Vienna Woods (The Imperial Season Book 2)

by Mary Lancaster

  “Why would I do that?” she marveled. “You hit me, didn’t you?”

  “I threw a stone at you. You went down like a skittle.”

  Esther nodded and stood up. “I thought so,” she murmured, as she collected her coffee and walked away.

  “Wait!” Otto said furiously. “You’re walking around loose. Can’t you unlock this and get me out?”

  She didn’t even break her step. “No.”

  “Then what use are you?” he raged. “Why the devil did you come?”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “I had this bizarre idea that you might apologize.”

  “You pointed a gun at me!”

  “Only after you assaulted me.”

  “Assaulted! There’s no need to be so damned prim and proper. You’re almost my wife! You might have expected a little lovemaking.”

  She did pause this time, and even walked back a few steps so that she could look him in the eyes. “Lovemaking? Sir, you tried to force me, all the while using language most troopers would disdain.”

  He laughed, an open sneer. “And so you change sides?”

  “I have never changed sides,” she said deliberately.

  “I’ll remember your…unhelpfulness when we’re married.”

  “Otto, we will never be married.”

  His eyes widened. “You no longer wish it?”

  “I never wished it and neither did you! My only question is why on earth you proposed it in the first place.”

  He stared at her as though fascinated. “Don’t you know?”

  “No.”

  Otto smiled. “Because the good general, your father, sold you to me for the price of his silence. Now, are you going to get me out of here?”

  “No.” The blood was draining from her face so fast it felt cold, but somehow, she walked away from him and back upstairs.

  She walked straight through the empty kitchen and up to the chamber she’d slept in last night. She wanted only somewhere private to punch the bed or the walls and rail furiously, if silently, at her father. But when she barged in, she found it was already occupied.

  Garin stood in the middle of the room, naked to the waist, in the act of lifting a fresh shirt from the bed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Abruptly, her anger vanished. Blushing furiously, she spun away.

  “I’m sorry,” he said distantly. “My only change of clothes is here. I’m just leaving.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she gasped, for suddenly there didn’t seem to be enough air.

  She heard the rustling of linen and the creaking of a board as he walked. With deliberate bravery, she turned back to find him beside her, frowning down at her. The shirt covered most of his chest, although it remained open at the throat.

  “What is it?” he asked quietly.

  “I’m just embarrassed to put you out of your own bedchamber.”

  “No, you were upset before you even found me here.”

  She was about to make a mechanical, dismissive denial, when something in his face and his voice distracted her, and she frowned up at him instead. “Do you actually want to know?”

  He frowned back. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  Because no one else does. I can’t even remember when anyone last cared about my feelings on any topic! She bit back the annoyingly self-pitying words before she could speak them. Instead, she said bluntly, “I just discovered why Kriegenstein bought.”

  She saw at once that she didn’t need to explain her meaning. She didn’t need to remind him of their unconventional conversation during the waltz at Prince Metternich’s masquerade.

  I am a difficult sale on the marriage market, she’d mocked.

  Which begs the question, he’d retorted, why did Kriegenstein buy?

  “Why?” he asked now.

  “Otto bought me for my father’s silence.”

  Thankfully, he didn’t offer her sympathy. She was incapable of dealing with that now. After the briefest pause, he asked only, “Silence about what?”

  “Does it matter?” she said bitterly.

  “Not to you,” he admitted. He seemed to hesitate, then. “Is it really so much worse a reason than spying on each other?”

  She nodded. “I could pretend I was doing some good for my father and my country, instead of which in return for making me a princess, my father merely let Otto off with some squalid misdemeanor!”

  “Actually, the misdemeanor might not have been Otto’s,” Garin murmured. “Also…” His gaze dropped, then returned determinedly to hers. “The general will not regard the deal as you do. He made you a brilliant match by the world’s standards. Whatever happens to the kingdom of Kriegenstein at the Congress, its ruling family will not be left penniless.”

