The Nobleman and the Spy (18 page)

“Jonathan, I"ve seen your bravery in battle and again last night. This would be a different kind of bravery, a much more personal kind. I"m not asking for an immediate answer, but I want you to at least consider my offer.” There. Leave it at that, and give the man some time to stew.

Jonathan met his eyes at last and spoke in a clipped tone. “I don"t believe I possess that kind of bravery, Your Excellency.”

Karl felt a ridiculous stab at the rejection, as if someone had pierced his chest with a bayonet. He swallowed down the pain and smiled. “No need to discuss the matter anymore, then. Let us put such weighty musings aside and have a good meal, shall we?”

He turned away to hide any incriminating expression on his face as he headed toward the pantry door. He knew well where to find the room since he and his cousins used to raid the kitchen like little savages when Cook was looking the other way—or pretending to. Sometimes it had seemed she had left treats out on purpose for them to find.

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He located a plate of meats and cheeses, another with dried fruit, such as figs and apricots. There was a crusty loaf of bread and a dish of butter, well covered to keep the mice at bay.

Jonathan joined him, helping to carry the bounty to the table in the servants"

hall. They sat in straight-backed chairs at the head of the table.

“You seem to know your way around here.”

Karl nodded and cut into the bread. “I spent many a summer with my cousins.

I loved it here. For one thing, the cousins on my father's side were all distantly related and much older or younger than I, but also, there was always a sense of tension when members of the Neuschlosswold-Binder family gathered. Tempers held barely in check, knives and wits sharpened, claws barely sheathed. What a power-hungry lot they are.”

Jonathan accepted the slice of bread Karl handed to him and began to butter it. “You don"t get along well with your father.” It was more a statement than a question.

Karl considered it for a moment, chewing and swallowing a hunk of well-aged cheese before telling the truth. “Not very well. My father has expectations. I do my part by not living up to them.”

He toyed with a dried fig as he considered the rest. “I am his tool, or perhaps a weapon, an extension of his arm at any rate. It is supposed to be my job to further his goals whatever they might be at any given moment. And they do shift according to the winds of changing international policies. Currently I am to build bridges with our English allies, try to minimize the fact that we were on the opposite side during the Crimea. There are Russian concerns, you see.”

“And you hate politics,” Jonathan said.

“Not everything about it, just the duplicity and poisonous dealings of my father"s methods. But I am good at negotiating, and I do want to do everything in my power to improve things in the duchies. I can"t really escape my birthright, for I will be the ruling count someday, no matter how tedious I may find it.” He laughed.

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“Oh my, don"t I sound like a wretchedly spoiled snob, complaining about my lot in life?”

“It"s good to be able to admit to unhappiness sometimes.” Jonathan regarded the dark orange disk of an apricot before popping it into his mouth.

“Are you happy?” Karl asked. “What would you change about your life if you could?”

Jonathan shrugged and changed the subject. “Can you tell me who would stand to benefit the most from your death? Is there a relative who would assume your title? Or one whose political ambitions would move forward if you were not there to block the way?”

He shook his head in response to Jonathan"s question. “I have some vile relatives, but I don"t believe they"d try to kill me.”

The other man frowned. “Nevertheless, I"d like you to spend some time now telling me about each member of your family and every man in your entourage. Any little bit of information might prove pertinent.”

Karl could see he wasn"t going to be able to ignore Jonathan"s request and that their conversation was not going to drift back into the realm of talking about themselves. No more trying to pry Jonathan from that shell. With a sigh, he embarked on an hour-long description of every single person in the circumference of his life, from his father to his old
Tante
Gretchen, and then every member of his retinue.

The longer he talked, the more he realized how many people in his family despised him—and one another, for that matter—and that he considered none of his servants except Cohen truly trustworthy. How odd to realize that despite constantly being surrounded by people, he really was alone in the world.

“Who would benefit from your death?”

Benefit. He thought of his father, who often used such an odd word for horrible incidents.

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“
How might we benefit from this event
?” he"d demand of Karl. Once, he"d asked the question as he surveyed fifty dead peasants on their lands, killed by an avalanche. Another time it had been after a cousin of a neighboring ruler went mad and killed several young children.

He grimaced at the memory of his father"s cool voice demanding that any situation, no matter how painful, must be viewed objectively.

“You look as if you have swallowed something bitter,” Jonathan said.

“I am attempting to follow my father"s directions. He claims my greatest failing is that I allow sentiment to muddle my intelligence.”

“So you"re stripping sentiment from your view of friends, family, and enemies?

Good. Or at least, good for now.” Jonathan reached over and gave his arm an awkward pat.

“Alas, I shall revert to my usual self soon enough,” he said dolefully.

“Even better,” said Jonathan softly, and no doubt he would have grown embarrassed if he knew how his dark eyes shone.

Karl grinned at him. “Don"t look at me like that and expect me to remain as cold as my father.”

The corner of Jonathan"s mouth twitched. He looked down at his plate as if the half-eaten piece of bread was an object of fascination. “Go on,” he told the bread.

Karl concentrated on the question of who would benefit from his death.

If death or injury struck when Karl was among his relations—solid British citizens—London would be outraged, and that would stir the British public to favor the von und zu Neuschlosswold-Binder cause, a definite benefit for the count"s reputation in England. But actual profit or gain? Karl shook his head.

“There is my Uncle Hans-Friedrich,” he said. “My father"s younger brother would become the heir should I die.”

“Tell me about him.”

