“Oh!” Max was startled as he exited his cottage and almost bumped into Sebastien, who was standing there in the November sunshine with his knuckles raised, poised to knock. “Hello.”
“I was hoping to speak to you.”
“I can’t right now. I’m off to meet Daniela Martinez’s plane. She’s coming for the wedding. She’s Leo’s friend,” he added, though he had no idea why, as characterizing Dani as “Leo’s friend” didn’t begin to cover it.
“I know who she is,” Seb said.
Of course. Everyone knew all the details about the royal wedding. The wedding that was supposed to be Max’s. And chief among those details were the salacious ones—the fact that not only was the groom a nobody from the Bronx, his only attendant was also going to be a nobody from the Bronx. A female nobody. Mother had been talking about it nonstop.
“Can’t you just send a car?” Seb asked.
Max studied his brother’s face. His forehead was deeply furrowed. “Is everything all right? Has something gone wrong in Innsbruck?”
“No, no. Everything’s fine. I was merely going to . . . Never mind. We can talk later.”
“You want to ride to the airfield with me?” The plane was landing on a private airfield an hour’s drive from the estate.
“May I?”
“Of course. I’ll appreciate the company.” Not really, because Max was a selfish bastard and he wanted Dani to himself. But he and Dani had three weeks to talk. Three glorious weeks. He had convinced her to make such a long visit by assuring her she could spend the first half of it working on the estate. Then they’d go to the palace for the wedding, then to Innsbruck to see the mine and have a holiday.
“So you’re having an affair with Leo’s friend,” Sebastien said as their journey got underway. “Is that wise?”
Ah, here they went. “I am not having an affair with her. We’re friends.”
“I thought she was Leo’s friend.”
“She’s not allowed to have more than one friend?” Even with his eyes on the road, Max could feel Seb’s wince, and yes, that had come out a little snippier than Max had intended, but honestly. “I invited her to spend some time here before the wedding, since Mother and Father are away.” Their parents were holidaying on Sardinia and would be back a few days before the wedding, by which point Max and Dani would already have left for the palace—ostensibly because their man of honor and best woman duties required them to be there early but really because there was no way he was going to subject Dani to his parents. She would meet them at the wedding, of course; it was unavoidable. But their impact would be diluted there—he hoped. “And after the wedding, we’re going to Austria with Leo and Marie.”
“Isn’t that a little odd? You’re tagging along on the honeymoon?”
“Really, it’s them tagging along with us.” He’d mentioned he was taking Dani to see the mine, and suddenly they had extra hangers-on. Marie insisted that they wanted to spend some time with Dani—he knew the feeling—and see the mine project in progress. After a couple of days in Innsbruck, Marie and Leo were going to continue on to a posh Indonesian resort, alone.
“What’s going on with you?” Max asked his brother. The point of him being along for the ride was so he could talk, not so he could interrogate Max about Dani.
“Oh, nothing.”
“So you’re spending two hours round-trip with me in this car because you love me so much.”
Seb rolled his eyes. “I think you love yourself enough for both of us.”
Max grinned. One of the unexpectedly delightful dividends of his repaired relationship with his brother was that they could needle each other again. They’d lost that for a long while, but one thing Max had never lost was the ability to tell when something was bothering Seb. He had a certain way of picking at his fingernails when he was anxious, and he was doing it now. “What’s wrong? Out with it.”
“Nothing’s wrong. I just . . . have something I need to tell you.”
“All right.”
He glanced over. Seb lowered his hands to his lap and looked Max in the eye in a way that made Max fear something might be seriously wrong, but Max had to return his attention to the road. “The thing is,” Seb said, “I’m . . .”
As he trailed off, Max’s mind got to work filling in the blanks. Seb was in trouble of some sort? Angrier than he’d expressed for all the years Max had been mentally checked out? Deathly ill? “What? You’re what?”
“Don’t run us off the road, but I’m gay.”
Of course he was. Max didn’t know why he hadn’t seen it earlier. He huffed a laugh.
Seb sucked in a breath and turned toward the window, hurt.
