A Foreign Affair (5 page)

Brett continued his stroll, pausing in front of the massive doors of St. Stephen’s cathedral, stopping occasionally to listen to the barrel organ player, one of the countless street musicians who strolled from house to house playing popular stage melodies. One of the things that appealed to Brett about the city was the music. It was everywhere, not only in the salons and concert halls, but in the streets, from the barrel organ players to strolling harpists, to the Tyrolean clock makers, who filled the air with their mountain harmonies as they made their way home from work in the evening.

As the Princess von Hohenbachern had pointed out, the entire city seemed so bent on merrymaking that it hardly seemed possible the entire map of Europe was being redrawn in the salons of its many palaces and foreign delegations, that the fates of hundreds of thousands of souls were being determined at its conference tables, and that agents of all nationalities and backgrounds stalked streets and haunted the alleyways seeking any scrap of information that could be sold to the highest bidder.

Brett shook his head in bemusement as he considered the evening before him. He felt helpless when confronted with the vagaries of politics. In battle, the objective was clear—to drive the enemy off this ridge or out of that fort which allowed him to dominate the countryside, or to chase him across a border and back into his own territory—and one planned one’s approach accordingly. But politics was entirely different. How in God’s name did one convince a group of quarrelsome German princes jealous of their individual power and suspicious of everyone else, to act one way instead of another, to side with one nation instead of another? To a man accustomed to using his own and others’ physical prowess and skill to solve problems, it seemed a virtually impossible task.

Chapter Five

The question still plagued Brett as he and the Earl of Clancarty entered the brilliantly lit apartments of the Princess Elizabeth von Furstenberg that evening. The damask-hung rooms were filled with German barons, dukes, and princes in elaborate uniforms of all kinds, the light from the crystal chandeliers catching the glitter of medals on their chests and making the gold embroidery on their high collars and heavy epaulets gleam. Here and there were scattered heavily jeweled females, but for the most part, the preponderance of the guests crowding the princess’ salon were male.

Brett’s gaze swept the room and then paused in astonishment. Among the richly costumed throng, there was one member whose simplicity of dress made the others with their ornate embroidery, heavy ruchings, and trimmings look gaudy and overdecorated. This young woman, her glossy brown hair pulled back into a simple knot, wearing a gown of white lace over a white satin slip, appeared as pure and graceful as a Greek statue among the buxom overdressed Germans.

But it was not so much the simplicity of her attire that caught his attention as it was the person herself. For there, conversing in the friendliest of fashions with two of the princess’ most distinguished-looking guests, was none other than the Princess von Hohenbachern’s maid!

“Ah, Milord Clancarty, we are indeed honored to have you join us this evening.” The Princess von Furstenberg hurried over to greet the new arrivals. “Do let me make you known to the rest of my guests, most of whom you have not likely met, as they have no official presence here or on any of the committees with which you might be familiar—hence the gathering at my humble abode. Over there is someone you may recognize, however; Baron von Stein, who is such a proponent for the creation of a new German Reich. There in the other comer is someone you are less likely to know, our chief advocate. Baron Hans Christoph von Gagern. Officially, he is here representing both Duke Frederick William of Nassau and Prince William of Orange Nassau, but he also spends much of his time and energy advancing the cause of those of us whose voices would otherwise remain unheard.”

Taking the arms of both men, the princess led Clancarty to the corner where the baron was conversing earnestly with the young lady who had caught Brett’s eye. As they approached, Brett decided that he must have been mistaken in his first impression. Not only would no servant be at such a gathering but he had never encountered one who spoke with such confidence or with such an expression of eager intelligence on her face. And he had never known any servant, not even the most indispensable of batmen or valets, to hold the attention of a gentleman, as this young woman appeared to be doing.

Who was she?

Brett had encountered very few women in his life, much less young women, who did anything more than gossip or flirt. And he had rarely seen a woman attend a gathering where conversation was clearly confined to topics of a most serious nature. She must be a very unusual young lady indeed to be included in such a select company, not to mention involved in a discussion with one of its most influential members.

