Velvet Undercover (9 page)

I put away the jewelry box and slowly undress, making sure to hang up the beautiful gown Miss Tickford let me borrow. I should be proud of myself. I made it through
the evening with flying colors and even managed to secure myself transportation to Berlin. But I'm not.

I get the feeling that nothing about my training has been standard procedure. I'm proud to be a member of LDB, but I wonder if my father would be, or if he would be angry that I'd left my mother. But why would he be? He left us to do his duty. Why should it be any different for me?

I sit on the edge of the bed, so angry that if he were here in front of me right now, I'd scream at him. Why was it so easy for him to walk away from us, knowing there was a risk that he wouldn't return?

I cross my arms, as mad at myself as I am at him because all I want in the world is for him to tell me that everything is going to be all right.

Even if it's a lie.

The next morning, Miss Tickford leaves to run some errands, instructing me to stay put in case the prince contacts me. She says we'll wait twenty-four hours before sending him a little note reminding him of my existence.

I study Sophia Thérèse's backstory some more, but at this point I know her history as well as I do my own. I push the papers away, wondering what Sophia Thérèse thought of the war and if she, like me, was completely shocked by the events that led to it last summer. How could the assassination of an Austrian archduke in Serbia lead to such bloodshed? Within weeks, Serbia and Russia were at war with Germany and Austria-Hungary. By August, Britain entered the war and,
one by one, the other countries fell like a house of cards. Did Sophia Thérèse read the newspapers with growing horror or did she applaud her country's actions? How did she feel when her new uncle took the family to Switzerland?

I pace the room, wishing I were already on the train heading to Berlin. As much as I dread it, at least then I'd be moving forward with the assignment. The waiting is killing me. Too much time to think.

A knock sounds on the door and I jump. Quickly shoving the papers under the mattress, I glance about the room. It's probably just a maid, but I don't want to take chances. The knock repeats and my heart pounds. “Who is it?” I finally call, hoping they don't notice that my voice cracked in the middle.

“It's Corporal Maxwell Mayer. I'm looking for Fräulein von Schönberg.”

Relief floods through me so quickly I'm light-headed as I open the door.

He's standing straight and handsome in his field-green uniform and matching cap. His face is as stiff and professional as his uniform.

“Good morning, Fräulein. Did you enjoy the reception?”

I hesitate. “I enjoyed the palace. . . .”

He nods and for the first time I see the corner of his mouth twitch. “I understand. A bit too much pomp and circumstance, perhaps?”

I smile and wait for him to tell me the reason for his visit.

He clears his throat. “I've been dispatched to give you
your travel papers. The royal train leaves tomorrow morning at ten sharp. You should be there a bit earlier to load your trunks. You've been given a sleeping compartment, so keep a small bag with you.”

I nod and take the papers from him. “Thank you. This does make getting to Berlin much easier.”

Corporal Mayer stands silent for a moment and I wait, puzzled.

He finally takes a deep breath. “I know this is improper for me to say, but you seem like a very nice young woman.”

Still he hesitates and I finally prod him.

“Yes?”

He continues, clearly uncomfortable. “His Excellency seems to have taken an interest in you that may not be entirely . . . family related. I thought it prudent to let you know so that you could be prepared to tactfully rebuke him, if you were so inclined.”

My eyes widen as his meaning hits me. “Oh. Oh! Of course I'm so inclined. I wouldn't . . .”

He nods, his cheeks a brilliant shade of red. “I didn't think so. I mean, I wouldn't assume . . .”

“Of course not,” I put in quickly. “I wouldn't assume that you would assume . . .” My voice trails off and my face flames.

The corporal straightens. “Well, then. That's good.” Swallowing, he stares up toward the ceiling as if something brilliant were written there. I wish it were something that would rescue us from this conversation.

“Yes,” I say inanely.

“I suppose I should be going.”

“Yes,” I say.

With a sharp nod, he's gone.

