A Fatal Waltz (18 page)

H
err Schröder was not waiting for me in the Stephansdom at our appointed time the next day. I knelt at the altar railing for a quarter of an hour, wondering what saint to petition for protection against hired assassins, but could conjure up no one save Saint Jude, patron of hopeless and desperate causes. My knees began to hurt. I moved to a pew and opened the battered copy of the
Odyssey
that I’d brought with me.

“Reading pagan authors in a Christian church?” Herr Schröder slid along the bench next to me. “You would make a lovely martyr.”

“You’ve reversed things entirely. It was the Christians who were martyred.”

“Until the Crusades.” His arm rested uncomfortably close to me along the back of the pew. “I saw your chaperone in the nave. Does he like following you?”

“Not particularly,” I said.

“What do you have for me today?”

“You’re enjoying this rather too much.” I handed him a slim envelope. “He knows about the kaiser.”

“What about the kaiser?” Herr Schröder would never be Co
lin’s equal in the realm of spying; he lacked the ability to freeze emotion out of his eyes.

“The visit, the reception…”

He opened the envelope, read the contents, and handed it all back to me. “How does he know?”

I shrugged. “I can’t imagine. You’ve assured me repeatedly that your ‘organization’ is sound.”

“How is he planning to stop us?”

“For today you must be content with knowing that he’s aware of your plan.”

“I need more.” He leaned too close, and I pushed back from him. “
You
need more, unless you’re fond of widow’s weeds. Although you’re not his wife. A funny position, that of fiancée. Nothing official, nothing real. If he were to die before your wedding, it would be as if you’d never been connected.”

“An entirely irrelevant observation,” I said.

“You’re overconfident. If he is in a position to stop what I am planning, I will kill him.” His arm was once again inching closer to my shoulder. “You, Kallista, must do more than bring me information. You must convince him that my plot is something altogether different.”

“That’s ridiculous. He’d never believe I would have knowledge of such things.”

“He knows you’re an intelligent, resourceful woman.”

“Who he does not expect to begin playing spy,” I said, gripping my book.

“I don’t trust you.” He was almost touching me. “You love this man. Perhaps you are double-crossing me, not him.”

“He’s betrayed me.”

“Kristiana tells me he’s come to her only once since he’s been back in Vienna.”

Words that I didn’t believe ought not to have stung so much. “She’s lying.”

“Undoubtedly. Theirs was a passion not so easily sated.” His eyes narrowed. “This makes you uncomfortable?”

“Should I enjoy hearing about his past loves?”

“Past?”

I looked him dead in the eyes and leaned towards him, then lowered my gaze. “I keep trying to convince myself that if it were only the past, it wouldn’t matter. But that’s not quite true, is it?”

“You have a history of your own. You were married to his best friend, were you not?”

“Yes.”

“So you are no stranger to betraying those you love.”

“You can’t betray the dead.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong.” He dropped his arm from the bench and rested a hand on his knees. “But that does not concern me at the moment. I see the jealousy on your face when you hear Kristiana’s name. I’m inclined to believe that you are upset enough to betray Hargreaves. And if not…” His lips parted in a wide smile that in any other context would have charmed the most cynical soul. “It doesn’t matter. You love him enough to want to protect him. So now convince him that the attack on the emperor will come at a Fasching ball.”

“How am I to do that?”

“That, Kallista, is no concern of mine. You’re the one with a vested interest in seeing him alive at the New Year.”

I
HAD NO INTENTION
of hiding any of this from Colin. But with each step I took from the cathedral to his rooms, my legs grew shakier and my stomach lurched, until Jeremy suggested we find a fiacre. Driving, we reached the house quickly. Though the frigid temperatures ought to have made it impossible, sweat beaded on my forehead as I burst through Colin’s door. Jeremy, who had been ten paces behind me, caught up at the instant my
fiancé, taken aback by my appearance, took me in his arms.

“It doesn’t appear you have any further need for me,” he said, nodding at Colin, who reached for his hand and shook it.

