gasped.
The Duke stood before her, even taller than she remembered.
“Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be at a ball or a soiree or some other event?” she babbled. She pressed her hand to her violently beating heart.
“Some other event?” he repeated.
“I mean, some important business concerning the Congress.”
“This is important business.”
She craned her neck to look up at him, but she couldn’t see his face in the darkness.
She took a step back and bumped into the tree. “Look, sir. Your Grace. I believe it is in the best interests of everyone if we agreed to ignore this.” Lena spoke quickly and quietly. “I believe it would be better for you and me, and certainly for the children.” She knew her words were folly, but fear drove sharp spikes into her heart and forced her to voice these words.
“Impossible. I can’t just ignore the truth.”
She moistened her lips. “What if the truth is better left hidden?” She said it so quietly that it was barely audible.
With one hand, he tipped her chin up as he had done the other day. His thumb gently stroked the edge of her jaw and she shivered.
“Catherine was my wife,” he said in a calm, measured tone. “We were married for three years before she met an untimely death.”
A tremble went through her body.
He dropped his hands but continued talking. “For eight long years I considered myself to be a widower.” His voice became hard. “Until I came to Vienna and saw the spitting image of Catherine, performing inMetternich’s salon. And you are asking me to just ignore it?”
He grabbed her by the arm again. “The same hair, the same figure, the same birthmarks. The same musical talent. Yet not a speck of memory of me or my sister. How can this be? Tell me. Unless Catherine had a twin, and nobody, including her mother, knew about it? How likely is that scenario?” His voice grew increasingly frustrated.
Lena averted her eyes and nervously picked at the skin of her bottom lip. The war raging within herself was terrible. She knew it was best to deny it all. To shrug her shoulders, to walk away, to tell him it was a mistake. Yet there was something about him that drew her to him, that kept her from fleeing.
“What was she like?” she heard herself asking. “Catherine.”
“Catherine.” His stare pierced her soul. At first she thought he would not reply, then he spoke. “She was beautiful and very young…and very shy. She had a quiet, reserved personality; she didn’t talk much. She preferred the country to the city and enjoyed walks on our country estate more than attending balls during the London Season. She had a strong sense of duty and was always immersed in some charity work or other.” He paused, staring into the distance. “Whether it was a soup kitchen, or a school, a hospital or an orphanage, Catherine would be involved. She knew the names of all of our tenants, including their children, more so than I did. She was afraid of horses, but loved walking, reading, and gardening. She had a wonderful voice and sang like a nightingale. She was also a virtuoso pianist.” His gaze returned toher. “I sometimes thought that if she had not married me and become a duchess, and if her status and society had allowed her, she would have liked to become a professional musician.” He paused before continuing. “She would have been very successful.” He paused again. “As you are now.”
Lena breathed heavily.
“She was much beloved as a duchess, and”—he swallowed—“as a wife.”
“You make her sound like she was perfect.”
“In many ways she was.”
Catherine sounded as if she’d been a very different person from her. She could not identify with the image he had portrayed.
