Vienna Woods (The Imperial Season Book 2)

by Mary Lancaster

  His gaze fixed hers. She maintained her own defiant stare with rare difficulty.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “I really can’t remember. I think I had some idea of saving you the trouble of assaulting me, kidnapping me, and imprisoning me just to get those.” She waved one contemptuous hand over the papers strewn on the desk. “It’s difficult to imagine my flawed reasoning now.”

  Still his eyes didn’t release hers. She felt they were turning her inside out, learning everything without her having to say a word.

  He said, “How did you get in?”

  Mockingly, she spread her hand down the length of her male attire.

  “Did someone help you?”

  “Josephine,” she said dryly.

  His eyes widened infinitesimally. “Josephine? Josephine Wolters?”

  “Of course, Josephine,” she snapped. “She brought me your note, arranged my costume, and helped me get in. You know all this.”

  For the first time, she doubted it. Although his expression remained as veiled as ever, she had the distinct impression she’d thrown him. It might have comforted her, if only it hadn’t confused her even more.

  “Give me the note.”

  She lifted her eyebrows.

  He inclined his head ironically. “If you please.”

  She delved into the pocket of her cloak. “I’m surprised you missed it. You stole everything else.”

  He didn’t rise to the bait, merely took the note from her and examined it before lifting his gaze once more to her face. “And Josephine said this was from me?”

  Esther blinked. “She described you.”

  “How?”

  Esther dragged her hands through her hair. “A distinguished gentleman with brown, straight hair, of medium height, well enough in looks.”

  He blinked. “And from this you deduced me? How many other men does that describe? Did you even know his age?”

  Dismayed at her own foolishness, she curled her fingers around a lock of hair and tugged. “I couldn’t think of anyone else in the Hofburg who knew me!”

  “I don’t live in the Hofburg,” he said coldly, throwing the note onto the table.

  “But you work in the Chancellery, don’t you?” she retorted. “And you certainly were in the Hofburg when I was!” She reached out and stabbed at the rough map on the note. “Right there, in fact.”

  “And thank God for it or you’d be dead,” he said grimly.

  The blood drained from her face. “I don’t understand any of this. Was the gunman not one of yours?”

  His lip curled again with a hint of bitterness. “I thought he was.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Did you manage to see him? Did you recognize him?”

  “Not really…”

  “Impressions, then,” he snapped. “I won’t arrest him without corroboration.”

  She swallowed. “He looked a little like the man who spoke to me in the Chancellery when I went to see Baron von Hager.”

  For a moment, his eyes held hers, not blinking. “And so you believed we worked together to shoot you.”

  She dropped her gaze. “But he shot you, didn’t he? Were you his target all the time, and I just got in the way?”

  “No…I think he came for you, but he’d have had no objection to killing me, too, if only he could have reloaded the pistol fast enough.”

  “Then he—Herr Weber—sent the note? Why, when I’d only just seen him in the Chancellery?”

  “Why indeed,” Garin repeated bleakly. He stirred. “But no, I don’t think he sent it. I think he was hired to meet you, though.”

  Her breath caught. “He’s a hired killer? And works for you? Oh God, is he the man Otto hired to kill Metternich?”

  “Possibly. Don’t look so petrified. Metternich is protected.”

  Only as she took in the subtle relaxation of his shoulders did she realize how tightly wound he’d been. As if she’d just passed some test and he was desperately glad. They were so suspicious of each other and yet…just possibly, they might be on the same side.

  “You protected me,” she said. “You smuggled me out of the Hofburg and out here to protect me. But you don’t trust me.”

  He stirred. “These are bizarre times. I didn’t know why you and Otto were engaged.”

  She cast him a rueful glance. “You’re not buying true love, then?”

  “Please. I’ve spent time with Otto. I can see no conceivable reason for you to attach yourself to him except as a spy.”

  “And for him to attach himself to me?”

