Tempting Fate (37 page)

“You little teasel” he yelled at her, and she flinched, hoping that the noise from the ballroom was sufficient to cover this shout. As he came after her, he was a bit unsteady, which only made his pursuit more disturbing. “You want me to force you, do you, so you can say that it wasn’t your fault, and still have your fun? Do you?” He was almost upon her again, one hand reaching out to grab her. The light blue hundred-year-old lace tore in his grasp as he lunged at her.

Gudrun let out a shocked little cry, and her illusion that this was only a poorly-written scene vanished. She turned again and tried to run in her fragile dancing shoes. The trailing lace tripped her and she twisted wildly to keep from falling.

“You wretched woman,” Ulrich said between his teeth as he caught up with her, his arm going around her waist and dragging her toward him.

The piano had fallen silent, but the band was playing more loudly than ever. Gudrun pushed at her captor with her hands, but dared not cry out for fear of the scandal it would bring down on her. She must not be found in such an embarrassing situation. What she would do if anything worse happened, she could not imagine. Ulrich’s hand was tugging at the neckline of the lace overdress and squeezing the flesh beneath, and he swore under his breath.

“Excuse me,” said a voice from one of the side doors. “Is there some difficulty, Frau Ostneige?”

“Scheisst!” Ulrich hissed, turning abruptly toward the intruder without releasing Gudrun. “Leave us alone.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” was the mild answer as Franchot Ragoczy strolled onto the terrace. “She is my neighbor, you see, and I can’t leave her in this … awkward situation.” He was resplendent in full formal wear with a red sash across his chest adorned with the badge of the Order of Saint Stephen of Hungary as well as a heavy silver chain studded with rubies from which depended a silver device, the heraldic representation of the eclipse. “You will leave now. I will see to it that Frau Ostneige is taken home, and there will be no talk attached to this … incident.”

Ulrich sized up the other man and laughed once more. “It would be better if you left, and did not mention what you’ve seen.”

Ragoczy paid no attention to Ulrich, but addressed Gudrun. “I have a cloak you may wear if you wish. It is in the other room.” He stepped forward, his hand extended to her.

“Leave us alone,” Ulrich ordered. He was more than a head taller than the interloper and had the advantages of size and youth. “I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

“Do you think you could?” Ragoczy inquired with faintly contemptuous amusement. “Come, Gnädige Frau. It is time we were going.”

Ulrich’s face grew darker, and he turned on Ragoczy. “Let us settle this at once.”

“Don’t be absurd. You’ve caused sufficient harm as it is.” He gave Gudrun a swift, understanding smile as he spoke to Ulrich.

This time the younger man said nothing. He brought one arm up and swung it rather haphazardly at Ragoczy, anticipating the blow with satisfaction.

It never landed. Without apparent effort, Ragoczy caught Ulrich’s wrist as his arm descended. His small, long-fingered hand closed around it, tightening with a strength that awed Ulrich. Inexorably the pressure increased, until there was a faint grinding sound and Ulrich cried out, suddenly weak. “It is broken, Herr Finster,” Ragoczy said quietly, “but the break is a clean one. If you have it set promptly and take reasonable care of it, you should have no trouble.”

Ulrich staggered back, unbelieving. The pain coursed up his arm, and he cradled it against his chest. His face had gone white and he was afraid that he would be sick if he moved at all. “How…?”

Ragoczy paid him no attention. “Frau Ostneige?”

She hung back a moment, dazed by what she had seen. The cold had strengthened its hold on her, and she could not keep her teeth from chattering. She kept away from Ulrich—though he no longer paid her any attention—and came somewhat hesitantly up to Ragoczy. “Thank you, Herr Graf.… It was not what … Talk would be…”

“It isn’t necessary to explain to me, Madame.” He drew her hand through the crook of his arm, as the Baron had done earlier that evening. “I have a cloak, and if you will permit me…” He opened the side door through which he had come and led her into an elegant little salon. At the far end was a seventy-year-old Schneider grand piano, and across the bench before it lay a black cloak lined in white silk. Ragoczy led Gudrun toward it, and before he picked up the garment, he closed the keyboard lid.

“The piano earlier; was that you?” Gudrun asked as Ragoczy draped his cloak around her shoulders.

