It couldn’t have been her. She was far too helpless with her movements. Earlier, Schneider had had to lift her across the rubble in the courtyard, left behind when the storm tore the roof from the barn.
She’d stood there, wringing her hands like a tragedienne, incapable of taking even a single step on her own.
Schneider, whose hero-worship of the girl had doubled since her noble sacrifice of her room to a mother with three children, had solicitously offered to help her across the pile of debris that had blocked their way.
“I am ever so grateful,” she’d said breathlessly. “What would I do without you?”
No. That creature would not have had the dexterity to tiptoe not only across his, but also Schneider’s sleeping forms without waking either of them.
As if feeling his assessing stare, she met his gaze. He looked into a pair of wide, guileless blue eyes.
She tilted her head aside and fluttered her eyelashes. “Have we arrived yet?”
They’d barely driven a mile.
He decided that such a question did not merit a reply.
“Not yet, Miss Honeywell,” Schneider replied instead, eagerly. “Wolfsthal is about an hour away from here. We shall arrive anon.”
“Why is it called Wolfsthal? Are there wolves there? How frightening if there are.”
“Not any more, Miss Honeywell. I daresay in the past there were, but they were all hunted down by Hartenberg’s grandfather. I can assure you there isn’t a single wolf in the vicinity, and if there is, you need not fear, for we shall certainly protect you as I am a most excellent shot. As is Hartenberg here, of course. After all, he likes to hunt in this area. We are retiring to his hunting box.”
She appeared to be assessing him. “How very reassuring to have two accomplished sharpshooters to protect me from those fearsome creatures.”
He threw her a sharp gaze, but she’d folded her hands in her lap and lowered her eyes.
He looked away abruptly. “Any news from Hofer?” he asked in German.
“No, sir. But we can assume that the post must have been delayed, like everyone else, due to the storm.” A good agent would never let something paltry like a storm delay him. The man had gone missing not because he was held up, but because he was taken down by the enemy.
Georg drummed his fingers against the armrest of his seat. “When the missive does finally get delivered, make sure to notify me.”
“Yes, sir.”
In other words: send out men to search the countryside.
They continued to discuss administrative matters that no outsider would understand even if they were fluent in German.
Miss Honeywell, if she understood what they discussed, was clearly uninterested, and she leaned her head against the side of the carriage and nodded off to sleep.
The soundof the wheels crunching on gravel woke Evie, and when she looked out of the window, she saw that the carriage was driving along an avenue lined with linden trees.
“This is a hunting box?” she gasped. In her mind, a hunting box was an insignificant-looking stone cottage in the middle of the forest, used by the nobility as a place to stay when they hunted in the more remote parts of theirestates. Her brother Julius had such a lodge, but its purpose was entirely practical, to provide temporary accommodation and storage for sporting equipment.
But this! This was not what she had envisioned.
The mansion they were heading towards was a charming little Baroque castle, a dainty gem surrounded by a French formal garden complete with fountains, statues, and geometrically trimmed bushes. Colourful plants and shrubs were planted in an intricate curling pattern, and in its midst stood a basin with a fountain. The marble statue in the middle appeared to be a woman with a deer: Artemis, goddess of the hunt.
“When my grandfather visited Paris, he was so taken by the beauty of Versailles, that he allowed himself to be inspired by its art and architecture.” Hartenberg grimaced. “Yet his finances did not allow for more than this little hunting box.”
“Little hunting box?” Evie shook her head, astonished. “This is a castle!”
“I agree,” Schneider put in. “It is the prettiest little castle this side of the Danube. Which might possibly be the reason why you tend to spend more time here than in the city, Your Excellency?”
“Just for hunting, Schneider, mind you. Just for hunting.” The vehicle stopped, the horses snorted, the footmen jumped down to lower the folding steps and open the doors to hand the passengers out.
“Welcome toJagdschlössl Wolfsthal, Miss Honeywell.” Hartenberg gestured for her to exit first.
