A Sister's Quest (2 page)

“Starting when?”

“Next week.”

“I cannot wait another week. I leave in the morning.” He set his cup on the table. “Frau Herbart, can you spare Fraulein D'Orage earlier?”

The headmistress looked at Michelle. “I do not believe that she has said if she is interested in your position.”

“She is interested.” Adding another spoon of sugar to his tea, he smiled. “Aren't you intrigued at the idea of seeing history unfolding before your eyes, Fraulein? I assume you have never been to Vienna.”

“No, I have not,” Michelle answered.

“'Tis one of the most beautiful cities in this world, mayhap even lovelier than Paris or St. Petersburg. I am sure you would agree.”

“I could not say. I have not seen either of them.”

“Not even Paris?”

“I was very young when I left France, Count Vatutin.” She would not let him rile her into revealing how a small voice in her mind teased her to jump at this opportunity to satisfy her long-suppressed longing for adventure. Watching what she said would be very important while she was in Count Vatutin's company.

“Frau Herbart,” he said, “I know you can see the benefits if Fraulein D'Orage accepts this position. Emissaries from every nation in Europe are gathering in Vienna. Fraulein D'Orage will be exposed to many experiences that she can share with her students.”

“That is true.” She tapped her chin with a thoughtful expression. “Those experiences could be an asset to the school.”

“Exactly.”

“But it must be Fraulein D'Orage's decision.”

Michelle almost smiled as Count Vatutin frowned. If he had thought he could get the better of Frau Herbart, he had been shown how mistaken he was.

“And what is your decision, Fraulein?” he asked. “Will you come with me to Vienna?”

Her reply died on her lips when his intense gaze caught her eyes again. Common sense told her to thank him and bid him to enjoy the rest of his journey without her. She had other ways of spending the holidays. She could stay at the school. She had an invitation to visit Elfie's family. A shudder of dismay raced along her, for if she turned down Count Vatutin's offer, her days would continue to unfold as they always had. But to accept …

Count Vatutin stood. “I take your silence to mean you are not interested, Fraulein. Thank you for allowing me to disrupt your evening and enjoy your hospitality, Frau Herbart.” He set his silk hat on his head. “Good evening.”

“Wait!” Michelle set herself on her feet. “My lord, I am interested.” She waited for the second thoughts to taunt her, but her heart beat with anticipation.
Maman
would have taken this chance to see a new city. She must, too.

“Is that so?” His eyes lost their icy edge. “I rather thought you might. However, there remains the problem that I must leave tomorrow morning.”

“The term is nearly over.” She could not relinquish this possibility of adventure now. “Frau Herbart will, I am sure, allow me to leave a few days early.”

He smiled at the headmistress again. “Is that so?”

“It is possible,” Frau Herbart replied, lowering her teacup to her lap.

He held out his hand. “We are in agreement then, Fraulein D'Orage. You will, of course, be offered a fair salary. I assume you can be ready to leave at dawn.”

“I shall be waiting then.” She put her hand in his.

His fingers closed over hers and, trapped by his strong hand, she could not flee. But did she want to? She was not sure as he stepped closer and lifted her hand to his mouth. Green fire from his eyes seared her, seeming to see far too much when she could discern far too little. She feared she was face-to-face with the devil, who had tricked her into this covenant that would fulfill her dreams and cost her her soul.

“I look forward to your joining me on this journey, Fraulein,” he murmured.

His warm breath brushed her hand in the moment before his lips did. When his mustache grazed her skin, ripples of pleasure rushed outward from his touch and spiraled deep within her. He raised his head, and she tried to cloak her reaction, but he must have sensed it through her quivering fingers. Nothing he had done went beyond the boundaries of propriety. Yet his smile dared her to denounce him.

She should tell him she had changed her mind. She should tell him it was inappropriate for her to travel with him to Vienna, even if she were in his employ. She should … She saw his amusement. He really might be the devil if he could gauge her thoughts with such ease.

