Chapter 18 #2
“Indeed, milady. I wholeheartedly agree.” Talleyrand’s eyes glinted appreciatively. Turning to Hartenberg, he said, “Your bride is not only beautiful, but she has wit and intelligence.”
Hartenberg looked Evie straight in the eyes, his face deadpan. “Indeed. There was never any doubt about that.”
“Liar,” Evie muttered under her breath.
With a lazy smile he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss on it.
Evie did not know, until then, that she was capable of blushing down to the soles of her feet. She was wearing gloves, for goodness’ sake. He was kissing her gloves.
And yet…she felt the warmth and softness of his lips through the fabric and all the way through her.
Talleyrand’s attention, however, had drifted back to the stage.
“Dear me.” He lifted his lorgnette. Metternich had just finished his speech, and a second gentleman was climbing the stairs to the podium, swathed in black from head to toe, black neckcloth and all. He exuded danger. He leaned forward to murmur something in Metternich’s ear.
“I wonder what he is doing here?”
“Who is he?”
“Heinrich von Dornhoff. They call him Metternich’s dog. A rather unsavoury and dangerous sort of person, more associated with the underworld than with polite society. How unfortunate that his uninvited appearance should cast a shadow over so charming an evening.” Talleyrand tutted.
The smashing of glass on the floor caused her to tear her gaze away from him.
“I am so terribly sorry,” Clara said, two hectic spots of red on her cheeks. The footmen came running to sweep it up.
Before Evie could wonder about it longer, the orchestra played another tune.
“I would ask you to dance, milady, but alas...” He knocked his cane against his ailing leg. Turning to Hartenberg, he said, “And you mustn’t dance with her again. It would be most unfashionable to dance more than one dance with one’s betrothed.”
“Alas, I have never counted myself to be one among the fashionable kind.” He held out his hand with a smile. “Evie, if you please.”
It was a minuet this time, which required a frequent switching of partners, so she no longer had the opportunity to converse with him.
Afterwards, she felt quite hot and unaccountably tired. She excused herself and withdrew to the retiring room.
She found, to her surprise, that the room was empty. There was only a maid there, who got up from her stool and curtsied when she entered.
Evie requested her to pour some water in a basin to wash her hands.
Her face looked pale in the mirror. She pulled her lips to a smile, which did not reach her eyes.
“How silly of you,” she muttered to herself, as she stared into the mirror, “how unforgivably silly of you…” to fall in love with the man you are about to marry.
Particularly when he’d said, more than once, that he did not believe in love.
Was she completely addle-brained?
Did she have windmills in her upper storey? In her heart, more likely. There it went again: making that irregular little skip every time she but thought of him.
“Heaven help me,” she groaned.
“Lady Evangeline?” a musical voice said behind her.
Evie froze when she saw the image in the mirror of the woman who stood behind her.
The lady in black.
“The Black Widow,” she whispered. She turned slowly.
The woman was standing in front of the door.
There was no sign of the maid.
“I have come to congratulate you on your betrothal,” the Baroness said smoothly. “Of course it came as no surprise and we have been expecting it.” She inclined her head. “Felicitations.”
The woman took several steps into the room and folded her hands.
She was swathed in black from head to toe, tall, lithe, a veil covering half her face.
And even her gloves were black. It was like she’d emerged from the shadows, a supernatural being.
“I have come for your answer to what we discussed. What is your decision?”
“I wasn’t aware that I had any choice in this matter.” Evie’s voice hardened. “It sounded more like blackmail to me.”
“It is such an ugly word,” the woman said lightly. “Why don’t we say it is an invitation for you to support the cause of the widows?”
Evie laughed. “Your sense of sarcasm is admirable. You ask me to support the cause of widows on the occasion of my betrothal. Truly?”
She tilted her head to one side. “I must admit it is hardly tasteful. But look at who is assembled here: the entire elite of the congress. I cannot possibly ignore that, can I?”
Evie’s fingers cramped around her silken dress. How on earth was she to get out of this fix?
“What if Hartenberg does not have the list?”
“Then come up with intelligence that is of equal weight.”
Evie’s head began to spin. This was more than mere drawing-room espionage. This was espionage that dealt with military intelligence. This was the kind of espionage that could land one in front of the war tribunal.
Evie was not a spy. Betraying people went against every one of her core principles.
“And if I decide not to help you, as you put it?”
“Then the Wiener Morgenblatt will print, in tomorrow’s morning edition, that the Duke of Aldingbourne, esteemed member of the British delegation, has been playing a double game with His Majesty’s allies.
That certain papers from the British dispatch box have found their way to interested parties.
The article goes to press in one hour.” She pulled out a pocket watch and consulted it without haste.
A chill trickled down Evie’s spine. “You have no proof,” she stammered. “My brother would never do such a thing.”
“Would he not?” The voice was calm. “A duke of the British realm, branded a traitor in a foreign capital while the congress is still sitting. The word need only be printed once, Lady Evangeline. After that, no refutation in the world will quite scrub off the disgrace not only to his name, but to the British nation as a whole. His Majesty’s Government would have no choice but to recall him. ”
Evie tried to see past the veil that hung over her face, but she could only see the woman’s lips, firmly pressed together. There was no compromise there. If she did not do as the woman demanded, her brother would be framed as a traitor. A queasy feeling spread in her stomach.
She clenched her fists. “I have no experience with espionage. How exactly do you suggest I obtain the information? I can hardly break into the Imperial War Council at night to search for a list that might not be there in the first place. Hartenberg might not have it, either.” If the list she was after was the one she’d found at the inn, she could say with a certain measure of certainty that it now was cinders and ashes.
The lips curved into a smile. “You are in the best position to obtain what we need. We believe Hartenberg might have been able to obtain a second copy of the list. He has not taken it to the War Council. Where else would he keep such sensitive information but in his own safe, in his study, in his private residence?”
Evie blanched. “You want me to break into his study and rummage around there?” She shook her head so wildly, her curls flew. “That’s impossible.”
She smiled again, as if expecting such a reaction. “Nothing is impossible, Lady Evangeline. Especially for a resourceful woman as you are. Bring the result of your quest to Dehne’s. You have one week.”