“Seb.” Max let go of the steering wheel with his right hand and grabbed his brother’s left. “I’m sorry. I’m laughing at myself. At how obvious it was—or should have been. I’m sorry I didn’t see it.” Another glance over showed that Seb’s eyes had gone wide, and Max rushed to add what he should have led with. “It doesn’t make a whit of difference to me. In fact, it makes me happy. It makes me happy to think of you being more authentically yourself. I’m glad for you and glad you told me. I’m sorry if you felt you couldn’t previously.”
“Really? That’s it?”
“Well, excuse me for forgetting to pack my rainbow confetti.”
Seb laughed and took his hand back. “I was expecting more of the opposite reaction, to be honest.”
“From me? Really?” That stung.
“No, not really. I’m sorry. That’s not fair. You’re just so . . . heterosexual.”
“I am not!” Max protested reflexively.
“You’re not?” Seb’s jaw dropped.
It was Max’s turn to laugh. “No, I am. But I like to think I’m a modern sort of heterosexual. I’m very live-and-let-live.”
Seb smiled. “I meant that you’re such a playboy.”
Right. He used to be, anyway.
“You’ve been chasing girls since you were a teenager.”
“Whatever reputation I have doesn’t mean anything about my character,” Max said, not telling Seb that he was in the middle of the longest dry spell of his life. “Expect a negative reaction from Father, not me.” His stomach grew heavy wondering if perhaps Father had known somehow. If that was what had been behind the tea-party tantrum all those years ago. “You haven’t told Father, have you?”
“God, no. No. I can never do that.”
“You could, though. If you wanted to. I’d have your back.”
“He’d disown me.”
“Probably,” Max agreed. And when Max inherited, he would re-own him. It was a pleasant thought, the idea of undoing some of his father’s damage. One good thing about becoming the duke. “It would definitely mean a change of career, though, as he’d probably have you fired in addition to disowning you.”
“I know. I just feel like . . .”
“Someone has to be the do-gooder at the company,” Max supplied. It was interesting how heavy a yoke duty was for Sebastien, the younger son, who should by rights be fucking off to have orgies in the Mediterranean—or perhaps cavorting around a library, which was more Seb’s style.
“Anyway,” Seb said, “I didn’t mean all that about you being a playboy. Well, I did. But I knew you weren’t going to turn your back on me. I was just . . . worked up to tell you. To tell anyone.”
“Am I the first person you’ve told?” That was flattering.
“Well, technically, you’re the second.”
Max tried to think who Seb would have told. His brother had always been a bit of a loner. He had some friends who— Hang on. “Oh my god! You’re seeing someone!”
“I am not,” Seb said, but he was blushing furiously.
“Who is it?” Max started shoving Seb’s shoulder, because apparently, he had regressed to age twelve. Seb shook his head. “So you’re going to drop this bomb on me, but you’re not going to tell me who.”
Seb smirked. “That is correct.”
Max’s mind started sifting through the possibilities, but the sobering truth was that he didn’t really know that much about his brother’s life. “Is it someone I know?”
Seb smiled all at once, as if it was a reflex, but then schooled his face.
“It is!” Max exclaimed.
“Well, you don’t know him know him. You know of him, I think.”
There went the smile again. Damn. His brother was smitten. Max was dying to know who it was, but he refrained from pushing. He would mount an investigation later.
They talked about the mine project until they arrived at the airfield. As Max cut the engine and turned to Seb, Seb said, “So we’re . . . okay?”
“Yes,” Max said emphatically. “We are grand.” He unbuckled himself, leaned over, and planted a purposefully slobbery kiss on Seb’s temple. “We are grand, and you are grand, and I love you.” He was so damn glad he had his brother back.
Perhaps Seb’s confession had primed Max to be extra emotional. Or perhaps he was that excited to see Dani. Either way, he found himself practically buzzing with anticipation when a small plane appeared in the distance.
They watched as the plane landed and taxied. A stairway dropped, and a few minutes later there she was, paused at the top of the stairs, one hand wrapping a bright-red scarf around her neck, the other arm tucking Max Minimus into her side. Something inside Max settled into place. She caught sight of him and smiled as she set the dog down. He bounded down the steps and headed straight for Max, yapping all the way.
“Hello, my little friend,” Max cooed, stooping to pick him up and chuckling when Max Minimus started licking his face. “Lovely to see you, too, my good boy.”
“What is happening?” Seb asked with wonder in his voice. “Who are you?”
