An Unexpected Peril (Veronica Speedwell #6) -Deanna Raybourn Page 0,66

cup. The liquid was green in color and bits of dried petals floated on the surface.

She pulled a face. “That does not sound very nice. Perhaps I should give her a few coins if I see her again.” She nodded towards the cup. “This is a tea made of St. Otthild’s wort,” she explained. “We drink it in the mountains for all things—to ease us when we are wakeful, to soothe us when we are sad. It is even good for women’s troubles,” she confided. “I thought it might calm your nerves after that dreadful incident at the opera. And perhaps give you a little energy as well.”

I sipped it and felt myself beginning to relax at once. As a cream for the skin, it had smelt of roses, but the aroma of the tea was similar to our own elderflower, subtle and elusive. It was a gentle concoction, and I thanked her.

“There is no need to drink it if you do not like the flavor,” she told me. “It is an acquired taste to some.”

“I do like it,” I assured her.

“Do you require anything else? Biscuits? Honey?” she asked. But I could see the signs of worry and fatigue stamped upon her features.

“Nothing at all. I am quite revived, Baroness,” I said.

My eyes fell then to the chocolate box containing the threat against Gisela. I took a few more sips of the tea. “On second thought, a chocolate might be nice,” I ventured.

The baroness looked at me in surprise. “Of course, Fraulein.”

She pressed the box upon me. “You must take it.”

“I could not possibly,” I protested. “It is the princess’s.”

The baroness shook her head firmly. “I insist. You have done a tremendous service for us this night. It is the least of what my princess would want you to have. You must take it or you will offer a grave insult.”

Her expression was mulish, and I knew we had already caused them unease by refusing to accept their hospitality for the night. Besides, it was easier to take the whole box than to steal the threat.

“That is very kind of you.”

She helped me into my own things, which Yelena had sponged and pressed in spite of their being perfectly clean, then put out her hand.

I regarded it with some astonishment. “You do not shake hands in the Alpenwald,” I said.

“But you are an Englishwoman, and I must thank you the English way,” she said. I shook her hand gravely and she inclined her head, a gesture of profound respect from this proud aristocrat. I felt a quickening of some emotion—regret, perhaps?—that my time with her had been so short. She was interesting in spite of her hedgehog prickles, and I should have enjoyed getting to know her better, not least because she might have been able to shed some light on Alice Baker-Greene’s death or Gisela’s disappearance. It had been my experience that people often knew far more than they realized, and sometimes extensive conversation was required to winkle the information out of them.

She walked me to the door of the suite, where Stoker stood ready, divested of his moustaches, gold earrings glinting from his ears. More handshakes all around, and the chancellor favored me with a formal kiss to the hand. They were subdued, as a group, no doubt because of the attack on their princess and the fact that her whereabouts were still unknown.

Duke Maximilian was still dreadfully pale as he bowed and kissed my hand, all trace of the flirtatious seducer quite absent as he pressed my hand. “Gute Nacht, Fraulein. I hope our paths will cross again.” He gave me a tiny smile at the sight of the gold box in my hands. “I see you have a souvenir of your time with us.”

“I do. Would you care for a rose cream before I go? A violet cream perhaps?”

Stoker lifted the box out of my hands. “I am certain the duke’s tastes do not run to English sweets,” he said blandly.

The duke’s smile turned wintry. “As you say. I have the Continental inclinations. I will wish you both farewell.”

He stepped sharply back and we took our leave of the Alpenwalders. It had been an evening none of us would soon forget.

CHAPTER

15

The doorman of the Sudbury was still on duty despite the lateness of the hour and, at the sight of a copper from Stoker, summoned the hotel’s comfortable brougham for us. I settled in against the velvet squabs, and when the door was closed upon