“Yes. I’ve always enjoyed music.” He came to face her and close the fastenings of the cloak. “That should keep you warm, and no one will notice that the lace of your dress is torn. Your hair is somewhat disarrayed, but with it cut short, no one will notice, or if they do, they will assume you have been dancing.” Although he smiled, his dark eyes were enigmatic.

“Thank you. That’s all I can seem to say.” She trembled again, this time almost spasmodically. “I had no idea that he would—”

“No, of course not,” Ragoczy cut in quickly. “We will talk about it in the automobile.” He did not let her speak more, but guided her out of the salon and down the richly-carpeted hall toward the ballroom.

The dance band was playing a
gallop,
and from the bouncing and stamping that came from the dance floor, most of the party was joining in. Gudrun stared at the figures racing through the uneven light, now in the full glare of electric brightness, now in the shadow of the ballroom balcony. Occasional shrieks and shouts marked the progress of the dancers as the pace increased.

Ragoczy located the Baron and approached him with Gudrun. “Baron Tiborkraj,” he said loudly enough to be heard over the din.

“What?” The old man turned bleary-eyed toward them, and then he straightened up as he recognized them. “Oh. Prinz. It’s you. What may I do for Your Highness?”

Gudrun stared at Ragoczy, uncertain that she had heard this title correctly. She knew him as Graf, not Prinz. She would have asked about this, but Ragoczy was speaking to the Baron.

“I merely wish to extend my compliments and thank you for the evening,” Ragoczy said at his most urbane.

“Does that mean Your Highness is leaving?” Baron Tiborkraj inquired anxiously. “Is the gala not to your taste?”

“The gala is magnificent, and you have sent your house off with more style than any other man I can think of. A great gesture, Baron, and a heroic one. There is nothing in the entertainment that bothers me, but as you know, it is some little distance to my home, and there is likely to be snow again tonight, at least a bit farther up the mountains, and it would not be pleasant to be stranded there.” With hardly a break in tone, he motioned Gudrun to approach. “Frau Ostneige has given me the honor of seeing her home, as we live not far from each other.”

“Rudi, the cloak…” the Baron exclaimed as he saw Gudrun. “Is there anything the matter?”

“I’m … cold.” Gudrun’s voice was very small, and she felt again as if she were fifteen and had been caught playing tag with her groom.

“Frau Ostneige,” Ragoczy temporized, “went out onto the terrace for some fresh air, and inadvertently locked herself out. I came upon her by accident.”

“You must have cognac or schnapps, Rudi,” the Baron insisted, all filled with concern. “You look quite pale.”

“Oh, no, Baron,” she objected, “I’ll manage quite well this way.”

“But you … Prinz, tell her. You see how she is.” The Baron’s concern was quite genuine and he made an urgent gesture to one of the waiters. “Cognac, at once.”

“It will help keep you warm,” Ragoczy whispered to her, “and it will make Tiborkraj less worried on your behalf.”

Numbly Gudrun nodded, and muttered a word or two of thanks to the Baron. “I am also thinking of Jürgen,” she said after a moment. “I have not been out by myself since we were married, or not to such an occasion. If Maxl were here…” It would have been no different, she thought with a sudden inward anger, except that perhaps Ragoczy would not have been there at all.

“Yes, it was remiss of him,” Baron Tiborkraj said with a tightening of his lips. “I think it might be wise if I were to talk with him.”

“No,” Gudrun said at once. “Baron, I beg you, don’t task him about this. He would only … He is very much a part of a group, and he hates to miss their meetings. If it were not so important to him, you may be sure he would have been here.”

The waiter arrived with a snifter on a tray. The Baron took it and slipped a coin to the waiter before holding out the cognac to Gudrun. “Here, Rudi. You take this and drink it all before going out.”

She accepted the snifter obediently, and looked over the rim at the Baron. “I am grateful to you for your kindness.”

“Not at all, my dear. It would take a callous heart to be unkind to a woman like you.” He gave Ragoczy a speculative look. “Do you know the Finster brothers? I put Frau Ostneige at their table. I understand they’re friends of Maximillian’s.”

“It seems likely,” Ragoczy said dryly.

“They’re not always as … polite as I could wish,” the Baron mused, hoping for further comment from either Ragoczy or Gudrun, and when none was offered, he said, “The music is about to end, and then there will be a supper. You will have to excuse me, as I have a few matters to attend to.” He bowed over Gudrun’s hand, then clicked his heels and bowed formally to Ragoczy. “Prinz, you paid me a great compliment by accepting my invitation for this evening.”

