The light in the general’s eyes went out. He shook his head, disappointed. “You try to flatter me, I think. Yet it is not necessary. I have no power now. I am simply an old man with interesting tales to tell, and so I am invited to dine by lovely ladies like Princess Kostova.”
“You are my old roué,” Katerina said, leaning over to kiss his cheek.
De Ligne grinned at Thomas. “She does it too, flatters me, but I will indulge her. Ah well, good manners insist that I return the favor and say that I enjoyed my time in London, though I could never understand the intricate etiquette of the upper classes. So many rules makes one stiff and dull. I was regarded as an oddity, a social buffoon, always putting a foot wrong. The English have no sense of humor at all, and I, as you have seen, cannot help but speak my mind. If something is amusing, I must say it is so.”
“You are notorious everywhere for speaking your mind, dearest, not just in England,” Katerina said lightly.
“And you are notoriously charming, Princess,” he said. “Would you have invited me tonight if I did not say the outrageous things I do? We amuse each other, charm our friends, and shock those who do not know us well, as it should be. Do you not agree, Viscount?”
“He learned this naughty banter from his dear friend Casanova,” Anna whispered. She laid her hand on his, and he stared down at a pearl ring the size of a quail’s egg. “Captain Starensky,” she introduced the pearl. “I gave him a very good report, and so did the empress. By now the captain himself is long since dead, or old and ugly, but his namesake will keep me warm forever.”
How easy it would be to slip one of the rings off the old lady’s wrinkled fingers, Thomas thought. She would probably forget she’d worn it tonight, wonder if she’d pawned it. She would not suffer for the loss of it—the princess would see to that.
Still, he hesitated. He was enjoying the company and loath to spoil the evening.
“One thing I liked about England were the ladies,” the prince mused as the footman filled their glasses with wine the same color as Anna’s yellow diamond earrings.
“Better than Russian ladies?” Katerina demanded, her blue eyes flashing fire.
The prince winked at Thomas. “Better than Austrian ladies, at any rate,” he said. “Are you married, Viscount?”
Thomas shook his head.
“Why?” Anna demanded. “You are so—” She squeezed his hand again.
“I have been traveling, and I haven’t met a lady I want to wed,” Thomas said, giving the usual excuses.
“A pity Katerina is already married,” the prince sighed. “But what is your taste? A proper English lass, perhaps?” He glanced at the princess and Anna. “Englishwomen are taught the feminine graces, but nothing more intellectual. It is a rest for the mind to spend time conversing with an English lady.”
“How very dreadful you are tonight!” Katerina said, laughing.
Thomas thought of Julia. She was anything but restful or soothing.
“You, for example, Princess,” the prince went on. “You speak three languages, read widely, and you consider yourself quite independent of your husband’s authority. You are a handful, my dear, and you know it. I daresay Kostov is sating himself on a buxom little tavern wench who doesn’t speak a word of any language other than German, and even that not well, so he does not have to think of anything witty to say.”
Katerina sniffed. “He is more likely to be closeted with the Tsar and his companions and advisors. Not that they are conversing about anything. They are probably enjoying the favors of two dozen buxom little wenches.” She gave Thomas a brilliant smile. “He has his amusements, I have mine.”
“It’s much the same in England,” Thomas said. “The upper classes marry strangers of similar pedigree, breed blue-blooded heirs, and find their pleasures outside the marriage bed.”
“Then perhaps the English are not as different from Europeans as I thought,” the prince said. “Is that the kind of marriage you look forward to?”
“Not at all,” he said, feeling the watch in his pocket, hearing the lullaby playing in his mind.
“Is it possible,” Anna said, “that you are promised to some English lady, and merely touring the Continent to sow the last of your wild oats, as the English say, before settling down to the dull task of getting heirs with a woman you do not enjoy?”
“Oh, do tell me about her!” Katerina said, a sharp edge to her tone. Thomas glanced at her. Was she jealous? Her expression was unreadable in the candlelight.