  “Makes even less sense. There are women with much more social and political influence than you. Besides, Otto would only ever make a dynastic marriage. The only possibility is that he was forced into it.”

  She blinked. “Have you any ways left in which to insult me?”

  “Oh, I’m sure it was no hardship to engage himself to you, but even you admitted when I first met you that the marriage would never have happened.”

  She held his gaze. “I think we were spying on each other.”

  “Maybe. But Otto, I suspect, will tell a different tale.”

  “Otto,” she repeated. “Are you going to tell me why he’s still alive?”

  “Because Dietmar treated his wound in time. And because he was lucky. He seems to be quite out of danger.”

  “Why did you tell me he was dead?”

  “I didn’t. You made an assumption I didn’t correct. We both wanted to know who shot him. And…” For the first time, she had the impression he found it hard to meet her gaze. “And I wanted to know how you were involved. If you were.”

  “Is that why you gave me the documents back again?”

  “I wanted to see where you’d take them for greater safety.”

  She dropped her gaze. “I’d decided to give them to you.”

  For a moment, he said nothing. Then he muttered, “Thank you,” and rose to his feet. He strode to the door, opened it, and yelled. “Lutz! Menno!”

  A few moments later, footsteps clumped along the hall, and the skinny young man entered with the brawny one.

  “Ride in to Vienna and tell Dietmar to bring Josephine Wolters here,” Garin instructed.

  “Is she in danger, too?” Esther blurted.

  “Possibly. She saw the man who gave you the note. It’s possible he won’t consider her much of a threat, but I can’t take the chance. Besides, I need her description.”

  Esther frowned. “But why am I a threat? Why does this man want me dead?”

  “Because you might have seen who killed Otto.”

  “I didn’t!”

  “He can’t take that chance. So you must stay here until we arrest him.”

  “But my father will be worried sick.” She frowned. “If he notices. He might, by tea time, you know, and Juana definitely will. She’ll never forgive me if I oblige her to make a search for me.”

  “Dietmar will already have spoken to Baron von Hager, who will assure the general of your safety, and warn him not to make a fuss. If you wish, write to your father. I’ll take your letter when I go to Vienna tomorrow.” He swung on the young men. “Go! And don’t miss Dietmar. Here,” he added, delving into his pocket for some coins. “You’ll need to pay Josephine. Or drug her.”

  Esther narrowed her eyes at Garin, but he pretended not to notice. The dark, skinny youth grinned at her. “He’s joking, noble lady.”

  With difficulty, Esther refrained from snorting. But Garin had regathered the attention of both young men. “Stay out of trouble,” he said sternly. “Keep your hands in your own pockets and no fighting.”

  “Yes, sir,” they replied in chorus.

  Watching them, Esther couldn’t decide whether they looked villainous or merely like chastened schoolboys.

  “Do they work for you?” she asked curiously when they’d gone.

  “Sort of. Sometimes.”

  “And you all live here?”

  “Occasionally.”


  “Do you own this ruin, then?”

  “It wasn’t expensive,” he said impatiently, walking back toward his desk. “And it can be useful.”

  “For imprisoning half-killed princes?”

  He paused, glancing back at her.

  She lifted her chin. “That is what you’ve done, isn’t it? He’s locked in that cell.”

  “It seemed sensible once he could move around again. Do you object?”

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I’d got used to the idea that he was dead. But I don’t think I’d like him to be locked up for nothing,”

  His eyes remained steady on hers. “It isn’t nothing. He’s guilty of espionage and of assault committed on imperial territory.”

  “Espionage?” She stared. “Everyone in Vienna must be guilty of that! And I don’t know that it was he who hit me.”

  “I suspect it was, but I wasn’t referring to you.”

  “Oh.” She frowned, thinking. “What will you do with him, now?”

  “Talk to him some more and send him home, probably.”

  “Is it really your place to decide such things?”

  His lips curved faintly. “Yes, as it happens.”