“It is the least one fallen House can do for another,” Ragoczy said with a practiced inclination of his head.

“I am in your debt, Highness, and will not forget this,” he said in Hungarian, and with a salute, departed.

Gudrun drank the cognac quickly, not wishing to remain any longer than necessary, and felt rather merrily light-headed when she was finished. “I’m ready,” she told Ragoczy, and was glad to have his arm to steady herself.

The front terrace, unlike the one at the rear of the hotel, was crowded, many of the guests having spilled out into the cold night for the brisk refreshment the wind offered. There was laughter and amusement everywhere, but for Gudrun the whole gathering had a nightmare quality and she felt she was watching a
danse macabre.
It was her nerves, she thought, and the events of the last hour that had turned this festive evening into a repulsive experience. Wrapped in Ragoczy’s cloak, she felt invisible, and was pleased to be so.

“My automobile,” Ragoczy said to the doorman waiting at the foot of the terrace steps, wrapped in a long coat of heavily-frogged blue wool. “My chauffeur is Nikolai. He is with the other drivers, I believe.”

“Yes, sir, at once,” the doorman said, and turned to the communication tube. “Tell Nikolai that…”

“Herr Ragoczy,” he said.

“Herr Ragoczy is ready to leave. He and his guest are waiting for him.”

Hearing this, Gudrun remembered Otto. “My automobile. Otto was supposed to come back for me at one!”

Ragoczy turned to her. “Do you know where he is?”

“At his niece’s house, in Wolfratshausen. He will be very worried if I am not here when he returns.” She knew she should offer to remain until her retainer came, but she could not bring herself to do so.

“If you have the address of the niece, we will send a messenger.” He touched the sleeve of the doorman. “We will need a message delivered in Wolfratshausen this evening. I assume that you will arrange this?”

The doorman gave a weary answer. “Yes. We have those who will do it. How soon must it be delivered?”

“Within the next two hours, if you please.” He pulled another few coins from his pocket and handed them to the doorman. “This should cover the expense of the errand.”

The doorman did his best not to stare at the gold coins. “Yes, Mein Herr, this will do nicely.”

“And Frau Ostneige will provide the address and note,” he added, turning to Gudrun. “Do you have a pen in that beaded bag of yours?”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t.”

“I have paper, if the Gnädige Frau wishes it,” the doorman said, and offered her a small lined notebook and a leaky pen.

“My gloves…” she moaned as she saw the ink stain the fingers, but her shrug was resigned. More than her gloves had been ruined this evening. She scribbled the note quickly, and wrote the address with care as she handed the notebook and pen back to the doorman.

“Danke,” the doorman said. “It will be delivered within the hour.”

As he spoke, a Benz touring car drove up to them and waited. “Herr Ragoczy,” called out the Russian voice.

“Yes, Nikolai. Thank you.” He escorted Gudrun into the passenger compartment of the automobile, and pulled the door closed. Then he leaned forward and opened the glass separating the passengers from the driver. “Nikolai, Frau Ostneige lives at Wolkighügel. We will go there before returning to Schloss Saint-Germain.”

“Very good, sir,” Rozoh said, and set the Benz in motion.

As Ragoczy settled back in the seat, Gudrun stared at him. “You will freeze,” she said with chagrin even as she pulled his cloak more tightly around her.

“Oh, I doubt it. And there is a fur rug in the chest under this seat. If you would like to have it.” He did not add that there was also a layer of his native earth there, as well as under the driver’s seat.

“Fur? Oh, yes.” She said it impulsively, like a child, and when Ragoczy rose enough to remove the fur rug from the compartment beneath the seat, she laughed and almost clapped her hands.

“There,” Ragoczy said as he wrapped the rug around her and slipped his cloak around his shoulders. “You’ll be warm enough, I think.”

“Yes, oh, it’s lovely.” She snuggled down into the warmth. “What will I tell them about the dress? I’m coining home early. Walther isn’t expecting me. There will be questions.”

“That’s handled simply,” Ragoczy said with a dismissing gesture. “You tripped on the ice and the fall tore your gown. Which is why you came home early. The Baron already knows that you were out on the terrace, and so far as anyone but Finster, you, and I know, you were alone. I will say nothing, and Finster is likely to be quiet, as well. Make light of it and no one will think anything about it.”