“I would rather you learned everything from me directly than from censored papers. There is something you seek, evidently, judging from the very thorough way you have searched my room. My guess is that it is intelligence. What is it you need to know?”
“Is it not unsafe for you to tell me, since I will no doubt pass everything on to Von Hager?” After a moment’s thought she added, “And to Castlereagh, who is awaiting intelligence as well. I am a double spy, you see.”
Klemens chuckled dryly. “Why am I not surprised? Yet I believe you are intelligent enough to differentiate what is harmless from what is critical. I trust you not to betray anything of true importance. It is also better that you understand the complete picture, so you do not accidentally betray what truly matters.”
She thought for a moment, then said, “Very well. What is happening at the congress?”
“Currently, other than dancing and intrigue, nothing much at all. There is a stalemate.”
“But what is the big picture?”
“In a nutshell, Russia wants Poland, Prussia wants Saxony, England wants balance, Austria wants its territories back, and France wants everyone to forget it started the war.” He smiled faintly. “And despite the stalemate, they all want to dance with each other at supper afterwards.”
Pippa thought over his words. “Then what is the point of the congress?”
“That is the general question, isn’t it? Are you certain you would not rather sit on my knee?” He tapped his knee again. “You look uncomfortable, cold and lonely on that hard little footstool. I daresay my knee would be much warmer and more comfortable.”
Pippa squirmed and ignored his comment. “And what is your position on all this?”
“I have no position. Or wait, I do.” He leaned forward, with an impish gleam in his eyes. “Tell your agent that I support the Tsar, believe Prussia’s demands are sound, naturally support our own nation’s position, and find England most reasonable in its demand.”
“In short, you are being quixotic and difficult on purpose by saying you support everyone’s claims. You intend to confuse the secret police and vex Metternich. And possibly your father, too?”
“I see we understand each other perfectly.” He smiled directly into her eyes, and her entire stomach fluttered. “But then, we always did, did we not?”
She cleared her throat, but could not bear to tear her eyes away.
He stopped smiling but still stared at her. Then he reached out and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. His finger grazed her cheek, leaving a hot trail of softness. Pippa shivered.
“Did you finish counting the trees in the forest?” he asked so randomly that she blinked. “That was the day I fell in love with you, you know,” he said pensively.
Pippa parted her lips.
“There can only be one woman who would decide to do something as nonsensical as counting trees in the forest to prove that her calculation of probability was correct.”
Pippa remembered. That day, they had entered a playful wager that she would correctly estimate the number of trees in the forest behind the house. She and Klemens had had a fierce yet playful argument over the exact number. To prove that her calculation was correct, she had said she would count the trees, tying a red ribbon around the last one she reached, so she could continue the next day.
“I did not,” she whispered. “I reached three hundred and forty-seven, but counted only about half the forest.”
“Alas,” he cupped her cheek, “how shall we ever know whether your number of five hundred and thirty-six is correct?”
“You remember that?”
He leaned down. “I remember everything.” His face was close, so close she could count the fine golden eyelashes. There was a smouldering look in his eyes, and try as she might, she could not tear her own away.
He bent closer. The curve of his lips, the scent of musk and mint, how could she have forgotten that?
A sharp rap sounded, and the door opened, and Pippa toppled over and landed on her behind on the floor.
“It appears a missive has arrived from the Russian ambassador, Your Imperial Highness.” Kovacz entered the room and stared at Pippa, dumbfounded. “Fräulein Cranwell?”
She scrambled up and adjusted her cap, which sat askew on her head. “How do you do, Kovacz?” she said breathlessly.
“Atrocious timing as always, Kovacz.” The Archduke rose. “May the Russian ambassador go to blazes.”
Chapter Twenty
She was home again.