“There’s no one,” he said, though it was a lie. Julia’s face invaded his thoughts again. “I am a confirmed bachelor.” She had become the hallmark by which he judged every woman he met. He remembered her—whether his memory of those few short hours in her company was accurate or not—as the most beautiful, charming, desirable woman he’d ever met. She’d been unskilled and inexperienced as a lover, but her response to him had been genuine. Regret filled him again, and he tightened his grip on the delicate stem of his wineglass.
“Ah, there is someone I think,” the prince said, watching him. Thomas forced a carefree smile.
Katerina tilted her head. “Should I worry? Is she here in Vienna, waiting to scratch my eyes out for taking you from her company?”
Thomas took her hand and kissed it. “There is no one but you, Princess, at least tonight.”
The prince barked a laugh, and raised his glass. “And that is all we have, mais non? Tomorrow is very far away indeed.”
“What are Englishwomen like in bed?” Anna asked. “Or English men for that matter?” She waggled her gray brows and her tiara twinkled. “No, don’t answer, darling viscount—I shall leave it to Katerina to tell me tomorrow.”
As Katerina gently scolded her godmother again for her boldness, Julia’s face filled Thomas’s mind, the softness of her sighs as he loved her, the way she’d caught her bottom lip in her teeth as he kissed her breasts. Did she think of him as she lay with her duke, striving to breed an heir? Did she enjoy Dull David’s touch, or recoil from it?
“You are embarrassing my guest, Anna,” Katerina said, bringing him back.
“Not at all,” he said lightly. “But I’m afraid I can’t offer much illumination on the subject. I have been on the Continent for over a year. I cannot recall the last time I even spoke to an English lady.” He recalled every word that he had spoken to Julia. He winked at Anna. “Or an English gentleman.”
The prince looked surprised. “You have not dined with anyone from the British delegation?”
Katerina sniffed. “Lady Castlereagh is exceedingly dowdy, and her husband is as stiff as a statue.”
The prince took a spoonful of caviar and rolled his eyes with pleasure. “But there are other members of the delegation, much more pleasant company. For example there is a young lady—”
Anna interrupted. “I have heard Castlereagh’s half brother is quite a scandal. What he lacks in charm, he makes up for in drunken persistence. Reminds me of Captain—”
The prince set his spoon down. “I was speaking of the ladies, Anna!” he scolded her interruption mildly. “Some of them are quite charming. For instance, there was a very lovely lady at the Emperor’s ball the other night—”
Katerina’s eyes widened in surprise. “Were you there, my roué? I didn’t see you! How could I have missed you?”
He patted her hand. “With several thousand people there, half of them eating, half of them dancing, all of them talking at once, who could find anyone? This is much better, an intimate dinner, good conversation. Quality, instead of quantity.”
“Never mind the flattery, old friend. Tell us all about the ball,” Anna sighed. “Alas, I was unable to secure an invitation. I would have worn the General . . .”
“Which one is the General?” Prince de Ligne asked.
“My other tiara, the one with the emeralds
.”
“Are there very many ladies traveling with the British delegation?” Thomas asked, thinking of the watch.
The prince pursed his lips. “Yes, a few. As I was saying, I met a charming lady at the ball named—”
Katerina laid a finger on his lips. “You shall not speak her name here! He is my guest, and tonight I want him to think only of me.”
Anna gave Thomas a knowing grin. “She means to have you, Viscount, even untested.”
“Pity you did not think to bring letters of reference, my friend,” the prince said, raising his glass. “Ah well, we shall meet some morning in the park and compare all the women we have known and loved, though I daresay my list will be far longer, simply because I outrank you in age.”
Thomas raised his glass in return, conceding the claim.
“Oh, do tell us now,” Katerina encouraged him. “Of all your tales, I adore the ones about your amours most of all.”
The prince let the footman refill his glass, then grinned. “Let me see . . .” he said, rubbing his lower lip thoughtfully. “Ah yes, Versailles . . .” He leaned in and filled the room with salacious tales of his romantic adventures, and Thomas realized he was enjoying himself for the first time in a very long time.
