Love Wins In Berlin

by Barbara Cartland

  A vision swept into the room.

  As the gentlemen rose to their feet, the Countess held out both hands towards the Baron in a theatrical gesture.

  “It is so kind of you to ask me to stay,” she gushed, “and I am thrilled, absolutely thrilled to be here.”

  She turned to say almost the same thing to the Baroness.

  She showed as she did so the sinuous curves of her figure which made the feathers in her hat flutter as if they were birds about to take flight. It reminded the Marquis of the hat that Sybil had been wearing when she had tried to prevent him leaving London.

  The Baron introduced him to the Countess.

  It was then that the Marquis guessed with a cynical twist to his lips exactly why she was here.

  She placed her hand in his and as he raised it perfunctorily towards his lips, he felt her fingers tighten on his. When he met her eyes he knew that she was telling him wordlessly what so many women had already told him.

  It did not need an expression of disapproval on the Baroness’s face to surmise that the Countess was no friend of hers.

  The Baron was paying the Countess compliments.

  He was making sure that the Marquis was aware of how privileged they were that she was included as a guest.

  The Countess sat down near the tea table and the Baron beckoned to the Marquis to sit beside her.

  She accepted a cup of tea but refused anything to eat. Turning towards the Marquis, she said in English,

  “I have always longed to meet you. I have been told that you are the most handsome and attractive gentleman in London.”

  “I cannot imagine,” the Marquis replied, his eyes twinkling, “where you could have heard such nonsense.”

  “But it is true,” the Countess insisted. “I rather suspected my friends were exaggerating, but now I have met you, I know that they have told me the truth.”

  Her eyes, which were flecked with green, met his. He knew exactly what she was saying to him and what she expected.

  The Marquis was far too clever not to guess that there was some special reason why the Countess had been invited to meet him. However it did not seem possible that it could in any way be connected with his quest.

  Yet he was sure it was not by chance that he and the Countess Zivana were guests of the Baron von Honentaal at the same time.

  “What have you planned for us tonight, my dear Baron?” the Countess asked, speaking in German.

  “What could I do,” the Baron answered, “when I am entertaining the most beautiful woman in Germany, but invite the most intelligent and charming gentlemen to meet her?”

  “That sounds delightful,” the Countess enthused.” And as you have invited the Marquis of Midhurst, it should be a very amusing evening.”

  “That is what I hope,” the Baron replied, “and, as the girls will want to dance, I thought we should do so after dinner. Not a big party, but just one which will be romantic and entertaining.”

  He was not looking at his daughter as he spoke, but at the Countess.

  Once again the Marquis’s eyes were twinkling.

  What could be a quicker way of creating a romance than that he should hold this exquisite paragon of a woman in his arms? Undoubtedly to the strains of a Johann Strauss waltz and other romantic music from Vienna.

  ‘The scene is set,’ he told himself. ‘Now I have to wait and discover what this drama is all about.’

  He was still puzzled when later he went to dress for dinner, which was early by English customs. He was perfectly aware that everything had been planned for his benefit.

  The Baron had said it was the girls who wanted to dance, but it was obviously a surprise to them.

  “We are going to dance, Papa?” Karoline had cried.” You did not tell me! That is something I have been longing to do ever since I came home.”

  “I suppose you can dance the latest waltzes and all the dances which have become popular since I was a boy?” the Baron asked.

  “Of course I can,” Karoline replied.” But Simona was the best dancer in the whole school, and everyone agreed that it was she who should have won the music prize that was awarded at the end of term.”

  “Then you must certainly dance with me this evening, Simona,” the Baron offered.

  “I will be delighted,” Simona answered. “But personally I think Karoline dances better than I do.”

  “Now you are being ridiculously modest,” Karoline protested. “Tonight there will be gentlemen who can judge for themselves, and I hope, Papa, that you have asked lots of them to join us.”

  “I certainly have,” the Baron replied, “and I have also included some very attractive young women. So you two girls had better look to your laurels.”

  Karoline gave a cry.

  “I shall wear my best gown and Simona will wear hers. But of course we shall need a hairdresser, and I expect the Countess will too.”

  “He has already been ordered,” the Baron said spreading his hands.” I assure you that your mother and I have thought of every detail to make this evening a success, and I shall be very disappointed indeed if you are not all satisfied.

  “He looked at the Marquis as he spoke.

  “That is very kind of you, Baron,” he said. “You should not have gone to so much trouble on my account. But I enjoy dancing and balls are very popular in London at this moment.”

  “So I have heard,” the Baron replied. “But we must do our best to beat London, as I believe we do when it comes to music.”

  The Countess rose to her feet.

  “As we are going to be so energetic tonight,” she said, “I am going to rest. As you can quite understand, my dear Baron, I want to look my best for your charming guest, who must take a good report of Berlin back to Queen Victoria.”

  “We must make sure that he does,” the Baron agreed, “but I have a suspicion his report will go to the Prince of Wales.”

