“Yes,” Cécile and I answered in chorus, then started to laugh.
“You ladies are brutal,” Jeremy said, spooning up more sugar, then dropping it back into the bowl. He scowled and pushed his coffee away from him. “Where are we off to this morning, Em?”
“The count asked to meet me here,” I said. “But I didn’t want him to come to our rooms. So we’re to see him at the Griensteidl.”
“I take it he won’t be expecting me?” Jeremy asked.
“No,” I said.
“Capital.”
“How is the empress, Cécile?” I asked.
“Melancholy, depressed. I worry for her. She’s beginning to remind me of Hamlet, which is toujours disappointing in a friend.”
“Will you have time to see her this morning?” I asked.
“Not before my guests arrive.” At the ball the previous evening, we’d had Lady Paget introduce us to Frau Eckoldt and her daughter. Cécile, who had heard all about Friedrich’s plight, had convinced Anna’s mother that she was in dire need of someone to help her with conversational German. This was nonsense, of course. Cécile’s command of the language was flawless; she’d even mastered Wienerisch, the Viennese dialect. Furthermore, everyone at the Hapsburg court spoke French. But Frau Eckoldt was easily deceived, and I had no doubt that Cécile would face little if any difficulty in persuading her that Anna was the perfect person to coach her on idioms.
I glanced at the clock on the mantel. “We’d better hurry, or we’ll be late.”
“I’ll go find us a carriage,” Jeremy said, abandoning his coffee.
“We’re walking,” I said. Meg helped me with my coat and I slipped my hands into a fur muff as Jeremy moaned.
“Walking? In the snow?”
“It’ll be fun.” I had purchased new boots several days earlier and was confident that my feet, protected by thick leather, fur lining, and sturdy soles, would remain warm and dry for the duration of our stroll. We bade farewell to Cécile and headed outside. Jeremy frowned at me as he lifted the hat from his head and knocked off the snow that was quickly piling on it, but he gave me his arm and we set off along the Kärntner Ring towards the opera, where we turned onto Operngasse and then Augustiner Straße. The fresh snow was soft, piling on top of the frozen sidewalks and cushioning our steps. Jeremy started to slide through it rather than walk as we made our way along the Hofburg.
“Easier than ice skating,” he said. “And it gives me an excuse to hang on your arm in an entirely inappropriate manner.”
“If you grab me much harder, I’m going to fling you into the street.”
“I might enjoy that.” His smile brightened his entire face. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to encourage your young friend Anna in her forbidden romance?” he asked.
“Why would you ask such a thing?”
“The Viennese are worse even than we English when it comes to class. At least we stick together, more or less, as a group. They’re divided into little cliques.”
“I’d no idea you were a scholar of the culture.”
“I met a charming woman who told me all about it a few nights ago. She married a man of higher rank and is ignored by his peers. Apparently marrying up is only acceptable if the spouse of lower position is a foreigner.”
“I do hope you were able to offer her a modicum of comfort.”
“Unfortunately I was not. My affections are otherwise engaged.” Snow was stuck all along his eyelashes.
“Who’s the lucky girl? And who’s her unfortunate husband?”
“I’ll never tell.”
“You are a dear boy,” I said, squeezing his arm and dropping my head against his shoulder. “I do hope she appreciates you.” We did not speak again until we had shrugged off our coats inside the Griensteidl.
“Come,” I said. “My table is in the back.”
“Your own table?”
“At least I’m not receiving my mail here. Friedrich does, as do most of his friends.”
“Very like a nonexclusive London gentlemen’s club,” Jeremy said, pulling out a chair for me.
“I wouldn’t know,” I said. “But I’d wager that Vienna’s cafés are far superior, if for no reason other than that they are open to ladies.”
“You’ll get no argument from me.” Viktor took our orders and returned almost at once with our drinks.
“I mentioned to von Hofmannsthal that you liked his poem. He was quite pleased,” Viktor said.
“I’m glad,” I replied, looking around but not seeing the poet. “One of these days I shall have to meet him.”
“I’ve no doubt that would please him. Do either of you require anything further?”
“No, thank you, Viktor,” I said. He bowed and left us.
“Are you searching for a poet, Em? What would Colin say?”
