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Authors: Miriam Minger
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incident at Queen Anne's court had occurred long ago. Perhaps it
was time she let go of that awful memory and learned to enjoy the diversions of
the court.
Kassandra frowned. Well, if not enjoy them, at least
tolerate them, she thought ruefully. Besides, Stefan would be there. She would
have a chance to meet him at last, just as Isabel had said.
Kassandra took a sip of tea, wrinkling her nose. It had
already grown tepid. She pushed away her plate and leaned back in the chair.
Yes, Isabel had told her a great deal about Stefan over the past several
months, so much so that she felt she already knew him very well.
She knew he was courageous and committed, preferring
the life of a soldier to that of an aristocrat, that he was a man of honor,
respected by his peers as well as by the men he commanded, and as intelligent
as he was handsome.
Yet she also knew he was considered a rogue, a wickedly
disarming trait that caused Isabel no small amount of concern. Kassandra was
not so naive as to think that he had not had his share of women. One day
Berdine, the young maid, had told her of Stefan's current paramour, Archduchess
Sophia, in an animated outburst, then had clapped her hand over her mouth for
fear she had said too much.
Kassandra smiled. Whether Stefan was a rogue or not,
she was looking forward to meeting him. He sounded intriguing, and it seemed
they had at least one thing in common. Isabel had told her that Stefan had
chosen the life of a soldier because he disliked the idleness and selfish
pursuits typical of the Viennese aristocracy. He was one of a handful of
wealthy landowners who had decided not only to manage the affairs of his estate
as his livelihood, but also to serve in the Imperial army as an officer.
And Kassandra, though a peeress by birth, raised amidst luxury and wealth at Wyndham Court in Sussex,
England, had spent far more time in intellectual pursuits and attending to the
needs of the common people who rented and worked her father's lands than in the
feminine occupations more usual to her class: finely stitched needlework and
acquiring a rich husband.
Kassandra stood abruptly and walked toward the stairs.
Well, she was to attend the reception, it was time she
summoned a bath to her chamber. Perhaps, unlike the night before, she might
have a chance to enjoy it.
And perhaps, if she was lucky, she thought, this
reception might offer some diversion from the memories that continued to plague
her. She could only hope . . .
Chapter 8
"Countess Isabel von Furstenberg and Lady
Kassandra Wyndham," the liveried footman announced at the entrance to the
great ballroom, bowing courteously.
"Isn't this exciting?" Isabel whispered
behind her fluttering fan as she and Kassandra swept into the throng of guests
milling about the massive room. "And you look so beautiful,
Kassandra," Isabel said approvingly.
Kassandra's voluminous gown, with an underskirt of rich
brocade and a bodice and overskirt of shimmering silver satin, heightened the
creamy porcelain of her skin and the fiery highlights in her hair, and set off
to perfection her unusual amethyst eyes.
Isabel smiled behind her fan, recalling Kassandra's
concern over the low-cut neckline of her gown just before they had left the
estate that evening.
"But, Isabel, it's indecent," Kassandra had
exclaimed, tugging irritably at the bodice. But it was of no use. She could do
nothing to hide the provocative swell of her breasts, further enhanced by the
stiff upper molding of her stays, which made her every movement startlingly
revealing. "My other gowns have a bit of ruffle around the edge of the
bodice, a tucker. Surely—"
"Oh, really, Kassandra," Isabel replied,
laughing. "The tucker is well out of fashion. But you needn't worry that
you will stand out. All the ladies of the court wear such gowns."
Ah, but she does stand out, and ravishingly, Isabel
thought, elated that she had convinced Kassandra to accompany her this evening.
In her own
was time she let go of that awful memory and learned to enjoy the diversions of
the court.
Kassandra frowned. Well, if not enjoy them, at least
tolerate them, she thought ruefully. Besides, Stefan would be there. She would
have a chance to meet him at last, just as Isabel had said.
Kassandra took a sip of tea, wrinkling her nose. It had
already grown tepid. She pushed away her plate and leaned back in the chair.
Yes, Isabel had told her a great deal about Stefan over the past several
months, so much so that she felt she already knew him very well.
She knew he was courageous and committed, preferring
the life of a soldier to that of an aristocrat, that he was a man of honor,
respected by his peers as well as by the men he commanded, and as intelligent
as he was handsome.
Yet she also knew he was considered a rogue, a wickedly
disarming trait that caused Isabel no small amount of concern. Kassandra was
not so naive as to think that he had not had his share of women. One day
Berdine, the young maid, had told her of Stefan's current paramour, Archduchess
Sophia, in an animated outburst, then had clapped her hand over her mouth for
fear she had said too much.
Kassandra smiled. Whether Stefan was a rogue or not,
she was looking forward to meeting him. He sounded intriguing, and it seemed
they had at least one thing in common. Isabel had told her that Stefan had
chosen the life of a soldier because he disliked the idleness and selfish
pursuits typical of the Viennese aristocracy. He was one of a handful of
wealthy landowners who had decided not only to manage the affairs of his estate
as his livelihood, but also to serve in the Imperial army as an officer.
And Kassandra, though a peeress by birth, raised amidst luxury and wealth at Wyndham Court in Sussex,
England, had spent far more time in intellectual pursuits and attending to the
needs of the common people who rented and worked her father's lands than in the
feminine occupations more usual to her class: finely stitched needlework and
acquiring a rich husband.
Kassandra stood abruptly and walked toward the stairs.
Well, she was to attend the reception, it was time she
summoned a bath to her chamber. Perhaps, unlike the night before, she might
have a chance to enjoy it.
And perhaps, if she was lucky, she thought, this
reception might offer some diversion from the memories that continued to plague
her. She could only hope . . .
Chapter 8
"Countess Isabel von Furstenberg and Lady
Kassandra Wyndham," the liveried footman announced at the entrance to the
great ballroom, bowing courteously.
"Isn't this exciting?" Isabel whispered
behind her fluttering fan as she and Kassandra swept into the throng of guests
milling about the massive room. "And you look so beautiful,
Kassandra," Isabel said approvingly.
Kassandra's voluminous gown, with an underskirt of rich
brocade and a bodice and overskirt of shimmering silver satin, heightened the
creamy porcelain of her skin and the fiery highlights in her hair, and set off
to perfection her unusual amethyst eyes.
Isabel smiled behind her fan, recalling Kassandra's
concern over the low-cut neckline of her gown just before they had left the
estate that evening.
"But, Isabel, it's indecent," Kassandra had
exclaimed, tugging irritably at the bodice. But it was of no use. She could do
nothing to hide the provocative swell of her breasts, further enhanced by the
stiff upper molding of her stays, which made her every movement startlingly
revealing. "My other gowns have a bit of ruffle around the edge of the
bodice, a tucker. Surely—"
"Oh, really, Kassandra," Isabel replied,
laughing. "The tucker is well out of fashion. But you needn't worry that
you will stand out. All the ladies of the court wear such gowns."
Ah, but she does stand out, and ravishingly, Isabel
thought, elated that she had convinced Kassandra to accompany her this evening.
In her own
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