I slump against the door the moment it's closed. Pressing my hands against my heated cheeks, I groan. That was the most awkward conversation I've ever been involved in. Possibly even worse than the one when my mother tried to tell me where babies came from. Her mortification had been palpable, and telling her that I'd known since I'd visited a horse farm at the age of eight didn't seem to help much.

“Well, that muddles things a bit,” Miss Tickford says, coming into the room.

I jump and my face flames again. “How long have you been there?”

“I arrived just as your shiny, earnest young German knocked, so I let myself into my room and listened through the door. Why would he warn you about the prince, though?”

“Well, I tried to be friendly last night at the reception,” I tell her. “Perhaps it worked?”

Her brows rise.

I feel compelled to explain myself. “He's a family guard and I thought it would be wise to make friends.”

She nods. “Very smart. Just be careful. And as far as the prince goes, I must admit that I was a bit worried about that, considering his reputation. You're very pretty and the prince likes pretty girls. Don't worry. I brought a Bible for that very purpose.”

I look at her confused. “A Bible?”

“Yes. Sophia Thérèse is a serious young woman who taught Sunday school. You need to keep the Bible with you at all times. If you behave piously when the prince is near, it should keep him at bay. If it doesn't, and he insists, you can always use your religion as an excuse to rebuff his attentions. I don't think he will, though. You are, after all, his wife's cousin, no matter how distant.”

A Bible. All right, then.

“Let's get to work now. You leave in less than twenty-four hours.”

A cold wave of panic runs through me. This is really happening. Part of me wishes to turn and run out of the hotel and not stop until I'm somewhere safe, but the possibility of an investigation into my father's disappearance keeps me going. Plus, somewhere in the heart of Germany, a young woman is in trouble.

I may not be able to help her, but I have to try.

Miss Tickford says her good-bye at the hotel the next morning. The thin early morning sunlight streaming through the curtains accentuates her wan features and I wonder if she slept at all.

She reaches out and takes my hands. “Remember to stay observant at all times. Don't let your objective be muddied by all the court intrigues going on around you. It is of the utmost importance that you stay focused on saving Velvet and obtaining information about the new weaponry—it
could very well change the course of the war.”

I bite my lip, the weight of her words descending on me like a pallet of bricks. I'd been so intent on getting information about my father that I had lost sight of what this assignment might mean to the bigger picture.

What if I can't do this?

As if sensing my thoughts, she gives my hands a squeeze. “You are an extraordinary young woman, Samantha. I have all the faith in the world that you'll be able to complete your objective.”

I give a slight smile and nod before taking my leave. All I can think of as I take the lift downstairs is,
If she has so much faith in me, how come it looks as if she's been crying?

The driver opens the door for me and I climb into the back.

My pulse races as we drive through the streets of Luxembourg. When I exit this vehicle, I'll cease to be Samantha Donaldson and I'll become Sophia Thérèse von Schönburg, German aristocrat. Or Rosemary James, LDB agent, depending on the circumstances.

I have a hard enough time being one person, let alone three.

By the time we reach the station, my nerves are screaming.

“Fräulein Sophia Thérèse!” a voice calls.

I look up to see Corporal Mayer striding toward us, his wide smile at odds with his upright, soldierly bearing.

“Corporal Mayer, how nice to see you again,” I say, my heart lightening at his friendly greeting. As silly as it seems,
I almost feel as if I'm being greeted by a friend. “I do hope I'm not late.”

“Right on schedule. Are these your things?” He nods toward the trunks the driver is holding.

I nod.

“You travel light. Most women I know would have three times this number, at the very least.”

I smile as he takes the trunks. “I came to Luxembourg in rather a hurry and knew I was going to be traveling to Berlin right after, so it seemed practical to bring only a few things. I can send for some more once I'm settled.”

Corporal Mayer nods. “Very wise. Your compartment has been prepared for you. Please follow me, Fräulein.”

Infiltration Operation: Moving an operative into a target area without detection.