“He wouldn’t say a thing. I admire Herr von Hofmannsthal’s work and nothing else. And at any rate, I’ve no time for the pursuit of poetry at the moment.”
“Good, because I’ve no interest in discussing it.” Jeremy wrapped his hands around his cup. “I don’t know when I’ve been so happy to have hot coffee. How can you bear walking around in this city when it’s so cold?”
“I rather like it. The air snaps me to attention. It’s invigorating.”
The count arrived as I was saying this. He raised an eyebrow when he saw Jeremy, but forced a smile on his face and greeted me with his usual handküss. “Küss die Hand, gnädige Frau. You have brought a protector with you?”
“She’s in trouble if she’s looking to me for protection,” Jeremy said, crossing his legs and tipping back in his chair.
“I know I’d never need protection from you,” I said, smiling sweetly at the count. “Particularly after you so generously offered to help me.”
“You are an exquisite dancer, Lady Ashton. I was quite overwhelmed last night.”
Jeremy choked on his coffee, then descended into a coughing fit. “Pardon me. It’s extremely…hot.”
I glared at him. “The Viennese waltz is the pinnacle of dance.”
“You must stay for the Fasching,” the count said.
“I’d love to, more than anything. But if I’ve not cleared my friend’s name…”
“She can’t abandon him,” Jeremy said.
“Of course not. That is why I’ve extended to you my assistance. I apologize that my wife declined hers.”
“I understand.”
He leaned close to me and whispered so that Jeremy, who was pretending to read a newspaper, would not hear. “She does not want to let Hargreaves go.” He tugged at his mustache. “Everyone here has a lover, Lady Ashton. It may offend your English sensibilities, but there is no use in pretending otherwise.”
I needed to tread carefully now, and found doing so something of a challenge. I was not accustomed to this level of candor, particularly when it came to another woman’s affection for my fiancée. “I’m not used to it, that’s all.”
“They’ve worked closely together for many years. It is hardly surprising that they were more than friends.”
I wanted to ask him if he knew whether Colin had really proposed to her, and if so, when. Did he know how long the affair had lasted? I bit my lip. What I really longed to know, only Colin himself could tell me: Had he loved her? Why had he stopped? What did he feel for her now? My brief marriage had taught me very little about love. I hadn’t felt even the slightest affection for my husband until after his death, yet I still sometimes felt an uncomfortable tug when I thought about Philip, knowing that I was now engaged to his best friend. In the end, when it was too late, I had grown to love him dearly.
But how much stranger would it be to have loved someone and stopped, not because of death, but because of something else? How would it feel to pass him on the street? To see him with another woman? When I thought about my love for Colin, it was inconceivable to me that one could have such strong emotions for a person only to have them fade away completely. Surely some tenderness lingered. And if it did…I hated to even think about it.
I pushed the thought from my mind. “Were you able to find anything?”
He pulled an envelope out of his coat pocket and placed it in my hands. “Schröder’s associates. You did not get this from me. I included a small note, should anyone press you to tell what I handed you.”
“Danke vielmals,” I said. “No doubt we shall see each other again soon.”
He kissed my hand. “I look forward with great intensity to our next meeting.” And with that, he left the café.
“Shall I press you to tell?” Jeremy asked, dropping the newspaper onto the table. “I’d hate for his small note to go to waste. Pitiful excuse, Em. I’m not sure I approve of any of this, and I certainly don’t trust him. He’s the sort who gives us rakes a bad name.”
“I won’t let him cross any inappropriate boundaries.” I ripped opened the envelope and pulled out two sheets of paper. The first, as promised, had a list of names and addresses. The second, a quote from Goethe’s famous work The Sorrows of Young Werther:
Never have I moved so lightly. I was no longer a human being. To hold the most adorable creature in one’s arms and fly around with her like the wind, so that everything around us fades away.
Jeremy took the pages from me and read, then rolled his eyes. “Appalling, Em, appalling. The man is a disgrace. But at least he gave you addresses. Just make sure he doesn’t try to extract any additional thanks from you.”
“There’s no need to worry. I danced with him five times last night. That’s thanks enough.”
“There’s always cause to worry when you involve yourself with a man who is so quick to betray his wife.”
“A rich criticism coming from you,” I said. “I think he considers himself the wronged party,” I said. “And as I’m Colin’s fiancée, flirting with me is easy revenge.”
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