Vienna Dawn (The Imperial Season Book 3)

by Mary Lancaster

  Wahrschein elbowed his way through to Etienne’s shoulder, and Trelawny edged closer to hear their murmured exchange.

  “Well?” Wahrschein began. “How does it go?”

  “Very well,” Etienne murmured. “Tomorrow night. From sunset.”

  “Tomorrow?” Wahrschein sounded dismayed. “That’s too quick!”

  “Not for me. If you can’t keep up, pay up.”

  “I’ll be there,” Wahrschein insisted. “And before you, too. It will be you who pays up.”

  Etienne didn’t answer, but Trelawny was sure he smiled.

  Discontentedly, Trelawny moved away from the group and found himself a brandy which he knocked back in one. The whole thing was distasteful. Worse, he was fairly sure what wager the two men had made and who it involved. Wahrschein’s pursuit of Anastasia gave it away. They were betting on who could ruin a supposedly virtuous woman first, with the deed to be done by midnight tomorrow night.

  Dunya clearly loved her sister, whatever their quarrels, and Trelawny refused to allow her to be hurt more than was unavoidable now. What worried him more was who Etienne had involved.

  Up until her mother’s ball, Dunya would have been putty in his hands. But he’d played his hand badly there and Trelawny had reason to hope that her head would now rule her heart as far as Etienne was concerned. On the other hand, without all the facts, she could still imagine she was in control and extracting some kind of revenge for Etienne’s faithlessness…

  Or it could be Jane Reid. Vienna had certainly speculated on his chances of winning the heiress away from Fawcett. And if he compromised her, she would be bound to marry him as the only alternative to social ruin. Etienne could only marry money. Everyone said so. He himself had told Dunya the same thing and yet he looked at her like the cat licking its lips for cream. So, was he saving Jane for later? Or Dunya?

  And how did any of this fit in with Ferrand? He would have thought there was no connection, except that he’d seen them together, and the timing of this wager was too soon, almost as if had become more urgent because of other factors. Like whatever it was Ferrand was here to do.

  Did it involve a necessary escape? Was Ferrand here to kill someone in Vienna and then escape? If so, why would Etienne need to flee with him?

  “Captain Trelawny.” It was Etienne, who’d come up beside him unnoticed. He sounded vaguely surprised. “I didn’t know you had a love of the tables.”

  “I don’t. I was just curious.”

  “Then how do you find our little club?”

  “More salubrious than the last one I was in.”

  “I’ll pass your accolade to the management,” Etienne said in tones of amusement. “Since you’re here, how about a game?”

  “No, I thank you. I was just leaving.”

  “Come, Captain,” Etienne cajoled gently, “people will think you are afraid to take me on.”

  Trelawny met his gaze. There was a definite challenge there but it was chiefly mockery. Clearly, he imagined Trelawny was fair if easy game. Interesting. He guessed Dunya’s engagement rankled.

  “People can be so foolish,” Trelawny said.

  Etienne narrowed his eyes, as though looking for the insult. Then he laughed. “Come, Captain. I understand you’re not so flush and perhaps can’t afford the high stakes of the games, so we’ll have a private game. I’ll play you for…” He leaned forward and murmured, “Dunya Savarina.”

  Any lingering doubts Trelawny might have harbored—that underneath his worldly exterior, Etienne genuinely loved Dunya—vanished in that instant. Fury curled Trelawny’s fingers into a fist, but it was contempt that won.

  Trelawny laughed in the Frenchman’s face. “Monsieur, a thousand card games couldn’t win you that lady. Or any other.”

  “You think her love for you is so strong?” Etienne mocked.

  “No. I merely credit her with free will and common sense,” Trelawny retorted.

  This time, Etienne laughed, as though genuinely amused. “And you really think she chose you? My dear sir, she grabbed anyone, just to get to me.”

  Although both men had spoken quietly up until now, they were nevertheless attracting more attention than Trelawny wanted. Suddenly, you could cut the tension with a knife. And he needed to divert the dispute away from Dunya before the incident became a vulgar on-dit for society’s amusement.