I
follow the corporal through the busy train station. He doesn't look to the right or left, but marches resolutely toward the train—which is pretty impressive, considering all the people rushing here and there.

“Watch your step, Fräulein,” he warns as I hurry up the platform steps after him. “Some of the boards are loose. The Luxembourgians don't keep up their public buildings the way we Berliners do.”

His words irritate me. “I'm sure they have more important things on their mind, considering the circumstances.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Not a supporter of our peace agreement with Luxembourg, I take it?”

I shrug, wishing I could take my words back. “I really don't have an opinion on the matter.”

“The agreement is mutually beneficial to both our peoples, Fräulein. They have their own government.” His voice is neutral and he gives me a sideways glance. “If you do have
opinions regarding the matter, it might be wise to keep them to yourself,” he says quietly.

I nod, chastising myself for my stupidity.

The guard at the top of the platform stops us and checks Corporal Mayer's papers before turning to me. Heart in my throat, I pull my own papers out of my handbag and wait while he scans them. It seems to take forever, and I'm sure my sigh of relief is audible when he hands the papers back.

I return them to my handbag and follow Corporal Mayer onto the train.

“I hope you don't mind that you will be sharing a compartment with Mrs. Elsa Tremaine. She's an Australian opera singer the prince is taking back with him to Berlin.” The red creeping up the back of his neck tells me far more about who Mrs. Tremaine is than his words do.

I take a relieved breath. Perhaps I won't need the Bible after all.

The train itself is as luxurious as one would expect. The seats in the coaches are red velvet with the Hohenzollern family crest embroidered on them, and gold tassels swing from the window blinds.

“This coach and the rest of the forward cars are for the prince and his advisors,” Corporal Mayer explains. “You and the others will ride back here.” We walk through several other cars and I am awed by the rich appointments. The interiors, with inlaid wood ceilings, quilted sofas, and polished side tables, look more like small drawing rooms than
like train cars. He shows me the lavatories, which boast gold spigots with hot and cold running water, before taking me back to the sleeping cars. The close compartments aren't nearly as luxurious as the ones set aside for the prince. “My apologies for the cramped quarters. These are usually reserved for servants and train employees.”

I give him a reassuring smile. “Well, I'm to be a servant, of sorts. It's appropriate that I should be here. Honestly, our life in the country is simpler than it is in Berlin. This is fine. And please, call me Sophia Thérèse.”

He inclines his head. “And you may call me Maxwell, though it might be better if you continued to call me Corporal Mayer in public. The royal family is quite concerned with appearances.”

The smile that accompanies his unexpected words is so warm and friendly that I relax, in spite of the fact that I should be on my guard. Thinking of this handsome young man as a friend could be very dangerous.

He continues, “You wouldn't need a sleeper at all, except the prince is stopping in Frankfurt for a meeting with one of his father's generals. That will delay the trip overnight.” Setting my trunks next to the bunks, Maxwell gives a short nod. “I'll let you settle in, then.”

“Thank you,” I say, turning back to the confined quarters that I'll apparently be sharing with the prince's new mistress. The compartment has two narrow beds with a ladder leading to the upper bunk and a single chair that looks so uncomfortable, it's no doubt only used to put on one's
shoes. The other side of the tiny room is composed of several shelves and drawers.

Even though the trip is only overnight, I open one of my trunks and hang up my new gray suit. No reason for me to arrive at the palace rumpled and travel worn. I place my nightclothes on the upper bunk, guessing that the older woman would prefer not to climb the ladder to get to her bed.

Even though I know I won't be able to read, I take the book I'd borrowed from Monsieur Elliot's library and my handbag and retrace my steps back to the nearest coach. I nod at a couple of young soldiers sitting in the back, then take a seat at the window. I stare at the book, but can't read the words—I'm waiting for the engine to start, for brakes to unlock, for the movement that will take me into enemy territory.

