On the way back to the ballroom, she encountered two of the dancers. Püppi would have loved the colorful outfits, she was certain.
Püppi . . . Her old companion seemed to have chosen that day of all days to appear in Irina’s mind. What would she have said about Irina’s engagement to Popo? Or about Konstantin’s dalliance with the flower girl?
At one time, Irina had believed that Konstantin had felt something for her, Irina. Deep feelings, true feelings, like what she had felt for him. What people called love.
Love! Irina sniffed at the thought. Konstantin Sokerov knew only one form of love, and that was for himself. And yet, how good his intimate embraces had felt.
Now he was squandering his attention on Flora. And look there! Once again, he was with her, standing together by the back door.
The way she drew closer to him, as if she wanted to creep inside him. How shameless it all was. Did they think the world around them was blind?
“You ordered a room for us? Now? Are you out of your mind? What will Princess Irina say if I disappear? I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on the flower arrangements.” Although Flora tried to sound stern, she could not hide her pleasure at his audacity.
An hour of happiness, perhaps even two. She smiled in blissful anticipation.
Konstantin took her hand and kissed her palm. “Come, let us not waste any time. I’m as hungry for your body as a starving man for bread.” He tried to lead her through the door to the back of the hotel, but Flora resisted.
“Wait. The princess is coming.” She nodded toward the dining room, from which Irina Komatschova was heading in their direction, her expression stony.
“Hmm, our fiancée does not look to be in a particularly happy mood,” Konstantin murmured. He smiled radiantly and waved to Irina, then turned quickly toward the back door. “I’m going!” he whispered breathlessly to Flora. “I do not have the energy for Irina’s mood. Room nine, the first door on the right, got it? And don’t wait too long, because I have quite a bit of energy for you.”
“Rascal!” said Flora with a giggle. As soon as he was gone, she straightened her shoulders. “Princess Komatschova, I hope you like my flower baskets?”
Irina flicked one hand impatiently. “Yes, yes, the flower baskets. But don’t try to distract me. Do you think I didn’t see how Kostia and you . . . how you’ve been acting? It’s worse than an Italian opera. All the flirting and fooling around. I’ve known for a long time that Konstantin possesses no decency whatsoever, but I would have expected more from you. As a businesswoman, you are normally so much smarter!”
Flora felt as if she’d been slapped in the face. “I don’t understand—”
“You understand perfectly well!” Irina looked at her furiously. “Did you think we were all so blind and stupid that we would not notice that Kostia had his eye on you? Konstantin Sokerov is arrogant, self-absorbed, and lazy—and those are his good qualities! On top of that, he’s a master at getting whatever he wants. What do you think you are to him? A tawdry little affair, that’s all.” The princess gathered her skirts, turned on her heel, and stalked off.
Flora could only stand and stare. Konstantin was lazy and self-absorbed? How could the princess insult him like that? If she despised him that much, why did she invite him? She usually behaved as if she and Konstantin shared one heart and soul.
A tawdry little affair—it sounded so dirty, and it had nothing to do with the great love she and Konstantin shared.
She would not say a word about this to Konstantin, Flora decided, as she climbed on trembling legs to the first floor. The old princess was probably just jealous.
Room nine. Flora shook her head as if trying to shake out Irina’s harsh words, then put on her best smile.
“Flora, finally! I could not have stood another minute without you.”
At the sight of Konstantin, Flora’s anger at Irina evaporated. She would not let Irina or anyone else in this world take away the magic of this day. She would enjoy herself and be happy.
Resolved, she slammed the door behind her so hard that the topmost of the two tacks holding the brass “9” in place on the door came loose.
“Now it’s just the two of us,” said Flora.
Outside, on the front of the door, the “9” turned into a “6.”
What had he gotten himself into? On a hot Sunday afternoon like this, he would have much rather been sitting in the shade in the garden at home.
Friedrich took a deep breath, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and returned his handkerchief to his pocket. It was typical of Lady Lucretia to choose a place so far out of town to stay. The air was probably much fresher in the forest than in town. When he had asked her if the location of the Forellenhof Inn was perhaps less than ideal, she had said, “The daily walk into town is good for one’s physical fitness!”
Physical fitness. That sounded more like a soldier’s lot than that of an English lady.
He had briefly crossed paths with Lady Lucretia once more after their previous conversation, and instead of repeating her offer to continue their discussion, she said she wanted to meet him to discuss a “business proposal.” He had agreed only because Flora’s work meant she was also away from home, and Friedrich had had no great desire to spend a long Sunday afternoon with only his mother and baby Alexander for company.
What did the Englishwoman want from him? He had asked her, but she had merely hemmed and hawed and asked him if he might possibly imagine some other line of work than what he did at the Trinkhalle.
Did she think . . . ?
He knew from Gustav K?rner that she had, in fact, been to look at the Hotel Marie-Eluise. The hotelier had thanked Friedrich effusively for sending a potential buyer to him. So far, the lady was keeping her cards close to her chest, but he believed he would soon be in serious negotiations with her. The bath area, in particular, had appealed to her very much, and she had personally measured the cellar rooms to see if two additional tubs would fit.
Potential buyer? Serious negotiations? More tubs? Friedrich had nodded, but in truth he thought he must have misheard. He knew that Lady Lucretia was a little . . . different from other women, that she had a serious interest in hydrotherapy, and that she loved Baden-Baden. But to buy a hotel because of that?
“My dear Mr. Sunshine! Here you are at last!” The Englishwoman strode toward him, red-cheeked and energized. “Did you know there’s a celebration going on right now in the Forellenhof? A Russian princess is throwing quite a party, it seems—which is rather unfortunate for us, considering that we need peace and quiet for our deliberations.”
“Should we simply ignore the party and find a place for ourselves here?” he asked in a hopeful voice. Although the terrace was busy, he would have enjoyed nothing more, just then, than a cool pitcher of beer, and the wonderful smell of smoked fish made his mouth water.
The Englishwoman shook her head. “I’ve prepared documents, plans, drawings! Am I supposed to spread that out in the middle of all these people? No, that won’t do.” She looked away and seemed to be struggling inwardly. “I think I might have an idea, but please don’t misunderstand me . . . Do you think you might come to my room for our discussion? It has large windows, and we’d have the peace and quiet we need. I’ll order a pitcher of beer for us. A bracing drink has never done anyone any harm, has it?”
Friedrich suppressed a smile. Misunderstand her? Lady Lucretia? He could imagine many things, but that she might want to lure him away to a lovers’ tryst was not one of them.
“I’d be happy to,” he said. A serving girl walked past, carrying plates of golden fried trout to a table. “If it is not too much to ask, I wouldn’t say no to a bite to eat, either.”