Page 9 of A Lady's Touch of Sin

Marta sniffed. “If only she knew what sort of situation I just fell out of. I dare say she wouldn’t look at me as such a beautiful and upstanding creature.”

“You were in a bit of trouble,” Ewan said.

“Something like that,” Marta returned. “Although it’s difficult to speak of. Suffice it to say, love has bitten me terribly hard, and I’m still reeling.”

“You reeled yourself all the way to England,” he returned.

“Ha. I suppose.”

“But it really isn’t so bad here,” Ewan affirmed. “Yes, Mother is a pain, and my sister can be even worse if you believe it. But it’s quite fun with the parties and the grandeur and the food and the wine, buckets of wine, darling cousin. Perhaps you’ll forget your lost love in Austria in no time. And if you’re anything like that adventurous, rambunctious girl I remember from seven years ago…”

“Oh, I still am,” Marta said, flashing a smile. “It’s difficult to remember her in the depths of all this despair. But you’re right. I already feel the past falling away from me, making room for something else.”

“Is it really so simple for you?” Ewan said. His smile widened still more.

Already, Marta sensed she had something of an ally in him. She nudged her head towards the space where his friend Baldwin had sat.

“He’s still about the same as before, isn’t he?”

Ewan cackled. “You mean, his serious nature.”

“Of course. The soberest teenager I’d met in my life, seven years ago,” Marta affirmed.

“He turned on a few charms tonight,” Ewan said. “Although I cannot imagine why.”

He gave her a peculiar look. She leapt up, cast her eyes back, and shuffled towards the garden gate. “I must rest, darling cousin. It’s been such a terribly long day. I can only imagine what sort of mischief your mother will bring for me tomorrow.”

“She’ll have you married before the week’s end, no doubt,” Ewan said.

“My freedom! Gone!” Marta said, giggling.

“Ah, but if you’d have had it your way, I’m sure you’d be married off to some handsome Austrian,” Ewan said. He creaked the garden gate closed and gave her another big-eyed look.

“Of course. But things in this life don’t necessarily go asplanned, do they?” Marta said. Her voice caught in her throat. “Nothing to dwell on. Not the way my mother dwells on the concept of England. Every day of my life, on and on about the things she missed, the world she left behind. I don’t think she truly sees Austria for what it is. It’s her biggest detriment. I dare say she hasn’t felt love for my father in… Well.” She paused, pressed her lips together. “Silly me. I’ve only just met you again as an adult. I don’t need to babble on like this.”

Ewan shrugged. “It’s all been rather dull the past few weeks. You’re the first burst of life Baldwin and I have seen in quite some time.”

“Ha. I’ll try to keep up the act as long as I can,” Marta said.

“As though it’s an act. I know you, Marta Schnitzler. You’re a dangerous breed. A woman who gets what she wants. And when things don’t work out precisely in her favour—women like you burn down the world.”

Ewan’s words hummed around her mind as she crept upstairs to her bedroom. Slowly, she undressed, feeling as though she walked through a dream, her muscles languid and loose. When she stretched back on the bed, she blinked up at the enormous cheese-like moon and prayed for Austria. For reasons she couldn’t fully fathom, she worried that the mountains wouldn’t remain on without her—as though the reason they’d existed for so long had been purely because she’d been able to look up at them, morning and afternoon and night.

England. Blessed England. What on earth would it bring? And how could it possibly be as good as anything she’d had before?

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