Charmed and Dangerous (11 page)

“Always.”

“I am glad we understand each other.”

“Are you?” He would have very much enjoyed smashing something, Gavin thought—which meant he had better get out of here now. Once he was alone, and able to think, he would be himself again. “Good day,” he said, turning toward the door.

“Oh. Are you…?”

Before she could say any more, he strode out.

A day passed, and then another, with no further word from Gavin. For a wonder, there were no social events arranged by any of the delegations either. When Laura asked General Pryor, he said that the congress had at last begun some real work; at least, the five major powers had. England, Prussia, Austria, Russia, and France had little interest in consulting less influential countries in their deliberations. In fact, by one stratagem or another, they had prevented the entire roster of delegates from ever meeting.

This interesting tidbit merely made Laura restless. She had a sense of things moving, of important developments unfolding outside her knowledge. Had Gavin agreed to her terms simply to put her off? she wondered. Perhaps he had never had any intention of including her in a partnership. Did he imagine that she would sit waiting at home while he…did whatever he was doing?

The idea made her furious, and she decided at once to go out. She would walk, and possibly she would find a hack after a while and drive past Signor Oliveri's apartments, or Sophie's. She would not go in, of course. And she would not let herself be seen. There was nothing particularly difficult or mysterious about gathering information, she thought. Gavin Graham made far too much of it.

Laura did not, however, mention to Catherine that she was going out. Putting on a heavy cloak, she slipped out the front door when the entry hall was empty, pulling the hood up over her head against the cold December air. Outside, she walked briskly for a short distance, to get away from the house, and then slowed and looked in a few shop windows.

Now that she was out, she wasn't sure where to go. The memory of Sophie's anger was vivid. She could well believe that the countess might send someone to threaten her, to find out what she supposedly knew. The street suddenly seemed very cold and deserted.

It was at that moment when Laura realized she was being watched. A slight figure in a long gray coat had been with her since she left the house, and now that she had stopped, he was loitering a bit awkwardly across the way. Laura moved on, turning a corner, and then another. When she waited among the shrubbery of a small square, the figure appeared again, cautiously scanning the area from the street she had taken.

Laura felt a spasm of fear and excitement. This adventure wasn't just in her imagination. Someone had set a watch on her. She had to find out who it was and who had sent him. But first she had to reach safer ground. Walking very rapidly, she started to circle back toward the Pryors' house, choosing the busier avenues, where a few pedestrians braved the cold. Now and then, she risked a glance over her shoulder and always found the gray figure a little distance behind.

As she neared the house, Laura sped up considerably, until she was almost trotting. Rounding the final corner, with the house comfortingly visible ahead, she stopped and waited. Soon, there was the sound of footsteps; then the watcher emerged, hurrying along the same route with his head down.

Laura stepped forward and grasped the figure's sleeve. “Why are you following me?” she demanded.

He gave a kind of squawk and tried to pull away, but she had made sure she had a firm grip on the wool of his coat. His head and face were muffled in a cloth cap and several scarves, so she couldn't see what he looked like, but he was not large and muscular. Indeed, he was smaller than she, Laura realized. Perhaps it was one of Oliveri's urchins.

Emboldened by this thought, Laura reached out and yanked at the scarves wound around the man's face. When she pulled them off, the cap came as well, revealing a cascade of blonde hair and the face of a young girl.

“What are you doing?” exclaimed the girl in German, grabbing for the cap.

Laura stepped back, the scarves dangling from her hand, and stared. This was not at all what she had expected.

“Give them to me,” said the girl. This time she managed to jerk the things from Laura's hand. At once she began stuffing her hair back into the cap.

“Who are you?” asked Laura. When the girl simply hunched a shoulder at her, she repeated the question in German.

“I am a citizen of Vienna,” was the reply. “And you accost me in the street.”

“You were following me,” Laura accused.

“That is ridiculous. I ought to call the watch.”

“What a good idea. Let us look for them.”