  As if the Countess realised she had made a mistake, she made a little exclamation.

  “But of course,” she said, “your handsome, dashing Prince, who has every tongue talking. I cannot tell you how much I want to meet him. Perhaps if you invite me to stay with you in London, you will be able to arrange it.”

  She looked up at the Marquis with her green eyes as she spoke.

  He thought she was moving a little faster than he expected.

  The Countess placed her hand on his arm.

  “We will talk about it tonight,” she purred softly.

  Then turning with a flurry of her skirts, she reached the door.

  As she departed she gave the Baron a knowing glance, which should have meant nothing to anyone but him.

  Yet because he was extremely observant, the Marquis had noticed her expression. He knew, although he could not think why, that something was being set up which would affect him.

  ‘I do not understand,’ he said to himself.

  At the same time, because the whole scenario was so unusual, he was intrigued.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Karoline was very excited at the prospect of a dinner party and dancing. She rushed to Simona’s room to show off her gown.

  It was a pretty, though quite ordinary dress, but more grown-up than anything Karoline had worn at School.

  Simona’s gown had been chosen by her mother last winter for her first hunt ball. It was of course white and simple enough to be worn by a young girl. At the same time it framed Simona’s beauty and her exquisite figure perfectly.

  When she walked into the drawing room before dinner, the Marquis thought she resembled a young Goddess. She might have just stepped down from Mount Olympus.

  The Countess was determined to make a dramatic entrance. She therefore did not make her appearance until the other guests had all arrived.

  They were all drinking and laughing when she swept into the room.

  For a moment there was a sudden silence which any actress knows is the greatest compliment she can receive.

  The Countess certainly
cut a dash.

  Her gown was green to match her eyes.

  Peacock feathers were sewn onto her full skirt and encircled her bare shoulders. There were emeralds around her neck and in her ears. More peacock feathers were arranged in her dark hair.

  It was the Baron who first clapped his hands at her appearance followed by all the gentlemen.

  “Magnificent!” he exclaimed. “No one could look more glamorous nor more beautiful!”

  He introduced her to the other guests.

  The men kissed her hand, but the ladies were not so effusive. They were obviously irritated to find that they could not compete with her.

  When they moved into dinner the Countess sat on the right of the Baron and the Marquis was on her other side.

  Simona had half expected that because she was English, she would have been seated next to the Marquis.

  She hoped that, if she was, she would be able to tell him that she had something of great importance to impart.

  This might have made it possible for her somehow to be alone with him later.

  However she found herself at the other end of the table with young German officers on either side of her. They made themselves charming and were most attentive.

  At the same time Simona could not help watching what seemed to be a drama unfolding at the other end of the table.

  The Countess was determined to be the focus of attention for every man within reach, especially the Marquis. Simona noticed that she was flirting with him in a manner her mother would have considered totally outrageous.

  The Baron was encouraging her.

  Simona could only hope that he would not be duped. Yet because the Countess was so beautiful it would be quite understandable if the Marquis was indeed caught in her clutches.

  ‘In which case,’ Simona told herself, ‘he will not listen to me or anything that I have to tell him.’

  The dinner was well prepared but heavy, and there was rather too much of it and the same applied to the wine.

  When at last the desert was placed on the table and liqueurs were offered to the gentlemen, it was already after ten o’clock.

  “I hope we are going to dance soon,” Karoline urged in a low voice. “Some of these officers have to return to their barracks by midnight.”

  As if the Baron heard her or perhaps guessed what she was saying, he suggested,

  “Why don’t you young people go to the ballroom and start dancing? The band is waiting for you and we older folk will join you a little later.”

  Karoline sprang to her feet eagerly.

  So did the younger ladies, including some who were married and she led the way from the dining room along the passage to the ballroom, which was large and impressive.

  There was a stand decorated with flowers on which the band was waiting for their arrival and as soon as they appeared they struck up a vigorous waltz.

  Simona found herself swept on to the floor by one of the officers who had sat next to her at dinner. He was a good dancer and the band was excellent. They had obviously been told to play sentimental music and as many waltzes by Strauss as possible.

  They were just starting another waltz when the Baron entered the ballroom with the Countess and the Marquis just behind him.

  He looked with approval at the young dancers who were selecting their partners before saying,

  “Although, Countess, I am longing to dance with you, I think for this beautiful waltz you should be in the arms of our most distinguished visitor.”

  He was looking at the Marquis as he spoke.

  There was nothing he could do but take the Countess onto the dance floor, thinking as he did so that the Baron was overdoing it.

  He was making it all too obvious what he expected from a meeting between himself and the Countess, who was reputedly the most beautiful woman in Germany and she was making it clear that she approved of the way the Baron was directing affairs.

  As they began to dance, she moved a little closer to the Marquis than was necessary and said,

  “I have been so much looking forward to this dance. I knew you would be a perfect dancer and we might have been made for each other.”

