by Sue London
“Not especially, sir, but you do not dislike it.”
His host smiled at him. “I’m not known to be averse to many liquors.”
The efficient Dibbs returned momentarily with a Russian styled silver and crystal vodka service, serving both gentlemen the chilled beverage. The earl invited Casimir to sit in one of the deep leather chairs and then took the other one.
“Well, Mr. Rokiczana, my wife wants to know all about you.”
“Oh?” Casimir took a sip. Quite nice.
“Yes, and Robert assures me that you can’t be broken, so I have to hope that you can be cajoled.”
Casimir smiled at his host. “What is it you would like to know?”
“Why did you marry George?”
Casimir paused for a moment. “Because I love her. And to protect her. Otto seemed hesitant to go against me due to my connections, so I hoped my name would give her the same protection.”
“What connections would those be?”
Casimir smiled. “I have many connections, my lord. I’ve spent the last five years schooling with the sons of Prussian nobility. Drinking with them, visiting their houses.”
“Yes, but who specifically was he afraid of?”
“I came very highly recommended to the delegation and Hardenberg noticed. I was probably the only clerk to take a private meeting with him. I also knew Metternich prior to the Congress, had been to his home a few times.”
The earl looked at him shrewdly. “Well, you are certainly full of surprises, Mr. Rokiczana.”
“How do you mean, my lord?”
“You’re young yet, but you have the makings of a statesman.”
“I appreciate your opinion on that, my lord.”
“Really? Why?”
“Your wife was quite complimentary on your record in the British Parliament.”
“Do you have a title, Mr. Rokiczana?”
Casimir was silent for a moment, contemplating what to reveal. He decided on the simpler truth rather than the complicated one. “No, my lord.”
“Then I will assume you are involved in the fight for Polish independence?”
“I can assure you that the revolution was very effectively put down years ago, my lord.”
“Then what are you about?”
“Hoping that revolution isn’t the only path to a free Poland.”
“That’s ambitious.”
“True. But the world is run by ambitious men.”
“So it is.”
“And their wives, of course.”
“Is that why you chose George Lockhart? For your ambitions?”
Casimir thought quickly back to the letters Gini had discussed with him, describing the Harrington’s forced marriage. “Did you choose your wife, my lord? Or did destiny thrust her upon you?”
*
“Don’t look so dubious, George.” Sabre selected a tiny sweet from the tray in front of her. “It’s not like I’m going to bite you.”
“You said you were still angry with me. I’m just waiting to see how that manifests.”
“I’m trying to decide if I’m angrier at you or Robert. My brother has been very troublesome of late.”
“What did he do to the duke?”
Sabre paused in brushing crumbs off her skirt. “You know how elaborate Robert can be in setting up his plans.”
“Obviously.”
“He wanted our father exiled and targeted Quince as the man who could ensure it would happen.”
“Because he’s a duke?”
“Among other things. But it led to Quince being blackmailed and threatened. They even tried to kill him once. A man and two horses died from the attack.”
George blew out a breath and nodded. “You should definitely be angrier at Robert.”
Sabre frowned. “For all the good it would do me.”
“If we enlist Jack’s help, certainly all three Haberdashers can devise a fitting punishment for him.”
Sabre smiled. “I’ve missed you, Georgie. Jack isn’t nearly as devious and black hearted as you.”
“See? You should keep that in mind before planning your revenge on me.”
“Alas, none of us are as devious and black hearted as Robert.”
George slumped back against her seat. “You make a good point.” She perked back up. “So he can never know it was us.”
“Easier said than done.”
George shrugged. “We’ll think of something. Sooner or later. We always do.”
“True enough.” The duchess paused for a moment. “It is nice having you back. Even if I’m still a teensie bit mad at you working for Robert without telling me or taking me with you.”
“I thought we had agreed we were angry at Robert.”
“Well, yes, but he is in charge of some of the most interesting things to do in England.”
George chuckled. “Technically I wasn’t in England.”
“If you can’t tell me about it, then you can’t tell me about it. Hints will only make me want to throttle you. Though I knew you weren’t in England.” Sabre picked at another dainty from the tray. “Your husband sounds like he’s from Central Europe. But the language he spoke, it wasn’t Hungarian.”
“Are we playing a game?”
“Of course we’re playing a game. We’re always playing a game.”
“Is this the ‘how long will Sabre torture me until she forgives me’ game?”
“That’s one of them, yes. Another is ‘who is this man that George married?’ That game is probably more important at the moment.”
“Do you want me to tell you, or do you want to just keep guessing?”
“Both options are tempting. Do I earn boons if I guess correctly?”
George laughed. “I know better than to grant you an undefined boon. What do you want?”
“A painting.”
“That I paint for you, or am I stealing it from somewhere?”
Now it was Sabre’s turn to grin. “That you paint for me. Have you become adept at robbery?”
“Not especially, thus why I wanted to be careful what I was getting myself into.”
“Just a painting. Of me.”
“I’ve already promised one to Jack, so you don’t even have to earn it. It’s only fair if I do one of you, too.”
