“Of course not!” Evie’s voice was outraged.
“Not even if it were to protect someone you love?”
“What do you mean?” Evie’s hand gripped her skirt.
“Your brother, the Duke of Aldingbourne. An indispensable member of the British delegation and the Congress as a whole. A man of intelligence, integrity and considerable influence. An ally to the Austrians, invested in strengthening ties even through personal means. We know of his close friendship with Field Marshal Hartenberg, and that you are engaged to him, albeit unofficially. There are not many outside of your personal circle who know of this, for the duke has orchestrated it as such. He is untouchable, really, forthright and incorruptible.” She paused. “And yet his name has appeared on a certain list.”
The shock that shot through her cut her air off.
The list. The list she had seen and burned in the laundry room of the inn. It was impossible for the woman to know that she had seen it. Evie kept her face still. “I have no idea what list you are talking about, or why Aldingbourne should be on it.”
“A list compiled by Napoleon himself, before he was sent to Elba. The names of men he trusts to act as his agentsacross Europe. French, Austrian, Prussian, Russian. Men of all nations whom he considers his own. You can imagine how valuable such a list is, and how many people want their hands on it. Napoleon gave it to his aide-de-camp shortly before his exile. That aide-de-camp has since disappeared. It is believed he was killed by an Austrian agent working for a certain Austrian field marshal.”
Evie said nothing. Her throat felt tight.
“And this is where you come in. We want you to obtain it.”
Evie shook her head. “No. You are completely out of your mind. This goes against every principle I have been raised with. Firstly, how do I know this list was really written by Napoleon? Anyone could forge such a thing and put names on it out of sheer malice. Secondly, to remain engaged to Hartenberg simply to spy on him, to rummage through his personal effects to obtain a list he may not even possess, is not something I would do. Ever.” She pulled herself up. “I am the daughter of an English duke. I am the sister of a duke. How dare you imply my brother is one of Napoleon’s agents.”
The Baroness let her finish. The silence that followed was not an apology. “Your loyalty to your family is admirable, Lady Evangeline. I expected nothing less.” She folded her gloved hands on the table. “Then let me put it to you plainly. We believe the original has been lost. But Hartenberg has a secret copy of the list. Either locked away safely somewhere in the Imperial War Council, or in his own private home. My agents can’t access it because security is too tight in either place. But you would have access. We want you to obtain it.”
“Can’t be very secret if you know about it,” Evie muttered.
“Our information is not always certain. In this case, we believe it to be sound.”
Evie crossed her arms. “And why should I do any of this?”
“Because if your brother’s name is indeed on that list, we will remove it. But if you do not help us, we shall obtain the list through other means. It is not impossible for us to do so, yet we prefer to work quietly, without the taking of innocent lives. No one would ever suspect you, and it would be a clean, safe and simple matter. Without your aid, we will take the list and see that it is published in the papers. All over Vienna.” She tilted her head. “And London, of course. Your brother will be declared a traitor to the English crown and quite unable to return home. Remind me again what they do to traitors in England? Here, we tend to shoot them. We care not whether they are English dukes.”
Evie’s breath left her.
The woman leaned back with glittering eyes. “So what do you think, Lady Evangeline? Can we count on your help?”
Chapter Sixteen
Georg foundhimself ever so faintly, annoyingly, unaccountably displeased with his childhood bosom friend, Julius. That was a rare thing, indeed, for hitherto he’d considered their friendship closer than anything he’d ever experienced with anyone, with the exception of his relationship to his cousin Klemens, who was also the Archduke of Austria. The three of them shared a blood bond that they’d honoured with a sense of loyalty and trust towards each other that outdid any marriage vow.
But there was more to it. Julius had just informed him that his engagement to his sister was over, because she wished it so.
Georg drummed his fingernails on the table as he watched Julius pour another whiskey from the decanter.
Why did his thoughts keep traipsing back to her, and why did that disquiet him? How she tilted her head when she listened to him, with eyebrows drawn together earnestly, yet an imp lurking in those eyes of hers. She had endurance, that one. When it came to it, she could march faster and farther than any of his soldiers. When they’dgone hunting, even Schneider had been gasping, while she’d climbed on cheerfully. Like a real trooper. She could shoot as well as any of his soldiers, if not better. She also had a terrible sense of humour.
His lips twitched as he remembered how she’d crafted a circlet of flowers for him and placed it on his head as he slept. She’d pretended to be someone else and no doubt revelled in the enjoyment of making a fool of him. For a fool, no doubt, he’d been. A thousand-fold.
He should feel relief at being freed from this union, which, admittedly, he’d only got into because Julius had asked him to.
But now that he was to be freed from it, he felt a pronounced sense of displeasure. The truth was that the union had been convenient to him. It had freed him from the necessity of looking around for a woman. No need to go a-courting anyone if he already had a bride, was there?
Surely now that he was free again, they would come pestering him.
Georg shuddered.
Julius lifted an eyebrow inquisitively and handed him the whiskey glass.
Georg took it, even though he hated the stuff.
Just as he held the glass to his lips, the door crashed open, and a whirlwind entered.
