Vienna Waltz (The Imperial Season Book 1) (4 page)

“Your sister?” the thief, Johnnie, inquired, apparently puzzled as to why Henrietta should have the honor—or, indeed, the means—of purchasing Michael’s commission.

“Well, yes, that’s what the necklace is for. Even I can see Henri’s prettier than any other girl. When she’s had her London season and caught her wealthy husband, she’s promised to buy me a commission in any regiment of my choosing.”

“It’s one plan,” Lizzie said, waving Michael away.

“And a very excellent one,” the thief approved. “I prefer to steal in a good cause. Miss Lizzie—until the ball.” With a last tip of his hat, he strolled out of the gate, closing it carefully behind him.

T
wenty minutes later,
the thief who’d told Michael his name was Johnnie found he was still grinning off and on as he strode down the busy Graben. It was a wide, open space that crossed the city, through which the whole world seemed to be travelling today. Weaving amongst the wealthy and the indigent and all shades between, he dodged between a green, Imperial-crested carriage and a hired fiacre. Nowhere else in the world, he reflected, had you ever been likelier to rub shoulders with a king and a washerwoman at the same time.

“Vanya! Vanya, it
is
you! Come here!”

Dragged out of his entertaining reverie, he gazed around, searching for the woman’s voice, which came from a smart carriage making its slow way down the middle of the road. A lady—surely Sonia, whom he hadn’t seen for two years—hanging out of the window waving at him with one hand while she hung on to her very elegant bonnet with the other. “Vanya! Over here!”

Never one to pass over an old friend, let alone one who brought back such pleasant memories, he veered at once toward the carriage. He eased among the crowd until he could stride along beside her window and swept off his disreputable hat.

“Countess Gelitzina,” he said and kissed her gloved fingers. “I should have known you would be here among the great and the beautiful.”

“How very formal, Ivan Petrovitch! I must confess I
did
know you were here, though no one told me you’d taken to such eccentric dress. What in the world are you up to? Are you incognito? Dodging Prince Metternich’s spies?”

“Of course. What do you think?”

“Er…what are you?”

“A jobbing gardener, of course, with additional skills of a somewhat more nefarious nature.”

“Even you cannot be so short of cash as that! Is it a wager?”

“No, just something I agreed to while the worse for drink,” he said cheerfully. “But I was right. It is vastly entertaining and one day I might even tell you all about it. Where are you staying?”

“Just over there.” She pointed to a half-hidden building which faced onto the Graben. “When it’s not my turn to attend the Tsarina in the Hofburg.”

“But you will be at the Emperor’s opening ball?”

“Along with the rest of Europe. Come to Princess Bagration’s tonight and tell me all!”

“She doesn’t invite me,” he said, hand on heart in mock sadness.

“Oh, she does now,” Sonia said with an arch smile. “Everyone wants the truth about the rumor that you snatched a necklace from the perfect bosom of some Viennese woman—in full view of the entire theatre. Oh, Vanya!” She clutched his shoulder through the window. “Is that why you’re really in disguise? Are you in hiding from the law?”

Vanya gave a shout of laughter that attracted the attention of several passers-by. “You had best let me go,” he said, amused, “or rumors about your bizarre new lover will eclipse those of my thievery.”

Sonia frowned suddenly, though not, as it turned out, in anxiety for her reputation. “You do still
possess
other clothes, don’t you? You haven’t wagered them away with the rest of your fortune in a night of drunken debauchery?”

“Why would I do anything so foolish? Supposing I actually had access to a fortune.”

“You wouldn’t be the first in Vienna to do so since the Congress arrived! And you needn’t look so innocent, either.”

“I
am
innocent,” he protested, although a high-risk plan was beginning to form in his brain. “At least for the moment.” Her carriage began to veer to the right, while he wanted to go left, so he clapped his hat back on his head, kissed his fingers to the countess, and dodged across the road.

*

In his ramshackle
attic, Vanya did, indeed, find a card of invitation from Princess Bagration and another from Lady Castlereagh. Taken together with his standing invitation from the Duchess of Sagan, he’d have to be careful, he thought cynically, not to let such popularity go to his head.

“Wake me at six,” he instructed Misha, his faithful batman, and threw himself face down on the creaky bed. Though still fully dressed, he was asleep in an instant.

Misha, used to his master, merely covered him up and set about brushing his uniform. As he polished the buttons by the window, be became aware that the man lounging against the building on the other side of the road had been there when his master came home.

“Bloody spies,” he muttered under his breath.

*

Princess Bagration, widow
of the late great General Bagration who’d died so heroically at the Battle of Borodino, had taken up residence in the Schenkengasse in one wing of the luxurious Palm Palace. In the other wing lived her great social rival, the Duchess of Sagan, whom Vanya had visited on several occasions. This time, while exchanging pleasantries with acquaintances in the entrance hall, he took the other, left hand staircase to the princess’ salons.

