Fates for Apate (2 page)

"They have it on Good Authority that A Certain Gentleman was seen having private conversations with two widows. No doubt that was Lord Lucifer."

Jack wrinkled her nose. "I have no idea why you are so fascinated with that reprobate."

George hid her smile behind a sip of tea. At least half of her fascination with Lord Lucifer was how much the topic riled her friend. She shrugged carelessly. "Oh, you know, Sabre and I have always thought he sounded dashing. Since she's not here to chat with about him, I thought you would indulge me."

It looked like Jack was trying very hard not to be ill-mannered enough to frown again while they were out in a public venue. "How Sabre can feel anything but revulsion for the man who ruined her brothers, I have no idea."

"Men don't get ruined, love, that's left to us."

"I meant it by the true definition of the word."

"Well, I don't think they're ruined. I think they are charming, handsome, and worldly." Jack was nearly glowering so George knew it was time for a quick change to another topic. "Has your family decided how you're all going to spend the Christmas season?"

"In Town, no doubt. Yours?"

"At the country house. You're welcome to come with me, if you like." George felt a bit disingenuous extending an invitation when she was fairly sure she wouldn't be there herself, but was almost certain of Jack's response.

"No. I truly appreciate it, but I can't imagine spending Christmas away from my family."

George could imagine it. Honestly the idea of being away from her family was heavenly, even without the excitement of her first real assignment. Hopefully the assignment would keep her away long past Christmas. In her mind the only true family she had was the Haberdashers. And that thought made her a bit more maudlin than she might have hoped. She grabbed Jack's hands. "But I could paint you in the snow. It would become you, I think. A snowy field and you in a fur collar. All of that warmth you have inside you in defiance of the cold landscape."

Jack looked at her curiously. "George?"

"And in the distance," she added with a wicked smile, "a rider on a dark horse. Lord Lucifer, of course."

Her friend gave an indelicate snort. "Of course. But George, I haven't seen you paint in, what, probably two years now?"

"I haven't been properly inspired."

"But the idea of making me sit in the snow for hours on end has inspired you?"

"I hadn't thought of it that way, but now that you mention it, that is an additional incentive."

"Perhaps I should remind you that 
you
 will need to sit in the snow to do the painting."

"Undoubtedly worth it."

Jack raised a brow. "I still never entirely know when you're joking."

George withdrew her hands to go back to sipping her tea. "I've told you the answer before. Always. And never."

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Casimir held a finger up to quiet his companion. There had been a footstep in the hall, he was sure of it. It was difficult enough slipping place to place in these giant marble halls without having to listen to Wladek's unending chatter. He knew that his friend was nervous, but discovery would ruin their plans. Could even, depending on how it happened, prove deadly. After everything they had been through to position themselves here at the Congress of Vienna he couldn't risk anything compromising this opportunity.

Yes, footsteps, but growing fainter now as the person moved away. Soft footsteps, so a woman or boy. Casimir gave Wladek a warning glance and resumed his steady but silent path towards the meeting room that had been recently vacated. At best, they would find more information about Tzar Alexander's plans for their homeland. At worst, they would have to explain being in a room they most likely should not be in. No, at worst they might be hanged for treason. Tensions remained high throughout the Congress and their connection to the Prussian delegation lent them scant protection against serious accusations. But Casimir would do anything for his people. Would sacrifice anything.

"What is it you're hoping for find?" Wladek whispered to him.

Casimir gave his friend a roguish smile. "What I'm always hoping to find," he whispered back. "The answer."

Wladek grimaced and went to watch the door.

Rifling through the papers that had been left behind was tedious, but even something small could help to turn the tide. It didn't help that he could read so little Russian. One paper caught his eye as he recognized the Russian spelling for Warsaw. He folded that sheet over and tucked it inside his jacket to puzzle out later at his leisure. Not that there was much leisure, since he had joined Hardenberg's delegation as a junior diplomatic assistant in order to gain entrance to the Congress. To the best of Hardenberg's knowledge, Casimir was a minor gentleman and Wladek his servant. That was close enough, really. Even though they shared blood, his cousin preferred the role of loyal vassal.

