Chapter 2
Chapter Two
“Lindenstein, my dear friend,” Julius Stafford-Hill, Duke of Aldingbourne, said, a rare smile lighting up his normally austere face.
“I scarcely dared hope you’d be the first to greet me in Vienna.
I have not yet brushed the dust from my boots, for the journey from England was long and infernally tedious.
” Then he straightened himself into formality and made a stiff bow.
“It is an honour, Your Imperial Highness.”
A tall, slim man with a head full of unruly blond curls stepped forward with an extended hand.
“No ceremony with me, mein Freund. You never stood on it before, and I won’t have you begin now.
I endure enough of that from others day-in and day-out.
I cannot bear it from you.” He drew him forward into a firm embrace. “It is good to see you, old friend.”
Aldingbourne returned the embrace with warmth. “Yet I am here not as a private man, as surely you know. I’m part of Castlereagh’s delegation, and as a representative of the British government, I must, from now on, weigh every word addressed to you.”
Lindenstein released him and gave him an inquisitive look. “But surely not in private?”
The duke regarded Lindenstein, a faint smile playing about his lips. “Not many know that my old childhood friend Lindenstein is Archduke Leopold Klemens Alexander, the youngest son of Emperor Francis. Your guise held well throughout the years.”
“I’ve become rather good at disguising myself. And I mean for it to hold, still. Especially now, of all times.”
Aldingbourne’s gaze flicked toward the closed door, where a British footman stood guard.
“In Vienna, they say even the walls have ears. I had the staff here replaced and vetted through the British consulate, and I trust them as much as one may. Even so, one never knows. Metternich has turned this city into a nest of spies.”
“Ah yes. Good old ‘Herr System,’” Lindenstein said with a dry laugh.
“Forever tightening his net of rules and police. He has always been suspicious of everything and everyone, but never so intent on collecting secrets as now. I dare say he knows of my other identity.” He shrugged and strolled over to the set of silken yellow fauteuils that stood in front of the fireplace.
“You’ll have to be more cautious in the future and not walk into my mansion like that in broad daylight. I daresay Metternich has already been informed that you’re here in my drawing room.”
“I took several detours; a pretty trip through the entire city, and I’m certain I lost whoever followed me on the Hohe Markt.
Then I slipped in through the servants’ entrance.
” Lindenstein was dressed in a simple, unassuming brown suit that would have allowed him to merge easily with the people on the street.
His blond hair had been partly covered by a hat, which the butler had taken.
“Your sister? Is she well?” he enquired.
“Evie is as well as she could be. Insisted on accompanying me here. I couldn’t talk her out of it. She is out exploring the city,” Aldingbourne replied.
Lindenstein sat and pulled both hands through his tousled hair. “The next few weeks will be hellish,” he muttered. “All these soirees, meetings, cabinets, and whatnot.”
Aldingbourne stepped to the sideboard and poured a glass of whisky and handed him the glass. “Since when have you become so political that this would concern you? The Emperor’s youngest son has quite a different reputation.” He lifted the glass to salute him.
Lindenstein returned the greeting and downed the content in one shot. He shuddered. “Scottish? There’s nothing as vile and simultaneously wonderful as Scotch whisky. It’s a rare drop to be found on this continent.”
“I brought several casks along with me. I’ll gift you one.” He poured him another glass. “But now, tell me why you look so troubled. I gather it’s not Metternich, nor is it the infernal congress. For both of us know you don’t give a hoot about any of the politics.”
Lindenstein heaved a deep sigh and leaned back. “I’m in deep waters, and I don’t know the way out.”
Aldingbourne sat across from him and leaned forward. “Your father?”
Lindenstein laughed bitterly. “Who else?”
“What’s he asking of you now?”
“To marry the Grand Duchess Irina Tatjana Alexandrovna Romanova. Yesterday, if possible.” He looked at him with despair.
“To strengthen the political ties to Russia, or so they say. So you can see, I am deeply involved with politics after all. I’m tangled up to my neck in it, and my entire life threatens to be strangled. ”
“I see,” Aldingbourne replied dryly, and there was sympathy flickering in his eyes.
“Do you truly? Surely you know why I cannot do that?”
Aldingbourne set down his whisky glass on the table carefully before replying. “I gather a certain lady is still in the picture. Are your affections for her truly that strong that you would risk not only a conflict with your father but also a diplomatic scandal on the international stage?”
Lindenstein rubbed his eyebrow and sighed.
Aldingbourne leaned forward with a frown.
“But back to what you mentioned earlier regarding a certain Russian Grand Duchess. If I were to sum up the situation, what you’re saying is that the Emperor intends to court Britain on the public stage, yet behind the curtain intends to strengthen the links to Russia through familial ties.
In short: he’s playing a double game.” He tapped a long finger on the table. “That’s good to know.”
Lindenstein blinked. “Eh? What? How? Said nothing of the kind.”
“Surely you’re not so politically illiterate that you didn’t know that Britain would not look favourably upon the union between an Austrian archduke and a Russian grand duchess.
Not now.” Aldingbourne’s voice suddenly turned to steel, and he was all politician, from head to toe.
“Not when Russia is determined to acquire Poland. By allying herself with Austria through a dynastic marriage, Russia will extend its sphere of influence to strengthen their claim.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation to you, I don’t look favourably upon this union, either.
” He pulled his hand nervously through his hair.
“And I couldn’t care less what Russia, Prussia, and, sorry to say old chap, your Britain wants, and they should all freely help themselves to a slice of the pie for all that I care.
” He jumped up, made a turn about the room, then said with a lopsided-smile, “Just so that we’re crystal clear: I certainly don’t give a rat’s tail for what Austria wants, either. ” He picked up his glass.