“Until tomorrow, Fraulein D'Orage.” He slid his fingers from around hers. The lingering caress was as intimate as a feverish kiss.

“Yes,” she whispered like a student reciting her lessons, “until tomorrow.”

When Michelle heard the door close, she flinched. It was too late to call after him now. By accepting his offer, she was entering a world populated by her nation's enemies. The men meeting in Vienna were eager to carve out the largest share of Europe for themselves. They would use anything or anyone to achieve their ends. She did not doubt that Count Alexei Vatutin would be their match.

The only difference was that he might be using Michelle D'Orage.

Chapter Two

Frau Herbart put a hand on Michelle's arm. “Please sit. I have something you must see before you leave with Count Vatutin tomorrow.”

Michelle perched on a chair and folded her hands in her lap. How could she have been so skimble-skamble as to accept an offer of employment from a stranger? Frau Herbart must have checked into the count's background before she allowed him to speak with Michelle. That would explain why she had been prepared with tea for this visit.

How astonished the other teachers would be to hear of her plans! Mayhap as astonished as she was that she could not wait to begin the journey across the Alps.

Frau Herbart returned with a small package. The headmistress sat where Count Vatutin had and held it out without speaking.

Michelle untied the strings around the brown paper to discover a small box and another package wrapped in linen. She opened the box and stared at a gold ring on a piece of black velvet. An odd design decorated one side. Her fingernail traced the lightning bolt.

“Your mother requested that you be given this when you left St. Bernard's.” An uneasy expression crossed the headmistress's face. “I was unsure if she meant when you finished your studies or when you departed, so I have delayed.”

“But what is it?”

Frau Herbart murmured, “I believe it was her wedding ring.”

“With such an odd design?”

“It may have symbolized something to her and your father. Did she explain in the letter?”

“I don't see a letter.”

Frau Herbart leaned forward. “When your mother gave me this package, she also gave me a letter for you. It must be there.”

Michelle shook the brown paper. Nothing fell out.

“I shall look for it in the morning,” Frau Herbart said. “It will be waiting when you come back from Vienna.”

Michelle tried to smile, but could not. She slid the ring on and found a perfect fit on her middle finger. Dear
Maman
. Even after her death, she was reaching out to her daughter.

She ran her finger along the ring, realizing she could not recall her mother wearing it. If it had been her wedding ring,
Maman
must have set it aside after her husband's death.

“Why don't you open the other package?” the headmistress asked. “Mayhap what is in there will explain.”

Michelle picked up the box, which was as long as her forearm and about as thick. Pulling off the cloth, she found a latched case. She opened it and stared at the coins inside. “Oh, my!”

Frau Herbart said with a gasp, “There must be hundreds of francs in there.”

Michelle counted out several coins. She closed the box and handed it back to Frau Herbart. “I will take enough to pay for my journey from Vienna if the situation becomes …” She sought the proper word. “Intolerable.”

“I think that is wise.” She smiled as Michelle stood. “However, I think you and Count Vatutin shall do admirably.”

Bidding the headmistress a good evening, Michelle went into the hall. She put the coins on a table as she tied her bonnet into place. The coins twinkled in the lamplight. How had
Maman
amassed this fortune?

Maman
had been like no one else Michelle knew. She had shown no interest in remarrying, although the lot of a widow could not have been an easy one. The cost of boarding Michelle at St. Bernard's had not been insignificant, and every Christmas and birthday had brought gifts, and Michelle's gowns never had been allowed to become threadbare or too short. Somewhere, somehow,
Maman
had garnered enough money to pay for the apartment as well as her daughter's schooling and this generous bequest. But how?

She was asking too late.
Maman
had died when a rock slide hit her carriage near the French border. Tears blurred the sparkle of lamplight. Raising her hand, she stroked her mother's ring. The past was over and dead. It was time to put aside the life
Maman
and others had chosen for her and discover the life she wanted.

