BooksBarbecue
Back The Empress Save as PDF
Chapters (68)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1853
  4. PART I
  5. ONE
  6. TWO
  7. THREE
  8. FOUR
  9. FIVE
  10. SIX
  11. SEVEN
  12. EIGHT
  13. NINE
  14. TEN
  15. ELEVEN
  16. TWELVE
  17. THIRTEEN
  18. FOURTEEN
  19. FIFTEEN
  20. SIXTEEN
  21. SEVENTEEN
  22. EIGHTEEN
  23. NINETEEN
  24. TWENTY
  25. TWENTY-ONE
  26. TWENTY-TWO
  27. TWENTY-THREE
  28. TWENTY-FOUR
  29. TWENTY-FIVE
  30. TWENTY-SIX
  31. TWENTY-SEVEN
  32. TWENTY-EIGHT
  33. TWENTY-NINE
  34. THIRTY
  35. THIRTY-ONE
  36. THIRTY-TWO
  37. THIRTY-THREE
  38. THIRTY-FOUR
  39. THIRTY-FIVE
  40. THIRTY-SIX
  41. 1854
  42. PART II
  43. THIRTY-SEVEN
  44. THIRTY-EIGHT
  45. THIRTY-NINE
  46. FORTY
  47. FORTY-ONE
  48. FORTY-TWO
  49. FORTY-THREE
  50. FORTY-FOUR
  51. FORTY-FIVE
  52. FORTY-SIX
  53. FORTY-SEVEN
  54. FORTY-EIGHT
  55. FORTY-NINE
  56. FIFTY
  57. FIFTY-ONE
  58. FIFTY-TWO
  59. FIFTY-THREE
  60. FIFTY-FOUR
  61. FIFTY-FIVE
  62. FIFTY-SIX
  63. FIFTY-SEVEN
  64. FIFTY-EIGHT
  65. FIFTY-NINE
  66. SIXTY
  67. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  68. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

She returned her attention to the path and changed the topic. “How is the charming Italian baroness?”

Maxi laughed, and she felt that familiar sense of fondness, his attention fully, flatteringly captured by her.

“Excellent, so I hear,” he answered after a moment. “She’s engaged to a count.”

“And you?”

“And I’m not.”

Good for Francesca. Elisabeth had always liked her, and the countess deserved better than Maxi and his casual cruelty. Elisabeth hoped she’d found someone whose brightness matched her own.

“Elisabeth.” Maxi stopped walking, turned to face her. “If I could give you some advice …” He leaned in, then, breath warm on the skin of her neck, raising goose bumps along it. “Stick with me and nothing bad will happen to you.”

His voice was sincere, urgent in a new way. Part of her wanted to ask what he meant, but the ladies behind them had clustered within hearing distance. So instead Elisabeth raised an eyebrow yet again. “I have a feeling the opposite might be true.”

FORTY-EIGHT

image

GUILT AND DELIGHT KNOTTED TOGETHER IN HELENE’S chest. Sophie had called for her—for her specifically! Not Sisi. Esterházy had delivered the message, asked Helene where Sisi’s trunk was, and then taken it and led Helene into the corridors. Helene wasn’t sure how she knew, but she knew mischief was afoot. Sophie wasn’t just bringing Sisi’s case to her new rooms. She wanted it for some other purpose. It was a violation of privacy, and Helene felt both darkly delighted and breathtakingly guilty all at once.

Esterházy led Helene to Sophie’s rooms, and Helene was awestruck once again. Every spiraled column of the furniture, every swirl of gold woven through a burgundy rug, every delicate swivel of the hand-carved windowsills dripped beauty and power. And on a thick black velvet settee, Sophie reclined as if she had no worries in the world—every inch as grand as the room.

Esterházy placed Sisi’s bag on a small table in front of the archduchess, and Helene wondered, fleetingly, anxiously, if Sisi’s diary was inside. It was the thing her sister would most want to keep secret. The thing Helene should want to protect from prying eyes.

Esterházy settled herself on a small settee, stiff in a blue jacket that Helene couldn’t help but think—uncharitably—matched the veins in her too-translucent neck.

“Something is wrong with that girl,” she complained, staring into the distance, lips tight.

Sophie frowned, glanced at Helene. “Countess, don’t give Helene the wrong idea.”

Helene curtsied. “Your Majesty, my lips are sealed.” There was the guilt again, and the dark satisfaction. Helene didn’t know how to banish either.

Sophie smiled. “A woman after my own heart. We all need to keep our secrets.”