Wladek hissed, "Are you done, 
książę
?"

Casimir sighed upon hearing the honorific. He checked the hall to ensure no one was nearby before they slipped out and back to their duties.

* * *

George could barely breathe. The carriage from "Aunt Martha" had picked her up an hour ago and was steadily carrying her to a waiting ship. She would join the minor group being dispatched to the Congress of Vienna in support of Britain’s ambassador Castlereagh. Fortunately she
had
kept a close eye on the news as Robert instructed, and knew that Britain was key in the negotiations that were being used to ‘redraw the map’ of Europe after Napoleon’s war.

She would pose as an attache's wife, known to all in the delegation as Mrs. Appleton. Gina Appleton. She detested when anyone tried to shorten her name to Gina, but Robert had explained that a name similar to her own would make it that much easier to maintain her cover. She remembered how much Robert had enjoyed pulling their pigtails when she and the other Haberdashers had been little girls, and was somewhat suspicious that he very well recalled she hated the nickname. But it was neither here nor there. She had an assignment, a real assignment. She couldn't be happier.

Her conveyance rolled to a halt on the docks at Dover. The air was heavy with the scent of water and she could hear the the ships thumping in their moorings, the wood twisting and settling with a cacophony of groans. When the door to her carriage opened, a man she didn't recognize offered his hand to help her down.

"Mrs. Appleton," he said cheerfully. But while his tone was merry, his eyes were appraising her. He kissed her hand and asked, "How was your journey, love?"

So this was to be her husband. Her false husband. He was handsome enough. Tall, barrel-chested, and given to a slight portliness around the middle that he was still young enough to carry off without looking slovenly. In a few years his luck might change if he cared more for port than sport, which he looked like perhaps he did. She gave him a shy smile and said, "It was pleasant."

George was not in the least shy, but she was clever enough to hold her own counsel until she had appraised the situation. Applegate knew, of course, that she was a British agent of some sort but not her specific assignment. It was, Robert had said, for the best if each assignment was held as confidential as possible.

Applegate gave her a false smile and squeezed her hand. "Come, my love. It is time to board our ship."

Her gaze swept over the small gathering waiting for them as they approached. Two maids, a footman or valet, she wasn't sure which, and another gentleman at least as well dressed as Mr. Applegate. The vessel they stood before was fairly small. 

Applegate kept a proprietary hand on her as he made introductions. "Mrs. Applegate, this is Mr. Sims. Sims, this is my wife, Mrs. Applegate."

The gentleman, small and dark-haired, gave her a slight bow as his eyes appraised her. While Applegate looked the type inclined to drink and leisure, Sims vibrated energy. He bore watching, she thought.

Applegate turned to indicate the servants. "Critchfield, Anna, and Maria. Maria will do for you."

George nodded, accepting the pale, brown-haired girl as her lady's maid. She wondered at why they had two maids, but as Anna was buxom and comely, George could surmise a reason. Applegate escorted his 'wife' onto the ship with her hand firmly tucked into his elbow. This would certainly be an interesting journey.

* * *

Casimir had a mild smile on his face, nodding at the instructions that the attaché Otto was giving him. Diplomacy, it seemed, was dependent on two things: alcohol and paperwork. Somewhere in the midst of all that there were undoubtedly discussions. Important discussions that would unintentionally shape lives for hundreds of years. But from where Cas sat in the grand scheme of things he didn't see or hear those discussions. He saw paperwork. Stacks and stacks of letters, missives, maps, and drawings. He heard instructions on how to move that paperwork from one stack to another. He ran messages to his peers who were minor players in the other delegations. It was mind-numbing. It was, honestly, lowering. Yet he knew that he was lucky to have wrangled this coveted spot in service to the Prussian prince. That it was all luck and guile that allowed him to step into a role reserved for a Prussian gentleman. And for all of the mind-numbing, lowering moments he might experience, he was still here in the halls of the Ballhausplatz and had at least a chance to influence the outcome. A slim hope of doing something for Poland, for his people. So he would watch and he would wait. He would befriend the other gentlemen, flirt with their wives at the endlessly scheduled balls, and observe the diplomats as carefully as a mouse would an alley full of cats.