Dawn painted the distant mountains with rosy light, but sunrise had not reached
the
valley. Night clung to the gray stone buildings as Michelle huddled by the drive. In the distance, she could hear the exuberant students as they prepared for the day. It would be more than a month before she heard that familiar noise again.

Taking a deep breath, she tightened her black cloak around her. She sat on her small portmanteau and balanced her scuffed satchel on her lap. A yawn pulled at her lips. Sleep had not come easily last night as she waited to be thrust into a new life.

Wheels rattled on the road. She gasped. The approaching carriage was as ornate as the coach of a fairy-tale princess. Gold trim outlined the doors and accented the buttons on the driver's coat, which was as scarlet as the wheels. She should have guessed a Russian count would possess something this grand.

The coachman jumped down and opened the door with a flourish. When Count Vatutin stepped out, his clothes matched the opulence of his coach. From his white leather gloves to the shine of his well-polished boots, he reeked of wealth. He brushed wrinkles from the black coat he wore over nankeen pantaloons.

“Good morning, my lord,” Michelle said, her tongue almost tripping over the few words. She berated herself for being intimidated. She was not a schoolgirl.

“Are you ready, Fraulein D'Orage?” he asked, his deep voice rumbling beneath the sound of the children's.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Good.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at her trunk. “Is this what you are bringing with you?”

“I can bring less if—”

“Less?” He laughed. “You may bring all you wish. The boot has plenty of room.”

“This is enough.” She did not add that everything she owned was packed in this box. Two dresses and her underclothes were folded over her low boots and the few books she had slipped into the corners of the portmanteau.

“Enough? I have met ladies who could not cross the street with so little.”

“It should be plenty for the length of time I shall be working for you, my lord.”

He motioned to the coachman, who hurried to place her things in the back of the carriage. Pointing to the open door, he added, “If you please, Fraulein D'Orage.”

His icy gaze followed her toward the carriage. Was he displeased with the discrepancy in their appearances? Her clothes reflected her station. She recoiled as a hand was thrust in front of her.

“Allow me, Fraulein.” Count Vatutin's polite smile did not match the challenge in his emerald eyes.

She must not let him think he could overwhelm her with simple courtesy, even though he had. She put her fingers on his palm as he handed her into the carriage.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Indeed, it was my pleasure.”

She winced. His answer was too smooth.

“Relax, Fraulein D'Orage,” he continued.

Michelle started to reply, but paused when she saw a man sitting on the backward-facing seat. She glanced from him to the other blue velvet seat. Twisting the strings of her reticule, she wondered where she should sit. A lady should be allowed to ride facing forward, but she was serving Count Vatutin, and he might wish that seat for himself.

She looked back at the man. His blue gaze drilled into her from an emotionless face. Wrinkles suggested he was older than Count Vatutin, and his hair was almost gray. Although his clothes were not as well made as Count Vatutin's, they were sturdy and clean.

Michelle said, “Good morning. Do you think I should—”

“Do not waste your breath asking Rusak questions that he cannot answer,” came the count's voice from the door.

She looked at Count Vatutin. He took her hand and seated her on the forward-facing seat. Then he sat beside her, taking more than his share of the seat. Although she was tempted to edge away, she resisted. He would not appreciate her showing that she found it uncomfortable to be so close to his tightly restrained strength. Insulting him would not be a good beginning.

“Rusak?” she repeated, unsure if that was a name or a title.

He gestured to the other man. “Feodor Rusak, my assistant.”

“He does not speak German? I can—”

“I know what languages
you
speak.” Drawing off his gloves, he said, “Rusak does not speak any, Fraulein D'Orage. He met with misfortune during the French army's ignoble retreat from Moscow.”

Rusak opened his mouth. His tongue was gone.

She pressed her hands to her chest and recoiled, bumping her head against the hard line of Count Vatutin's arm. In shock, she realized it was resting behind her. She was trapped between these two men she did not know. She should tell the count she had changed her mind. She should … She rocked back against Count Vatutin's arm when the coach began down the road away from St. Bernard's School for Girls.