“Oh, Jack wants a boudoir painting?”
The laugh that surprised from George was so sudden that it pulled her side painfully. “A nude painting? She’s best hope not, because I said I would paint her in the snow! Do you really want a boudoir painting?”
“Yes. The duke loves art. I hope to surprise him with it for his birthday.”
“Oh, I imagine he’ll be surprised. When is his birthday?”
“November. We have time.”
“Naughty, naughty Sabre,” George admonished.
“Yes, I’m sure you’re like a nun with your husband.”
George snorted. “And now you want to hear about my bed sport. You truly are naughty.”
Sabre grinned. “Well, since we are talking about your husband, tell me about him.”
“He’s from Poland, a gentleman,” George plucked at the fringe of the settee, knowing she would soon run out of descriptive information. Casimir was Casimir, handsome and charming. So charming it was easy to forget that he was adept at keeping most things about himself hidden. “He’s fair at cards, a wonderful dancer, and a flirt. What of your husband, the duke? I’ve hardly heard him say a word.”
“Quince?” Sabre smiled. Handy to know that the duchess could be so easily distracted by mention of her husband. “He’s the best swordsman I’ve ever seen. And so kind. Strong, but kind. And he believes in rights for women.”
“Handy, as you’re not one to have your rights infringed.”
“Very true. What of your husband?”
“You just spent an hour with him, does he seem controlling?”
“Not as such, but some are very good at hiding their true selves.”
That seemed uncomfo
rtably close to George’s own fears, so she changed the direction of the conversation. “Is that why you don’t like the earl?”
Sabre laughed. “Gideon, hide his true self? I tend to doubt that. And I like him well enough. Is Jack saying that I don’t like him?”
“Not in so many words,” George hedged.
“I haven’t liked the change in Jack,” Sabre said, scrunching up her nose. “And I don’t see why she let’s him ignore her so.”
“Oh? Where is your husband?”
Sabre glowered. “Believe me when I say that Quince is thrice as attentive as Gideon could ever hope to be.”
George grinned. “So touchy. I suppose I should be glad that my husband is not serving in Parliament.”
“Indeed you should. And if you aren’t going to be any more forthcoming, then we should track down said husbands and pester Jack to start nuncheon.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Casimir regretted being so forthright almost immediately. Honesty had never worked out well for him, and there was no reason whatsoever to divulge so much of his history, and thoughts, to this earl he didn’t even know. Regret transformed to a low level panic. The last time he had trusted so quickly had been disastrous. He couldn’t think on it. Shortly the duke joined them and with Casimir subdued to quiet, the earl and duke chatted in the banter of old friends. It seemed this was a household of old friendships. Certainly with everyone such bosom companions he could easily make friends himself and slide unremarked into their lives as he had with so many others. That was his gift, to easily enmesh himself in others lives so that they could barely remember a time that he wasn’t their friend. Provided that he hadn’t opened his mouth and already said something counter to the earl’s own political goals. Not that he had any reason to believe that the man would have an interest in Central Europe, but stranger things had happened. And the earl had that blasé confidence peculiar to men with a great deal of power. Such a man might easily be involved in things far beyond his own borders.
But there was no way to predict what the earl would do, and no reason yet to trust anything he might say, so Casimir resigned himself to waiting. Mastering his fear, he followed the other gentlemen in to nuncheon and gave himself over the silly chatter required of an early afternoon social affair. Nuncheon. He still didn’t believe that was a word.
*
Retreating to their room to refresh before supper, George watched Casimir. He had seemed oddly distant at times during the afternoon meal and she worried what the earl might have said to him. Or perhaps the duke, who had arrived before she and Sabre came downstairs.
He continued to be distracted now and she couldn’t stand it any longer. “What’s wrong?”
After a long blink he summoned one of his most charming smiles. “Nothing that can’t be solved by time alone with my wife.”
True to his statement, he pulled her closer, smoothing his hands over her hips, his intentions clear. She didn’t want to be distracted and searched his eyes. They now reflected nothing but lust and amusement. Oh, how devilishly good he was at hiding his thoughts!
“Did Gideon say something?” she demanded. She had already begun to think of the earl by his Christian name since she heard him referred to by it so often. Something flickered in Casimir’s eyes and he faltered for a moment, so she pressed him. “What?”
“He wanted to know why I married you. He seems terribly protective for someone you say you didn’t meet until we returned to London.”
“Jack’s influence, no doubt.” She frowned. “In fact, I would wager that rather than fuss over me she has fussed to her husband and sent him on this mission.”
Casimir flicked the end of her nose. “Stop looking so perturbed. It’s pleasing when people care about us.”
“Really? Just you wait until Jack has decided that you are part of her brood. Her fussing will irritate you to no end.”
“This from the woman who crossed Vienna in the middle of the night, and climbed a building, just to inquire why I hadn’t attended some parties?”
“I-” George stopped and frowned again. Casimir simply chuckled and started nibbling on her neck. “I don’t fuss,” she said peevishly.