Aldingbourne regarded him through hooded eyes. “You need not play the fool with me in private. I know perfectly well that you like to pretend to know less than you actually do.”
“It is no pretense. I know absolutely nothing at all,” Klemens muttered into his glass.
“Nonsense. You are a highly talented mathematician, despite insisting on the contrary.”
Klemens shrugged. “What good does that do me?”
“This is what makes you so dangerous. You’re a wild card.
Not under anyone’s control. Least of all under Metternich’s.
” A smile tugged at Aldingbourne’s mouth.
“Though I think I just heard Metternich bellow a frustrated shout of despair as soon as you uttered that you didn’t give a rat’s tail for what Austria wants. ”
“Let him shout.” Lindenstein grinned. “But I know, I know. ’Tis a traitorous, blasphemous thing to say, especially from an Austrian archduke.
I should’ve been born a British commoner, then none of this would have been a problem.
” He grabbed the carafe and poured himself another drink.
“Then I could just go ahead and fulfil my promise and marry her and—”
“You made a promise?” The duke’s voice was sharp. “To a commoner?”
Lindenstein paused. “Why yes, of course?”
Aldingbourne's hand stilled on his glass. “Is she truly worth all that trouble?”
“Of course she is!” he exclaimed, straightening abruptly.
“I’ve known her for years. She's the truest, kindest, sweetest little thing.” He dropped back into his chair.
“Though she can be a hothead. Stubborn to a fault and with a temper.” He gave a low whistle.
“She spits fire until the sparks fly. No one can curse as badly as she can.” A broad smile spread over his face.
“Mein kleines T?ubchen. She is anything but a sweet little turtledove, my ladybird.”
Aldingbourne blinked. “But, my dear friend. My dear, dear friend.” He seemed speechless, which, considering he was Aldingbourne, was a rare thing to behold, indeed.
“I seem to have missed a vital piece of information here. I believed we were talking about a first love, a youthful summer romance, a passing infatuation if you will, a bit of muslin, someone you can keep by your side, in the worst case as your mistress—but—you appear to harbour deeper affections for her?”
“Yes. I do. I love her. Deeply. Truly. Irrevocably. She’s the love of my life, and I won’t have any other. I have pledged myself to her and she to me.” His jaw tightened “Not that she knows who I really am,” he muttered, “But that’s a secondary problem now.”
“It appears we do have a rather grave problem,” Aldingbourne said after a weighty silence.
“You cannot imagine the half of it.” Lindenstein stared morosely into his glass.
“But, see the bright side of it all.” His face brightened, and two dimples appeared when he grinned.
“I’ll even invite you to the wedding. No, better, I’ll ask you to be my best man.
It’ll be a secret affair, yes? I’m thinking the following: if the deed is done, quickly and quietly, nothing and no one can undo it.
The Emperor’s hands will be tied, and the Russian Grand Duchess can return to the Siberian steppe from where she came. ”
Aldingbourne stared at him, aghast. “I am rarely speechless, my friend.”
Lindenstein lifted his glass in a toast. “There are always firsts.”
“And she doesn’t know who you are?”
Lindenstein shook his head. “She thinks I’m the student Klemens Lindenstein.
I meant to tell her truth at our last meeting, but somehow…
” His voice trailed off. “It was such a nice summer evening, it was warm, the stars were out, and we were dancing a waltz and she looked like the prettiest thing that ever walked on this earth, with those huge black round eyes of hers and a head full of the most adorable curls, and sweet red lips and in short, it was altogether wonderful, and I didn’t want to kill the moment. ”
“Good heavens.”
“And then,” he shrugged, “You know how it is. The pater recalled me to Vienna. I had to depart abruptly before I had the chance to tell her. But—” He pulled himself up. “I will marry her.” He set his chin stubbornly. “To blazes with dynastic marriages.”
“When you do that, you look exactly like your father,” Aldingbourne muttered, rubbing his forehead with a finger. “Looking all haughty and imperial as he utters impossible orders.”
Lindenstein shuddered. “Don’t compare me to my father, I beseech you. Rather, help me with another, bigger problem.”
“Another problem?” Aldingbourne groaned. “I tremble to learn what that could be.” He reached out to pour another glass.
“Yes, and this one worries me. She seems to have disappeared.”
Aldingbourne paused in the movement of pouring the whisky into his glass. “Beg pardon?”
“She’s gone. Her father died unexpectedly, and she must be tremendously devastated.
As am I, for I was truly fond of the old man.
Never had a better teacher.” He looked away and swallowed.
“I can’t even begin to think what she must be feeling.
But she isn’t answering any of my mail and when I sent my man to enquire for her, we learned that house and land got confiscated and there was no trace of her anywhere.
She is homeless. I’m beside myself with worry. ”
Aldingbourne stared at his friend. “Are you saying now that on top of you being lovesick, and hell-bent on marrying someone who is unsuitable to your status, the object of your affection has disappeared into thin air?”
Lindenstein nodded. “Yes.” He pulled at his hair. “What am I to do? I can’t sleep at night for worry of what terrible ills might befall her. The myriad dangers she might find herself in are too terrible to contemplate.”
“That is indeed a problem,” Aldingbourne muttered.
“Julius.” Lindenstein clamped a hand over his arm. “I’m desperate. I can’t involve the officials to help because they will immediately sense something is afoot and all my plans will come to naught. If Metternich gets wind of this, it’s over. I need to keep this secret.”
Aldingbourne gave a curt nod. “That is understood. I can’t abide the man myself. He won’t learn a thing from me about anything.”
“Help me find her, Julius,” Lindenstein pleaded. “You must help me find her, before it’s too late.”