Authors: Teresa Grant
Tags: #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Mystery, #Historical, #Romance, #Historical Romance, #Mystery & Suspense
Vienna Waltz (8 page)
Blackwell cast a sharp, sideways glance at his young cousin. “Who was wearing a greatcoat?”
Malcolm kept his gaze on the coals glowing in the stove. “Tsar Alexander and Prince Metternich.”
Blackwell sucked in and released a breath. “It seems a bit redundant to tell you to go carefully. But tangling with royalty entails risks even you don’t normally run, lad.”
“When one is investigating a murder, the lovers of the victim are obvious suspects. Of course, so is the person who discovers the body, which doesn’t put me in a very favorable position. I suspect Metternich would have taken me into custody last night if Suzanne hadn’t been there to say we’d arrived at the Palm Palace together.”
Blackwell noted that Malcolm didn’t actually say he and Suzanne had arrived together but made no comment on it. He stretched his legs out toward the warmth of the stove. “How’s Suzanne taken it?”
“Intrepid as always. She’s insisting on helping me.”
“You’re a wise man to agree.” Blackwell glanced sideways at Malcolm, his distaste for interfering warring with the instincts of affection. “I suspect this is far harder on Suzanne than she’s letting you see.”
Malcolm started to speak, drew a rough breath, then at last said, “Suzanne and I’ve found our way to a marriage that works after a fashion. It’s a delicate balance. We’re both trying to keep it that way.”
“Delicate balances have a way of tumbling about one’s ears.” Blackwell studied Malcolm’s face, seeing the awkward, bright-eyed boy with the all-too-keen understanding, overlaid by the scars of the man he had become. “Believe me, I know how difficult and potentially disastrous emotional entanglements can be. God knows I’ve always steered well clear of them myself. But you’ve gone this far.”
“And I should have the guts to see it through?” Malcolm turned his gaze back to the red-orange glow of the coals. “I look at Fitzwilliam Vaughn and Eithne sometimes. Five years married and still living in each other’s pockets. I’d roll my eyes, save that I’m struck by the wonder of being so sure of another person. But then Fitz has a wonderful capacity for believing in things.”
“Vaughn’s an idealist.”
“Fitz is as frustrated by our government’s resistance to reform as I am. But instead of just complaining over the port, he wants to stand for Parliament and try to do something about it. He actually believes he can succeed. And I have just enough of my own ideals left to envy him his certainty.”
“You’re more of an idealist than you let on, Malcolm. Even to yourself.”
Malcolm shook his head. “Believe me, Geoff, I see the world clearly enough. Some truths are sadly inescapable.”
“Such as?”
The breath Malcolm drew was like that of a man having a bullet removed without the aid of laudanum. “It was probably a mistake for me to marry Suzanne. But I’ll do my best not to let her suffer for it.”
8
D
orothée de Talleyrand-Périgord turned on the dais in the fitting room at the modiste’s so the seamstress could continue pinning the hem of her white satin gown. “You’d think the war would have inured us to brutality. But this is worse somehow.”
orothée de Talleyrand-Périgord turned on the dais in the fitting room at the modiste’s so the seamstress could continue pinning the hem of her white satin gown. “You’d think the war would have inured us to brutality. But this is worse somehow.”
Suzanne, seated on a cushioned sofa, looked up from Colin, whom she was bouncing in her lap, and studied her friend. Dorothée’s skin was very pale beneath a delicate wash of rouge, but then she was always pale, even without the benefit of a shock. “You must have known Princess Tatiana in Paris.”
Dorothée’s eyes, so dark a blue they appeared almost black, clouded with memories. “I wouldn’t have called her a friend precisely, but we moved in the same circles. My uncle—Talleyrand—had known her for years.” There was nothing in Dorothée’s tone or expression to indicate she knew Tatiana had been an agent in the employ of her uncle by marriage. But then, though she was only one-and-twenty, Dorothée, like Suzanne herself, was no stranger to the game of diplomatic intrigue. She frequently helped Talleyrand draft letters and dispatches.
“And Princess Tatiana would stand out in any circles.” Suzanne detached her garnet beads from Colin’s grip and reached into the baby carriage for his rattle.
Dorothée smiled down at Colin. “I do miss my own boys, though I know my mother is taking good care of them.” She turned her gaze back to Suzanne. “I don’t know that I ever had a proper conversation with Princess Tatiana. I was dreadfully inclined to be shy in company when I first came to Paris as Edmond’s bride. Well, I still am.”
“You hide it well,” Suzanne said. Dorothée was the picture of sophisticated elegance, from her fashionably cropped hair to her perfectly groomed brows. A far cry from the scrawny, uncertain girl she described herself as having been a few years ago.
“I’ve learned to be good at hiding a number of things.” Dorothée glanced down as the seamstress reached for a new paper of pins, but she went on speaking as though the girl weren’t there. As the semiroyal daughter of the Duke of Courland, she was used to playing out her life in the presence of servants.