“Of course not, love,” he said agreeably. She wasn’t sure she had ever heard agreeableness sound so perverse. Then he pulled her closer still, his mouth covering hers, and she lost herself in his strength and warmth. The Harringtons could fuss all they wanted as long as she could retreat here with Casimir.
*
Casimir had traveled through some of the finest houses of Prussia in the last few years, and knew how to be a cordial and delightful guest. It was a talent, really. Humorous without being wearing, quiet without being dull. Smiling, always smiling. He could, he thought, make something of a career of it. The wealthy were generous with those they considered to be entertaining and easy companions. Many people had been very generous with him. Certainly a small dinner party at the earl’s home wouldn’t be beyond him. He wished that it were a large party rather than this rather intimate gathering.
He turned his best smile on the duchess. As he expected, it distracted her from teasing his wife. “Tell me, your grace, how did you and the duke meet?”
The duchess gave her husband a sweet smile, while the duke sighed and stared into his wine glass. She turned her grin back on Casimir. “We met in the foyer of my brother’s town home.” Her grin became devilish. “Where Quince proceeded to invite me to be his mistress.”
Gina dropped her fork. “He did not!”
The duchess turned to her husband again. “You did, didn’t you? Admit it.”
The duke squeezed his wife’s hand and looked at her adoringly. “How could I not? Your beauty blinded me.”
Casimir knew glibness when he saw it, he practiced it often enough himself. Saying what seemed charming for the moment rather than what one really thought. The duke struck him as a private man, not the type to discuss such a story with even his most bosom companions. That impression seemed supported by the duke quickly finishing his wine and signally for another. Casimir gave the duchess his most earnest look, “You must understand that we men all become foolish when blinded by love. You’re fortunate he didn’t say something even more outrageous.”
The duchess chuckled. “One has a hard time imagining what that might be.”
“What were some of the more outrageous things I said when we met?” Casimir turned to Gina. He expected her to join his game of saving the duke from embarrassment, but instead she looked pale and stricken.
“Oh my,” the countess said with a laugh, “they must have been outrageous indeed for George to have that look now.”
Casimir was rarely short of patience with teasing banter, but right now he wished all of Gina’s friends away so that he could find out what was bothering her. He reached for her hand but she withdrew it.
Mastering herself a bit, she gave the duke a small smile. “Don’t feel bad, your grace, perhaps she turned down your offer to be your mistress, but Sabre wouldn’t even marry me.”
That started gales of laughter from both the countess and duchess. The countess recovered first. “Oh my, I had forgotten that.”
Casimir looked among the three friends. “You were going to marry each other?”
The countess dabbed the corners of her eyes from the tears the laughter had caused. “Since I was officiating you could say that I was going to marry them.”
Gina relented and said, “We were playing a game. Jack had to be the vicar because she was the only one who knew Latin, and I was going to be the groom because I was tallest.”
The duchess sat back in her seat, arms crossed. “A stupid logic, really. I mean, George your husband is shorter than Jack.”
Gina gave the duchess a brief smile and continued to explain. “As you can see, Sabre didn’t think much of our game.”
The countess snorted. “She threw her bouquet on the ground and jumped up and down on it, screaming that she would never marry and submi
t to a man.”
Gina nodded. “So really, your grace, you’ve done quite well.”
The duke’s smile appeared genuine this time. “Quince,” he correctly gently.
“Oh! I know what we should do!” Everyone turned their attention to the duchess and her rediscovered enthusiasm. “We should have a wedding.”
“Sabre,” the countess said dryly, “you just had a wedding.”
“Not for us, for them,” the duchess said, pointing to Gina and himself.
Casimir looked at his wife. “I would prefer to be the groom.” The small gathering burst into laughter, as he expected they would. Gina chuckled as well, even though she still seemed withdrawn.
The earl looked amused. “You’re woefully unlucky for your age. I hadn’t been married at all then, much less twice.”
“How old are you?” the duchess inquired.
“Twenty, like my wife.”
“Nonsense, George is still nineteen. I’m the oldest.”
Casimir looked at Gina again, but she seemed disinclined to address the discrepancy. He searched his memory to remember which of them had said their age first. What an odd thing to lie about. He knew as well as anyone that mentioning commonalities usually drew people together, but why lie about such a simple fact? Something so easy to confirm. But if she didn’t want to address it, then he wouldn’t either. “Well, I suppose now I have the opportunity to ask your father for your hand.”
The duke finally spoke again. “What will you do if he says no?”
Casimir gave the duke one of his best smiles. “I’m good at persuasion.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
George watched Casimir charming her friends and their husbands. He really was startlingly good at it. But if he wasn’t going to be straightforward about his thoughts and feelings, she had to infer them from what he said and did. When he said that all men become foolish when blinded by love, it had pained her. He had never been foolish with her. Had never been less than perfectly controlled until that moment on the boat to Dover when he had admitted that he didn’t trust anyone. She didn’t trust many, but had been more honest with him than most. She really was twenty, something that very few people at all knew. Only her parents and herself. And now Casimir, if he still believed it. She had seen the doubt in his eyes when he turned to her after Sabre dismissed the idea of George being a year older.
