“Margarete,” Sophie commanded, then, letting the topic drop and turning to a servant following silently in their wake. “Would you prepare some music for tonight?”

“Something lively, Your Imperial Highness?”

“Quite the contrary. I’d like something tender.” Sophie’s voice was satisfied, and it only took a glance toward Helene to see why. She’d reached out to touch Franz’s arm, and he was smiling at her.

The smile made Elisabeth sad in a way she couldn’t quite explain. Like she’d lost something. A favorite ring dropped in a lake. A favorite poem erased by a careless spill of ink. Helene’s hand only lingered a moment, but Elisabeth’s gaze was stuck on them now. She sped up to get away from Sophie’s and her mother’s hopes, wondering how great a slight they’d think it if she disappeared into the brush.

Behind Elisabeth, a man’s voice joined the conversation, pulling her attention away from Helene and Franz, now disappearing into a line of trees.

Maxi caught up to her.

“You were rather rude this afternoon.” There was no reproach in his words. Only amusement.

“I do apologize again.”

“You don’t have to. You were honest with me. No one is ever honest with me.”

Maxi sounded so sincere that Elisabeth tore her gaze away from the trees where she’d been waiting for Franz to reappear, wishing she could hear what he was saying to her sister.

“I liked it,” Maxi finished.

She turned and smiled at him, studying his face. There was something charming about it. She could see why he had a reputation as both beloved and a danger.

“Once you get to know me, you’ll see I’m not a bad person,” he said as they descended a stone staircase overgrown with moss and wreathed in vines.

“I believe that.” And she did. He’d certainly been cruel to Francesca at lunch, but people weren’t defined by their worst moments.

“I’m the black sheep of the family, just like you.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“We should stick together.” He stepped off the path and plucked a bright yellow flower, flourishing it at Elisabeth with a serious expression, standing too close and smelling comfortingly of cedar and cinnamon. He held the flower before her, expectant.

Francesca was only a couple yards behind them, and Elisabeth turned and waved to her to catch up. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Helene and Franz reemerging from the trees up ahead.

“Baroness, the archduke was just looking for you. Look what he picked for you.” Elisabeth spoke the last part in halting Italian.

Francesca tilted her head back, raised her eyebrows suggestively until Maxi, backed into a corner, handed her the flower. Elisabeth registered something akin to disappointment in his face as he did so.