The Three Colonels

by Jack Caldwell

  “Absolutely not,” he replied with some force.

  “You may need to—observe!” She gestured to the dancers with her fan. Buford saw Caroline dancing with Baron Wolfgang von Odbart.

  Buford’s throat tightened; he had learned via his research into the other members of the Congress that Baron von Odbart was a notorious seducer and womanizer. Buford saw no parallel to his own previous behavior; his past conquests had all been voluntary, but the baron’s had not.

  “They look lovely, oui? I think she will thank me for the introduction,” the countess purred. “What time shall I expect you tonight, Jean?”

  Deep anger flushed Buford’s face. He turned to her, and it took all of the colonel’s discipline not to slap the woman.

  “Madam,” he spoke in English through clenched teeth, “I am afraid you are under a mistaken impression of our acquaintance. I shall say no more. If you would excuse me, I shall return to my wife.”

  The countess’s jaw dropped slightly. “Have you made un mariage d’amour—the love match?” She laughed again. “Oh, that is too amusing; that cannot be. Not you, chéri.”

  Buford pursed his lips but said nothing. He certainly would not reveal his feelings for his wife to her.

  A grin touched by malice was on the countess’s face. “You had better hurry, chéri. The dance is finished.”

  Buford whirled around. Sure enough, the music had ended, and most of the couples had already left the dance floor. Caroline was nowhere in sight.

  * * *

  After two sets of dancing, Caroline was in need of refreshment, and she noticed that others were like-minded.

  “Lady Buford, these tables are so crowded,” said the baron. “Come, there is another near the library.”

  Wishing to slake her thirst as soon as possible, she allowed herself to be escorted out of the ballroom. Once they reached the table, the baron gave Caroline a glass of punch. She drank as quickly as a gentlewoman could and shyly requested another.

  “Ja, dancing is hot work, is it not?” remarked the baron with polite humor. He handed Caroline her replenished glass. “Here you are, my lady. I am at your command.”

  “Thank you, Baron.”

  “Sie sind herzlich willkommen—you are most welcome.”

  Caroline thought it would be best to make some polite conversation with her companion before she was claimed for the next set. “Have you always lived in Vienna, sir?”

  “I was raised in a small village outside Berlin. My estate has been in my family for eight generations.”

  “It is very beautiful, I am sure.”

  “Ja, es ist ein schöner Ort—a most beautiful place.” He grew very close to Caroline as he eyed the library door. “I will take you there soon, mein schönes Mädchen.”

  “Baron von Odbart, what are you saying?” Caroline asked.

  * * *

  Buford tried not to appear anxious as he walked through the crowd looking for Caroline. Unconsciously, he looked for feathers—Caroline was one of the few ladies wearing them. He had searched the ballroom twice without success, when he noticed M. Talleyrand looking at him. While he was anxious to find his wife, Buford could not ignore the French ambassador.

  “Bonsoir, Excellency,” he greeted him in French.

  “Good evening, Sir John,” he returned in English. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

  “Very much. Do you join the dance?”

  “Non, such pastimes are beyond me. I take pleasure in observing the festivities.” The minister owned a pronounced limp.

  “Yes, the ladies are lovely.”

  “Oui, tout à fait—yes, indeed. But there is more; one can learn much from watching.” Talleyrand eyed Buford closely.

  Buford knew he was trying to alert him. “Absolutely, monsieur.”

  Talleyrand sighed. “There is much beauty to be found by a dashing knight. It is everywhere—the ballroom, the dining room, the library…” The sentence hung in the air.

  It took Buford a moment to understand the ambassador. “I—excuse me, Excellency. I have enjoyed this enlightening conversation. Merci beaucoup. Bonne nuit.”

  “You are very welcome, Sir John. Good night.” Buford headed towards the library. The ambassador watched him go with a glint in his eye.

  * * *

  “Baron von Odbart, what are you saying?” Caroline asked.

  “Lady Buford—”

  “Ah, there you are, my dear!” said Sir John as he entered the hallway before the library. “Baron, good evening!”

