“In short: you did precisely that.” Julius rubbed his left eyebrow, a sure sign that he was exasperated.
Georg opened his mouth to protest, but Julius cut him off.
“You can’t handle Evie like that. She won’t have it. She is not like other women. Which is precisely why I believed you two would suit each other. Don’t tell me you have bungled it.”
Hehadbungled it, hadn’t he?
Seeing him hesitate, Julius sighed. “If Evie insists she won’t go through with it, I won’t force her. It is a promise I made to her. Sorry, old chap. I’ll have to call it off. I value you and Evie too much to force you into a union you both seem to resent.”
That declaration should have filled him with relief. He found it rather odd that it did not.
“I don’t resent it. Really.”
Julius gave him a long look. “But neither were you as excited about it as you ought to have been.”
That statement was nearer the truth. “And what about Lady Evie’s reputation? Calling off the engagement will not reflect well on her.”
“The betrothal was never formally announced, never appeared in the papers, and we can simply allow it to quietly dissolve without any public declaration. Since this was more of a personal agreement between us, there were not many people who knew about it. I daresay no one at court has been informed, either.”
It was true. He’d never mentioned the agreement to anyone. The official announcement in a fortnight would have obliged him to do so beforehand, to formalise it, and introduce Evie officially at court. He had been putting it off rather conveniently, telling himself he’d forgotten about it. Which, truth be told, he had.
Given his atrocious treatment of Lady Evie, and the clear undertone of reproach in Julius’s voice, he supposed it would be the gracious move to accept that it was over.
He scratched his neck.
Then why did he not want to do precisely that?
Chapter Fifteen
Evie had returnedto her usual routine rather quicker than she’d anticipated. Already on the day after her arrival, she found herself shopping with Lady Castlereagh. Except this consisted more of window shopping, and when they did enter the shops, asking to try out every single bonnet, glove and pelisse the shop held, only to leave again without having bought a thing.
Lady Castlereagh seemed to take much delight from this. It only left Evie feeling embarrassed and rather sorry for the Viennese shopkeepers, whose dropped faces, as the two ladies left again, indicated that they ought to have, at least, bought some ribbon. Which was why Evie ended up with rather more bonnets than she liked, for she pity-bought one in each shop they entered afterwards. It wasn’t entirely good for Lady Castlereagh’s reputation, Evie reflected, for the Viennese began to describe her as purse-pinched in the gossip sheets.
Having bought her third bonnet already that morning, she suggested going to a confectioner’s, rather than visiting yet another milliner.
Lady Castlereagh’s face brightened. “There is nothing I like more than going to confectioners. The Viennese do know how to do sweets best.”
So, they found themselves going to Dehne’s, located across from the Hofburg on Michaelerplatz. The window was filled with dainty little marzipan figures and a massive five-tiered cake made of fondant. The interior was decorated with dark panelled wood, crimson velvet curtains and upholstered chairs.
“This is the best alternative to a coffee house, where ladies, alas, are not allowed entry. Castlereagh told me the cigar smoke is so dense there, it stings the eyes. All the gentlemen do is sit around, read newspapers, and play billiards, much like in an English club.” Lady Castlereagh looked around with a satisfied air as she pulled off her gloves. “I much prefer this arrangement, far more genteel, much like Gunter’s. Indeed, they say this place is famous for its ices. However, since it is rather cold today, we shall order something to warm us, shall we not?”
After hot chocolate, a chocolate cake, a raspberry cake and a slice of apple strudel, Lady Castlereagh was hailed by a jolly-looking lady who insisted on talking to her about the soirée on the following Saturday.
Evie rose, murmuring some excuse, and made her escape.
A maid showedher the way to the ladies’ retiring room down a narrow staircase, and along a shadowy corridor. After Evie returned, she found the maid gone, and looked around, disoriented. There were many doors on each side, but which one would lead back up the staircase to the main room?
She opened one door, and since it was dark inside, she closed it again. She turned to try the other, and again it was the wrong one.
How could it be that she could not find her way back?
Suddenly, a maid appeared behind her. Not the same girl who had led her down. This one was older, unsmiling.
“It is this way, my lady.”
Evie jumped. “Goodness. What a scare.”
“Through this door, my lady. There is someone who would like to talk to you.” She held open a door.
