Vienna Waltz (The Imperial Season Book 1) (18 page)

Agent Z’s world
had consisted of scary and impossible dreams for so long, that when he opened his eyes to find the beautiful girl who’d shot him, leaning over him and caressing his forehead, he compressed his lips to stop the words getting out and waiting for something worse to happen.

The English girl, Miss Gaunt, smiled. Her eyes seemed to be wet.

“Thank God,” she said, straightening. Still smiling, she bathed the sweat from his forehead with cool water, then passed her arm under his shoulder to help him sip some liquid from a cup.

A very calm and unlikely dream. His shoulder ached and he was weak as a kitten.

“I’m so glad to see you better, sir,” she said seriously. “And
extremely
sorry for shooting you. The gun went off by accident, for you must know I’m a truly dreadful shot and couldn’t have hit you if I’d tried.”

She bit her lip, as though to stop herself from babbling.

He tried to speak and croaked, instead. He coughed and tried again, remembering to speak in English. “Where am I?”

“At the Emperor Inn.”

He found it difficult to think, but at least he could… “How long have I been here?”

“Two nights.”

Damn
. He made an effort to throw off the sheets and discovered he was naked beneath, apart from his drawers. He clutched the sheets upward again, but in any case, she was already pressing him back onto the pillows.

“Your fever was high,” she said. “You need to rest.”

“Where are my clothes?” he asked hoarsely.

She pointed to the wardrobe on the far wall. “They’ve been laundered and mended as best we could, though I’m afraid Johnnie was quite brutal with your shirt. He gave you one of his.”

“He’s here, too?”

“Oh yes. In fact, I must tell them. Don’t get up, not yet…”

She ran across the room and threw open the door. “Johnnie! Mrs. Fawcett!” she called. “Our man is awake! The fever is broken!”

In the distance, he heard a clattering, as though chairs were being pushed back, and then the pounding and rushing of feet on the stairs. It all seemed too bizarre to wrestle with and he was so very tired. In fact, he thought he might be delirious again, for a lady in purple swept into the room like a ship in full sail, preceding the Russian officer who’d fought with him. Over the bag.

As the man leaned over him with an oddly proprietary interest, Z blurted, “The bag. Where is the bag?”

“Long gone,” the officer said. “Don’t worry about it.”

He was weak and ill, or he’d never have asked so directly. “What was in it?”

“I can’t tell you that,” the Russian said. “But it was nothing that could ever harm your country or mine. It had nothing to do with you. That’s why she didn’t give you it.”

He didn’t understand any of this. He’d rarely felt so vulnerable in his life, but since no one was hurting him, it seemed safe enough to close his eyes and sleep.

“He’ll be starving when he wakes,” the older English lady said comfortably before the world faded.

*

With all the
excitement of the patient shaking off his fever, it was growing dark before Lizzie noticed the time and sprang into action to round up the children and the dog and all their works.

“Wait, wait,” Mrs. Fawcett interrupted. “Why don’t you just stay here? They still have room. Probably.”

“My aunt expects us,” Lizzie insisted, although she’d grown so comfortable here she didn’t really want to move.

Mrs. Fawcett waved that aside. “George and William will carry a note promising to return you in the morning.”

“Won’t they mind such a journey?” Lizzie asked doubtfully.

Mrs. Fawcett raised one cynical eyebrow. “Not if I let them stay in Vienna for the night. They may check on the apartments I rented while they’re there.”

“Oh, let’s stay, Lizzie,” Michael cajoled. “Dog loves it here.”

“Besides,” Mrs. Fawcett added, “I would be surprised if it weren’t quite pleasant for your aunt and uncle to have less people and animals in the house for a night.”

The landlord, duly summoned to the private parlor, said he had one more room that Lizzie and the girls might occupy and that he could put up a truckle bed for Michael with Johnnie, whom he referred to as “the captain”.

“In that case,” Mrs. Fawcett said, with no obvious idea of the havoc she was causing in the kitchen, “supper for six.”

“Oh, and do you have something for the dog?” Lizzie asked. “He’ll be starving.”

“I doubt that,” the landlord growled. “He’s already had a string of sausages. But I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” Lizzie said warmly and he retreated, mollified. “What?” she asked, catching Johnnie’s gaze. A little smile played around his lips.

He shrugged. “Nothing. You just twist them all around your little finger without even trying.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Lizzie said loftily. “I’m going to check on our patient. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a name for him?”

Since the patient was sleeping peacefully and comfortably, Lizzie didn’t stay long but went with the girls to inspect their chamber, which was, in fact, the same one she’d been given the last time she’d stayed here. Like their bed in the Vienna house, this one was huge enough to accommodate all three of them comfortably. The girls pronounced it enchanting and giggled when Cartwright, Mrs. Fawcett’s maid, brought them some night things lent by her mistress.

Lizzie shooed them away as Mrs. Fawcett herself sailed in.

“Will you be comfortable enough? You or one of the girls could always share with me.”

“Oh no, thank you, we’ll be perfectly comfortable here. The bed is huge and we’ve got used to sharing. Besides, we couldn’t put you out any further than we already have.” Lizzie thought for a moment, frowning. “Though I suppose I ought not to let Michael share with Johnnie.”