  “Sir John!” Caroline exclaimed in surprise and relief. The Prussian glared at the interloper.

  “Have you been keeping Seine Exzellenz company? Wunderbar!” Sir John turned to the baron. He let the Prussian know that he had heard their last exchange and that he spoke German. “Lady Buford takes her duties as my wife seriously—all of them,” he said with a mouth that smiled and eyes that did not.

  Baron von Odbart did not reply. The two men locked eyes.

  “My dear,” Sir John said, half turning to Caroline but not breaking eye contact with his adversary, “Lady Beatrice was looking for you. She is near the dining room, I believe.” His smile never left his face.

  Caroline was confused. She had at last realized that she had been propositioned, but Sir John did not seem to be angry at all. The last time a man did thus, John had threatened to kill him, but now her husband just smiled at the baron.

  “I… thank you, dear. Baron, excuse me,” she offered with the barest of civility, before she turned and left for the ballroom.

  The two men were left alone. Finally, the baron spoke. “If you will excuse me, I shall return to the ball.”

  He is an ambassador—you can do nothing, Buford reminded himself. I cannot challenge him; I cannot! But Buford could not let things lie and remain a man.

  “A question first, sir. Do you hunt?”

  The baron looked into his eyes. “Ja. Grouse and deer.”

  “Musket?”

  “Ja.”

  “Perhaps we should go shooting together once the spring comes. I am proficient with the musket, rifle, pistol, and bow. I particularly enjoy hunting at dawn. Very productive, you know. I have had many successful… hunts at dawn.”

  The baron replied with a grunt.

  Buford lowered his voice. “Have you ever hunted with a blade? There is nothing like killing a wild boar with a sabre. The sound it makes when the blade strikes home… ah!” There was a wild look in his eye.

  The baron shuddered; the message had been delivered. “I shall remember that. But, excuse me please; I do not think I shall have time to… hunt while in Vienna. The Congress…” he shrugged. “My apologies—bitte entschuldigen Sie. Gute Nacht.”

  * * *

  “Lady Beatrice, you were looking for me?” greeted Lady Buford.

  The older lady smiled at her friend. “Why no, but I am glad to see you. Did someone say that I was?”

  Caroline’s confusion returned. “Sir John did. I was just with Baron von Odbart—”

  Lady Beatrice started. “Baron von Odbart!” She collected herself. “Caroline, is Sir John still with the baron?”

  “Yes, I just left him—oh!” Caroline finally made sense of her husband’s odd behavior. He was trying to get me out of the room before he… She began to turn back to the library when she felt Lady Beatrice’s hand on her arm.

  “Caroline,” she said in a low voice, “we shall go together… slowly.”

  The two ladies had only taken a dozen steps before they saw, to their immense relief, Sir John strolling from the direction of the library. “Ladies!” he called out gaily.

  Caroline was mortified, and true to her sex, exorcised her embarrassment by scolding her husband. “Sir John! What are you about, sir?”

  Lady Beatrice asked, “Where is the baron?”

  “The baron?” the colonel said nonchalantly. “Oh, he is about somewhere. Wretched man—turned down the opportunity to go hunting with me.”

  “
Hunting, sir?” cried his wife. “You wished to go sporting with that man after he—”

  “Lady Buford!” hissed the hostess. To Sir John she asked, “Would this… hunting have anything to do with pistols or swords?”

  “The very thing! I cannot see why he declined, but one can never tell with these foreigners.”

  “Yes,” said Lady Beatrice dryly, “an ambassador is usually too busy for that sort of thing, especially with a mere advisor. I would not ask again, sir. I do not believe my brother would approve.”

  Buford understood Lady Beatrice’s warning. “Yes, my lady.”

  Caroline did not quite follow the conversation, but she knew that Sir John had been warned off some improper behavior. She began to defend him when another gentleman approached the group.

  “Lady Beatrice, Sir John, excuse me please,” said one of the senior British diplomats. “Lady Buford, it is time for the supper dance.” He smiled as he held out his arm.

  “Oh! Of course, my lord.”

