“I suppose the emperor’s rooms are next to hers?” Pippa ventured a guess.
“Hm.”
Pippa licked her lips. “And the crown prince’s next to him.” That was as good a guess as any.
The maid did not even deign to reply.
“I wonder where Prince Lucifer’s rooms are…” When the girl opened her eyes and shot her a mistrustful look, she interrupted herself. “I’m new here. Pip—I mean, Anna. I still get lost a lot and I don’t know where any of the rooms are. I was supposed to deliver fresh linen to his chambers and I couldn’t find them.”
“Then you’d better learn quickly,new girl.” The maid pulled her apron straight and pulled her shoulders back. With a sigh, she turned back to re-enter the door she had just come through. “Prince Lucifer’s chambers are on the third floor at the end of the corridor. Everyone knows that.” She bent forward. “And my advice is to stay away from there.”
Pippa swallowed. “Why?”
She shrugged and disappeared.
Third floor. End of corridor.
Pippa slipped back through the door she had come from and took the staircase to the end.
It was not as busy there as on the lower floors. Only a single footman hurried along the corridor, giving her a fleeting glance, but then passed without comment.
Pippa started sweeping, sweeping, sweeping, working herself toward the end of the corridor. There, indeed, was a simple-looking walnut door.
The entrance to Prince Lucifer’s apartment.
Chapter Eight
The footman guardingArchduke Leopold’s rooms looked her up and down with mistrust. “You’re not one of the usual maids.”
Pippa’s mind worked quickly. “No, I’m new. Frau Benedikt sent me personally to give the room another thorough clean.” She lifted her shovel and broom.
Mentioning Frau Benedikt proved fortuitous, because the man completely transformed. He looked over her shoulder nervously as if fearing Frau Benedikt would materialise there any minute. “She did, did she? No wonder. The two maids who had to clean up the mess earlier were so overwhelmed, one burst out in tears.”
Ah. So he was inclined to gossip, was he? Pippa leaned in confidentially. “I heard the orgy that happened here last night was particularly wild.”
He snorted. “You have no idea. His Imperial Highness brought a casket of some vile Scottish liquid with which some English duke presented him. Called whisky.” He leaned forward confidentially. “Had a nip myself and the stuff is vile, I tell you. Vile! Anyhow.” He cast another look down the hall. “The entire party was so drunk, they were lying under the billiard table by midnight. One of them broke an expensive vase, and a third threw up into the wastepaper basket.”
“The wastepaper basket?” Pippa opened her eyes wide. “Please, not the wastepaper basket!”
“Or it might have been the fireplace. I daresay both.” He nodded at her broom.
“Frau Benedikt sent me to double-check whether the cleaning has indeed been done thoroughly.” No harm in uttering the magic name again. “You know the old saying. Good to clean once, but better be thorough and do it twice.”
“Never heard of that saying. But if Frau Benedikt says you must do it all over again…” He shrugged his shoulders.
She squared her shoulders and lifted the broom. “Yes. Must clean. Particularly the wastepaper basket.”
“Happy cleaning, then.” The footman stepped aside and let her pass.
The Archduke’s apartment consisted of four connected rooms. A drawing room, a study with a library, a bedroom and the billiard room. Pippa looked about in awe at the splendid rooms.
The walls were papered in sage green silk tapestry, mahogany furniture covered with gold-green upholstery and a thick, dark green moquette carpet, with an odd pattern of what looked like pineapples; green curtains draped the high, tall windows in all rooms. It was clean; if indeed a wild orgy had taken place the night before, therewas now no sign of it. The maids had done thorough work.
Pippa entered the study and headed for the wastepaper basket next to the desk. It was a simple desk, covered with green baize, and on it was an inkstand, a pen, and nothing else. The basket was, of course, empty, because the previous maid had emptied it. Pippa huffed. She had come too late.
Her eyes travelled one more time over the room’s furniture, the oddly patterned carpet, when her eyes saw something white gleam in the corner by the window. She went there, and her heart jumped when she recognised that it was a small, balled-up piece of paper.
“At least something,” she muttered, unfolding the crumpled ball, trying to decipher it. It looked like a letter, or a note.
