Chapter 5 #3
He picked up her plate, dropped her trout on his, and transferred his potatoes onto hers. Then he returned the plate to her. “There you are. You eat the potatoes, I eat the fish, and we both shall be content. Yes?”
She looked at him, blinking. She gingerly pierced one potato with her fork, inspecting it.
“It won’t attack you. I promise,” Georg said gently. “And if it does, I shall, most heroically, defend you. It is what we soldiers do.”
She sniffed. Then she nibbled at it carefully. As if deciding it was harmless, she ate a bit more, the entire forkful. Finally she pulled the plate towards her and dug in as if starving.
Georg watched, shaking his head.
For a good few minutes, there was blessed silence, and he dug into his own food.
After she’d cleared the plate, she took a tentative sip from her beer mug, and predictably, spluttered, coughed and pulled a face.
Georg repressed a smirk. He lifted a finger and ordered some tea for her, which the innkeeper promptly brought.
She poured in milk and three heaped spoonfuls of sugar, and stirred.
“Thank you.”
He gave a curt nod.
She set her spoon aside, as if reaching a resolution. “We are on the way to visit Lady Evangeline’s friend.”
He leaned forward. “Who?”
“Miss Philippa Cranwell.”
He ran the name through the infinite recesses of his mind, but it did not ring a bell. Whoever she was, he’d never heard of her. Although Cranwell, Cranwell… Wasn’t there some professor bearing that name?
He cocked an eyebrow. “An Englishwoman?”
She inclined her head and ran a finger around the tip of her spoon. “Indeed. She is Lady Evie’s childhood friend. Lady Evie had a sudden urge to visit her.”
“And how long have you been Lady Evie’s companion?”
“For about two years. Her brother hired me because Lady Evie was lonely.”
Hm. So Lady Evie was lonely. Was her time not sufficiently filled up with balls, soirees and the other nonsense young ladies were wont to spend their time with?
“Your parents?”
“My parents passed away when I was younger. I earn my living by being Lady Evie’s companion.”
“Back to this other woman. Miss Cranwell. Where exactly does she live?”
“Are you, perchance, interrogating me?” she asked sweetly.
Devil take him, he was. He was used to interacting more with officers, snapping orders and questions at them, than with civilians. It was difficult to break this habit.
“Miss Cranwell lives somewhere in Tyrol,” she eventually offered.
“Tyrol!” He stilled. “I had assumed she was travelling somewhere closer.” Why would Lady Evie undertake such a cumbersome journey when her presence was required in Vienna?
And without a male escort? She would never make it back to the soiree hosted by the British Embassy in a fortnight.
He knew for certain she was to attend, because Julius had chosen that event to formally announce their engagement.
His instincts told him something was not right.
He looked at her with narrowed eyes. “Lady Evangeline is travelling to Tyrol to visit a friend on the eve of the congress?”
She returned his gaze innocently. “Indeed.”
“And her brother allowed that?”
“Why not? The duke is so busy he doesn’t care what his sister is up to.”
Julius was certainly busy, but he doubted he was indifferent to his sister’s antics.
“Still. Tyrol, now, of all times. How could he not be aware of it?” He shrugged. “I shall write to him—”
“No!”
“No?” He lifted a supercilious eyebrow.
She shook her head wildly. “No. I mean, you can’t. Absolutely not. Under no circumstances. I won’t allow it. I mean, please do not write to him.” She wrung her hands.
He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, giving her a level stare. “Why?”
She ran a tongue over her lips. “What do you mean, why?”
“Miss Honeywell. Are we playing that game again?” He sighed. She was stalling, playing for time.
“Surely you must understand that Aldingbourne must be informed if his sister has fallen ill,” he reasoned. “Particularly if it’s the measles.”
She bit on her lower lip. “I shall inform him, of course. Eventually. I don’t see why you must do it. But we would be most grateful if you were to not write to Aldingbourne on your own.”
Now it was his turn to say, “Why?”
She fiddled with her little teaspoon. “He is not only a very busy man, but he…the thing is, he…”
“Yes?”
She ran a tongue over her lip. “You see. He might not exactly have been informed of the particulars regarding Lady Evangeline’s trip.”
It took him a moment to comprehend what she was saying. “What do you mean to say? He does not know you are travelling to Tyrol?”
“Well. No. Not exactly. He has been informed that Lady Evie is visiting a childhood friend.”
“Well, as you said.” He shook his head, clearly bemused. “So where is the problem?”
She took a big breath. “The problem is that it is not true. She is running away.” She looked earnestly at him. “You must not breathe a word to anyone about it.”
“Teufel nochmal. What on earth is she running away from?”
“Not what.” She looked at him pointedly from underneath her lashes. “Who.”
It took him a moment to register who, precisely, she meant.
He fell back into his seat, robbed of speech.