  She stared at him. “You can’t mean I should enjoy my brilliant match and be grateful?”

  “God, no,” he said, with unexpected revulsion. Under her scrutiny, he drew in his breath. “Merely, don’t judge your father too harshly.” He inclined his head, picked up his plain black coat and went out, closing the door quietly behind him.

  *

  From the bedroom window, about half an hour later, Esther watched a cart drive up to the rusty iron gates. Lutz sprang out to unlock them, and the cart, driven by Dietmar and containing two large bags, as well as the bulky figure of Menno and a huddled female under a blanket, trundled through.

  The female threw off her blanket as the cart halted and jumped down unaided. Josephine. The courtesan did not look happy to be here.

  Esther smiled ruefully and went downstairs to meet her. Her strident voice carried well beyond the kitchen door. “…devil you think you’re doing, dragging me away from Vienna! I’ve got more to do, Herr Z, than run errands for you! I have appointments and commitments! A measly couple of coins doesn’t come close to what I’ll lose for this night’s absence!”

  “More than your life?” Garin’s polite voice inquired.

  “More than my…,” Josephine repeated in bafflement, just as Esther opened the kitchen door and went in. Facing her, Josephine let her jaw drop. “You!” she exclaimed, starting toward her. “Thank God! I was so worried when I heard there had been shots fired in the palace. I couldn’t learn a damned thing, and of course he chooses that precise moment to stop haunting me!” Josephine jerked a thumb at Garin, who stood beside her.

  Esther, trying not to imagine why Garin might haunt a courtesan of Josephine’s charm and beauty, murmured how pleased she was to see Josephine again. The girl scowled, searching Esther’s face with considerable suspicion.

  “Wait, though, what the devil are you doing here? With him? Ah!” Josephine swung on Dietmar, who was setting two carpet bags down on the kitchen floor. “That’s why you made me bring her gown! I thought Herr Z suspected me of bumping her off!”

  “No, no!” Esther assured her. “He’s afraid the man who gave you the note for me will harm you to prevent you telling anyone about it.”

  “Oh dear.” Josephine sat down at the table.

  Lutz and Menno then burst into the room, demanding to know what was for supper.

  Josephine blinked and looked around the room, her searching gaze finally landing once more on Esther. “You’re here alone with all of them?” she demanded.

  “You mean she’s the only female?” Kai asked cheerfully. “Not anymore.”

  “I’d better be your lady’s maid,” Josephine said abruptly. “You probably want to change. You’ve got blood on that coat.”

  “Sorry,” Esther said. “It isn’t my blood, but don’t worry, I can get it out before we return it.”

  Josephine let out a breath of laughter. “You’re not put out by much, are you, Miss?”

  *

  When the shadow fell over him, he thought for a moment that Esther stood in the library doorway, but when he glanced round, it was Josephine. Despite his disappointment—something he was going to have to get used to—he threw down his pen and said, “I need to know who gave you the note. Kai can draw from yo
ur description, if it’s good enough.”

  “Very well. Do I really have to stay here?”

  “For a day or so, until I can sort this out.” Things were definitely moving, though. According to Dietmar, Esther’s groom, Hannes, had gone missing. Whether he’d been harmed or simply run away to save himself was an interesting question.

  Josephine frowned as she lowered herself into the chair opposite him. “It isn’t right, sir.”

  “What isn’t?”

  “For myself, I don’t really care—apart from the money I’ll lose!—but she can’t stay here. It’ll ruin her. Her class is unforgiving of impropriety—among unmarried females at least!—and staying here alone with five men not even of her family—”

  “She isn’t alone,” Zelig snapped. “You’re here.”

  “That’s worse! She’s in the middle of nowhere with five men and a notorious courtesan. What do you imagine they’ll say she was doing?”

  “No one knows she’s here, nor will they.”

  “Don’t you pay attention to the gossip you spend so much time collecting?”

  “Social gossip is immaterial to me,” he said coldly.

  “Well, you may trust me on this, these things have a way of getting out. You need to bring her mother here. Or some other lady beyond criticism.”