“Milord Clancarty, Major Milord Brett Stanford, may I present you to one of our most important advocates, Baron von Gagern. And, I am sure you will be delighted to make the acquaintance of one of your very own countrymen. Miss Devereux.”

“Lord Clancarty, Major.” The young lady’s curtsy of acknowledgment might have been directed at the Earl of Clancarty, but the impish smile and the twinkle of amusement in the large hazel eyes were for Brett alone.

Blast! Brett felt his face turn hot He had not found himself at such a disadvantage with a woman since his salad days, and she was clearly enjoying his discomfiture. He was just thankful that years of campaigning under the Peninsula’s merciless sun had tanned his skin to such a degree that only the most acute of observers would be able to detect the flush he was powerless to keep from rising to his cheeks.

“I am most pleased to be introduced to you at last, Major.” Miss Devereux’s response was conventional enough, but the sly smile that accompanied it left him in no doubt that she was well aware of her advantage and the effect that it was having on him.

Brett bit his lip. Damn the woman! Not content with laughing at him secretly, she was now going to make him look like a fool in front of Clancarty.

“For I believe that you must be the one whose superb horsemanship has quite taken my breath away,” she continued serenely, her eyes dancing with suppressed laughter.

“What?” She had succeeded in making him look like a fool all right, but not because he had so stupidly mistaken her for a servant. He now simply goggled at her blankly—something he tried to avoid at all costs—as he struggled to make sense of what she was saying, but he was at a complete loss. Major Lord Brett Stanford was a man known to be awake on all suits, and he was not about to lose this reputation because of a mere chit of a girl. Brett tried valiantly not to grind his teeth as he forced his lips into a polite smile.

“I believe it is you,” the young lady continued, “is it not, who rides a most magnificent black horse that knows all the movements of the
haute ecole
as well as most horses know their way to the stables, a horse that performs them as easily as another horse would trot.”

“I do own a black horse, yes.” Brett was damned if he was going to give anything up to this vixen who appeared to delight at keeping him at a disadvantage.

“Then I am most pleased to make your acquaintance, for I would most dearly love to hear how you have worked such magic. I have never seen anything equal to it, not even at the Spanish Riding School.” The wicked glint of amusement had disappeared to be replaced by an expression of genuine interest and admiration.

Too bemused to frame a reply, Brett groped for a response, any response to this self-possessed young woman who, in a matter of minutes, had rendered him tongue-tied: him. Major Lord Brett Stanford, the man who could always be counted on to charm the starchiest of dowagers or set at ease the most awkward of shy young misses.

“Oh, Stanford is an old cavalry fellow and those cavalry fellows spend so much time in the saddle that they practically are horses.” Clancarty came to his rescue. “Undoubtedly, he finds all these Congress goings-on very dull stuff indeed after his time in the Peninsula. But the warriors’ days are over now, and it is up to us diplomats to see that their duties are confined to the parade ground, eh, Stanford? Von Gagern here I am sure will agree with me.” The Earl of Clancarty turned to the baron and, taking his arm, pulled him a little apart. “I am sure. Baron, that you can enlighten me a great deal . . .” and in no time had immersed the two of them in a deep discussion on Napoleon’s former Confederation of the Rhine and the fate of its sovereigns now that the emperor had been exiled to Elba.

“Vienna is a rather unusual place for a cavalry officer to find himself. Are you with Sir Charles Stewart, then? I hear that before he became ambassador he too was in the cavalry.”

Brett gave a start. He had been hoping that while he was concentrating on the interchange between von Gagern and Clancarty, the disconcerting young woman would have disappeared, but apparently he was not to be so lucky. “Yes. Yes, he was in the cavalry. And he was also in the Peninsula, but I am not with him. I have been assigned to the British delegation for the very simple reason that I can read and write French and no one else can—most unglamorous, but necessary.”

“A linguist in addition to being a superb horseman? You are a man of many talents, Major.”