I swallow, unable to stop the doubts running through my head as my assignment unfolds before me. As Miss Tickford stressed more than once, we're soldiers for the war. We may not wear uniforms, but we pledged to help defeat the enemy as surely as any young man on the front. I am merely a means to an end and the government is using me to achieve its goal. Just like Velvet herself is a means to an end. She isn't important beyond the knowledge she has. My doubt deepens.

Are humans really expendable for the greater good? Is it morally acceptable to blackmail someone to achieve an objective, no matter how noble that objective is?

My thoughts are interrupted by a shadow falling across
my book. I glance up to see Maxwell standing with a lovely woman in a dark blue serge suit. Her burnished auburn hair is dressed in elaborate whorls and her eyes regard me with interest.

“Fräulein Sophia Thérèse, may I introduce Mrs. Elsa Tremaine? Mrs. Tremaine, this is Sophia Thérèse von Schönburg. You will be sharing the same compartment.”

She raises her hand as regally as if she were a princess, and I'm unsure whether she wants me to shake her hand or kiss it. In the end, I awkwardly touch her fingers with mine. “Nice to meet you,” I murmur.

“It's mutual, darling.” Her words have a lilting quality and I can imagine that her singing voice is lovely. She turns to Maxwell and switches to German. For the first time I notice a slender young man standing behind both of them. “Please make sure my trunks are all loaded,” she says. “I would hate to arrive in Berlin only to find that my costumes were left sitting on the platform. Arnold, go with the nice soldier and make sure all is well with my things.”

Arnold bows his head and follows Maxwell, while Mrs. Tremaine settles herself across from me. She places a white fur muff on her lap. It's only after the muff yawns that I realize it's a dog. I giggle.

“Do you speak English? Please say you speak English. My German is atrocious.” She sighs in relief at my nod and turns to the dog on her lap. “This is Penny,” Mrs. Tremaine says, bending to rub her face in her pet's fur.

I smile at the dog. “Good morning, Penny.”

Mrs. Tremaine raises her head. “You speak wonderful English. You hardly have an accent at all.”

I groan mentally at my stupidity and give her a weak smile. “I have a gift for languages. That's one of the reasons the duchess wishes me to teach the children.”

Mrs. Tremaine seems to accept it. “So we'll be rooming together? I do hope you don't snore. Penny snores enough as it is.”

“Not that I'm aware of.”

“Wonderful. So you're traveling to Berlin to be the governess to the prince's children?”

I nod. “An assistant to the governess, actually. The prince's boys are apparently very active.”

“I never had children of my own, but they seem like such a trial. Penny is enough for me.”

“Are you married?” I ask politely, though from her name I know she must be.

“I was. And, of course, you are not—you're much too young and you wouldn't be considered for a governess position if you were. Have you been to Berlin before?”

“Yes. But I was very young. I'm from a little town outside Cologne.” I steer the topic of conversation away from me. “And you?”

Mrs. Tremaine shakes her head. “No. None of my tours brought me to Berlin, unfortunately. I've heard it's quite lovely.”

I raise my eyebrows. “So you decided to do a German tour in the middle of a war?”

She waves a hand. “People need music even more during times of trouble, don't you think? Besides, music knows no nationality, so I must ignore it as well. Do you know the governess? What's she like?”

I shake my head. “I've never met her.”

The train jerks forward and I startle.

“Here we go,” Mrs. Tremaine murmurs so softly I can barely hear her. “May God preserve us.”

I'm about to ask her what she means when Maxwell reenters the coach and informs Mrs. Tremaine that the prince wishes to speak with her. With a small smile, Mrs. Tremaine, carrying Penny, takes her leave.

I lean back and watch as the train gathers speed, taking me out of Luxembourg and closer to Germany and Velvet.

Whoever she is.

I wake up early the next morning only to find that Sophia Thérèse's birthmark rubbed off on the pillow overnight. With a glance at Mrs. Tremaine's sleeping figure, I quietly draw the birthmark back on, then add a light dusting of powder to set it.

This birthmark may end up being the biggest challenge of the entire mission.