  He threw himself back in his chair. “For God’s sake, Josephine, it’s not a bloody house party. Her mother is dead and her duenna…” He paused, unwilling to admit that Josephine was right. In normal circumstances, of course, he wouldn’t have cared. It was his duty to save her life, not her reputation. But for some reason, he couldn’t bear her to be hurt at all. “I’ll see what I can do,” he finished abruptly. “I’m going to Vienna tomorrow, if I can just finish this first.”

  Josephine spread her hands in placation and stood. “I can take the hint. But supper’s ready.”

  *

  When Garin eventually joined them for supper in the kitchen, he looked as close to harassed as Esther had ever seen him. While the lads and Josephine sparred verbally across the table, Esther murmured, “Is Otto’s document giving you trouble?”

  “Somewhat. It keeps changing cipher.”

  “So you think you have it, decipher one paragraph and then find yourself having to start all over again for the second?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Where do you even start?” Esther wondered, taking another forkful of Kai’s delicious stew.

  He shrugged. “Trial and error. The ciphers I see are usually based on particular books or on a pattern that substitutes one letter for another. You can eventually work out the pattern from frequently used words. In this document, there are so many patterns that I have to fear what they’re hiding.”

  “Do you have a clue yet?”

  “Yes, but it’s one I hope to be wrong about.”

  She regarded his distracted face and found herself smiling. “You like puzzles, don’t you? Is that what drew you into police work?”

  “Partly,” he admitted. He cast her a quick glance. “That and a desire to oppress.”

  “Like you oppress these boys?” she said, returning his teasing.

  “Trust me, they do feel oppressed,” Garin insisted.

  Since Lutz and Kai were at that moment shuffling the stew around the table to prevent Menno helping himself to seconds, Esther murmured, “They don’t look it. They look…happy.”

  His gaze flew to her face, then back to his food. He took a forkful and paused. “The world needs order,” he said with difficulty, “so that such light-heartedness is possible.”

  “I don’t see that denying people rights or new ideas creates order,” she said at once.

  “But then, you never had Napoleon crashing through your country with new rights and ideas, trailing the carnage of war.”

  “Not my own country, no,” she allowed. “But I am no stranger to war.”

  “Then you must agree that we should prevent such strife at all costs.”

  She thought about it. “Not all costs. But yes, it should be prevented where at all possible. Isn’t that what the Congress seeks to do?”

  “It’s a lofty ideal I would hate to see fail.”

  She raised her cup of water to him in a wry toast. “On that, we may agree. On the other hand…isn’t it the stifling of change and betterment that leads to revolution and war?”

  He regarded her, an almost-smile playing around his lips. For some reason, she found it difficult to breathe. And then Kai called upon him to arbitrate and the moment passed.

  *

  As soon as they’d finished eating, Garin sent Kai for his sketchbook and ordered the other boys to clear up. Esther helped, although she kept at least half her attention on what was happening at the table.

  Garin asked Josephine questions about the man who’d given her the note in the Hofburg—basic questions to begin with, like his age, the shape of his face, his hair color, and then moved on to greater detail. All the while Kai drew in his sketchbook, rubbed out what Josephine didn’t like, and replaced it with what she did. After a while, presumably satisfied that they could finish the job without him now, Garin returned to his document.

  “Does he ever not work?” Esther murmured to no one in particular. She didn’t want to admit she was disappointed by his absence, by losing the chance to know him better. But she wasn’t prepared for the three-voiced chorus of “No!”

  Esther blinked and glanced around at the boys and Dietmar, who was going out to see to the horses for the night. “He never just…relaxes?” she asked in amazement.

  “Making us work relaxes him,” Menno said dryly.

  “Never having a day to oneself cannot be good,” Esther protested.

  “Well, he never does that I see,” Lutz confirmed.

  “He does go and visit his mother,” Dietmar volunteered.

  “He has a mother?” Menno said in astonishment.