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“There"s no need to look so avid, Jonathan. He would not murder me—or anyone else, for that matter. The man is lazy and has no interest in taking on the duties of the ruling count. My father despises him.”

“What about any other relations? Does he have children?”

“Yes, one boy. I admit my uncle"s son is a different story.” He bit his lip. He"d forgotten about eager young Gerhard, the one family member Karl and his father might agree was worthy of notice.

“Tell me about your cousin.”

Karl picked up a fig and ate it in one bite, enjoying the crunch of the seeds.

Concentrating on the moment allowed him to ignore the surprising ache he felt when he thought of Gerhard. He missed the boy. “Another person you must strike from your list. He"s a decent lad. Quite young—only thirteen—and was a funny, bright thing when I last spent time in his company.”

“How long ago was that?”

“I have not talked to him for several years. My father does not wish our paths to cross.”

The last time he"d spent any time with Gerhard, Karl had been teaching him archery in a neglected back garden that bordered a fallow field. Karl had stood behind the boy and placed his hands over Gerhard"s to show him how to smoothly draw the bow into the proper position. Neither of them had heard the count"s approach over the grass.

“
Halt this immediately
.” Karl"s father had barked the command. Of course, both Karl and Gerhard had obeyed. The arrow had flown wild as they let go of the string.

Karl had turned abruptly to see his father regarding him with a look of loathing. “
Erbgraf, return to the castle at once
.”

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Without another word, the count had turned on the heel of one of his well-polished boots and had walked away at a quick march pace. Far faster than his usual sedate stroll.

Karl had left Gerhard standing on the lawn, a shocked expression on his round young face. When he"d caught up with his father, Karl had grabbed his arm. “
What
was the meaning of that
?”

His father had aimed a glacial blue stare at Karl"s hand. Only after Karl let go of him and dropped the offending hand to his side did the count shift that hard gaze to Karl"s face. “
You know well. I won’t have you sullying the one pure member of our
family
.” He"d continued walking at a slower pace now, Karl walking at his side in silence, puzzling over the words.

Karl hadn"t understood at first, and he"d almost staggered when he finally comprehended. For the first time, his father had alluded to the unspoken secret of Karl"s alliances with men.

“
I would never think of a boy like Gerhard in any unseemly manner. I would
never touch him
.” Karl hadn"t raised his voice, but he"d felt his face go red with fury.

“
Ah, so I was mistaken
.” His father had regained his normal, slightly bored expression. He gave a single nod. “
But I think it best if you do not spend much time
with your cousin
.”

And after that, he"d somehow arranged their lives so that Karl and Gerhard rarely met and were never alone together.

Karl wondered if Gerhard"s personality was growing more like the feckless Hans-Friedrich or the ambitious count.

“What about one of your uncle"s servants? Might one of them be hoping to help his master become heir to the count?” Jonathan"s crisp voice interrupted his brooding.

“I doubt it. He is not the sort to inspire loyalty. And all servants of the von und zu Neuschlosswold-Binder family are beholden to my father. He holds absolute The Nobleman and the Spy

127

power, and they are in his pay, after all. Say what you like about the count, he knows how to control men.”

“He"s taught you well, then.”

Karl laughed, genuinely astonished.

“I am serious.” Jonathan took a bite of the bread, chewed, and swallowed. In an almost grudging manner, he continued. “I have watched you with the men in your entourage. You are a natural leader. A good balance of stern and friendly.”

“Ah, but the friendly is very wrong for a man in my position. I am entirely too informal.”

“This is your father"s opinion?”

“Of course. Sadly, I don"t adjust my manner to suit his notions of strictest propriety.”

“Good.” Jonathan dropped the rest of his bread on a plate and gave a firm, single nod. Karl was reminded of the count"s decisive manner.

Karl hid his smile. He didn"t think Jonathan would appreciate the comparison.

He hated to bring up the subject, but the time for pleasant idleness was done.

“What is your plan, Mr. Reese? You said you had one, and that was why I had to leave Uncle Merridew. How will you discover the culprit if we are here?”

“Your uncle and a friend of mine have found some gentlemen to keep an eye on some of the people we suspect.”

“My servants?”

“Among others. And they will also watch the Merridew house in London. They will see who returns to finish up the work. It"s that simple.”

“So you"re saying that my uncle lives in a house that might possibly be under attack again.” Karl rose to his feet. He"d suspected as much, but he"d allowed Merridew and Jonathan to force him to leave the city. To be honest, he"d loved the idea of showing Jonathan his uncle"s estate.

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He stretched and rubbed his eyes. Alas, now it was time to abandon the bliss they shared for true responsibility.

He headed toward the front of the house. Jonathan followed as he pushed through the green baize door.

“Where are you going?”

“I"m going to sleep for a few hours and then leave. I don"t want my uncle to face the danger that belongs to me. I"ve spent my life being told what to do and when to do it, Jonathan. And I went along with this because, frankly, an attempt on my life left me rather shaken. But I cannot abide the idea that we"ve blithely run off to the country while my uncle stays in his town house possibly facing an attack.”

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Karl started up the stairs, and Jonathan still came after him. “Lord Merridew is safe. The guards Gilley and I arranged are the very best.”

“Then I shall be safe too.” He stopped and faced Jonathan. “Tell me. In war, would you respect a leader who was content to stay at the back when his men faced battle? I believe you"d never fight for a captain you didn"t respect. I must act as captain in this situation.”

A look of pain crossed Jonathan"s features. He went pale. What had caused that response?

“Am I wrong?” Karl asked.

“No,” Jonathan said. “I knew my captain would face the same dangers I did.”