Max, suddenly aware that he was not the type of person who got all mushy with tiny dogs, cleared his throat and straightened, trying to recapture some dignity. Normally, he would have swept Dani up in a hug, but he settled for a quick, formal kiss on the cheek on account of Seb’s scrutiny, though it did occur to him that his brother had told him a huge secret and here Max was being conservative in greeting his platonic friend. It was just that Seb would misinterpret. Max performed introductions while Max Minimus relieved himself. It was strange seeing Seb and Dani together. Between the two of them, Max felt so . . . tethered. In a good way—as if he owed these people something, but that owing was not unwelcome.
A steward arrived with Dani’s bag and Max Minimus’s crate and loaded them into the car. Max held the door for Dani. “Your holiday awaits, milady.”
Riems was charming. As they drove to Max and Sebastien’s family estate through the darkening night, they had to pass through the city itself, and Dani couldn’t help but exclaim over the narrow cobblestone streets and the half-timbered architecture that looked like something out of a storybook. It was November, so lots of the shops had twinkly Christmas lights up.
The von Hansburg brothers were pretty darn charming, too. She already knew that about Max, of course, but his younger brother was friendly and warm, if a bit shy. The fact that he’d come along to pick her up was such a nice gesture.
“We’re not that far out of town,” Max said as the stone buildings started to thin and eventually disappeared in favor of countryside. “It’s a thirty-minute walk if you’re ever inclined to make a prison break.”
“If you’re ever inclined to make a prison break, you merely have to call on me, Daniela,” Sebastien said with exaggerated courtliness.
“I meant if she needs a break from us,” Max said.
“Ah, yes.” Sebastien sobered. “Well, at least Mother and Father are absent.”
Dani had been relieved by the news that Max’s parents would be away. She was morbidly curious about them, these people who had raised Max, and tormented him, too, but glad she didn’t have to meet them until the wedding.
The estate was beautiful. Riems was in a valley—you could see mountains on all sides in the distance, the tallest of them capped with snow. One was smaller and closer than the others, and the estate was nestled at its foot in a landscape of gardens—mostly barren for the season, but she imagined they were lovely in the summer—surrounded by forest.
“We’ll drop you at the main house,” Max said to his brother.
“Daniela is staying with you at the cottage?” Sebastien asked, and if Dani wasn’t mistaken, he was surprised, though there hadn’t been censure in his tone.
“She is,” Max said mildly. “We’ll come up to the house and have dinner with you, though. I’ve already made arrangements with Frau Bittner.”
They said goodbye to Sebastien, and Max turned the car down a gravel-lined road that led away from the house, which was an enormous, multi-winged, imposing stone thing with red tiled roofs. “Max, does your brother think we . . .” She waved her hand back and forth between them.
“Oh, probably. I would have corrected him, but I didn’t want to give away the surprise.”
“What surprise?”
“He’ll come over later and see it and be assured that nothing is happening between us,” Max said, ignoring her question. He waggled his eyebrows. “Your fruitcake is safe under my roof.”
“Why is it my fruitcake that’s safe from you? I thought you and I were about equal-opportunity slutting around.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Touché.” He looked at her for a beat too long—she was about to tell him to keep his eyes on the road—and said, “I’m so glad you’re here.”
She was, too.
Max’s cottage was perfect. There was no other word for it. It was small and made of the same stone as the main house, and it was crisscrossed with vines. Max led her to a big, weathered wooden door with an oxidized knocker shaped like a lion’s head and unlocked it with a long, skinny key that looked like a prop from a haunted house more than an actual functional key.
“Here we are,” he said with obvious pleasure as he took her coat. “This was originally what I think English speakers would call a dower house, but it hasn’t been occupied by a dowager since my father’s mother died—before I was born.”
“Your grandmother the Nazi-resister!”
“Mm,” Max said in a way that struck Dani as evasive, but she didn’t have time to parse his response, because she was too busy looking at everything. She was in Max’s home! In Eldovia!
The place looked like Max—it had an air of old-money ease but not of the stuffy variety. There were Persian rugs everywhere that were probably priceless heirlooms, but they were worn and mismatched. His living room looked like the genuine version of the aesthetic that “shabby-chic” Instagrammers spent their lives chasing. He led her through a small kitchen outfitted with modern appliances but that also contained an actual fireplace with a pot hanging next to it and a deep sink with both a modern faucet and an ancient pump handle on it.