“No. The French I learned quite by accident as a result of a boyhood friendship with a group of émigrés who settled nearby.” Brett had no idea why he was offering such a disclaimer, but there was something about Miss Helena Devereux’s ironic gaze that made him feel the need to prove himself. To be sure, she had expressed genuine admiration for his horsemanship, but her evident astonishment at his affinity for the French language made it very dear that she not only rated the intellectual abilities of cavalry officers rather low, but that she was a woman who prized intelligence above all other things. Certainly her presence in this crowd was a clear indication of her own mental capacities. The guests at the Princess von Furstenberg’s soiree were obviously intent on serious discussion of a most thorny topic. But why had this young Englishwoman, intelligent though she might be, been included among the guests?

“I too owe my presence here to an accident of linguistic ability.” The hazel eyes twinkled at his obvious discomfiture. She knew that she had read his thoughts and that once again she had gained the advantage over him. “My stepfather, who is a German, is a friend of the Prince Regent’s. I was quite young when on a visit to England he met my mother, married her, and brought us back here to live. And, therefore, German comes to me almost as naturally as English and more naturally than French. The Princess von Furstenberg invited me here because she hoped that Lord Clancarty would accept her invitation to her soiree, and even though everyone here speaks French, she asked me to be here in case there should be any need for a translator. We are all very anxious for the English to understand our cause, and she wanted to insure that language, at least, would not pose a barrier to understanding.”

Brett eyed her curiously. The teasing note in her voice had vanished entirely, and she now spoke with an urgency he had never before heard in the conversations of young ladies. “That is certainly most gracious of you to help out, Miss Devereux. Most young ladies would infinitely prefer waltzing at the Hofburg to listening to dull political conversations.”

A look flashed into her eyes that he was at a loss to interpret. It almost seemed to be anger or scorn, but her response was not so much angry as passionate. “When Mama and I first arrived on the Continent, our new home was a simple, tranquil country dotted with villages that were very little different than they had been at the dawn of the Holy Roman Empire. That peacefulness was soon destroyed, however, as the French marched in and the opposing armies fought back and forth across our lands, burning villages, destroying crops, and imposing new ways on people whose lives had remained unchanged for centuries. We can never go back to those simple times, but the least we can do is to make sure that our way of life is never threatened again, that we are never again forced to pay homage to a distant ruler or state that has no concept of our lives and our ways.”

“And what is it that you are proposing to do to keep this from happening?”

Helena shot him a suspicious glance. People in general, and the English in particular, tended to consider the aspirations of a few small German states to be so paltry as to be laughable. At best they were condescending to any man who dared to advance their cause, much less an unsophisticated young woman, but this man was not laughing at her. His bright blue eyes, fixed so intently on her, betrayed nothing but the most sincere interest in what she had to say.

“Well,” she began cautiously, “it is naturally assumed that the German states will form an alliance, but there is a vast difference between a federation of equals and a hegemony in which the interests of many are subordinated to the interests of one. We have all seen what happened in Saxony when the Prussians took it upon themselves to take it over and imprison the king as punishment for his support of Napoleon. How did they know that he had any choice in the matter? But whether he did or not, it was merely an excuse on their part to grab more territory for themselves.”

Something in his face must have given her pause. A flush rose to her cheeks, her eyes flashed, and Brett could see her gloved hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. “It may seem nothing to you,” she continued fiercely, “this disposition of
souls
as they call handing bits of territory to one nation or the other, just so long as it is peaceful and quiet again in Europe. But there is a vast difference between being joined with Austria in a pact of mutual support and protection and being taken over by the rigid centralized administration of a militarist state like Prussia. Being annexed by the Prussians would be no better than the slavery we endured for the last decade under the French.”

“But surely the most expedient measure, and the one most suitable to you all is to reestablish everything to its previous state and ...” He paused uncomfortably. It was only one delicately raised eyebrow, but the incredulity that it expressed made him feel like the veriest fool. He was not accustomed to feeling foolish or naive, especially where women were concerned. “Will, will they not do this?” Brett wondered uncomfortably how the man who had been dressed down by the fiercest commanders without so much as batting an eyelash could stammer like this under the scornful gaze of a mere slip of a girl.