Courland, a duchy on the Baltic, had nominally paid fealty to Poland, when Poland existed as a separate country, and now was a satellite of Russia. Dorothée’s family had vast estates that stretched to Sagan in Silesia, only a day’s journey from Berlin. Her childhood reminiscences sounded like life at court, with lavish house parties, musicians and singers brought in to entertain, and a resident troupe of actors. She and her sisters had had dowries that could support a small country.
“I remember the first time I met Princess Tatiana,” Dorothée continued. “A ball at my uncle’s house shortly after I came to Paris. She was wearing a white satin gown with a silver net scarf that somehow turned all the pastel gowns and dark coats and gilded uniforms into a background to set her off. She seemed to have a cluster of gentlemen about her wherever she moved. The way she held her fan was almost a language in itself.”
Suzanne picked up the chased-silver rattle Colin had dropped on the floor and returned it to her son. “I noticed that in Vienna. A simple flick of her fan could call any gentleman to her side.” Including Malcolm on more than one occasion.
“She had a wonderful laugh. People were always telling me I didn’t laugh enough in those days.” Dorothée grimaced.
“I’m sorry, madame,” the seamstress said.
“It wasn’t you.” Dorothée smiled at the girl. She might be used to playing out her life in front of servants, but she had a kind heart.
The seamstress finished pinning the gown and left to get the black velvet overdress. Dorothée stepped off the dais, carefully lifting her skirts, stiff with pins. She looked down at the white satin gown. “It does seem dreadfully frivolous to be thinking about a medieval pageant in the midst of all this.”
“Pageantry is the stuff of the Congress,” Suzanne said. The Carrousel, a re-creation of a medieval tournament, was to take place the day after tomorrow. For weeks, it had been the talk of Vienna, taking equal place with the Saxon question, the future of Poland, and the sensational end of Metternich’s love affair with the Duchess of Sagan. At the request of the Festivals Committee, Dorothée had taken a leading role in organizing it.
Dorothée moved a small table, which held a chocolate service, beside the sofa. “I couldn’t have done it without you. I’m so glad you agreed to help.”
“It’s a great honor.” Suzanne was the only British lady asked to be one of the
belles d’amour
at the tournament.
belles d’amour
at the tournament.
“Spoken like a diplomat’s wife.” Dorothée picked up a silver-rimmed cup and took a sip of chocolate. “When I heard about Princess Tatiana, I wondered if we should cancel the Carrousel.”
“Prince Metternich didn’t cancel his masked ball this evening.” Which was a good thing, Suzanne thought, steadying Colin before he could slip off the sofa. Social events afforded the best opportunities for investigation.
“And the funeral’s to be tomorrow. Do you know, when I heard that, my first thought was ‘thank goodness it isn’t the day of the Carrousel.’ Then I thought how horrid I was being to even consider the Carrousel.”
“I suspect Tsar Alexander wanted to get it over with as quickly and quietly as possible. So it doesn’t become a public spectacle.” Admission to the funeral would be by invitation. Would Malcolm be able to attend? Would she? Oddly, she didn’t want him to have to go through it alone, though she might be the last person he’d want at his side in such circumstances.
Dorothée wiped a trace of chocolate from the eggshell porcelain of her cup. “Princess Tatiana was everything I’m not. So sure of herself, so ready with the right thing to say. Edmond found her charming, of course.”
It was no secret that Dorothée’s marriage to Edmond de Talleyrand-Périgord was not a happy one. Dorothée loved books. Edmond, a cavalry officer, was more likely to be found with his horses or at the gaming tables. Or with his mistresses.
“I’m sorry,” Suzanne said.
Dorothée set down her chocolate cup. “It’s not as though she took him from me. It’s not as though he was ever mine to be taken. Or that I ever wanted to keep him. Ours isn’t a marriage, it’s an alliance. The one good thing I got out of it is my children.” She looked down at Colin again. He smiled up at her and held out the rattle.
“I think you’ve made a conquest,” Suzanne said.
“How splendid.” Dorothée squeezed Colin’s hand, accepted the rattle from him with great ceremony, and returned it to the sofa. “Princess Tatiana could discuss horses and cards with Edmond with every appearance of interest,” she said, her gaze still on Colin, “though I daresay they bored her to tears as much as they do me. And then she could dissect Bonaparte’s latest maneuver with my uncle or analyze poetry with young Jamie Wilton.”
Colin wriggled forward again. “Down,” he said, with all the authority Malcolm could muster when he chose to do so.
Suzanne lifted her son to the floor. Colin toddled over to Dorothée, who twitched her skirts out of his way and gave him a biscuit from a plate on the table. “Princess Tatiana dined with us only last week. Good God, it’s hard to believe—”
“It takes a while for the reality to sink in.”
Colin took a bite of biscuit and toddled over to explore the dais. “I find myself dwelling on the most trivial things,” Dorothée said.
“That dinner party was one of the challenges I’m learning to surmount as a diplomatic hostess. My sister was also there, and she and Princess Tatiana don’t—didn’t—like each other very well.”
“The duchess?” Everyone at the Congress seemed to be interconnected. Wilhelmine of Sagan, Metternich’s adored mistress until recently, was the eldest of Dorothée’s three sisters. “Because of Prince Metternich?”