“Why ever not? You all seem on remarkably good terms.”

Lizzie flushed. She’d grown so comfortable; she’d forgotten that Mrs. Fawcett didn’t know Johnnie’s criminal background. She persisted in imagining him an officer, an illusion fostered by the staff of the inn calling him “captain”, though Lizzie suspected that was their default title for any military person.

“Just thinking aloud.”

“There’s nothing depraved about him you haven’t told me?” Mrs. Fawcett asked, fixing her with a stern eye.

“Of course not,” Lizzie said lightly.

Then the idea hit her like a thunderbolt. Mrs. Fawcett, with her wealth and eccentricity and very different expectations of her servants, would make the perfect employer for Johnnie. She would keep him out of trouble and quite on the straight and narrow. And if there was a confused happiness that in this way she would continue to see him occasionally, well, he’d become a surprisingly good friend through all of this. Plus, the children liked him…

“I need to talk to Johnnie,” she said breathlessly. “Excuse me…”

Discovering Johnnie in the courtyard, lounging at the wooden table in the gloom, Dog lying over his feet, she said, “Shall we take him for a walk?”

Johnnie sprang to his feet and then stood very still. In the darkness, she couldn’t see where he was looking. In fact, she wasn’t even sure he’d heard her, so long did he take to answer. Then his breath came out in a rush. “If you wish.”

*

If anyone had
told Vanya a week ago, that life could hold no greater happiness than walking in the dark beside a girl he didn’t even touch, he’d have laughed in their faces.

But she made the night seem somehow magical. There was new beauty in the dark blue velvet of the sky, the moon and stars like jewels whose only purpose was to enhance Lizzie. The same magic welcomed the pain of his restraint and his knowledge that this was the one girl he could never have, the knowledge that it would all come tumbling down and bury him. But he wouldn’t let her be hurt. He’d keep his distance and just bask in her presence. It felt inexplicably like joy.

They didn’t speak much as they walked with Dog on the leash between them, sniffling at whatever attracted his erratic attention, although they did discuss the relief of their patient’s recovery and speculate over his identity.

“Do you think he’ll have us arrested?” Lizzie asked once.

“I don’t know. I think it’s unlikely, given your position.”

“Perhaps you should disappear, though. Become someone else.”

Vanya laughed, because he couldn’t really cope with yet another identity. “Johnnie can disappear,” he assured her. “Whenever he needs to.”

“Good, because I’ve had a wonderful idea. I’ll speak to Mrs. Fawcett this evening if only you agree to it.”

“Agree to what?” he asked, turning to gaze at her in the moonlight. He wanted to touch her pale, delicate skin.

“Working for her. I can’t imagine it would be like working for anyone else. She could send you all over the world, come up with tasks I couldn’t even imagine. You would be a great asset to her, being so resourceful.”

“I would?”

“Assuredly. What do you think?”

Johnnie wanted to laugh again. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her for being so wonderful. But he’d no idea what to say without hurting her feelings.

“I wouldn’t make a good footman. Besides, she already has two who are clearly used to carrying out extra duties.”

“I don’t know… You like the outdoors, don’t you? And you’re so good with horses. Perhaps you could be trained to manage one of her estates? Do you think you’d be good at such work?”

Vanya swallowed. “I have a little experience in the area,” he allowed humbly. “Mostly when I was younger. Before I joined the army. Of course, in Russia, we have serfs rather than free tenants, but I imagine most of the principles are the same.”

“Then you’ll let me speak to her?” Lizzie asked eagerly.

“No, don’t do that. Not yet. There’s no hurry, is there? There’s nothing she can do about it while she’s in Vienna, after all.”

“But if she retained you, you’d have a little money…” Lizzie trailed off and glanced up at him surreptitiously.

“Which you think might prevent my indulging any further in robbery.”

She gave him a half-apologetic smile that melted his heart.

“You needn’t worry,” he assured her. “You’ve helped me see the error of my ways.”

She sighed, tugging the dog onward when he lingered too long at a particular tree. “Now you’re laughing at me again.”

“Actually, I’m not,” he said ruefully.

Last night, he’d got into Sonia’s carriage with her, drunk but far from incapable, and when they’d reached her apartment on the Graben, he’d merely kissed her and walked away. Because at the last moment, he’d realized where all his emotion and lust, all his ill and good humors were directed. It was Lizzie he wanted and some barely understood chivalrous instinct made him back off, even though Sonia wouldn’t have understood if he’d explained it to her, and even though Lizzie would never know, nor care. Even for Colonel Vanya.

“I promise you,” he said, “I won’t steal anything. And even if we never meet again, I’ll be a better man.”

As Dog gave one of his sudden lunges, he shot out his arm and grabbed the leash to hold him before the animal dragged Lizzie off her feet. His fingers closed over hers, sweet and shocking.

He heard the sudden catch in her breath, felt the delicious warmth of her closeness. Her lips parted and he remembered only too well how they felt under his. But her eyes, gazing steadily up into his, were almost…fearful. Was she remembering, too? Or just frightened that the thief might be about to take advantage and become unforgivably amorous?

“Let me take him,” he managed, extracting the lead from her.

“Thank you,” she said breathlessly.

*