Tasha Alexander - A Fatal Waltz

Robert and Ivy sat side by side, both silent. Ivy made a careful study of her food, not meeting the eyes of the other guests, none of whom bothered to speak to her beyond a rote greeting.

“The count and I are desperate for your help, Ivy,” I said, sprinkling salt on eggs I had no intention of eating. The small flowers that were painted on every inch of the walls and ceiling had begun to give me a headache. “We’re having a terrible time organizing our scene from Aristophanes.”

“Mrs. Brandon will not be able to help you with your little drama, Lady Ashton.” Lord Fortescue’s face clouded as he looked at Robert. “She and her husband are returning home this afternoon.” Robert’s expression did not change, but his shoulders snapped back and his fork clattered against his plate. “And as we’ve had to cancel our meeting with the prime minister, the rest of the gentlemen will leave to shoot in an hour.” He threw his napkin on the table and stomped out of the room, pausing when he reached the door. “I want you out of my house by noon, Brandon.”

None of us breathed for a full minute after he’d left. Sir Julian picked up his coffee cup, his large hand nearly crushing the thin china. “Does this have something to do with Home Rule? What say you to that, Hargreaves? Are the Irish threatening Lord Salisbury?”

“Unlikely,” Colin replied.

“Is that what I should report in the paper?” Sir Julian asked, a lopsided grin splitting his face.

“I don’t see that any of this merits the public’s attention.” Colin continued to devour his breakfast. “The less said, the better.” He looked pointedly at Robert and Ivy, and Sir Julian nodded.

“No good can come of creating scandal where none exists,” Lady Fortescue said, her thin voice straining to fill the room. “I don’t want any of my guests to feel that their presence at this party will lead to embarrassment.”

“Quite right, madam,” Sir Julian said. “But as there aren’t any Irishmen here—”

“We all know I’m not speaking of the Irish.” No one replied, and without another word, she returned to eating her breakfast. Soon thereafter, Robert rose from his chair and excused himself, Ivy following close behind. I all but ran after them, grabbing Ivy’s arm to stop her once I’d caught up to them in the main hall.

“Ivy—”

“This is so awful I hardly know what to do.”

“How can I help?” I asked. “Are you going to Halton House?” Robert’s estate was in southern Yorkshire, a moderate drive from Beaumont Towers.

“No, London. Robert wants to talk to Lord Salisbury.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Thank you, Emily, but it’s not necessary. I’m afraid your presence would make Robert feel even more awkward than he already does. He needs privacy more than anything right now.”

“Then I’ll leave you alone.” I hugged her, and my heart broke when I felt the tension in her slim body. “Send for me if you need anything.”

“I must go to him.” She rushed after her husband. I leaned against the wall, looking up at stone vaulting that would have fit in perfectly at an Oxbridge college. Unsure of what to do, I was relieved when Colin came to me moments later.

“Brandon will manage,” he said. “Politics is a dirty business, but he knew that going in.”

“What’s going to happen?” I asked.

“He’ll lay low for a while and then either reinvent himself or decide he’s content with the life of a gentleman.”

“He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“He made a poor choice of mentor,” Colin said. “We all know the sort of man Fortescue is. He took a risk allying himself with him.”

“Did he have a choice?”

“We always have a choice, Emily. But come, let’s not dwell on unpleasantries. Am I to get no kiss before I’m forced to spend another day shooting?” He caught my hand and pulled me into a small room, full of dusty furniture. “Safe to assume we won’t be disturbed here, I think. I’m sorry I didn’t see you last night.”

“As am I.” I bit my lip. “But you were working.”

“Yes.”

“With the countess?”

“She’s one of my primary contacts in Austria.”

“Are all your contacts so beautiful?”

“Unfortunately not.” He held my hands. “You’ve no need to worry.”

“I trust you,” I said. “But I can’t say the same for her. I’m not naïve enough to think she’s content with being merely your colleague.”

“For a long time she was more. I can’t apologize for that, Emily. But you don’t know Kristiana. She’s not pining for me—she’s not the sort to give her heart to anyone. She likes to flirt, likes the game of it. Everything’s a waltz to her. And she knows that many men would not view marriage as an impediment to continuing a relationship with her.”

I didn’t believe she hadn’t pined for him. But that did not bother me so much as the fact that he didn’t say he had never pined for her. I stifled a sigh. “The world is so different from what young ladies are led to believe,” I said.

“I’m certain the subterfuge does no good.” He frowned. “People do better when they have the truth before them. I’ve never understood why a man would want a wife who’d been set up for nothing but disappointment.”

“You’re more cynical than I thought.”

“No, I’ve just no use for hypocrisy.”

“I share your opinion on the subject, but many would not. There are those who prefer a happy ignorance,” I said.

“If you marry for purely practical reasons—to preserve a title, an estate, gain a fortune—there’s no reason to be sentimental about the arrangement. Get an heir and a spare, your duty’s done, and at last you can pursue someone who sparks a passion in you. So long as all parties are discreet and neither husband nor wife is hurt in the process, what’s the harm?”

“I imagine there is none in such a case. But it seems a most unsatisfactory way to live. I’d rather be alone.”

“Being alone has its drawbacks too. How did we stumble on such a morose topic?”

“Your good friend, Kristiana. And so long as we’re on the subject of all things morose, I received a letter from my mother yesterday. She wrote to inform me that the queen would like us to be married at Windsor. Next summer.”

“Next summer? Why would we want to wait so long?”

“I don’t believe our desires factored into the equation. My mother and Her Majesty are rather taken with the month of June. It’s to be quite an event.”

“An event?”

“Yes. Fireworks were mentioned.”

“I see.” There was laughter behind his eyes.

“After our aborted attempt at an English wedding, I was rather hoping we could be married in Greece,” I said.

“Just the two of us, the necessary witnesses, and one of Mrs. Katevatis’s feasts afterwards?” The cook at my villa had unparalleled culinary talents, and the thought of the sun on Santorini and a platter of spanakopita was more than a little tempting, particularly when I was trapped on a dank English estate.

“Precisely,” I said.

“Lots of ouzo toasts and a rather late night.”

“One that extends all the way to morning.” Our eyes met.

“I don’t see how we can go against the queen’s wishes,” he said.

“I was afraid you’d say that. I admire your loyalty and sense of duty to your country, Colin, but you go too far. I can’t bear the thought of waiting so long.”

“You were perfectly willing to put me off yourself for more months than I care to count.” His smile warmed every inch of me.

“I was dreadful.”

“You weren’t. I understand perfectly why you waited to accept me. If you did not value your independence so well, I wouldn’t have wanted to marry you in the first place.”