And there it was, just as I had remembered. Only now it stood against the purple velvet of a winter sky, the windows glowing with lamplight. A river mist had risen, curling softly about the foundation stones of the castle, causing it to look as if it were floating on a cloud. No mere mortals dwell here, it seemed to say. This is a place of grandeur, of royalty, of a thousand years of power, and who are you to dare to come inside?
I shivered and the baroness gave me a concerned look. “Are you cold, my dear?”
“I am fine,” I told her in a hollow voice.
I had a moment to collect myself as the carriage passed under the great gate and drew to a halt in the courtyard. The castle’s footmen came forward to help us alight as the driver steadied the horses. The chancellor and Maximilian, nearest the door, made their exit first. The baroness followed, and I was surprised to find that Stoker had already alighted from his carriage and stood ready to hand me from mine. He paused, giving me just a moment to gather my courage.
“It is time,” he said softly. I rested my hand in his, fixing my gaze upon him, my only anchor in an uncertain world at that moment. He squeezed my hand, so tightly I felt the bones ache, and I clasped his hand in return as I descended in lieu of the words I could not say aloud.
Behind me, the baroness and J. J. gathered my train in their arms, holding it aloft until I moved up the broad stone steps, a river of scarlet carpet flowing down the center. The footmen stood at attention, the buttons of their livery sparking in the torchlight. Maximilian stepped forward and I relinquished my hold on Stoker, leaving my hand on his as long as I dared.
“Ready, poppet?” Maximilian asked, baring his teeth in a smile. I put my hand on his arm and felt the baroness and J. J. lower the train, unfurling it behind me. The weight of it dictated that I move slowly, in a stately walk very unlike my usual energetic gait. At the top of the steps, an official of some sort in a dignified uniform waited for us, bowing respectfully.
“Your Serene Highness,” he pronounced. “Welcome to Windsor Castle. This way, if you please.”
I accepted his greeting with a grave inclination of the head, and Maximilian and I followed as he led the way into the castle proper. A housekeeper came forward to collect J. J., and she gave me a little nod as she followed. I had kept my part of the bargain and got her into the castle. What she did with the opportunity was up to her.
I turned my attention to the dignitary who was keeping up a courteous patter as he escorted us. “Each of our foreign guests has been assigned an English host, a way of making the visit a more cordial and personal one,” he explained. “Your host is waiting here. The others have all arrived, so once you have been introduced, we will proceed directly into dinner.”
We approached a door, heavy oak carved thickly with the motif of oak leaves, and the footman standing outside threw it open. The room was smaller than I expected, a sort of anteroom, I supposed, furnished in serviceable but not grand style. Across the room was a bank of windows, the curtains drawn against the chilly night. A fire burned merrily on the hearth, and in front of it, warming himself, stood a distinguished Englishman in formal evening dress. He turned, a smile of welcome on his lips.
The smile faltered only slightly as the official made the introduction. “Your Serene Highness, may I present your escort for the evening, Sir Rupert Templeton-Vane? Sir Rupert, Her Serene Highness, the Hereditary Princess of the Alpenwald.”
If my heart had stilled at the sight of the castle, that was nothing compared to the reaction when I came face-to-face with Stoker’s elder brother. Sir Rupert, the second of the Templeton-Vane brothers, had, upon occasion, come to our aid. He was the most conventional of the siblings, preferring a life of rectitude and regularity to the flamboyant extravagances of the eldest—Tiberius—or the cheerful mischief of the youngest, Merryweather. The fact that he and Stoker seldom saw eye to eye was no great mystery. They were as alike as chalk and cheese, they claimed. And yet. From time to time, I caught a glimpse of the daring and dash that ran like wildfire through the Templeton-Vanes behind the façade of correctness.
From behind me, I heard Stoker’s muffled curse and I went forward, extending my hand to Rupert. “How do you do, Sir Rupert?”
Rupert bowed over my hand, pressing his lips to the gloved fingers. “How do you do, Your Serene Highness?”
Without rising, he lifted his dark gaze to mine. I gave an imperceptible shake of the head and he straightened.
“May I present the rest of my entourage?” I said, launching into introductions. Maximilian looked bored whilst the baroness and chancellor were polite.
“How very kind of you to welcome us,” I said, infusing my words with a trace of a German accent.
“Not at all, madame. There are few things in life I enjoy more than a partner at dinner whose conversation is certain to entertain,” he said, his mouth twitching.
The castle usher made a discreet gesture and Rupert extended his arm. “Shall we go in?”
I accepted his arm and he covered my hand with his own, pressing tightly. “How happy I am to further the cause of Anglo-Alpenwalder relations,” he said loudly. I smiled at him and he dropped his voice. “What in the name of seven hells is going on?” he asked in a harsh whisper, still smiling as we made our way into the corridor.
“You sound just like your brother,” I whispered back.
“Miss Speedwell,” he began.
“The last time we met, you called me Veronica. And you said I could call you Rupert,” I reminded him.
“I was rather influenced by that diabolical drink you gave me,” he retorted.
“Aguardiente,” I said. “I regret I do not have my flask upon my person at present. This ensemble does not permit such appurtenances.”
“Veronica,” he said, tightening his grip, “we have perhaps thirty seconds before we reach the dining room where two dozen dignitaries and officials are waiting to eat dinner with you and then sign a peace treaty binding two countries in perpetual friendship—a treaty upon which I have labored for the better part of a year and for which I am to receive advancement. Please tell me that you are not intending to bring me to ruination by somehow contriving to destroy this.”
“Certainly not,” I assured him.
“Then would you please explain why else you are here if not to jettison my career?”
“I did not even know you were involved!” I protested. “Stoker never told me you had a post in the Foreign Office.”
“I do not, as it happens. My role is a more personal one in Her Majesty’s household,” he explained. “I am a sort of liaison. It is my task to bring together those who would not ordinarily work in tandem to accomplish goals set by the queen and her closest advisers.”
“Against the will of the government?” I asked.