No one would have been surprised. The tsar and all the most notable Russians attended Princess Bagration’s soirees. It was largely Austrians, led by their allegedly smitten foreign minister, Prince Metternich, who frequented the duchess’ salons.

The princess spotted him immediately and glided over to welcome him. By any standards, she was beautiful, with shining blonde hair, a perfect white and rose complexion, and light blue eyes a man could happily drown in. She wore a diaphanous, almost transparent white gown that clung to her delectable frame and exposed a dangerous expanse of her alabaster bosom.

It always intrigued Vanya how she dressed like an expensive whore and yet never appeared less than a great lady. Perhaps it was the intelligence behind the provocative beauty on display. Whatever, Vanya could never do less than flirt with her. On one memorable occasion she’d allowed him rather more, which he remembered vividly as she took his hand and playfully tapped his cheek with her fan.

“Vanya! How dare you take so long to visit me!”

“But I came the very moment you sent for me. I wouldn’t otherwise have dared intrude.”

“Frightened of His Majesty?” the princess teased.

“Everyone should be frightened of His Majesty, in my opinion.” He looked about in mock terror. “Is he here?”

Princess Bagration laughed. “He has promised to look in later on. In the meantime, I can offer you two kings and a crown prince. Would you like an introduction? Or shall I point you toward old friends?”

“Can’t I stay with you? I won’t be any trouble.”

“Vanya, you were
born
trouble! Which I understand is irresistible to many ladies less averse to risk than I. Sonia Andreievna, for one.” As she spoke, Princess Bagration nodded across the room to where Countess Gelitzina held court surrounded by two heavily-braided officers, Prince Czartoryski, the tsar’s Polish adviser, and a quietly dressed man whose eyes lit up when they glanced over and connected with Vanya’s.

Vanya couldn’t help the grin that split his face. Count Boris Kyrilovitch Lebedev was one of the few people in the world he welcomed with undiluted pleasure.

Boris broke away from Sonia’s group of satellites with a faintly murmured excuse and strode towards Vanya with his hand held out. “Vanya. I heard a rumor you were here.”

Vanya embraced his old friend, thumping him on the back enthusiastically enough to attract considerable attention. “Well, I certainly didn’t expect to find
you
in the midst of such frivolity.”

“Frivolity? My dear Vanya, if the rest of the engagement is like the pre-battle skirmishes, the fates of nations will be decided in just such places as this.”

“Now I understand,” Vanya said wryly. “So how exactly are you contributing to this fate?”

Boris wrinkled his nose and lowered his voice. “I liaise with the British Embassy.”

“Is that bad?”

“Only in places. I found them mind-bogglingly ignorant of European affairs and even geography, but to give them their due, they’re learning.”

Vanya took two glasses from the proffered tray in front of him and handed one to his friend. “Don’t suppose you’ve come across a British diplomat called… Daniels? Geoffrey Daniels. Or was it Jeremy?”

“Yes, he’s a good enough chap. Easier to deal with than Stewart, that’s for sure. Plus he works harder. Why?”

“I think I might have come across his niece,” Vanya said vaguely.

“I never heard of a niece, but there’s certainly a daughter. I met her at Lady Castlereagh’s this afternoon. Wouldn’t have thought she was your type, Vanya. Let me rephrase. I’m
praying
she’s not your type.”

“Save your prayers, I’ve never met her. The girl I mean is definitely a niece.”

“I think my prayers probably cover the entire British mission and all their extended families. At least until we have a peace agreement. What are you doing in Vienna, anyhow?”

“Theatricals,” Vanya said disparagingly. “My Cossacks are barracked outside the city, ready to show off whenever they’re required. I was ordered here
until
they’re required. I’m supposed to be on leave.”

“Which means you’re ripe for mischief.”

“Then isn’t it as well I’ve got your sober face to keep me on the straight and narrow? They play cards here,” he observed as they strolled through into the next room. “For money?”

“A
lot
of money if you have it.”

“Well, I do. I just don’t have it on me. Lend me a few roubles, Boris?”

“Not to play with.”

“Just want to test my luck, see if I can win three thousand pounds.”

“Three thousand!” Boris exclaimed. “What do you want that kind of money for?”

Vanya smiled. “To buy a lady a necklace.”

The fun leaked out of Boris’s eyes, leaving them just a little desolate. “To replace the one you took from that woman at the theatre?”

“Boris!” Vanya mocked. “I’m surprised at you repeating gossip. And no, it’s nothing to do with her.”

Boris sighed. “You can have what’s in my pocket, providing you don’t accuse anyone above the rank of count or colonel of cheating. And don’t shoot anyone.”

Vanya grinned and strolled towards the card tables.

*

It was only
one plan and too risky to rely on, so he didn’t really mind if he lost. He’d only borrowed a trifling amount from Boris, which he could easily repay just as soon as his mother forgave him and started sending him his money again. And sure enough, he lost the first two hands, won the third, and lost the fourth. After which, fickle fortune decided to smile on him and he was well into a winning streak, much to the disgust of his opponents, when a minor commotion in the main salon seized his erratic attention.