Chapter 17
“No,” said Lady Castlereagh, glaring down her long nose at Julia Leighton. “Charles, send her away. I won’t have her near me.”
Julia bit her lip as her ladyship’s horse sidled anxiously as if it too was loath to be near a fallen woman. Charles Stewart smirked at Julia before he turned to whisper in his sister-in-law’s ear. Lady Castlereagh listened a moment, her jaw dropping with surprise. Her pitiless gaze fell on Julia again, raked over her riding habit, took note of every detail of her appearance. “What d’you mean, Castlereagh ordered that she ride with me today? This is a royal hunt! It would look as if I condone her behavior!”
Julia felt her skin turn as crimson as the autumn leaves around her.
Her ladyship waved her hand dismissively, as if shooing away a stray cat. “If she must be here, she will ride at the back of the pack, far from me.”
Lord Stewart looked around, probably to see if anyone was listening. Well over a hundred people were gathered for this morning’s hunt in the magnificent grounds of the Schonbrunn Palace, including the Emperor of Austria, the Tsar, and the King of Bavaria, and each came with his own entourage of grooms, servants, translators, and beaters, making the party large and loud enough to frighten any game for a hundred miles. Stewart beckoned to a uniformed officer, who nodded smartly and rode over to Julia.
“My lady—”
“Miss Leighton!” her ladyship snapped.
The officer’s cheeks colored as red as his tunic. “Miss Leighton, if you would fall back to the end of the queue.”
Julia nodded, her cheeks filled with hot blood. She had not wanted to come this morning. She had spoken to Stephen, asked him to relieve her of her extra duties as a listener. Her primary responsibility was to Dorothea, especially now, but Lord Castlereagh had refused to release her, believing that Dorothea was merely sick with a head cold and could easily spare her companion for the morning.
He’d given Stephen another lecture. Everyone on the delegation must do their duty as required, and Julia was proving useful. If Dorothea was ill, she required a nurse, not the services of a woman who could be doing much more important work elsewhere. Julia was assigned to join the hunt as one of Lady Castlereagh’s attendants, with instructions to keep her eyes and ears open.
She had done her best to refuse; graciously, of course. She was being thrust into the spotlight when she longed to cling to the shadows, to avoid unpleasant situations like this one. It was to be expected, she supposed. Lady Castlereagh was an old and dear friend of the Countess of Carrindale, Julia’s mother, and knew every detail of her shame.
Julia turned her mare’s head toward the back of the pack.
“Would you mind if I ride with you?” a pleasant voice asked, and Julia turned to find a young woman in a blue riding habit by her side. “I cannot abide hunting, but I love to ride, and the day is too lovely to stay indoors.”
“Of course,” Julia said. “I—”
The lady smiled. “Oh, I know who you are.” Julia’s spine stiffened and she clenched her teeth. “You are the lovely Lady Julia, the one Prince de Ligne cannot stop talking about. I have been hoping to meet you. I am Dorothée de Talleyrand-Perigord.”
Julia’s mouth dried. The French ambassador’s niece-by-marriage? The lady who served as his official hostess here in Vienna had wanted to meet her?
“Good morning, Madam de Talleyrand,” she croaked, and braced herself for the usual questions about the scandal.
“Please call me Diana. My uncle says it suits my personality better—it is the name of a goddess of the moon. He is a dreadful flatterer, but I am growing to enjoy being called after a goddess.”
“Please call me—” Julia began again, and hesitated. She wasn’t Lady Julia any longer, though some insisted on using her former title.
“Lady Julia!” another voice cried, and she turned to find the Prince de Ligne riding toward her. “How pleased I am to meet you here today, and Diana, my dear. Have the two of you been introduced?”
“We’re just getting acquainted,” Diana said.
The horn sounded to start the hunt, and the pack of riders began to move forward. “Let us linger,” the prince said. “My old bones cannot keep up with the young bucks at the front, and I shall have the two prettiest ladies here all to myself if we wait.”