“I’m much obliged, Bainbridge.”

Jeremy left without another word. Colin turned to me, his face full of concern.

“You are unwell. Let me get you some wine.”

“I don’t want wine.” I lifted my lips to his and kissed him so fiercely that he started to lose his balance.

“What brings this on?” he asked.

“Need I have an excuse?”

“Never.” He took my face in his hands and kissed me gently, then dropped one hand to the back of my neck, pulled me closer, and abandoned any pretense of softness.

I would have happily continued on in this manner for the remainder of the afternoon and into the evening had I been able to ignore the fear stabbing at me. With effort, I slowed my breathing and stepped away from him. “I’ve learned something significant.”

“About Robert?”

“No. About Schröder’s plans.” I bit my lip. “I know I must tell you everything, but I’m finding doing so unexpectedly difficult.”

“Why is that?”

“Because if you know his plans, you’ll thwart them. And if that happens, he’ll kill you.”

“You give him far too much credit.” His untoward smile troubled me.

“I fear your confidence will make you careless,” I said.

“You must tell me what you know.”

“You could at least pacify me by insisting that you’ll be careful.”

“Honesty is more important to me than pacifying you, Emily. My work requires confidence—and boldness—that would not be possible if I were overly concerned with being careful.”

I stared at my hands.

Then at his boots.

Then back at my hands.

And finally I mustered the courage to meet his eyes.

“I understand and respect your work. I know that it’s dangerous. That does not trouble me. But I will not lose you to arrogance.”

“What would you have me do?”

“Consider carefully the threats against you. Do not assume you are invincible.”

“I would never be so foolish,” he said.

“Yet you seem so very cavalier about knowing that someone has been hired to kill you.”

“I am well trained to take care of myself, Emily. You must trust in that.”

“I’ll ask nothing of you that you don’t ask of me: No unnecessary danger.”

“Fair enough.” His answer came too quickly. “So what have you learned?”

I looked into his eyes and for an instant knew what it would be to never see them again. “It will happen during the kaiser’s next visit here, after the Fasching has begun.”

“The kaiser is not scheduled to be in Vienna until the summer.”

“It’s an unofficial visit.”

“How did you learn this?”

“The empress.”

“And how did you confirm that the attack will take place then?”

“Schröder.”

“Is there anything else?”

“At the moment, no.” My heart was knocking against my ribs. Surely this was enough. He would figure out the rest, but not so
easily that it would alarm Herr Schröder. But what then? While Colin solved his puzzle, I would have to figure out a way to render Mr. Harrison powerless. And somehow, in the midst of all this, find whatever he might have stolen in Yorkshire. I felt Colin’s finger on my lips.

“I’m curious to know what inspired your amorous greeting this afternoon.”

“I’m not sure. It took me by surprise. I was so scared after talking to Herr Schröder, and every nerve in my body seemed…I don’t know.”

“More alive?”

“Yes, but I was terrified.”

“Invigorating, isn’t it?” He was kissing my neck.

“Inexplicably, yes.”

“Almost makes the fear palatable.”

“Almost.”

“You’ll have to redirect the emotion.” And he proceeded to act in a manner perfectly designed to do just that.

A
FTER LEAVING
C
OLIN,
I set off for the von Langes’ house. My courage did not wane even when I was ushered into the countess’s too-hot sitting room. The last time I’d been in it, I’d welcomed its warmth; now I found it cloying. I peeled off my coat, dropped into a chair, and pulled a fan out of my reticule.

“Warm, Lady Ashton?” The countess glared at me as she came into the room.

“Terribly. I don’t know how you bear it.” I snapped open the fan and began waving it.

“Why are you here, Lady Ashton? I’m not bored enough to have even the slightest inclination to pretend to be your friend.”

“Do you love Colin?”

Her eyes flashed. “Why don’t you ask him?”

I stared at her a moment before continuing. “I suppose love is irrelevant. You still long for him. That’s obvious.”