  Sir John smiled. “Enjoy your dinner, my dear. I shall see you for the final set.”

  “Lady Buford,” said Lady Beatrice as Caroline was led away, “if you would be so kind as to call on me day after tomorrow, I would be most obliged.”

  Caroline was taken aback by the formal tone. “Of… of course, my lady.”

  “Wonderful. Let us say three o’clock? I shall send my card around.”

  After Caroline left, Sir John asked, “Lady Beatrice, do you dance tonight?”

  “Oh, no, my dear colonel. A hostess’s job is never done. However, I would not object if you would lend me your arm to the dining room.”

  * * *

  By the time the Bufords were riding back home in the carriage, all discord between them was once again gone. Caroline was tired and happy. In the back of her mind, she was still a bit disappointed that Sir John did not defend her more vigorously before the baron. Go sporting with him, indeed! However, the dinner was delightful, and she loved to dance with her husband. And Sofia’s gossip from the servants’ quarters was interesting.

  “Ja! I vould not believe it had I not seen it vith mine own eyes! Baron von Odbart vas chased out of the back door by a Russian count! There will be some merry talk around Vienna tomorrow, I can assure you!”

  Caroline was so sleepy and relaxed that she broke with propriety, placed her head on Sir John’s shoulder, and closed her eyes, a contented smile on her lips. Sir John simply held his wife’s hand as the carriage rocked through the nearly empty streets.

  In the darkness of the carriage, they could not see the frown on Sofia’s face.

  Chapter 14

  Once again, Caroline found herself in a coach heading for Lady Beatrice’s townhouse, but this time she was alone. She insisted that Sofia stay at home because Caroline planned to do a bit of shopping afterwards. Strangely, the girl did not object overmuch.

  It was now two days since the embassy ball, and Caroline was keeping her engagement to join Lady Beatrice for tea. She almost sent her regrets; for some reason Caroline awoke that morning feeling unwell, but fortunately, the spell passed. Soon the carriage reached its destination, and she was shown to the parlor.

  Caroline was surprised to find Lady Beatrice quite alone. She was not pleased by this; she at once feared that she had committed some unknown blunder during the ball and was now to account for it. Still, hiding behind her mask of civility, Caroline calmly took the seat offered her.

  “Cook has assured me that tea is almost ready, Caroline. That is a lovely dress. Fuchsia, is it not?”

  “I suppose, my lady. The dressmaker called it dark rose.” Mortification joined anxiety, even though Lady Beatrice had reverted to the informality of using her given name.

  “It is a lovely color, whatever its name.” The tea tray now made its appearance, and soon cups were poured and served. “Are you enjoying your time in Vienna, Caroline?” asked Lady Beatrice as she stirred her tea.

  Caroline began shaking. Now it begins. What in heaven have I done? “Yes, madam.”

  “I am glad. You have certainly made friends here.”

  “Thank you, my lady, I hope I have. The ladies of the delegation are all delightful and kind.”

  Lady Beatrice leaned forward and touched Caroline’s hand. “I hope that you count me among your friends—” She stopped. “Why, my dear, you are shivering!”

  “’Tis nothing, my lady.” Caroline was near tears.

  “Are you cold? Should I have the fire lit?”

  “No, please, I am f… fine.” Caroline burst into sobs.

  “My dear, whatever is the matter?”

  “Please!” Caroline cried in return. “Keep me in suspense no longer. Tell me what I have done—whom I have offended. To whom must I apologize? Let me make amends.”

  “You poor dear!” The older woman joined Caroline on the couch and held her hand. “Dear child, you have offended no one! You have nothing for which to apologize.”

  Caroline sniffed through her tears. “No one? Truly?”

  Lady Beatrice gave her a kind smile. “You are well liked among the ladies. You have received many compliments for your efforts at the embassy ball.” She handed Caroline a handkerchief.

  Caroline dabbed at her eyes. “Please forgive me. Goodness, but I do not know what came over me. I am not so much of a ninny, I assure you.”

  “Think nothing of it. But what gave you the idea that I was displeased with you?”

