Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Georg found himself ever so faintly, annoyingly, unaccountably displeased with his childhood bosom friend, Julius.
That was a rare thing, indeed, for hitherto he’d considered their friendship closer than anything he’d ever experienced with anyone, with the exception of his relationship to his cousin Klemens, who was also the Archduke of Austria.
The three of them shared a blood bond that they’d honoured with a sense of loyalty and trust towards each other that outdid any marriage vow.
But there was more to it. Julius had just informed him that his engagement to his sister was over, because she wished it so.
Georg drummed his fingernails on the table as he watched Julius pour another whiskey from the decanter.
Why did his thoughts keep traipsing back to her, and why did that disquiet him?
How she tilted her head when she listened to him, with eyebrows drawn together earnestly, yet an imp lurking in those eyes of hers.
She had endurance, that one. When it came to it, she could march faster and farther than any of his soldiers.
When they’d gone hunting, even Schneider had been gasping, while she’d climbed on cheerfully.
Like a real trooper. She could shoot as well as any of his soldiers, if not better.
She also had a terrible sense of humour.
His lips twitched as he remembered how she’d crafted a circlet of flowers for him and placed it on his head as he slept. She’d pretended to be someone else and no doubt revelled in the enjoyment of making a fool of him. For a fool, no doubt, he’d been. A thousand-fold.
He should feel relief at being freed from this union, which, admittedly, he’d only got into because Julius had asked him to.
But now that he was to be freed from it, he felt a pronounced sense of displeasure. The truth was that the union had been convenient to him. It had freed him from the necessity of looking around for a woman. No need to go a-courting anyone if he already had a bride, was there?
Surely now that he was free again, they would come pestering him.
Georg shuddered.
Julius lifted an eyebrow inquisitively and handed him the whiskey glass.
Georg took it, even though he hated the stuff.
Just as he held the glass to his lips, the door crashed open, and a whirlwind entered.
The men jumped up.
“Julius, you will never imagine what happened. I was out with Lady Castlereagh this morning, out of duty, mind you, a patriotic act of duty and filial obligation, and not least to please you because you said Lord Castlereagh told you to tell me to entertain his wife, though for the life of me I fail to understand why he is so incapable of entertaining her himself? Why did you condemn me to such a fate? Where was I? Oh yes. So I was out with Lady Castlereagh, and the woman insists on entering every single shop on the Graben. And I pity-bought at least four bonnets! Because she inconvenienced all the shopkeepers who had to ignore all the other customers, because, you know,” she made a sweeping gesture, “she is Lady Castlereagh, you know! And I gather Castlereagh is somewhat of an important person.” She sniffed.
“Indeed,” Julius put in faintly.
“And then she dragged me from one confiserie to another.” She turned to Georg, not at all surprised to see him there. He sat with his hand frozen on his glass, astounded by her verbal deluge. “Guess how many confiseries she made me visit?”
He lowered his glass and cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t know. Three?”
“Four!” Evie said triumphantly. “Four.” She dropped into the sofa, exhausted, fanning herself.
She was excessively pretty in a purple walking dress, trimmed with mink, with frogging in the front, no doubt to imitate a military style, which was currently all the rage.
It hugged her little, snug figure to perfection.
Her curls danced about her face, her cheeks were flushed, her lips smiling up at him, eyes dancing merrily, and Georg found the whole picture thoroughly inconvenient.
He was considerably annoyed with himself at the onslaught of contradictory emotions that rushed through his system.
There was relief that she had arrived safely; outrage for having run away from him without saying goodbye; grudging admiration for her pluck and courage; and the irresistible desire to draw her against him in a fierce hug, to hold her tight, safe, and to never let her go.
His hand shook at this utterly shocking realisation.
Then, before he could blink, she reached out, snapped the glass from his hands and drank it up in one fell swoop.
She closed her eyes, swallowed bravely, and thumped her fist against her chest.
“I needed that.” A faint hiccup escaped her.
“Evie!” her exasperated brother exclaimed.