“I have a connection with him that will never fade.”

“What precisely is your relationship with Schröder?” I asked.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Harrison has hired him to kill Colin.”

“He told me. Thought I’d find it amusing,” she said.

“Did you?”

She met my stare. “I did not.”

“I’ve already admitted that I don’t like you,” I said. “When I’m near you I feel awkward, inept, and inexperienced. I look at you and wonder how he could have loved both of us.”

“We’re not so different,” she said.

“Your sophistication puts me to shame.”

“Colin’s had more than his share of beauty, and it never made him happy. I was always able to offer him more, as are you.” She lit a cigarette. “Not that I take any pleasure in saying that. I’d hoped to find you nothing more than pretty and vapid.”

“I’d hoped never to find you at all.”

She blew smoke towards me and laughed, then drew deeply on her cigarette. “Your naïveté is almost touching.”

“You’re Schröder’s lover, aren’t you?”

“Sometimes. He tells me you’re providing him with information that’s making it worth his while to delay completing the job.”

“Yes, but I may have to return to England soon. And if I do, I need to know that there’s someone here in a position to influence him.”

“You would trust me to do that?”

“I trust that you don’t want Colin harmed. Can I count on you? For this, at least?” I asked.

“Ja.
But not for anything else.”

“I’m not so naïve as you think,” I said.

“Perhaps not.”

I stood to leave, but before I’d crossed to the door I stopped and turned back to her. “Why didn’t you marry him?”

“Because I knew that the responsibility of having a wife would weigh on him, and the distraction might make him careless in his work. I didn’t want to lose him, but I couldn’t let him know that I loved him. He would have kept proposing if I’d given him any hope of that. And so you see, Lady Ashton, that is the difference between us. My love for him is selfless. Yours will kill him.”

“K
ALLISTA,
CHÉRIE
! Why have you kept this from me all this time?” I’d found Cécile in Klimt’s studio and pulled her into a quiet corner while he mixed paint.

“I don’t know. I feel so insecure and hopeless and foolish.”

“There’s nothing foolish about it. Tell me about this Kristiana. You are not truly concerned that she could pull Monsieur Hargreaves away from you?”

“No, it’s not that. I just worry that after loving a woman like her—so sophisticated and experienced, with so much knowledge of the world—he’ll find me lacking.”

“He would never have proposed to you if that were the case. He knows you better than anyone, Kallista.”

“Yes, but—”

“I know what you are worrying about.” She looked at me, her gray eyes serious. “I have no doubt that he will be pleased. It is not a difficult thing. But you already know this.”

“To a very small degree.”

“That is enough. Your passion will take care of the rest.”

“I wish I knew why he stopped wanting her,” I said, tugging on my bottom lip with a nervous hand. “Can emotions be so fickle?”

“They almost always are,
chérie.
”

“He proposed to her, Cécile. She turned him down.”

“That was years ago.”

“Turned down whom?” Klimt had finished with his paints and come over to us.

“No one,” I said.

“Kristiana and your fiancée?” he asked.

“Does everyone in Vienna know their history?” I asked, petulant.

“Ja
, pretty much. It was quite a story at the time.”

“All that matters is that he’s with you now,” Cécile said.

“More or less,” Klimt said.

“You’re not exactly inspiring confidence,” I said.

“Love is not a static thing.” He rolled a paintbrush between his hands. “You have him now, and that should be enough. Don’t worry about what came before or what will come after.”

“I can’t imagine something coming after. I can’t imagine not loving him,” I said. “Or feeling it with less intensity, regardless of our circumstances, regardless of how much time goes by.”

“Hold on to that,” Cécile said. “Don’t let it slip away from you.”

“Is it something over which we have control?” I asked.

“I don’t know,
chérie.
I don’t know.”

“There’s no controlling love,” Klimt said. “It comes when it comes and goes when it goes.”

“I don’t want to believe that,” I said.

“Then close your eyes, Fräulein. You’ll need to.”