And Lena did what she wanted.
So, she allowed her mouth to curve upwards into a smile as she stood up and stepped towards the men.
They rose from their chairs when she approached, and she waved her hand. “Don’t let me disturb you.” Lindenstein offered her his chair, but she pulled another one forwards. “I prefer to sit here. Now tell me all the political gossip in great detail so I can pass it on to Metternich’s secret police.”
Theo nearly spat out his wine. Lindenstein roared with laughter, and an appreciative glint lit up the Duke’s eyes.
Lena patted her skirt. “It is not a joke, you see. I was approached by an agent, and I agreed to spy for them on the condition that he acquired us commissions for musical performances. That is the agreement.” She looked at the Duke apologetically. “I hope you understand that it is nothing personal.”
The gleam of amusement in the Duke’s eyes died. “In truth, now. You were spying on me?”
“Of course. I have specific instructions to report everything you say and do to Agent August, as he is called. I tell him everything. Absolutely everything. That you prefer to drink your coffee with two lumps of sugar, but no milk. That you were wearing a dark blue coat and grey breeches yesterday, and that your stockings were very fine and matched your outfit.” Lena hoped that her flippancy would serve to lighten up thesituation. The icy look of fury in his eyes said that he was anything but amused.
Lindenstein, however, crowed with delight and slapped his hand on his thigh. “She is wonderful. Truly wonderful! I vow, if you weren’t already married, I would marry you myself.”
“No, you wouldn’t, because you already have a girl waiting for you to marry. I expect an invitation to the wedding.” Lena glanced at the Duke, whose face was still thunderous.
“Lighten up, my friend.” Lindenstein patted him on the shoulder. “Everyone is into it, high and low. So what if one’s own wife dabbles in a bit of harmless espionage? It’s quite the rage these days, so you might as well get accustomed to it.”
“Did you tell them anything of political significance?” he bit out.
“Of course.” She stuck her nose in the air. “I am an excellent spy, you see. I told them, word-by-word, in the most exact manner, the conversation you had the other day. With Metternich.”
Lindenstein laughed so hard he cried. “That’s priceless! Oh, well done!”
“And tonight I shall do the same.” She nodded to herself. “It will be a very long report, indeed. There is so much to tell! There will be a full description of the stockings you bought for me, and of Lindenstein playing marbles with the boys. It is a most pertinent piece of intelligence that Metternich must be informed of. As for politics, I have a shockingly terrible memory when it comes to names, and I sometimes tend to mix up thingsquite accidentally, of course. It is possible that I will write that you expect the British delegation, headed by Talleyrand, to be in unanimous agreement with the Prussians, headed by Castlereagh, and that Tsar Nesselrode of the French delegation wants to remain friends with the Austrian Emperor Wellington.”
“In other words, you will write such a farrago of nonsense that they will not be able to make head or tail of it.” Lindenstein grinned.
Lena folded her hands in her lap. “We understand each other perfectly.”
The Duke did not smile, but the sternness on his face and the tension in his shoulders had marginally eased.
Lindenstein rose. “Well. I must say this has been one of the most entertaining evenings I’ve had in a long time.” He shook hands with the children, who gazed at him in awe, and bowed over Lena’s hand.
After the gentlemen had left, Lena turned to the boys. “And now. Tell me. Whoishe?”
The Duke steppedout with Lindenstein and escorted him to his carriage.
“How are you coping with the situation, old friend?” Lindenstein asked abruptly. “And I don’t mean the Congress.”
Julius was silent for a long time.
“I suppose that silence is also an answer.” Lindenstein clapped a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “It must be a deuced difficult situation.”
“She can’t remember. If at all, thenonly fragments of the memories that were strongest in her mind, the good moments, of course.” A wind blew a lock of black hair across his forehead, not knowing it made him look younger, more vulnerable. “She has painted a rosy picture of our marriage, a distorted one. Only you, Hartenberg, and Atherton know how matters really stood. It was an arranged marriage.” He shrugged helplessly. “There is not really much more to say about that, is there?”
Lindenstein’s eyebrow rose. “You have always been remarkably stoic about it, something I have always admired about you. I certainly am incapable of accepting arranged marriages with stoicism. I, for one, am determined to resist this fate with both hands and feet.”
“Your father is pushing you into marriage?”
“He is trying his best.” Lindenstein scowled. “But let us not change the subject. We were talking about you and Catherine. It was an unequal marriage. She was too young, you were too worldly; she was an innocent with no idea of the world, while you were decidedly not an innocent.” He flashed a quick grin. “You had no head for anything but politics. She adored you anyway. We all knew that.”
“Feelings I never reciprocated,” Julius said bitterly.
“Did you not? Never?” Lindenstein threw him a swift glance. “What a strange thing for you to say. I would stake my life on the fact that you were rather fond of her, though you certainly had your own way of showing it. I also wouldn’t say that a man who was as devastated by the death of his wife as you were was someone who never loved his wife. It almost destroyedyou. Hartenberg and I even went to England in disguise, risking our lives to pull you out of your hole. It was a marvellous adventure.” A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “We were almost caught by the Frenchandthe English—but that is another story. My point being, this is not the behaviour of a man who has never loved his wife.”
Julius exhaled heavily. “That trip was the most idiotic venture you ever embarked on.”