  “Not everyone’s mother dies before you’re grown,” Lutz said disparagingly.

  “I wonder what she’s like,” Menno mused.

  Esther found herself wondering the same thing. With the dishes cleaned and the boys gone to the yard to fetch fresh water, she went and sat at the table with Josephine and Kai.

  “Goodness!” Esther exclaimed, gazing at the detailed portrait. “How talented you are!”

  “He is,” Josephine agreed, “but it’s not quite right, yet. Something about his eyes…”

  Nevertheless, the face did look disturbingly familiar to Esther. Recognition hovered, tantalizingly just out of reach.

  “His eyes,” she said suddenly. “What if his eyes were lighter? With darker lashes? And just a little narrower.”

  Kai quickly rubbed out the shading in the eyes, narrowed their shape, and emphasized the lashes.

  “Him!” Josephine said with satisfaction.

  Esther’s stomach twisted. “Count von Meyer,” she whispered. Snatching the book from Kai’s hands, she dashed out of the kitchen and along the passage to the library.

  “It’s Meyer,” she said, bursting in and thrusting the sketch on the table in front of Garin. He glanced at it, then lifted it and pushed it further up the table.

  “I thought it would be.”

  Irritated by his calm, she said, “Would you care to explain?”

  He shrugged. “Meyer shot Otto. I think your groom, Hannes, was more Meyer’s creature than the prince’s. Did I tell you Hannes was missing? Meyer will be furious with him for leaving you with Otto that morning. I don’t think Meyer knew you were there until later. I suspect Hannes has bolted to save himself.”

  Esther closed her mouth, thinking. “And Gretel?”

  “The maid? I know nothing against her.” He picked up his pen, as if he would continue working.

  Esther frowned, suddenly impatient. “So, you can arrest him now and we can all go home.”

  “I have no proof,” Garin said mildly. “The sketch of a delinquent boy is hardly going to weigh against the co
unt’s rank and service.”

  “Josephine will recognize his person!”

  “I need physical evidence,” he said patiently. “Or at the least a witness of good character.”

  She stared at him. “Then why bother with the sketch at all?”

  “So I know where to look.”

  For some reason, a world of loneliness seemed to haunt his words. Perhaps it was the way he said I.

  “Let me come and help,” she blurted, before realizing the stupidity of her offer. He neither wanted nor needed the help of a girl who had got him shot, and who knew nothing whatever of police work.

  But to her surprise, he didn’t ridicule her. He actually looked as if he were considering it. Then, abruptly, he shook his head. “I couldn’t concentrate if I knew you were in danger.”

  “Well, at least you will have Dietmar,” she said brightly.

  “Dietmar will stay here until I return. To guard Otto if nothing else.”

  “Otto…” She’d almost forgotten about her betrothed. “What if Otto implicates Meyer? In his own shooting if not in ours. Is his character good enough?”

  “For this purpose, yes.”

  “How strange the world is. I’d trust Josephine over him any day.”

  “Yes, well, Josephine would still rob a man blind,” Garin said dryly. “So don’t imagine she’s any more saintly than the rest of us.”

  Esther had opened her mouth to ask how he knew Josephine, before she remembered she didn’t really want to know the answer. But Garin’s eyes followed the subtle movements, lingered for just an instant too long before, slowly, he raised his gaze once more to hers. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Inconvenient memories swam into her mind, frighteningly intense.

  “I’ll leave you in peace,” she said breathlessly and hastily picked up the sketchbook before effacing herself.

  *

  Esther had trouble sleeping that night. Even when she did finally drift off, she was almost immediately wakened again by a noise outside. She sat up, her heart drumming. Had Weber, Count von Meyer’s creature, come to burn them all in their beds?

  Throwing back the covers, she struggled to the floor and blundered across to the window. The night was cold and clear, flooding pale moonlight across the wooded hills, and onto the man striding across the yard below her window. Unmistakably Garin was in an undistinguished cloak, making his way to the building they used as a stable.