After making myself presentable, I tuck the Bible under my arm—in case I run into the prince—and head to the servants' coach in search of some tea or perhaps coffee. I'd barely slept and instead spent my time tossing and turning worrying about today. The train had stopped last night in
Frankfurt, and the prince, Mrs. Tremaine, and a half-dozen officers had left to visit with generals, though I have a feeling it was more of a social visit than a military one, judging by the dress Mrs. Tremaine was wearing. Penny stayed behind in a basket, shivering until I took her out and settled her in her mistress's bed.

I must have slept at some point, because Mrs. Tremaine was asleep in her bed when I awoke.

Some spy I am.

Though I suppose my spying won't truly start until I meet Marissa Baum and Lillian Bouchard. I've memorized their data and their faces, of course, but facts and figures can't really give me the information I need. Will I know them when I meet them? Why would either one of them spy for England? What would motivate them to put their lives on the line, much as I am?

A tea cart has been wheeled into the coach. I pour myself a cup and take one of the soft bread rolls stacked next to the pot, before sitting at an empty table.

My brain continues to spin while I eat. Why would an American girl be visiting Germany during a war? As an American citizen, Marissa Baum could easily leave the country. The United States has so far successfully managed to stay out of the conflict, though that could change at any minute. But still . . . with an American passport, why would she choose to stay in Berlin? And how will I get close enough to her to be able to tell if she's Velvet?

It'll be much easier to get to know Lillian Bouchard, since
I'll be working with her. Being so close to the kaiser's family and also half French, she'd be the most obvious choice—but perhaps too obvious? And honestly, how would a governess obtain such sensitive information? Unless it's true that Velvet is conducting an affair with a highly placed general.

I don't even want to contemplate the unthinkable, that Velvet is neither of those two women.

I stare out the window and spot a military convoy traveling down a long road. The motorized vehicles carrying an unimaginable number of troops are followed by legions of men on horseback. I wonder where they're going and how many of them will return. Sadness tightens my throat as I think of all the children who will never see their fathers again.

“Lord, this tea is horrid,” Mrs. Tremaine says, settling in next to me. The strong scent of her perfume almost chokes me. “I don't understand why you Germans have such a difficult time making tea, do you?”

I smile. “Not all of us are so poor at it. Where's Penny this morning?”

“Arnold is taking her for her morning walk. Then she'll probably take a long nap, lucky girl.”

“I'm sorry, did I wake you?” I ask.

Her musical laugh rings out, causing several of the soldiers' heads to swivel in our direction. “No,” she says, ignoring our audience. “I'm not a great sleeper. Plus”—she leans closer to me and lowers her voice—“I'm a bit nervous meeting the royal family. The kaiser has a terrible temper
and there's tremendous rivalry and infighting among his grown children, not to mention all those cranky generals.”

I raise an eyebrow. The prince must have a loose tongue for her to be so knowledgeable about royal affairs. I wonder if the kaiser knows about his son's penchant for family gossip.

“Then why are you going?” I ask.

“Because I thrive on that stuff, darling. I just wanted to warn you to watch your step. It can be quite frightening for the uninitiated.”

Her eyes gleam and her mouth purses with suppressed excitement. I lean away, unsettled by her intensity. England has its own version of such women, women who flourish on court intrigue and gossip. Some so much that they spend their entire lives doing nothing else but attending parties and gossiping. Perhaps Mrs. Tremaine is one of those women. She is, after all, cultivating an affair with the heir apparent to the German throne.

“Who is Arnold?” I ask, changing the subject.

“He's a pupil of mine. I give him free voice lessons and in return he takes care of me. He's quite talented, really. I know I'll lose him eventually, but I enjoy his devotion for now.”

My eyes widen as she pulls needles out of the straw bag she seems to carry with her at all times and begins to knit. She sees my surprise and smiles. “It relaxes me.” She settles herself more comfortably and accidentally kicks the bag over. A ball of yarn falls out and begins to roll across the car.