“In part, perhaps. Though in truth I always thought Metternich was more besotted with Wilhelmine than she with him, even when their affair was at its height. And now that it’s ended, I know she finds his continued attentions distressing. Willie is much more like Princess Tatiana than I am. They both know how to command a room. They both can fascinate men with a glance, and they enjoy wielding that power. How could they not be rivals? The last time I saw Princess Tatiana was at Willie’s two days ago, and they were hardly—”
The sound of Colin plopping down on the dais punctuated the stillness.
“What?” Suzanne asked.
Dorothée frowned. “When I arrived they were quarreling.”
“About what?”
“I’m not sure.” Dorothée fingered a fold of her satin skirt. “I called on Willie on my way home from a drive in the Prater. I told the footman there was no need to announce me. I could hear Willie saying something about ‘exorbitant’ through the salon door. I knocked quickly, so they’d know they were being overheard. When I went into the salon, I found Princess Tatiana there as well. It was clear from their expressions that it hadn’t been a congenial discussion.”
Dorothée cast a sidelong glance at Suzanne. Realizing the possible implications of her sister having recently quarreled with a woman who had then been murdered. Of course, Dorothée didn’t know Suzanne was investigating Princess Tatiana’s murder.
“I daresay it was something trivial,” Suzanne said. “Did you get any sense of what the quarrel was about?”
Dorothée shook her head. “I thought about asking Willie later, but we’ve never been the sort of sisters to indulge in confidences. She’s twelve years my senior. In truth, we’ve seen more of each other at the Congress than we have in years.” She picked up her cup of chocolate and took another sip. “Willie can be a bit of a cynic. I suppose that’s what two marriages that end in divorce will do for you. And neither marriage was any more successful than my own. Less, I suppose, since I’m still married, at least in name. We Courlands don’t have a great deal of success at finding marital bliss. Of course there seem to be so many considerations other than bliss in choosing a marriage partner.”
“Particularly in a family such as yours.”
Dorothée gave a twisted smile. “I used to think Paris was a hotbed of scandal, but I swear Vienna is worse. It’s you British who take your wedding vows seriously.”
For a moment, Suzanne could hear the droning voice of the clergyman in the airless embassy sitting room in which she and Malcolm had been married, and then Malcolm’s steady voice as he repeated his vows. “I’m only British by marriage,” she said, her voice huskier than she would have liked. “But I think often it’s less a case of taking the vows more seriously than of people being more discreet about breaking them.”
“Oh, Suzanne. Don’t let Vienna turn you into a cynic.”
Suzanne looked down at her son. He had picked up a tape measure and was examining it with rapt attention. “I don’t think Vienna has made me anything I wasn’t already.”
“You’re fortunate in your husband,
chérie
.”
chérie
.”
“Malcolm is a very good man.” Better, perhaps, than she deserved.
Dorothée shot a quick look at her. “Suzanne—oh dear, I wasn’t sure if I should speak, but—Of course I can’t help but have heard the rumors about Malcolm and—” She colored beneath her rouge.
“About Malcolm and Princess Tatiana,” Suzanne finished for her in a steady voice. “The rumors have been all over Vienna. Gossip is the currency of diplomatic society. I’ve got quite good at ignoring it.”
“Yes, but I can guess how painful the rumors must be, however sure you are of your husband. The thing is, in Malcolm’s case, I’m quite sure the rumors aren’t true.”
Colin had found a pin on the dais. Suzanne hurried over and snatched it from his fingers before he could stick himself. “That’s very kind of you, Doro, but—”
“No, listen. One can’t seem to take two steps in Vienna without tumbling into some sort of scandal. Last week at the Zichys’ reception I went out into the garden for some air. The rooms get so dreadfully hot it might be July, not November. I wandered down one of the gravel paths to have a few moments to myself. I heard—Sounds. From the shrubbery. Unmistakable sounds.”
Suzanne gave Colin a length of ivory ribbon in place of the pin. “I’ve stumbled on the same more than once since we’ve come to Vienna.”
“I won’t even mention what I’ve found in some of our anterooms after we give a ball.” Dorothée shuddered. “In any case, I started to retreat, but then I heard footsteps, as though the couple were moving my way. I ducked behind a statue to avoid an encounter that could only embarrass them more than me. Princess Tatiana emerged from the shrubbery a few moments later. Shortly after, she was followed. By Lord Fitzwilliam Vaughn.”
The pin tumbled from Suzanne’s fingers.
“Fitz?”
“Fitz?”
“You see?” Dorothée said. “I don’t think Princess Tatiana would have
two
lovers in the British delegation.”
two
lovers in the British delegation.”
Suzanne stared at her friend, seeing Fitz touch Eithne’s cheek in the embassy breakfast parlor only that morning.
Dorothée looked back at her, eyes filled with concern. Doro was a clever woman. She might well have meant to soothe Suzanne’s fears about Malcolm and Princess Tatiana. But she had also neatly diverted Suzanne’s attention from her earlier revelation about her sister’s quarrel with Princess Tatiana.
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