  The way she spoke and the expression in her eyes made the Marquis feel he was being pushed in one direction far too quickly and too heavily.

  ‘It is always the same with Germans’, he thought. ‘There is no delicacy about anything that they do!’

  If the Countess had been French, he would have been trying to flirt with her rather than her making all the running.

  He had always disliked the obvious.

  Where women were concerned he liked, as most men, to do his own hunting.

  What puzzled him was what the Baron was expecting to gain from this situation. He was thrusting him into a deep flirtation with the Countess and why was she so eager to play the part assigned to her?

  As they waltzed round the room, Simona felt that the Marquis had already been caught in the trap the Baron had set for him and whatever she might tell him, he would refuse to believe it.

  “What are you thinking about so seriously?” her partner asked. “Anyone as beautiful as you should always be smiling.”

  “I am enjoying the dancing,” Simona replied, “and I think the music is delightful.”

  “So are you,” her partner said. “So delightful that I want to talk to you alone and I am sure that it is warm enough for us to go into the garden.”

  Simona however had been told by her mother that no debutante should venture alone into a garden or a conservatory with a man.

  “Do you mean, Mama,” Simona had asked, “that he might try to kiss her?”

  “I would be surprised if he did not,” Lady Belgrave had replied, “but, what is more important is that the girl in question, especially if she is a debutante, would earn herself a bad reputation.”

  Simona understood that this was something every young unmarried lady must avoid at all costs.

  When she had reflected on the subject later, it seemed strange that this problem did not seem to worry married women, especially those who were part of the Marlborough House set, although they did not particularly interest her.

  Yet she could not help hearing at her mother’s luncheon and tea parties, the gossip about the Prince of Wales, who everyone wished to talk about. They all criticised unmercifully whichever woman was attracting him at any particular moment.

  Simona had received a lecture from her mother on how she should behave when she went to stay in Berlin with her friend.

  She therefore informed her partner that she had no wish to move into the garden nor to leave the ballroom.

  As if he found Simona disappointing, he asked one of the married ladies for the next dance. To Simona’s amusement they disappeared into the garden halfway through the next waltz!

  She had no idea that while she was surreptitiously watching the Marquis, he had been equally interested in her.

  He noticed that she was behaving in a very circumspect manner as was expected of a well-bred debutante. He could not say the same of most of the other young ladies present, who had drunk a great deal of champagne. They were now not only dancing in a somewhat abandoned fashion, but were being very noisy about it.

  The Marquis felt that as Simona was the same nationality as himself he should ask her for a dance, but he found it difficult to escape from the Countess.

  She appeared to be clinging to him, whether they were on the dance floor or waiting for the music to start up again.

  It was with difficulty that he managed, because it was polite, to ask the Baroness for a dance. She had been watching the dancers from a comfortable chair and at the Marquis’s invitation, she rose to her feet.

  “I would love to dance with you,” she said, “as it is something I have not done for a long time, and you must forgive me if I am not as experienced as your last partner.”

  Undoubtedly there was a hard note in her voice when she referred to the Countess and as the Marquis led her on to the
floor, he asked her quietly,

  “Tell me about the Countess von Tassen. I have not heard of her before.”

  “She is, as you can see,” the Baroness replied “extremely good-looking, and my husband insists that she is the most beautiful woman in Germany.

  “She spoke with a sharp tone in her voice.

  Then when she noticed that the Marquis was waiting for further information she continued,

  “Her mother was Russian, which is why she looks different, and is different, in so many ways. Her father was German, as was her husband.”

  “What has happened to the Count?” the Marquis enquired casually.

  “He disappeared some years ago,” the Baroness replied, “and as by now you must be aware, the Countess boasts a great number of men wishing to look after her.”

  Now there was no doubt that the Baroness’s voice was scornful and that she deeply disapproved of the Countess. The Marquis could appreciate without being told that she resented such a woman in her house.

  But the Baron had insisted.

  He waltzed the Baroness a little further round the dance floor and then asked her,”

  Is the Countess accepted at the Palace?”

  “Any woman is acceptable to the Emperor if she has beautiful hands,” the Baroness replied.

  “Hands?” the Marquis echoed in surprise.

  “It is something he is obsessed with,” the Baroness smiled. “Perhaps it is understandable considering he has only one good arm.”

  The Marquis was silent for a moment before commenting,

  “It seems a very strange obsession and one I have never come across.”

  “You will certainly hear about it whilst you are in Berlin,” the Baroness said,” and my husband can tell you more than I can.”

  The Marquis thought this was a strange statement and would have liked to know more. The dance finished and he escorted the Baroness back to her chair.

  As he did so, he thought that now was a good moment to ask Simona for a dance.

  But just as he turned away from the Baroness, the Countess appeared at his side.

  “Now you must dance with me again,” she insisted, flashing her large eyes. “My last partner was a stumbling cripple compared with you.”