“What? He wasn’t going to drink it anyhow.” She set the glass down on the table with a clink.
“Evie.” That sounded more like a groan.
“What I actually came here to say was this.” She looked at both men intently. “Lady Castlereagh. Given her excessively odd behaviour, wouldn’t it make sense to deduce she might be a spy?”
“A spy?” Georg echoed, stunned. “Lady Castlereagh?”
Julius merely hid his face in his hands.
A steep frown appeared on her face. “It isn’t out of this world. Metternich has been approaching her as well, I am certain.”
“What do you mean, as well?” Georg asked cautiously.
Evie waved a hand. “Well. You know. He’s been trying his best to recruit spies. He asked me as well the day after we arrived in Vienna. That man wastes no time.”
Georg marvelled at his own stupidity. How could he have, even for a second, mistaken this lively, intelligent, shrewd, resourceful young woman as a simpering porcelain poppet without brains?
Really, he deserved to be shot for this painful lack of discernment.
But it wasn’t the first time he’d thought that, was it?
She looked him straight in his eyes. “How would you feel if I were to spy on you?”
Georg choked, and he wasn’t even drinking his whiskey.
“That’s enough, Evie.” Julius’s hand slapped on the table, but it left Evie quite unimpressed. “No talk of spies and espionage, and don’t you dare whisper what you just suggested about Lady Castlereagh outside of these four walls.” Julius’s voice was ice-cold with sternness.
Any lesser man would have shaken with fear. But not Lady Evie, no. She was not intimidated in the least.
She lifted her glass. “Can I have more of this?”
Her brother exhaled in frustration.
“And pour him another one, too. The poor man needs it, you know.” Her foot tapped nervously on the carpet, avoiding his eyes. “Because until now, he had no idea I am really myself, you know.”
“What do you mean?” Julius asked.
“Until now, he believed me to be Miss Honeywell.” She turned to face him and took a big breath.
“I sincerely apologise for having deceived you so grossly and for having pretended to be Miss Honeywell. I should have told you earlier, but I confess I was too much of a coward. Afterwards, I did not know how to get out of it, so I just decided it was more convenient for me to remain her for the time being.” She waved at hand at herself.
“But now you can obviously see that I am not her. So there.”
Her confession was so entirely unexpected, Georg was entirely out of his depths.
But before he could open his mouth for a retort, she turned to her brother.
“There, Julius. I apologised prettily, did I not? Hartenberg and I started off a bit on the wrong foot but I daresay now that I have put things to right and cleared up this misunderstanding, everything is right and dandy.” She beamed at him.
Julius appeared to be entirely unsurprised by her confession. “One moment. You hoodwinked him into thinking you are Miss Honeywell?”
Her eyes studied the stucco on the ceiling. “Yes, well. It just happened.”
Georg cleared his throat. “The mistake was entirely on my side, at least initially. Although I believe I understand why you would have chosen not to reveal your identity afterwards.”
Her eyes grew round. “You do?”
“Yes. Well.” He frowned. “I suppose circumstances were somewhat, err, peculiar.”
She nodded emphatically. “Indeed. Very peculiar.”
His gaze bore into hers. She looked back steadily, without blinking.
“Next time, Lady Evie, do me the courtesy of telling me to my face instead of running away. I have spent the past few days chasing you from one inn to another and inspecting every broken-down carriage between here and Wolfsthal. I had rather hoped to be spared that particular form of entertainment.”
She flushed. “I was rather pressed for time to arrive here for—for—for the engagement party, of course!” She looked at him earnestly.
“It is to take place in a few days’ time at the Embassy, if I recall correctly.
You kept mentioning that it was of utmost importance to be in Vienna in a timely fashion. ”
He had said no such thing. “So I have, for how terrible would it be if we were to miss our own engagement, hm?”
Julius looked back and forth between the two, somewhat at a loss.
“Now what’s it to be? This morning you informed me, most emphatically too, I may add, that the betrothal was off.
And now you claim your antics of the past few days were due to the fact that you could not miss the engagement party.
I appear to have laboured under a misapprehension. ”