  “You’re delusional,” Trelawny said with all his considerable contempt. He didn’t trouble to lower his voice. “A self-important popinjay.”

  Shocked laughter rippled around the room. In a risky strategy, Trelawny turned his back and saw that Wahrschein was pushing his way through toward him.

  “Sir, I think you meant to insult me,” Etienne drawled. Mockery almost dripped from his voice.

  “No, sir,” Trelawny replied, turning back to face him. “I did insult you.”

  For the first time, Etienne revealed real annoyance. A faint flush had risen to cheek. “You only dare do so because I can’t challenge you!”

  “Why is that?” Trelawny goaded. “Because you lack the courage?”

  “Because you lack an arm!”

  The room was now completely silent. A small, empty space had developed around the two men. They undoubtedly had everyone’s attention, even those in deep play at the nearby tables. And it seemed Etienne just couldn’t resist playing to the audience.

  “You are safe from me because the men I fight have two arms,” he said distinctly. “You have only one.”

  “Don’t let that concern you,” Trelawny said at once. He’d had enough.

  He grasped the front of Etienne’s coat and hauled the Frenchman toward him. Etienne’s arms swung up from instinct, but Trelawny simply kicked his feet from under him and threw him several feet across the room. People scattered out of the way. A waiter dropped a tray of glasses. “I only need one.”

  Through the cries of shock and several titters of excited laughter, Trelawny heard the charging movement behind him. He thrust his elbow back hard, felt the sharp connection even as the cry of pain rent the room.

  Trelawny spun around to see Wahrschein staggering backward, both hands clutching his chest.

  “That’s it!” Etienne screamed from the floor. “I demand satisfaction!”

  Trelawny merely curled his lip and walked out of the room. Half-expecting an attack from the doormen, a fight which he was less likely to win, he kept his wits about him. But a stout gentleman, presumably the owner, was frantically signaling his men to open the doors, and no one even tried to molest him. Trelawny remembered to thank them politely as he left.

  *

  Anastasia didn’t go riding the following morning. A little pale, but otherwise looking well, she and Nikolai already occupied the breakfast parlor when Dunya walked in. The silence was deafening.

  Although Dunya did her best to make conversation, even she could not last long in the face of relentless monosyllables. She left after one mouthful of roll and as much coffee as she could drink in a rush without scalding her mouth.

  Fortunately, Vanya and Lizzie arrived just as she was crossing the hall. They brought with them their entire entourage of children, Dog, and Misha.

  “Maybe you should take the dog to the kitchen,” Dunya suggested, thinking of her mother.

  “He’ll cause havoc down there,” Misha said. “I’ll take him for a walk.”

  “He’ll be good if we just sit him down in a room with us,” Georgiana insisted.

  “We’re not staying,” Vanya insisted. “Just wanted a quick word with Mother. We’re on our way to see Esther and Zelig’s new home in the woods.”

  “Why don’t you and Lizzie go in to see mother?” Dunya said, inspired. “The rest of us will go to my chamber and the children can help me with a new project of mine.” She grinned at the servant. “And Misha gets a rest and a cup of tea in the kitchen.”

  Everyone proved to be in favor of Dunya’s plans, so Dog and the children marched obediently into her bedchamber. Fortunately, Ma
ria was elsewhere about her duties.

  “What’s your project?” Michael asked, closing the door to prevent Dog’s escape.

  “Dressing up,” Dunya replied. “I want to be in disguise.”

  The children exchanged glances. Their eyes gleamed.

  “What kind of disguise?” Henrietta asked. “A veil to cover your face? Or something a little…more.”

  “More,” Dunya decided. “I want to be completely unrecognizable.”

  Georgiana rubbed her hands together. “As it happens, we have some experience in that area. Lizzie and Esther and Josephine—”

  “We’re not meant to mention Josephine,” Henrietta interrupted. “Apparently, she isn’t respectable for us to know, but she’s very nice, and an actress. She helped disguise us as old people so that we could go and see the Carrousel at the Hofburg.”

  “That sounds just the thing!” Dunya exclaimed.

  “The stage cosmetics,” Henrietta said is dismay. “We couldn’t have done it without those.”

