Stefan is a fine man, a loving father. He is handsome too, wickedly so. His skills in the bedchamber seem limitless. His people respect him, his keep is well protected, runs with an efficiency that does credit to all who dwell here, but owes most to its master. He sets the tone, the standards, and he enforces them.
I have been welcomed here, accepted. And this despite the astonishment this household must have experienced on learning the duke had wed again. At a word from their lord they just adapted, set another place at the top table, and continued on.
My husband is full of surprises, but perhaps the greatest of these has been the revelation of the tender father who lurks beneath that stern exterior. His sons respect and adore him, though with not a hint of fear that I could detect. He is firm with them yet patient and affectionate too, giving of his time.
More astonishing still was his kindness to his little ward. He was gentle and loving even when discipline was required, caring of her needs. If he can be so accepting of an adopted daughter, surely he would understand my own attachment to Sophia. Perhaps he would allow me to remain in contact with my stepdaughter, or even visit her on occasion. I appreciate he would not welcome the daughter of his enemy here, but he might permit me to go to Vienna.
I could ask him. Perhaps. Soon.
Stefan promised to be a stern but attentive husband to me, and thus far has fulfilled that undertaking. I find myself uncertain which facet of my husband I prefer, his sternness or his gentler brand of lust. Perhaps they are two sides of the same coin. It may be that the harsh, demanding demeanour he adopts so often is a mask behind which lurks an inventive sensuality that takes my breath away.
The spanking he delivered last night was—incredible. It was glorious, like nothing I could have imagined. Even as he hurt me, I wanted more. Maybe not too much more, but my husband knew the exact moment to pull back. The effect brought back an almost forgotten memory from my childhood, of the cunning herbal concoction my nurse once used to counter the pain of a broken wrist when I tumbled down a stone stairway. I drifted into some inner mist, aware of everything, but it all seemed to be a long way away and I was detached from the pain. My muscles went to liquid, my bones to porridge. I lay there and, and I let him do anything he wanted to me.
He shocked me when he insisted on exploring my most intimate places, but somehow it was alright even so. Because it was Stefan, and I know he will not harm me. I know, with absolute certainty, that whatever he asks of me I will do. I trust him. I want to please him.
I would not wish to disrupt the delicate balance that is between us now. I will wait for the right moment, then I will broach the matter of Sophia with him.
A soft knock at the door interrupts my musings. It opens and Berthe steps inside. She closes it behind her, then peers at me from across the room. She looks concerned.
“My lady, is there anything you need?”
I wriggle to a sitting position and shake my head. “I am fine for now, thank you. I was intending to rise quite soon though.”
“The duke left instructions you are not to be disturbed, madam. He informed me that you will be fatigued from your journey and should rest in bed awhile.”
“I see. That is kind of him, but…”
“He is most considerate, my lady. And handsome too.”
“Indeed. I…” I hesitate, wondering how to phrase my next question. I do not know her well, but I like Berthe and I know her to be a diligent lady’s maid, though at Hohenzollern her duties usually revolved around Princess Susanna and the more senior members of the household. “Berthe, it is pleasant to see you. But if I am not to be disturbed…?”
“I just wanted to see for myself that you are faring well, my lady. I have travelled with you, and with my lord and I am aware that he…” She draws a deep breath before ploughing on. “I know that he is stern, and I have heard the sounds of, of…”
Oh, dear lord, do all the servants know? What impression must they have of us? Of me?
“Berthe, I can assure you I am well. Very well. ‘Tis true my lord has an unorthodox approach, and as you say, he is somewhat demanding. But I am perfectly at ease with it.” Not entirely true perhaps, but I suspect I am on that journey. “I would ask that you not discuss this matter with the other servants.”
Berthe stiffens, her indignation apparent. “I would not, my lady. Never. I like the duke, he is a fine lord and I know how to keep my silence. I will respect your privacy. Karl is also aware of how matters stand, though he did not learn it from me.”
Yes, I suppose he would be. It is apparent that he and Stefan are close, though it surprises me that the manservant has discussed such a private matter with Berthe.
“You and Karl are friends then?”
Berthe’s healthy blush is sufficient to confirm the impression I had been forming. I am not the only female to emerge from Hohenzollern to find herself attracted to one of our conquerors.
“It is nothing, he is a foolish, rough sort, and altogether too ready to put his hands where they have no business to be.”
Ah, yes, Karl has much in common with the duke.
I hope Berthe is not unduly troubled by his attentions, though I will always harbour a certain fondness for Karl. His aid on the night of my capture and subsequent escape helped to save my life. I doubt Berthe will find a better man here. Apart from Stefan himself, of course, and he is mine.
I relax in his bed, now my bed also I hope, for he has said nothing of any separate chamber that I might occupy. But even as I stretch out here marvelling at my good fortune in attracting the notice of this wonderful man, I know I do not deserve it. My pleasure is marred by my guilt at having abandoned Sophia, however reluctant I was to do so. My happiness has come at a price, and I miss my darling girl so much. How long might I have to wait before I see her again? And when I do, will she still remember me? It would take but a few short months, and perhaps another kind mama to care for her, and I would be forgotten.
“My lady, what troubles you?”
I had momentarily forgotten Berthe’s presence as she moves quietly around the chamber picking up my discarded clothing from last night. She is my one remaining link with the past, the only other person here who knew Sophia and who might understand my sense of loss. I decide to confide in her.
“I am worried about Sophia. His grace tells me that she and the other children were sent to Vienna, to the emperor’s court. I just hope she is safe, and happy, but there is no way to discover her fate.”
