Tasha Alexander - A Fatal Waltz

“You mean the countess?” I laughed, but knew it sounded forced. “I’m not jealous, Lord Fortescue. I trust him implicitly.”

“Do you?” His eyebrows shot up almost to his hairline, no small feat given how far the latter had receded. “Then perhaps you are naïve enough to play wife for him.”

“I can only wonder, Lord Fortescue, if that’s what you think of him, why you would want your daughter to marry him.”

“That’s quite enough, Lady Ashton. Just keep in mind that you are not safe with me. I know exactly how to deal with you.” He kept talking, but I was hardly listening any longer, remembering instead his earlier comment that I was easily manipulated. Was I being manipulated now? Even though I knew I was doing nothing empirically wrong and that it was my partner in this scheme who had put himself in danger, I could not shake a nagging feeling that there was something I’d overlooked when I’d agreed to this task.

Air rushed into my lungs the moment my maid loosened my corset. “I don’t know why I let you convince me to be laced so tightly,” I said, drawing a much-needed deep breath.

“Because you know how lovely that gown looks, madam,” Meg replied. “And it would never fit if you weren’t tightly laced.”

“Vanity is a terrible thing.” I sighed. But who was I to resist such a delicious concoction of Mr. Worth’s? The narrow silk taffeta skirt was a creamy ivory, the color deep enough to emanate an unmistakable warmth. A layer of the finest lace hung asymmetrically over it, forming a short train in the back. The low-cut neckline was draped with the same lace, topping off a bodice that required a tiny waist. The result was stunning, and further enhanced by a glittering diamond and sapphire necklace. I pulled the matching earrings off and handed them to Meg. “What an evening. How are things belowstairs? Any interesting gossip?”

“Well…” Meg always liked a dramatic pause before launching into details. “Lord Fortescue and his wife have separate rooms on separate floors. He’s put Mrs. Clavell in the room directly across from his. Ordinarily, she and her husband share, but this time she asked for one of her own. She’s afraid she’s coming down with a cold and didn’t want Mr. Clavell to catch it.”

“Is that so? She seemed a picture of health all day.” I couldn’t help but smile at the serious look on Meg’s face.

“You’re across from the Count von Lange, another person who prefers a separate bedroom.”

“Where’s his wife?”

“Up on the second floor. The count’s valet, Rolf, says their house in Vienna is in constant upheaval, what with all their lovers coming and going. Morally bankrupt, the Viennese, if you ask me. But Rolf is a very friendly sort of man. Gentlemanlike. Right handsome too.”

“Where is Mr. Hargreaves?”

“He’s up a floor, across from the countess.” I raised my arms so Meg could drop a lacy nightgown over my head. “Do you need anything else tonight, madam? Some warm milk to help you sleep?”

“No, Meg, thank you. Get to bed yourself. Lord Fortescue expects us all to be up early in the morning.”

After she left, I sat at the dressing table, brushing my hair. My mother insisted on a hundred strokes every night, and although I rebelled whenever possible against most of her rules, this was one over which we never argued. Not because I agreed with her firm belief that I should do everything in my power to enhance my appearance, but because I found the ritual relaxing, an effortless sort of activity that allowed my mind to wander. Tonight, however, I was agitated. Between the countess’s sniping and Lord Fortescue’s attacks, I was beginning to wish I’d stayed home, though I knew I couldn’t have left Ivy to suffer through the weekend alone. Tomorrow offered little hope of improvement. The men would shoot all morning and then begin their political meetings late in the afternoon. I was wondering what I could do to best avoid the countess when I heard a soft tap at the door.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, pulling a robe over my nightgown and opening the door only a few inches. Colin was still in his evening kit.

“Are you going to let me in? Or am I to stand here in the hall waiting to be caught?”

Who was I to resist such temptation? I stepped aside so that he could slip into the room. “You’re terrible to come here like this.”

“I know.” He took my face in his hands and kissed me, then buried his head in my neck. “I can’t stay long. In another quarter of an hour the great room-swapping will begin, and it wouldn’t do for me to be found coming out of here. But I couldn’t resist seeing you, just for a moment.” Another kiss, then he left me, dizzy, exhilarated, and quite unable to sleep.

Morpheus eluded me for nearly the entire night, and I was exhausted the next morning, barely registering the change in light when Meg tugged at the heavy dark curtains that covered the windows, letting the sun fill the room. With effort, I raised myself to my elbows, squinting as I opened my eyes. Meg lifted the pillows behind me and I leaned back, accepting from her a steaming cup of tea.

“Lord Fortescue was awful disappointed by the ladies this morning,” she said, brushing the dress she’d laid out for me to wear. “Mrs. Clavell was the only one of you to come down for breakfast.”

“What time is it?” I asked. “Have the gentlemen already left to shoot?”

“They were getting ready to leave when I came upstairs. It’s nearly ten o’clock.”

“Help me get dressed, quickly.”

Less than half an hour later I was rushing towards the library, where I hoped Mr. Harrison and Colin would still be waiting for me. The sight that greeted me when I opened the door took me aback, and I slowed my pace as I entered the room.

“Good morning, Lady Ashton,” Lord Fortescue said. “Did you sleep well? A guilty conscience often makes peaceful rest difficult.”

“I’ve no doubt you speak from experience,” I said.

“I’ve had quite enough of your insolence. What were you doing in my room last night?”

“I wasn’t in your room last night.”

“It would be best if you didn’t lie.”

“I’ve no need to lie. Your room is the last place I would ever go.”

He shook his head and smiled. “You are not good at this, Lady Ashton. How did this make its way to the floor by my bed?” He held up a bracelet: a simple gold bangle that I’d worn the day before.

“I don’t know. It must have fallen off my wrist.”

“While you were in my room.”

“No—” The door opened, and Colin and Mr. Harrison entered the room.

“What did you find?” Lord Fortescue asked.

“All of them,” Mr. Harrison said, holding up a neat stack of papers. “They were in her room underneath a copy of the collected works of Aristophanes.”

“This is outrageous,” I said. “I—”

Colin raised a hand to stop me, his eyes on Lord Fortescue. “This is nothing but the barest sort of circumstantial evidence. Anyone could have put that bracelet on your floor, and anyone could have put the papers in her room.”

“Perhaps, but I think the police would believe my version of the story. And I’m certain I could come up with at least one witness who saw her leaving my chamber. I wonder what Sir Julian would make of all this? I’m certain he’d want to run something about it in his paper.”

“You’ve no more interest in involving the police or the newspapers than I do,” Colin said.

“Quite right, as always, Hargreaves. Do you think Her Majesty would be interested in hearing my story? Would it cause her to lose faith in her favorite agent?”

“It’s more likely to shake her faith in her favorite political advisor. The papers were in your possession. You should have seen to it that they were in a secure location.”