  Georgiana rattled the satchel she carried across her shoulders and took out two jars.

  “Well done, Georgi!” Michael approved.

  Ten minutes later, Dunya gazed in utter admiration at an old woman in the glass. The girls had hitched up her dress and made her put on unmended stockings with holes. Then they’d wrapped her in a blanket from her bed, tied in the middle with Michael’s belt, so that her gown was hiked up to her calves and hidden. The blanket covering even had a hooded shape she could pull up over her head to hide her shining hair. Her face was unrecognizable. It seemed to be covered in cracks and wrinkles.

  She bent her shoulders and back, then said, “Bless you,” in a wavery voice.

  The girls were delighted. Michael, who’d been sent to the garden on a task, came back with a bundle of wooden branches and twigs, which Dog jumped off Dunya’s bed to investigate.

  “Best give him one,” Henrietta suggested. “He might leave the others alone.”

  Michael threw a stick across the room and the dog chased it happily.

  “Have you got an old shawl or something we can wrap the wood in?” he asked.

  “There’s a torn one,” Dunya said, rifling in the drawer. “It’s a bit fine, but we can dirty it with the wood!”

  “Boots,” Michael said. “Can you make one of the menservants give you theirs?”

  “I could, but they might tell my mother. Misha wouldn’t, but then he wouldn’t have anything to walk home in. I’ll just have to wear my own.”

  “It would be better if they didn’t fit you.”

  “Nikolai’s boots!” Dunya exclaimed, rushing to the door as the thought hit her. “Keep watch for me…”

  Since she suspected both Nikolai and Anastasia were in the drawing room with her mother and the other visitors, she crept along the hall to their empty bedchamber and hastily dragged out a pair of boots from his cupboard. The children collaborated to dirty them and remove the impressive shine, after which Dunya put them on and clumped about the room.

  “Perfect!” she pronounced. “You’re really clever!”

  A sharp knock sounded on the door. “Hoi!” came Vanya’s voice. “Brats! We’re leaving.”

  “What’s it for?” Michael whispered to Dunya. “Are you playing a trick on someone?”

  “Yes,” she whispered back. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

  “Grab Dog before you come out,” Vanya warned.

  Dunya hid behind the door. She wasn’t sure how he’d react. He might insist on coming along. Or he might forbid her to go and make things difficult.

  With Dog back on his leash, the children trooped out.

  “Hope he didn’t destroy your room!” Vanya called cheerfully.

  Dunya just laughed. Half-chewed twigs were scattered across the floor and her bed looked almost literally like the dog’s breakfast.

  She waited until they were gone, and then, clutching her meager bundle of firewood, she slipped down the back stairs and out the kitchen door. From there, she bent and hobbled in the direction of the French embassy.

  *

  An hour or so later, she was cold and bored and her feet hurt. So did her back. More to the point, she’d learned nothing. She’d seen Etienne arrive, and a little later the Duchess of Sagan stepped out of a carriage and went inside. Ten minutes later, she left again with her sister Dorothée. But those were the high points of Dunya’s watch. She never saw anyone who looked even remotely like Ferrand, although it was true she’d only caught a shadowed glimpse of him yesterday before the door closed.

  A self-important porter told her to move on and refused to buy her firewood. In fact, everyone she offered it to had turned it down, which was just as well, for if she no longer had it, she’d have had less excuse for loitering around the embassy. As it was, she felt obliged to move off occasionally as if in search of better customers, but she still tried to keep the embassy entrance in sight.

  It was as she hobbled back from one such expedition that Captain Trelawny strode around the corner. She couldn’t resist. She dragged her feet toward him, warbling in German. “Firewood! Buy firewood to keep out the cold!”

  Since she limped directly up to him, he cast her a careless glance and shook his head.

  “Oh please, sir. Keep your children warm, sir. Buy my wood.”

  Even before her second plea, his eyes were coming back for a second look. He scanned her face steadily, then, the faintest frown on his brow, he took in the rest of her.

  “I’ve told you before!” the grumpy porter said from one side. “Move along there or I’ll get the police on to you!”