  “Will you send me home, too?” she asked.

  He lifted his eyebrows. “Is there a reason I should?”

  “Espionage. I told my father and Lord Harry everything Otto said in my company, who he spoke to, what his moods were. And these documents…”

  He waved one dismissive hand. “It’s clear Prince Otto hid them on your person when he heard someone approaching in the Woods that day. He left you hidden and unconscious and went forward to meet whoever shot him.”

  “And you’ve been testing me ever since, to see what I’d do with the documents.”

  To her surprise, his gaze fell again. “My work isn’t always pleasant. I’d already decided you were merely an innocent caught up in this, when you walked past me in the Hofburg last night and convinced me I was wrong. I apologize for my rough treatment. But drugging you was the only way I knew to get you away safely and find out the truth.”

  “You mean you finally decided to ask me?” she said indignantly.

  His hand gripped the back of the chair beside him. Although his expression betrayed nothing, she knew, somehow that he was uncomfortable, even before he spoke rather more stiffly than usual. “In my line of work, I don’t meet a lot of honest people. There is, generally, little point in asking, except to analyze the chosen lies. That isn’t an excuse. I’m sorry. My suspicions—which must seem ridiculous to you—put you in danger and caused you this inconvenience. But I must ask you not to leave here until I know you’ll be safe.”

  “Will you lock me in a cell next to Otto?” she asked, not entirely joking.

  “Only if you don’t give me your word.”

  “I’m flattered you now trust me so much.”

  “You should be,” he retorted. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to finish deciphering these documents.”

  “Ah. I am dismissed,” she observed, and a quick frown flitted across his brow and vanished, as if he wasn’t quite sure whether or not she was joking. Somewhere, she was pleased he cared, but she wouldn’t let him see that as she strolled out of the room and went back to the kitchen in search of breakfast.

  *

  The blond young man, who told her his name was Kai, cut and buttered some bread for her while she made coffee.

  “I thought noble ladies couldn’t do menial tasks like that,” he said cheerfully.

  “Well, I’m not really a noble lady,” she confessed, sitting at the table and inviting him to join her. “My father is a soldier. Or at least he was. I followed the army and learned to do many menial tasks—making tea, cooking, and mending.”

  “Like sewing up Zelig’s arm?”

  “That too. Did he tell you about that?”

  Kai shook his head. “Dietmar. He thought it was funny.”

  “Why?”

  “I suppose none of us have ever seen him managed before.”

  Esther took a bite of her newly made bread and chewed it thoughtfully. “Tell me,” she said at last, when it was swallowed, “what is it you do for Ga—Herr Zelig?”

  “Nothing very much, truth be told! We watch people for him sometimes, carry messages, wait with horses or carriages or carts, or whatever. We feed the prisoner now and look after him when Zelig and Dietmar are away.”

  “Why?” she asked curiously. “Are you related to Herr Zelig?”

  Kai gave a shout of laughter. “Bless you, no! He says we’re his atonement.”

  “Atonement for what?”

  “I don’t know,” Kai shrugged. “He seems like a good man, to me. I think we’re more of a project; an experiment. We all got into trouble, a lot. He let us go, let us earn a few coins from him, and then he let us stay here, provided we do our lessons. He taught us to read, write, and count without using our fingers.”

  She examined him with fresh eyes, curious about this different side of her host’s character. Something else came together in her mind too. “The thin, dark haired boy—”

  “Lutz,” Kai said helpfully.

  “Did he steal my reticule in Vienna?”

  Kai flushed. “Well, yes, but we were all in on that. Lutz took it—he’s best and quickest—and threw it to me at the first turn before he kept going, keeping the pursuit away from me. I gave it to Herr Zelig, while Menno took over running for Lutz until Dietmar came and picked us all up in the cart.” He broke off, peering at her anxiously. “Herr Zelig gave you it back.”

  “So he did,” she agreed grimly. “How long have you lived here?”

