Castle of the Wolf Read Free Page A

into your hands, I would want you to know how much I have loved you. Indeed, you have brightened my days since the day you were born. Therefore, it particularly pains me that by that day’s twentieth return I have not been able to provide for you fittingly, as I strongly fear there will be no more chance for you to mingle with the rich and the wealthy in some fashionable town or other.’”
    Cissy blinked, surprised that her father had seen her situation, after all. But she did not want his guilt, had never wanted his guilt, for she, in turn, had understood the family’s economic situation.
    “How very touching this all is.” Dorinda sniffed. “Is this the reason, peut-être , for the double entail?”
    Mr. Weatherby paused and looked at the new Lady Hailstone as he would at a particularly nasty insect under a microscope. Suddenly, a thin smile lifted his lips. “I believe, my lady, my late client chose that later date in 1825 to rework some points of his will.” For a moment his eyes glittered, before he abruptly turned back to Cissy, his face blank once more. “Shall I continue?”
    Flabbergasted, she stared at their family solicitor. She could have sworn that for a moment something very much like malicious joy had lit his eyes. As if he held the new baroness in deep disdain. As if her father had indeed changed his will because of George’s wife. Cissy swallowed. “Please do.”
    “‘Several years ago, when I still could do my friends financial favors, I purchased a most beautiful castle in the midst of the Black Forest. I had intended to give it back to my very good friend Wolfenbach upon my death, yet now I give it to you as I am sure you will treasure it just as I did. A castle fit for a princess, a castle fit for my own daughter. And still, it might fall back into the hands of the Wolfenbachs, for I give it to you upon one condition: that if Wolfenbach’s son is still unwed you will give him your hand in marriage. Wolfenbach has always been the most decent of men, and I have no doubt that he raised his son to be an equally honorable man. Be happy, my dear. With deepest affection, your father.’”
    As he ended the letter, Mr. Weatherby carefully removed his spectacles and set them aside on the desk. “With this, I believe,”—his gaze settled warmly on Cissy—“he thought to secure you a suitable husband after all.”

Chapter 2
    The tiled stove, a baroque monstrosity in white and gold, filled the sitting room with pleasant heat, while outside the wind howled around the snug little villa at the edge of the small town. Uneasily, Graf von Wolfenbach shifted on his worn armchair.
    “Trouble, my dear?” came the soft voice of his wife. Immediately, the knot of anxiety in the pit of his stomach eased. Strange how, even after all these years, her sweet voice affected him, calmed the worst anger or soothed the deepest despair. His little siren , he had called her since the earliest days of their courtship so many years ago. In another lifetime, or so it seemed.
    He looked up from the letter he had been reading to where she sat at the window, which overlooked the prosperous valley all the way to the dark sweep of the hills beyond. She dyed her hair black—in order to please him, he knew. Yet even with gray hair, white hair, with no hair at all, she would have been the most beautiful woman to him. The only one he had ever loved. The only one who had ever gifted him with children, fine sons, so a part of themselves would live on. He had always hoped the kind of love he and his wife shared would blossom for his sons, too. Yet it seemed as if that was not going to be.
    “Ferdl?” A faint line appeared between her brows, and she put her embroidery aside. Her tone and the fact she had used her pet name for him betrayed her worry.
    “It’s nothing,” he hastened to reassure her. “I …” He took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. At her sound of distress, he smiled apologetically. “I am