The girl made a move as if to hurry away, but Laura had anticipated it and took a firm hold on her arm, hustling her toward the Pryors' front door.

“I will scream,” she threatened.

“That should bring a constable,” replied Laura agreeably, without stopping.

There was no scream. They reached the house, and Laura got the door open and pushed her captive through it. Under the astonished gaze of a footman in the hall, Laura thrust her guest into the parlor and closed the door with a click, keeping her back against it. “There,” she said, breathing a little hard from the exertion. “Now we can talk.”

“You are a madwoman,” responded the girl sullenly.

“Possibly. Who are you, and why were you watching me?”

She crossed her arms on her chest and looked stubborn.

“If you do not tell me, I will summon a constable.”

“I will tell him that you attacked me for no reason and dragged me in here.”

Laura nodded. “And I will tell him that you were following me, and I suspected you meant to steal my purse.”

“I'm not a thief!”

“What are you?”

The girl's shoulders slumped. “Papa will kill me,” she murmured.

“And who is he?”

She looked frightened for the first time. “You cannot tell Papa what I was doing!”

This didn't seem like the remark of a dangerous criminal, Laura thought. Of course, since she had first unmasked the girl, she had doubted the threat. “I won't tell him, if you explain to me what you were doing.”

The girl sighed heavily, looking at the floor. “Heinrick is very ill, you see.”

“Heinrick?”

“My older brother.”

“Ah?”

“He was supposed to come, but he had a fever and he was coughing so dreadfully. I told him I would watch for him.”

“I see. And who asked Heinrick to watch?”

“Papa,” answered the girl, as if surprised.

“Your father told Heinrick to follow me. Why?”

“To see where you go and report to the Englishman.”

“Englishman?” echoed Laura, surprised in her own turn now.

Under her cloth cap, the girl flushed bright red. “I was not supposed to say that.” She put her face in her hands and groaned. “I told Papa I could do this. Now he will say he was right all along, and he will never let me help him.”

Laura felt a twinge of sympathy. “Does he say you cannot help because you are a girl?”

Her guest looked up, staring with round blue eyes. “How did you know?”

“It is an opinion I have heard before,” she answered dryly.

“You
know
Papa?” She looked stunned and deeply apprehensive.

“People like him,” Laura said. “Why don't you sit down?”

“I must go.”

“Soon. We will talk first. Would you like a cup of tea? You must have gotten cold, standing outside like that.”

The girl looked tempted, then frowned. “You cannot corrupt me. I will tell you nothing.”

“Of course not. But what harm could there be in one cup of tea?” Not waiting for an answer, Laura opened the door and asked the footman—who was lingering suspiciously close—for tea. Then she took off her cloak and laid it over an armchair. “I will help you, if you tell me a few things,” she offered.

“Help me?” The girl's frown intensified.

“I won't tell anyone that I noticed you, and I'll give you information you can take back to your papa.” She watched as the girl puzzled this out.

“What sort of information?”

“Won't you sit down and take off your coat?”

The girl clutched the coat tighter around her, but after a moment she sat on the edge of the sofa.

“What is your name?”

There was a long pause. Laura had decided that she was not going to win her cooperation when the girl finally said, “Annalise.”

“Ah. Mine is Laura.”

“I know.” It was just slightly smug.

“Of course you do.” The girl was probably fourteen or fifteen, Laura thought. It was hard to tell in the bulky coat. She wasn't particularly pretty, but she was fresh-faced and very sharp.

The tea arrived. Annalise accepted a cup, along with several of the sweet biscuits on the tray. Laura waited until she had devoured two of them before saying, “Your father watches people?”

Annalise nodded warily.

“And your brother helps him?”

“Sometimes. Heinrick doesn't like it much. He wants to be a shopkeeper.” She wrinkled her nose as if she found this ambition utterly incomprehensible.

“Why wasn't your father following me, then?”

“He has more important things to do,” replied Annalise, a little contemptuously.

“I see. I am not very important.” Laura kept her voice humble.