* * *

George set foot on Austrian soil not a minute too soon, for her taste. The journey from England had been interminable. She'd had to fend off the amorous intentions of not only Applegate but Sims as well. It was clear they had expected her to be free with her favors. Although seduction had certainly been a part of her training, it wasn't mandatory. And it wasn't as if she would practice it on two minor British gentlemen who had little to nothing to do with her objective. She flicked a tiny mote of dust off her sleeve. Robert had been quite reticent on that aspect of her training, in fact. Few things made Robert uncomfortable, but apparently encouraging his little sister's best friend to use her wiles in service to the Crown made him quite uncomfortable indeed. The most he would say on the subject was that although it was standard training and certainly a weapon in her arsenal it was "not required" and that she should remember she was a lady. A small smile stole over her features as she recalled how Applegate had seemed less inclined to consider her a lady, so she had instructed him on the subject while her stiletto was pressed to his manhood. While she might not want to waste seduction on him, she was always happy to continue honing her skills with her knives.

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Another day of paperwork, another night of wine and dancing. Certainly there were those who considered this the ideal life, but Cas wasn't one of them. Having exhausted the potential discussions of the evening, he was now holding up a pillar at the edge of the room and swirling wine in his glass in the hopes that a footman wouldn't be inspired to pour more for him. Due to their perceived difference in station, he couldn't even chat with Wladek at these soirees to distract him from the utter boredom of it all. He wished he could go home. His real home. It had been years now since he had been in the forest, or smelled his mother's dumplings cooking when he came home. He missed it in all the spaces between his heartbeats, with every moment between his breaths. But if he did not succeed in his mission here he would never be able to go home. And most likely couldn't even if he did succeed. 

There was movement at the door and two men he didn't recognize entered. It wasn't of any particular surprise, since the minor staff of each delegation forever had someone coming or going. Then the taller, bulky fellow moved and he saw her. Just the upsweep of her pale blond hair, the gracefulness of her neck, her smooth cheek. But something in him responded to her, like the magnet in a compass swinging to north. Surely this moment of intrigue would prove to be passing, but for now at least an introduction would be diverting. He strolled over to Hans von Rosen.

"Who are they?" he asked without preamble, head tipping to the new guests.

Hans gave a ghost of a smile although his posture remained stiff, betraying his military background. "What makes you think I know?"

"Don't be coy with me, Hans," Cas said with a grin. "We all know you know everything."

"Not everything. But perhaps I know something of them."

"And?"

"British. I didn't catch the names. They only arrived this afternoon." Now Hans did smile as he looked down at Cas. "Certainly it should take at least one full day to learn everything about them."

Cas chuckled and slapped Hans on the shoulder. "All right, I'll give you the rest of a day. But that was enough for now anyway." After saluting the Prussian officer with his wine glass, Casimir ambled towards John Howards. John was the British clerk that Casimir exchanged missives with during the day. A decent enough fellow, if a bit anxious.

Switching to English Cas greeted him. "Good evening, John."

"Yes. Yes, quite."

At least half of what Howards said sounded like a verbal nervous tick rather than real conversation.

"I see that your delegation has some new arrivals."

"Indeed. Yes, yes."

Casimir let the conversation lag into an awkward silence.

"Would you..." Howards' voice strangled off, then he tried again. "That is to say, I would be pleased to introduce you."

Casimir gave the man an encouraging smile. The British could always be counted upon to be excruciatingly polite, especially if a conversation waned at a critical juncture. "I would be delighted."