Diana giggled. “Flatterer! You are as bad as my uncle! But I agree with you. It is too nice a day to rush pell-mell over the countryside. Let’s ride that way.” She pointed in the direction opposite to the one the hunters were taking.
The day was crisp and cold, and a glittering crust of frost clung to the grass in the shade. Julia took a deep breath. She used to race James to the ruins of the old castle at Carrindale on days like this, riding neck-or-nothing over the frosty fields. They would return to raid the kitchen for apple tarts, still warm from the oven. She felt the sting of regret that she would never experience those pleasures again.
They followed a path through thick stands of pine trees, which gave way to a lake and a magnificent view of the palace.
“How lovely!” Diana cried. “It reminds me very much of Versailles.”
“Do you miss home?” Julia asked.
“I miss my children,” Diana said. “But I am needed here, and Vienna is lovely.”
“Speaking of children,” the prince said, “did you know Napoleon’s son, the little King of Rome, is here at Schonbrunn?”
Diana’s eyes widened. “I had heard rumors, but no one has seen the French empress or her son at state events. My uncle has made official inquiries, but his attempts to visit and pay his respects to her as the French ambassador have been rebuffed.”
De Ligne made a wry face. “Pity. I believe she could do with the company, but her father is the Austrian emperor, and he prefers she remain incommunicado for the moment, perhaps for fear her presence might influence the proceedings of the Congress. She is quite a pitiful figure, is she not, the empress of a fallen nation, an innocent girl forced to marry a man now considered a monster? Think how her tearstained face might sway opinion. And the lad—he is a charming boy! His grandfather is quite right in keeping him here. He does not deserve to be a pawn.” The prince straightened his shoulders. “I saw the little one only yesterday. We sat on the floor and played with his toy soldiers.”
Diana clasped her hands to her chest. “Truly? How wonderful! But how did you come by such a privilege?”
He spread his hands wide and grinned at her. “I am harmless. Prince de Talleyrand is not.”
“And the Empress Marie Louise? Have you seen her too? I had heard she wishes to retu
rn to her husband on Elba.”
The prince looked horrified. “What? Give up this grandeur to play Robinson Crusoe with Napoleon?” He beckoned them in to whisper. “There is a rumor that she has taken a lover, and that is why she will not go to Elba. But there is also a rumor that it is her father who keeps her here, and has forbidden her to ever see Napoleon again. He has petitioned the Congress on her behalf to grant her the Duchy of Parma as a bribe to ensure her good behavior and cooperation. I’ve heard she is watched day and night, mostly by her lover, who follows her everywhere like a devoted puppy.”
He shook his head as he met Diana’s rapt expression. “I know that look, Diana. Don’t imagine I’ll help you pass notes from your uncle, my dear. I am a neutral party here.” He took a deep breath of fall air. “I enjoy the parties, the gossip, and an occasional game of toy soldiers with the King of Rome. Nothing more. I am too old for intrigue.”
“I would simply offer her feminine company, a kind shoulder, if she wished a friend to confide in,” Diana sniffed. “How sad she cannot even trust her lover, since he is devoted to her father.”
De Ligne laughed. “Ah, the French. You must have love, mustn’t you? Very well, they say she is indeed in love with her count, and he with her, and why not? She loved Napoleon, did she not, and how unlikely was that? An Austrian princess, forced to wed her country’s conqueror? Perhaps she has the ability to fall in love easily, like many women—and men like myself.” He turned to Julia. “Are you in love, my dear, or are you merely married?”
She blushed. “I am . . .” she began, and paused. How could she explain what she was?
Diana tilted her head. “Have no fear of us, my dear Julia. One hears rumors, of course, but this is Vienna, not London. Things are different here.”
“My word, yes!” the prince agreed. “The more scandalous you are, the better for you! And speaking of scandal, did you see Princess Bagration’s gown at the last ball?” he asked, returning to gossip, his favorite subject. “Where it was not low-cut, it was sheer as the air itself. They are calling her the ‘naked angel.’ ”
The Secret Life of Lady Julia Page 12