In the back corner there was a trapdoor in the ceiling with a rope handle dangling down. He pulled it, and a narrow, steep staircase fell, startling Dani. He gestured for her to go ahead of him, and she climbed the rickety staircase, which was really more like a ladder.
And emerged into the garret of her dreams.
“Are you kidding me?”
“I am not. Remember that first night in New York? I asked you what you would do if you could do anything, and you said hole up in in a garret and write. You won’t tell me about the mystery project, but I assume it’s something that needs to be written.”
Oh, Max. Max who listened and remembered. Max who coaxed her to make snow angels and do Dirty Dancing lifts. Max who conjured ballet tickets and garrets.
“Perhaps you don’t remember.” He grinned. “That was two negronis in.”
“I remember,” she said, her voice a little squeaky as she took it all in. The open space spanned the top of the cottage and featured slanting walls that created cozy nooks. The ceiling was crisscrossed by wooden support beams, the unfinished nature of which contributed to the same worn-luxury look of the rooms downstairs. There were more timeworn Persian rugs on top of rustic, sightly uneven whitewashed wooden floors. There was a queen-size bed in the middle of the space piled high with white bedding of the sort you saw in rich-people advertisements, expensive but wrinkly because it was one-million-thread-count linen. On one side of the bed was an armoire and a full-length mirror on a stand. On the other, nestled against a large stone chimney, was a little sitting area with a love seat and coffee table.
And of course on the far end of the space was a desk perfectly sized to nestle in a dormer with a window that overlooked the mountain.
“There are a few drawbacks,” Max said, “namely no bathroom. You’ll have to come downstairs and share with me.” He crossed to the desk and picked up the end of an extension cord draped over it. Dani followed it with her gaze to see that it lined the edge of the floor until it disappeared under the bed. “The only outlet is on the other side of the bed,” he said. “And it’s going to be dark in here at night. And cold. It’s suboptimal, but—”
“Max.” She hated to interrupt him, but honestly. “This is amazing.” She spun in a slow circle to take it all in once more. “Amazing.” And she wasn’t just talking about the room.
“There’s more,” he said with a grin as he beckoned her over to the desk. “This attic used to be storage. I was under the impression that it was all my mother’s old equestrian things—she used to be quite the rider, and all her old saddles and trophies and the like were stored up here. And indeed, when I started clearing the place out, that’s mostly what I found. But . . .” He pointed to a stack of wrinkled, yellowed papers.
“Oh my god!” She knew, without him saying anything. “Oh my god!”
He produced a pair of white cotton gloves from his pocket, the kind you’d use to handle fragile artifacts, and handed them to her. “These are going to the exhibition design firm tomorrow, but I wanted to show them to you first.”
She pulled the gloves on, her hands shaking with vicarious excitement. “I don’t read German.”
“Look at the names, the opening and closing salutations.”
“‘Liebe Karlotta,’” she read.
“Karlotta was my grandmother’s name.”
Dani’s excitement notched even higher as she flipped the paper over and read the name of the writer. “Karina.” She gasped, even though she’d known that was what she’d find. “Max! And they were on a first-name basis, it seems!”
“There are half a dozen letters there. It looks as though my grandmother did give over the mine to the resistance, and she funneled money to them as well. She didn’t want her husband—my grandfather—to know. The letters were hidden under a floorboard that had been covered with boxes for who knows how many years.”
She set the letter down carefully. “This is going to be huge, isn’t it?”
“It is.” He smiled like the cat that ate the canary. “I wish I could find Oma’s letters to Karina. I’m following a few leads on that front, but even without them, yes, this will be major news.”
She was so thrilled for him. She peeled the glove off her right hand and held it up for a high-five. He slapped her hand but then grabbed it. Used it to reel her in. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he said into her hair as he hugged her tight.
She was, too. It felt so good to leave all her Vince junk behind, to be off the teaching treadmill for a while.
But that wasn’t all. This feeling of relief and rightness wasn’t just about what she had left behind. It was about Max. Smart, kind Max. They were going to have so much fun, and she was so happy to be here with him.