  “I could think of no other reason for the invitation here today, especially with no one else attending,” Caroline admitted.

  “I am sorry to have given you distress, my dear.” She paused. “I did, however, want to speak to you privately—about a certain matter.”

  Caroline steeled herself. “Yes, my lady.”

  Lady Beatrice sighed. “Caroline, forgive me. The diplomatic world is new to you, as I think you would agree. It is far different from the world of London society or even the Court of St. James. Here empires may rise or fall. Wars may break out or be ended. This world attracts a certain type of individual—hard, clever people who are used to having their own way and know how to get it.”

  “Yes, madam. But is it so different from the ton?”

  “Oh my, yes! The ton are but children compared to what is outside these doors. London society plays their games for sport. Diplomats play with life and death. The games are far more dangerous here.”

  “Forgive me, but I do not take your meaning. You say I have offended no one. Then what have I done wrong?”

  Lady Beatrice took Caroline’s hand again. “You have not harmed anyone yet, but you are in danger of harming yourself. You must take care when choosing with whom you associate.”

  Caroline recalled the incident with Baron von Odbart. “Oh, I see. But all ended well. The baron withdrew. There was no harm done.”

  “But harm could have been done.”

  “Never!” Caroline gained control of her emotions. “Forgive my outburst, my lady, but you must understand. I would never so dishonor myself or my husband.”

  She patted her hand. “Of course not! That is not my meaning.”

  “Then I do not understand.”

  Lady Beatrice looked into Caroline’s eyes. “What of your husband? What of danger to him?”

  “Sir John? Ha! He was in no danger. In fact, he invited the scoundrel hunting. You were there; you heard.”

  “Yes, I was there and heard his real words.” Lady Beatrice decided that friendly tact was no longer useful. “Think, Lady Buford! You know your husband’s character. Would he actually seek out the company of a man who sought to cuckold him?” Caroline flinched. “Forgive my direct language, my child.”

  “I… I do not know! I thought Sir John was going to call him out; I was sure of it, but he did not—”

  Lady Beatrice cried, “I know I have called you my child, but it was a term of endearment. Are you really so naïve? Did you truly think this hunting scheme was anything but a challenge? Be glad he w
as unsuccessful!”

  “Be glad? My husband is no coward!”

  “Would you prefer him dead or in disgrace? This is no game.” Lady Beatrice turned cold. “I was under the impression you were fond of Sir John.”

  Caroline paled at the verbal slap.

  “Had his challenge been accepted by Baron von Odbart, and had Sir John survived, your husband would have been sent home in disgrace, dismissed from the delegation. I do not believe you would wish this for him.”

  Caroline was dismayed at her childishness. Heavens, she is right—and John knew all the time and still challenged the oaf! “Oh no, my lady,” Caroline cried. She reached out to the other woman. “I have been unforgivably foolish. I thank you for showing me how stupidly I have behaved. Is it any wonder Baron von Odbart thought me a woman of easy virtue? I have risked my husband’s life and career!”

  “I must disagree with you! The baron, and the baron alone, is responsible for his sins. You have done nothing to warrant censure in that matter.” Lady Beatrice smiled. “As for the other issue, is there a woman alive who has not acted foolishly from time to time for a man? All is well now, Caroline, and we have all learned a lesson.”

  The visit would continue for another half hour. It was barely enough time for Caroline to gain control of her emotions. Yet she was still uneasy. She had unwittingly placed her darling husband in danger. How was she to make amends to him when she had yet to tell him that she loved him?

  * * *

  Buford was glad that the Congress was not in session that day, for it gave him the time to catch up with his correspondence. He sat quietly in his library for some time, reading and answering letters. He was so occupied that he did not hear the door open.

  “Sir John?”

  The colonel looked up. Sofia had closed the door behind her and was halfway across the room.

  “Yes, Sofia. May I help you?”

  “I hope you vill, sir.” She crossed over to the desk.

  As she got closer, Buford noticed that the bodice of her dress was pulled unusually low. “Uhh… yes?” he said stupidly, as the hairs on the back of his neck started to rise.