“No. The Englishman told Papa that you didn't matter, just to make sure you did not get into trouble.”

Laura set her jaw. “Herr Graham,” she said, her suspicions confirmed.

“Yes, he said that—” Annalise stopped and gasped, aware that she had let another secret slip.

“It's all right,” Laura assured her. “We are working together.” Or so she had been promised, she thought grimly.

“You are?”

“Yes. Herr Graham is just a little…overprotective.”

“Papa is the same.” Annalise sighed. “What does he think will happen to me standing about in the street?”

Well, quite a number of things, Laura admitted silently. But some of them might happen to Heinrick as well.

“I am very careful,” the girl continued. “I do not speak to anyone, and I stay out of sight. You only caught me because you stood staring at a tray of stale cakes for at least five minutes,” Annalise accused. “No one does that!”

“No,” agreed Laura absently.

“When those street children came around, I went to the end of the street and waited in a doorway. They didn't see me.”

“Street children?”

The girl nodded. “They stayed for an hour or so, then got bored and went away. I would never do that,” she added proudly.

Had they come from Oliveri? Laura wondered. “Did you see anyone else?”

Annalise shook her head. “Well, not exactly. Some of your neighbors are very nosy.”

“What do you mean?”

“A curtain keeps twitching on the third floor across from here. Some old lady with nothing to do but watch the street, I suppose.”

“Can you show me which window?” asked Laura sharply, standing.

Annalise gazed up at her, then frowned again. “Do you think it is…?”

“I would just like to know which.”

With each of them on one side of the window, hidden by the draperies, Annalise pointed it out. The lace curtains opposite did not move as Laura looked. It was probably just an inquisitive neighbor, she thought. But with the way things had been going, she wasn't about to count on it.

The mantel clock struck twelve.

“I must go,” exclaimed Annalise. “Heinrick is coming to meet me, so I can get back before Papa comes home.” She began wrapping the scarves around her face again, looking at Laura to see if she meant to interfere.

Laura merely nodded. She intended to get a good view of Heinrick so that she would know her shadow.

“You won't tell?” added Annalise nervously.

“It will be our secret. Perhaps we could even work together sometime.”

The girl hesitated at the door. “What do you mean?”

“I'm not sure. Is there a way I can send word to you?”

Annalise's eyes narrowed as she considered this. Laura thought she was tempted, but still wary. “If you leave a note at Herr Schwimmer's tobacco shop in Friedrichstrasse, I will get it,” she said finally. And then she was gone.

Hidden behind the drapes again, Laura watched her leave the house and take up her post down the street. When a tall, thin youth joined and then replaced her, Laura carefully noted his clothes and appearance. So Gavin Graham thought she didn't matter? So he set a watch to keep her out of trouble? He would find that he had seriously miscalculated, Laura vowed—just as soon as she figured out the best way to make it very, very clear.

* * *

“It's odd not to be home for Christmas,” said Catherine wistfully as they huddled in their cloaks in the carriage, on their way to an evening of carol singing arranged by the congress's Austrian hosts.

“It's ridiculous,” responded the general from the opposite seat. “If they don't give up this endless wrangling, we'll be here till summer.”

“At least then it would be warm,” said his wife as a blast of wind struck the vehicle, making it sway slightly on its springs. “I didn't bring enough winter clothes.”

“Send for them,” was the unencouraging reply.

Laura gazed out the window at the icy streets. Christmas hadn't been much of a holiday for her in years. When the family gathered at Leith House, the governess wasn't much in demand—except to take the children away when they were overtired or overexcited. Her own family was too far away to visit, so she had spent most Christmases reading in her room and dining alone on the festive dishes sent up to her from the servants' celebration. It hadn't been tragic; often she had enjoyed the respite. But she had lost some of that special attachment to the holidays that Catherine clearly had.

“I've ordered a goose,” said Catherine. “We'll have a proper Christmas dinner, at least. And I've asked the Phillipses and the Merritts.”

She would be the only person under fifty at the dinner, Laura thought with a tinge of amusement.