  Captain Trelawny sighed. “How much?”

  Completely thrown, Dunya searched wildly for a likely cost. “Twenty gulden.”

  The porter’s mouth fell open.

  Richard laughed. “No wonder you haven’t sold it. Here.” He delved in his pocket and gave her a few coins.”

  Obligingly, she handed him her bundle in return.

  The porter shook his head. “You’re only encouraging her, sir,” he warned, stumping back off toward the house.

  “That’s true. Come on, I’m sure you’ve got swarms of cold, starving children to introduce to mine.”

  “Grandchildren,” Dunya said breathlessly as he propelled her across the road. “Mind, sir, I can’t walk so fast!”

  “Then you shouldn’t wear someone else’s boots. Whose are they?”

  Still bent, she twisted to look up at him. “Nikolai’s,” she confessed, disappointed. “Did you always know it was me?”

  “Not until after the second glance. It’s a fine disguise.”

  “I thought so. Lizzie’s siblings helped me. Where are we going?”

  “Home.”

  “But I haven’t even seen Ferrand yet!”

  “Dunya, you’ve been seen. Do you really think the Austrian police aren’t watching? To say nothing of the French.”

  She sniffed mutinously. “Well, what are you doing here, then? You can’t tell me you were only passing.”

  “No,” he agreed. “I was round the back, chatting with the grooms.”

  “Why?”

  “To see what horses and vehicles are ordered when and by whom.”

  She straightened. “Oh that’s very clever,” she allowed. “I wish I’d thought of that. What did you learn?”

  “That a carriage is ordered for late tonight. And not for M. de Talleyrand.”

  “Do you think it’s for Ferrand? Will he commit his crime and run?”

  “Thus implicating the French embassy in his flight? I wouldn’t have thought so. It’s more likely to be some dalliance. Unless his crime is to be committed elsewhere, once he’s well away from Vienna. That would fit with an attempt of whatever kind on Bonaparte.”

  “But we haven’t really learned anything,” Dunya said, disappointed. “We’re just guessing.”

  Several passersby were casting them odd or amused looks. No doubt they imagined another English eccentri
city for the gentleman to be walking along, chatting with the old beggar woman.

  “Well, I’ve overheard a lot of chatter last night and today. There’s a rumor that Bonaparte is to be removed from Elba, but the Congress has approved no such thing. Others say he’ll escape.”

  “Could Ferrand be here to receive orders to that effect?”

  “He could be. Only…what’s your Etienne’s involvement?”

  “He’d never help Bonaparte escape,” she said definitely. “Although I suppose he might like to see him confined to some rock in a frozen wasteland.”

  “Right now, that’s the least of our troubles,” Richard said. “The main problem is how to get you back into the house.”

  “Oh, I’ll just go in the back way. It’s how I got out.”

  “Yes, but will you stay there?”

  “I might,” she confessed. “For a little while. It’s cold and my feet hurt. And I’m hungry. Besides, we’ll be at the embassy tonight for Dorothée’s musical evening.”

  “So we shall.”

  It tickled Dunya’s sense of humor as they walked to her mother’s house, conversing amiably on the subject of music in general and Dorothée’s soiree in particular, to imagine how passersby saw them. An overly polite young man carrying a poor old woman’s firewood for her? Perhaps he was praying for her. Or did they think she was pestering him and he was too civil or embarrassed to send her about her business?

  At any rate, at least he didn’t scold her, and the fun of running into him and enjoying his company on the walk home quite made up for the dullness of the rest of the adventure. So they parted in perfect amity, Dunya hobbling around the back of the house, and Richard striding on as if in a hurry to be gone before she came back out and caught up with him. The thought amused her all the way back, even while she hid in a broom cupboard for two quarrelling footmen to pass her and go about their work.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Trelawny’s hopes of speaking to Lord Castlereagh had never been high. As it turned out, he didn’t even get to speak to an underling, but to an underling’s underling by the name of Mr. Corner. He at least turned out to be an intelligent and amiable young man, who wrote down everything Trelawny told him and promised to pass on the information. Since there wasn’t much else he could do, Trelawny stood up to leave.