  “Don’t know. About a year, maybe. The others slightly less. We’ve repaired parts of it,” he added proudly. “This section of roof, the outside walls and plaster. I painted the kitchen, too. And Zelig’s chamber, where you are.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to ask where Zelig had slept last night, but in the end, she changed her question to, “Does he—Herr Zelig—live here with you?”

  “I wouldn’t say live,” Kai said judiciously. “He comes by every so often.”

  “So you just look after yourselves?”

  Kai looked at her as though she’d grown horns. “We’ve looked after ourselves since before we were ten years old. I’m fifteen now.”

  “Of course.”

  “Mind you, he or Dietmar have been here more often since they brought the prisoner.”

  “Dietmar…”

  “He’s a policeman, too. I think he’s the only one Zelig trusts.”

  “He lives here, also?”

  Kai grinned. “No! He has a wife and four children in Vienna.”

  “Does Herr Zelig?” She’d no idea why the question should hurt, why she should fear the answer. Except that he’d kissed her…

  Once in insolence, one to steal the documents, and once to fool the soldiers who might otherwise have seen her…she found herself frowning. Why should he have cared about that? She’d already been seen entering with Josephine. Surely his only worry could have been that the soldiers could have told the shooter where they’d seen her. Who would possibly question the guards, apart from their superiors? Garin himself or other police agents. Garin had seen who’d shot at her, and shot him by accident.

  “God, no,” Kai said. “That is, I can’t imagine it.”

  She almost asked, “Imagine what?” before she remembered her original question about Garin’s marital status. Somehow it was a relief, but mostly now she needed to speak to him again. Since she knew he was busy, she took her impatience outside to walk among the ruins and let the cold wind blow the cobwebs from her mind. In solitude, she found herself rather enjoying the freedom of her male attire, with no need to pick up her skirts to clamber over boulders and walls. And although she was aware of Kai watching her from the door, or from various windows, or sometimes from outside among the ruins with her, she didn’t mind that either. She was sure he was following Garin’s o
rders.

  At last, she walked back inside and made fresh coffee. Then she poured out four cups. One she left for Kai on the kitchen table. The second, she took to the library and left silently at Garin’s elbow. Staring at the coded document and writing feverishly, he merely grunted, so she left again, returned to the kitchen, and picked up the remaining two cups. There was no sign of Kai, who was, presumably, working on other parts of the ruin now that she was safely inside once more.

  She carried the cups along the passage to the spiral stairs and down to the monks’ cells.

  Otto was no longer snoring.

  He sat up in his bed, reading a book by the light of a single candle. Although he must have heard her footsteps, he continued to gaze quite studiously at his book. Only his lips curled.

  “What now?” he asked unpleasantly.

  “Coffee,” Esther said mildly, and kneeling down on the swept floor, she pushed one cup through the cell bars and placed it on the floor before sitting back on her heels.

  The book fell from Otto’s fingers. His jaw dropped as he stared at her. “Esther? Esther? What…have they captured you, too?”

  “I suppose so. Sort of. How are you?”

  “Shot!”

  “You seem recovered.”

  “Weak as a kitten, and it still hurts like hell, but I’m alive. They tend my wound, feed me, and ask me a lot of questions.” He rose gingerly from the bed, fully dressed, except that his coat hung off one shoulder. He walked towards the cup, which he picked up very slowly and carefully.

  “Do you answer their questions?” she asked curiously.

  He curled his lip and took a sip of coffee. “You think I answer to jumped up imperial spies? I’ll see them hang when my people find me. They must be tearing Vienna apart looking for me.”

  “You aren’t in Vienna, and actually, no one knows you’re missing.”

  Otto’s mouth fell open again.

  “Except for your valet and your secretary,” she added honestly. “But they’re having difficulty getting Count von Meyer or anyone else to take your absence seriously.”

  Otto’s eyes narrowed. He sank down on the bed, watching her. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were reveling in my misfortune.”