Tasha Alexander - A Fatal Waltz

“Herr Klimt was impressed with his sketches. He will help the boy. But whether that makes him acceptable to her parents…” She shrugged. “If he could get a commission to work on the murals in one of the Ringstrasse buildings, he would be in a much better position.”

“He’ll never allow us to arrange such a thing, and I respect him immeasurably for it. But there must be something. The empress doesn’t allow her image to be taken any longer, does she?” I asked.

“Non. She’s adamant about it.”

“But what if he were to draw her—you’ve seen the vitality in his work—she could not help but be charmed. Even if the piece were never exhibited, so long as word got out that he’d sketched her…”

“Très intéressant. This is something that perhaps I might arrange. I will convince her to call on me here at the Imperial and have Friedrich arrive at close to the same time.”

“Could you do that?”

“She’s desperate to leave the palace. It would do her good to get out. I can persuade her to come to us.”

“But will she object to meeting Friedrich?”

“Not if I tell her he is a friend of mine.”

I glanced at the watch hanging from my lapel and called out to our guests. “It’s nearly time to go, Anna. I’ll take you home.” Cécile and I turned our heads so she and Friedrich could bid each other a proper farewell. I pulled on my coat and waited at the door until Anna joined me, her eyes shining.

“He’s so perfectly lovely,” she said as we made our way out of the hotel. When we’d reached the bottom of the stairs to the lobby, I tripped and slammed into a gentleman in front of me. “Jeremy! I’m so sorry.” His hand gripped my arm, and our eyes met only for an instant.

“Lady Ashton—apologies.”

“Jeremy, don’t be so formal. I—”

“Are you going somewhere? Do you need an escort?”

“Oh, you’re so sweet, Your Grace,” Anna said. “But we need privacy. Ladies often have much to discuss, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

He looked at me, questioning with his eyes.

“We’ll be fine,” I said. “We’ll get a fiacre.”

“Very good.” He kept walking.

“The poor duke,” Anna said, looking after him. “He’s so sad these days. I wonder why?”

“It’s not always simple to be happy in love.”

Anna grinned. “Can we walk home? I want more time to chat with you than driving would allow.”

“I suppose so,” I said, smiling. “It won’t be dark for a while. But you must speak to me in German. Cécile has no need to practice her idioms, but I’m not so lucky.”

“I think we should speak French if we’re discussing love.”

“German,” I said with a smile. “You’re supposedly here as a language tutor.”

“Do you think the duke will be married soon? He’s awfully handsome.”

“Yes, I suppose he is handsome.” My voice was slow, measured. I’d never before given Jeremy’s appearance any thought. “I have a hard time seeing him as anything but a little boy.” I explained to her that we had grown up together, and found myself filled with sadness as I remembered days spent with him fishing, climbing trees, and racing our horses.

“What a pity you never fell in love with each other. It would be such a touching story.”

“You’re a hopeless romantic.”

Something caught my eye as we crossed the street. We were being followed. “It’s colder than I thought. Let’s get a fiacre.” I increased my pace, hoping we would find a carriage quickly.

“You’re walking too fast,” Anna said.

“It’s the only thing keeping me warm.” We went another block without seeing an empty coach. Harrison, skilled at slipping into shadows, was hard to see, but I knew he was close behind us. I took Anna by the arm. “Tell me more about Friedrich.”

“He’s found a perfect house for us near his studio. It’s so charming that not even my mother could find fault with it. If he gets a few more commissions—”

“Let’s cross to the other side of the street.” I pulled her to the curb. “A few more commissions, you say?”

“That’s all he’ll need to be able to afford it. I can’t think of anything sweeter than struggling together.”

“It will be lovely, I’m sure.” Harrison waited until we were at the end of the block, then crossed to the other side.

“Things are more simple when you’re not swimming in money, don’t you think? Sharing a snug little house, eating soup all the time. It’s so romantic I can hardly bear it.”

“Poverty isn’t a game, Anna.” My voice was throaty, harsher than I’d intended. I glanced backwards; he was still following us.

“Of course not. But we wouldn’t really be in poverty. It would be more like Marie Antoinette in her little rustic village at Versailles. Papa would never let me starve.”

“I’ve seen the circumstances in which the poor are forced to live. It’s appalling. And for either of us, who’ve never known real hardship in our lives, to speak lightly of their plight…I can’t abide it.”

She fell silent. The footsteps behind us quickened.

“Come, I didn’t mean to upset you.” I increased my pace, and soon was all but pulling her alongside me.

“Please, Lady Ashton, can’t we slow down?”

“I’m sorry. I’m just so cold.” We were only two blocks from her house. “Has Friedrich painted your portrait?”

“No, but I’m going to sit for him next week. If, that is, you and Madame du Lac will help me come up with an adequate excuse to escape from my house.”

“That shouldn’t pose a problem.”

Harrison had crossed the street again and was walking directly opposite us, his top hat pulled low over his face, hands in his pockets, and shoulders hunched. The cold air could not compete with the chill I felt at finding myself so close to him. Another block to go.

“I can’t begin to express how grateful I am for all that the two of you have done for us. I’d nearly given up hope.”

“Never abandon hope.” We had reached the beginning of her block. Her father’s house stood in the middle, and though I breathed a sigh of relief as soon as I saw it, I did not slow my pace until we’d reached the stoop. I ducked inside with Anna and asked for the family’s carriage to be ordered for me, but when I exited it after arriving back at the Imperial, I realized that Mr. Harrison was not so easily deterred.

“You will not escape from me unless I allow it,” he said, stepping out from behind the carriage and gripping my arm so hard I knew it would bruise. I twisted to get away from him, but he released me. “And this time I will allow it. But remember, Lady Ashton, that I know where you go, who you see, what you say. It would be remarkably simple to eliminate you.”

He had scared me, but now I was angry, and I spun around to face him. “Then why don’t you?”

“Only because I think you may yet be of some use to me.”

“Highly unlikely, Mr. Harrison.”

“I hear rumors that you’re planning to return to England.”

“Idle gossip,” I said.

“The best kind.” His hands were in his pockets, and I could see he was fingering something in one of them. “I’ve never doubted that you’d choose Hargreaves over Brandon.”

“I’ve no need to make such a choice.”

“Yes, you do.” He handed me a piece of paper. “But you should understand that the likelihood of your saving either of them is negligible at best. Brandon’s case is all but hopeless, and Hargreaves…though he’s capable of taking care of himself, I share your concern that his careless arrogance may prove his undoing.”

I held up the paper. “Shall I read this now or later?”