Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Metternich’s question landed like a viper’s strike, swift and unexpected. It caught her off-balance.
“I, uh…”
“Stop interrogating my bride, Metternich. I will not have it.” Hartenberg’s voice vibrated with quiet fury.
“What do you mean?” Her mind whirled. “Really, Prince, what is this? I am barely engaged and you expect me to be privy to a widow’s society? I pray, let us at least reach our wedding first. Poor Hartenberg.” She patted his hand. “Some people can’t wait to see you under the ground, it appears.”
His mouth twitched. “Indeed, it’s exhibiting rather poor taste, put that way. I am afraid if that is your aim, Prince, you shall be sorely disappointed, for I am most determined not to turn my wife into a widow any time soon.”
Metternich, suave as ever, was not thrown in the least. “I am of course relieved and gratified that you would not have heard of that notorious, secretive and dangerous organisation that has been infiltrating Vienna of late.”
“Like the Society of the Torch?” Evie had heard all about it. It was a secret society that propagated Jacobin ideals and was deemed revolutionary and dangerous.
But Metternich shook his head. “Nothing of the sort. It would be child’s play if it was. This one is even more secretive. It is organised by women. Which makes it twice as dangerous, if you ask me.”
“Ooh.” Evie leaned forward. “Do tell me more. Women you said? How clever of them.”
“You are definitely putting the wrong idea in her head, Metternich.” Georg’s dry voice held an undercurrent of amusement. “Before long, my bride will want to join them out of the simple fact that the society is run by women. Widows, no less. Must I be worried?”
Evie brightened. “Precisely. How well you know me by now! I say we shall deal famously together after all.”
Interestingly, the prince remained serious.
“It is no joking matter. That society has become a serious threat not only to our Congress, but to our nation as a whole. There are rumours circulating of them meeting here.” His gaze roved over the guests.
The tables in the coffee room were full, and the murmur of conversations filled the air.
It was a genial atmosphere that did not imply in the least that it could serve as a secret meeting place for a dangerous society.
“But as expected, it is, of course, merely rumour.” He paused. Then in a lower voice he asked, “Has the military discovered something?”
“Even if they did, I would not tell you, especially in a public place such as this. But to alleviate your worry, no, they have not.” Hartenberg leaned back, watching him closely.
“But what is it all about? Why are they dangerous? What do they do? What do they want? Why are you worried about them?”
“That is precisely the issue. We don’t exactly know how they operate, who they operate with, and what their ultimate aim is.”
“But they are widows, you said?” Evie was determined to get to the bottom of this.
“Correct. We presume they extort money through blackmail for their own devious means.”
Evie swallowed. So that was why they wanted her to obtain the list. The names on it must be people of consequence.
Julius being one of them. Though the question was whether their intent was to blackmail the people on the list, or to use the list itself to blackmail someone else who needed the information.
“I was merely thinking, you being a lady who frequents all the fashionable salons and coffee houses like this,” he waved a hand, “that you might have heard something about the matter. The net they have woven is more intricate than a spider’s web.
You will let me know if you ever hear anything about it, will you? ”
Evie nodded numbly.
“I do not believe they are as dangerous as you suggest,” Hartenberg said, “but nonetheless, something to keep an eye on. The War Council is currently grappling with bigger problems.”
“Ah yes. Outfitting the army, supplies, infrastructure. How long does it take again to have a memorandum approved in the Imperial War Council? The circulation of papers there is notorious. How long must a soldier wait for new boots while the Chancery clears the final signature? Months, I am told. By then, the peace will have turned to a new war.” Metternich allowed himself the faintest smile.
Hartenberg stiffened. “We are defending a nation while you engage in drawing-room espionage. There is, I insist, a difference.”
“I beg to disagree. Tell me, my dear Hartenberg,” Metternich said abruptly, switching to German. “If matters with Prussia were to take a darker turn, how quickly could you put men in the field?”
“That is a question I have been asked a great deal this week,” Hartenberg replied. “Usually by men who have no need to know the answer.”
“My sources indicate the matter may come to a head sooner than may be suspected.”
“Your sources, Prince, collect their intelligence in ladies’ drawing rooms. Forgive me if I reserve my alarm for informants who have seen a battlefield.”
“What should alarm you is how ready you are to fight former allies.”
“Then try harder, Prince. I am the one who must mobilise forces should your diplomacy fail.” The two men glared at each other.
Evie, who had understood every word of their sparring, kept her expression carefully vacant and stirred her coffee. “You two,” she said, after a sip, “clearly do not like each other. You look as though you are about to call each other out.”
“He has a reputation for doing that, indeed.” Hartenberg did not take his eyes off the prince. “One has heard of you calling out Tsar Alexander. Or was it the Tsar calling you out? Over a woman, as I recall.”
Evie snorted into her coffee and converted it hastily into a cough.
Metternich held the glare a moment longer, then averted his gaze and smiled suavely at Evie.
“It is quite true. Alas. Beautiful women are my Achilles’ heel.
” He rose, took her hand, and held her gaze as he kissed it.
“Lady Evangeline. Your future husband and I rarely see eye to eye, but I daresay that does not mean you and I cannot get along.”
Hartenberg growled.
“Ich empfehle mich.” And with those words, he left.
Evie looked after him. “I do not quite know what to make of that man. Charming, to be sure, but not quite honest, I think.” She turned to Hartenberg. “I would not tell him a thing, if I were you. He seems duplicitous.”
Hartenberg nodded solemnly. “Indeed. Who could have known? That is wise advice indeed.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You are mocking me.”
He sobered. “A little. But what was it you were about to say before we were rudely interrupted?”
Evie had indeed been about to ask him whether he had heard of the Widows’ Circle.
She was now glad Metternich had intervened.
Hartenberg would have pressed her on where she had heard of them, and sooner or later she would have let slip her encounter with the widow earlier that morning.
No, it was better this way. She had learned something of what she needed without having to lie for it.
The Widows’ Circle was dangerous. A profound sense of unease went through her.
What was she to do?
To guarantee Julius’s safety, she had agreed to play along, but it did not sit well with her at all.
Hartenberg was watching her face closely. He took her hand and played with her fingers, sending sparks up her arm and down her spine.
“You know that if you were ever in any trouble, you could trust me with it?” His voice was quiet. “Always.”
She looked up, surprised.
Granite man.
He was indeed like a rock of steadfastness in a storm.
Could she trust Hartenberg with it?
Something warred within her. On one hand, she wanted nothing more than to tell him.
On the other, caution held her back. He did not tread lightly in matters of espionage or disloyalty.
He believed spies should be shot for treason, he’d said so.
Should he ever discover Julius was involved, it would break not only their friendship, but the alliance of two nations.
No, it was better to keep quiet, at least until she discovered how much truth was behind this entire matter.
So she summoned a sunny smile. “Not at all. Now. Should we have another Apfelstrudel, or take a turn in the Prater?”