Metternich tilted his head. “It is not an ideal situation, I admit that. But being married to only the woman one loves is rather…bourgeois, wouldn’t you say?”
“Alas, it should not come as a surprise to you that I have a rather bourgeois soul.”
Metternich wagged a finger. “Careful, Archduke. Lest you give us reason to suspect you harbour secret Jacobin sentiments after all.”
“Nonsense.”
He laughed. "I do not doubt that you love her. She is a charming creature."
"The long and short of it is…" Klemens met his eyes. "I need your help."
Metternich crossed his arms and nodded. “This much I suspected. The question is this: what are you willing to give, Your Imperial Highness?”
Klemens leaned forward and met his gaze. “What is it you want?”
Metternich smiled slowly.
Chapter Thirty
Pippa lay in bed,the blanket drawn up to her nose, her eyes scrunched shut. She held her breath and tried to avoid moving.
“Pippa. I know you are not sleeping.” A cool hand touched her forehead. “Nor are you ill. If you are feigning illness to escape the ball, let me tell you right away that it is not working.”
It appeared there was no deceiving the Archduchess, who remained hovering over her.
Pippa opened her eyes and looked straight into hers.
Mimi pulled off the blanket with an energetic movement.
“You are wasting precious time. You should dress and help me dress instead of lying in bed, moping.”
Pippa made one last attempt. “But I really do not feel well. I have no appetite at all, my head aches, and I have trouble breathing. And here,” she tapped her chest, “it feels awfully constricted.”
Mimi gave her a sympathetic look. “Judging fromyour symptoms, it is a very grave illness indeed. It is incurable through conventional medicine. Do you want to know what it is called?”
A look of alarm crossed Pippa’s face. “What?”
Mimi bent over and whispered in her ear. “It is called lovesickness.”
Pippa shot upright. “It cannot be. It is entirely impossible. You heard yourself that I have released Klemens,” she swallowed painfully, “so there is no reason whatsoever for me to feel this way.”
Mimi looked at her pitifully. “Poor child. You have every reason to feel this way. But—” she pulled Pippa from bed “—this is not something you should discuss with me, but with Klem. And tonight is the perfect opportunity: the Redouten ball!”
“But there is nothing more to discuss!” Pippa protested. “And I would be most grateful if I did not have to attend the ball.”
“Nonsense, you must go. After all, you are my companion. I think I shall wear the white silver,” she mused, lifting an exquisite confection of gauze and satin. A band of ruffled silver trimmed the high waist, and tiny silver flowers were embroidered along the hem. It was one of the most beautiful gowns Pippa had ever seen.
“And for you, the pink satin.” She pointed at the dress draped over the chair, white lace over a pink satin slip, and embroidered with little rosebuds at the hem and décolleté. “Complete with, let us see. A pearl necklace, bracelets, and earrings. And some bright rosebuds in your dark hair would look charming. You will be absolutely stunning.”
“This dress is for me?” Pippa gasped. She had never worn anything as beautiful in her entire life. She touched the delicate lace with a finger. It was the dress of a princess. “It is too good for me.”
“Nonsense.” Mimi pulled her into the middle of the room and beckoned the abigail. “My companion needs to look every bit as stunning as I do. Take off your dress and try it on. You shall look divine in it.”
There was no point in protesting. Pippa had to wear the ballgown. Her curls were tied up, little rosebuds affixed in her hair, and when she looked into the mirror, she hardly recognised herself.
Mimi clapped her hands and stepped back, eyeing her with approval. “You look perfect. You will bowl Klemens over. As well as every other gentleman in the ballroom.”
“But I do not want to bowl Klemens over,” Pippa began.
