Tasha Alexander - A Fatal Waltz

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Lady Emily Ashton is back in her third episode of romantic suspense set in the Victorian world of mannerly gentlemen, conniving mothers, and scandals behind closed doors. Forced to join a group of socialites at the home of formidable and odious Lord Fortescue, whom she loathes (and whose daughter covets Emily’s fiancé, Colin Hargreaves), Emily and others in the party feel little regret when Fortescue is murdered. Unfortunately, her best friend’s husband, Robert, is arrested and imprisoned in the Tower, after witnesses confirm his fight with the victim. Resolved to exonerate Robert, Emily heads for Vienna on the killer’s trail. Austria proves rich with intrigue, and this portion of the story really shines as readers take a tour of nineteenth-century Vienna—its parties and its cafés—in the wintertime, shadowed by decidedly evil characters. Emily’s sparkling wit makes up for the somewhat convoluted plot and large cast of characters who move from England to the Continent and back at the slightest provocation. This is a captivating addition to the adventures of an irresistible Victorian iconoclast.

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“No.”

“Neither his name nor the fact that you’d found him?”

“Neither.” He paused, still kicking the snow. “But I am rather taken with your persistence, so I will say again: I did not find him. I did not need to lie to you in the Griensteidl.”

“How can I possibly believe you?”

“You can’t.” He smiled. “Don’t follow me anymore, Kallista. There is no reason for us to speak again.”

I took his place on the stone bench and watched him walk away. I would follow him again, but not while he was expecting it.

A familiar voice drifted through the freezing air. “That’s a miserable place to sit on such a cold day.”

“Colin?” I leapt to my feet as he grabbed my hands and pulled me towards him. “How—I—you—Berlin—”

“Don’t speak. Not just yet.” His kisses warmed me better than the summer sun could have, and I basked in his embrace. “Come. Let’s get inside.” He led me through the park, his arm tight around my waist. “We’ll go to the Kunsthistorisches Museum. Have you been yet?”

“No. I’m not here on a pleasure trip.”

“So I’ve gathered. But I do love finding you unchaperoned.” He stopped walking and kissed me again. “I’d never before contemplated the advantages of coming to parks in the depths of winter. Wonderfully private places, don’t you think?”

“I don’t think you understand the gravity of the current situation,” I said.

“Don’t underestimate me. I know exactly what I’m doing.” We reached the front of the museum. “What will it be? Greek sculpture?”

“Please,” I said, a smile escaping against my will. He took me by the arm in the most proper sort of fashion, and we entered the building. We said nothing further until we’d reached a gallery that contained a statue of Artemis from the second century B.C., done in the style of Praxiteles.

“Harrison was following you. I think we’ve convinced him there’s nothing to see but a romantic encounter between a man and his fiancée.”

“He was following me, too?” I looked up at the ceiling and sighed, clenching my hands into hard fists. “I’m hopeless at this. I can’t believe—”

“No, darling, you’re not hopeless. You just need more practice. And now, just in case he’s still watching, let’s look at the art. What do you think of this Artemis?” he asked, squeezing my gloved hand.

“Magnificent.” The goddess leaned gracefully on another statue, a smaller image of herself.

“Why are you meeting with Gustav Schröder?”

“First tell me when you arrived in Vienna,” I said.

“I’ve been here for some time. I’d no idea you were here.”

“I wrote to you,” I said.

“Your letter’s undoubtedly waiting for me in Berlin. I was there only for a few days, and I’ve had no time to write you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I said. “You know I understand.”

“You’re a dear girl,” he said. “Now tell me about Schröder.”

“I think we’d better sit.” We found an empty bench, and I told him all about Robert and Lord Fortescue’s mysterious informer.

“You’ve done well, Emily. And with very little to go on.”

“You don’t object to my doing this?”

“My usual caveat applies: Do not put yourself in any unnecessary danger. If I find out that you have, I’ll carry you back to England myself.” There was something in his eyes. A calm pride, perhaps, coupled with the sparkle that I saw nearly every time we were alone. But there was something different, too. Their darkness was deeper, warmer.

“Sounds like a pleasant way to travel. If I’m good now, will you carry me?”

“If you’re good, I’ll do anything you want.”

“Including marry me before the date set by the queen?”

“That’s being bad, Emily, very bad.” How I longed to kiss him! I was blind to the art that surrounded us, intoxicated by his presence. He stood up and looked at me with such intensity, I felt my skin begin to ache.

“I shan’t force the issue in such a public place,” I said.

“Thank you.”

“How did you find me?” I asked.

“Sheer luck. I was coming from an appointment and saw you on the other side of the street. I could tell at once that you were following someone.”

I frowned. “And I thought I was being so discreet. It’s bad enough that both you and Herr Schröder were on to me, but even worse that I didn’t notice Harrison tailing me, too.”

“That’s because you weren’t suspecting it.”

I recounted for him what had passed between Mr. Harrison and me and showed him the bullet I’d found in my pocket. Concern filled his eyes, and he took my hand.

“From now on you must be better aware of your surroundings. I don’t like you being pursued by someone whose motives are so distinctly not innocent.”

“I wouldn’t object should your motives become less innocent,” I said.

“You, my dear, are certain to send me to an early grave.”

“Not if we’re married.”

“No, not if we’re married.”

“I’m free tomorrow,” I said. “You?”

“If only,” he replied.

“Where are you staying? Are you at the Imperial?”

“No, I come here so often I’ve rooms close to the Stephansdom.”

“Near the von Langes’ house,” I said.

“Yes. How do you know where they live? Have you been there?”

“I called on the countess as soon as I’d arrived. She was singularly unhelpful.”

“Kristiana knows you’re in Vienna?” he asked.

“I’ve seen her twice.”

“She didn’t tell me,” he said. “I wish—”

“You’ve seen her as well?” I asked.

“I’m working with her.”

“I see.” I did my best to exhibit not the smallest sign of jealousy, but in truth, I decided at that moment to abandon the guarded disdain I’d felt for the woman and let myself openly despise her.

“Emily—”

I waved my hand in the air in what I hoped was a sophisticated dismissal. “She’s of no consequence to me.”

“Is that so?”

I did not like the way he was smiling.

“None whatsoever.” I stood, composure itself.

“And you’ve nothing further to say on the subject?”

“Heavens, no. Tedious, tedious, tedious.”

“Good girl. Though I will say I’m aggravated that she didn’t tell me you were here all this time. It’s not like her to be deceptive.”

“No, I would imagine most sources of covert intelligence aren’t deceptive in the least.”

“Emily—”

“Don’t scold me. I won’t stand for it. Perhaps you don’t know your friend quite so well as you thought. At any rate, it doesn’t matter. You’ve found me.”

“And now that we’re both in Vienna, we’ll have to waltz,” he said, an obviously forced smile on his face. There was no question that he wanted to move our conversation in any direction so long as it was away from his erstwhile lover.

“After Robert is exonerated.”

“You can’t work all the time, my dear. Every covert investigator needs periodic breaks. Besides, you never know where you might learn something that will prove to be useful. There’s a ball tonight at the Sofiensaäle. Strauss’s orchestra is playing. I’ll expect to see you there.”

There were an impossible number of balls in Vienna during the winter: masked balls, state balls, debutante balls, and court balls, where five hundred bottles of Moët et Chandon, the emperor’s favorite champagne, would be consumed in an evening. The most dedicated person could not manage to attend even a quarter of them. But the crush of people inside the Sofiensaäle, one of the city’s famous public ballrooms, made me wonder if the entire population of the city had decided to dance that night. Cécile and I had arrived late, bringing Jeremy with us.

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