Evie’s head began to spin. This was more than mere drawing-room espionage. This was espionage that dealt with military intelligence. This was the kind of espionage that could land one in front of the war tribunal.
Evie was not a spy. Betraying people went against every one of her core principles.
“And if I decide not to help you, as you put it?”
“Then theWiener Morgenblattwill print, in tomorrow’s morning edition, that the Duke of Aldingbourne, esteemed member of the British delegation, has been playing a double game with His Majesty’s allies. That certain papers from the British dispatch box have found their way to interested parties. The article goes to press in one hour.” She pulled out a pocket watch and consulted it without haste.
A chill trickled down Evie’s spine. “You have no proof,” she stammered. “My brother would never do such a thing.”
“Would he not?” The voice was calm. “A duke of the British realm, branded a traitor in a foreign capital while the congress is still sitting. The word need only be printed once, Lady Evangeline. After that, no refutation in the world will quite scrub off the disgrace not only to his name, but to the British nation as a whole. His Majesty’s Government would have no choice but to recall him.”
Evie tried to see past the veil that hung over her face, but she could only see the woman’s lips, firmly pressed together. There was no compromise there. If she did not do as the woman demanded, her brother would be framed as a traitor. A queasy feeling spread in her stomach.
She clenched her fists. “I have no experience with espionage. How exactly do you suggest I obtain the information? I can hardly break into the Imperial War Council at night to search for a list that might not be there in the first place. Hartenberg might not have it, either.” If the list she was after was the one she’d found at the inn, she could say with a certain measure of certainty that it now was cinders and ashes.
The lips curved into a smile. “You are in the best position to obtain what we need. We believe Hartenberg might have been able to obtain a second copy of the list. He has not taken it to the War Council. Where else would he keep such sensitive information but in his own safe, in his study, in his private residence?”
Evie blanched. “You want me to break into his study and rummage around there?” She shook her head so wildly, her curls flew. “That’s impossible.”
She smiled again, as if expecting such a reaction. “Nothing is impossible, Lady Evangeline. Especially for a resourceful woman as you are. Bring the result of your quest to Dehne’s. You have one week.”
Chapter Nineteen
Archduchess Maria Margarethe of Austria,of the Tuscan line, widow of the former Count von Hartenberg, sauntered into the room, trailing a Kashmiri shawl behind her on the floor, and paused when she saw Georg leaning against the fireplace. “Georg.”
Georg pulled himself up, straightened his shoulders, then made a stiff bow. “Mama.” His eyes travelled over her fashionable ensemble of a primrose silk dress, short-sleeved and cut very low, and the heavy jewellery that adorned her. She was dressed for the heat of August at the beginning of winter. Her face was framed by tiny ringlets, and her eyebrows were plucked so finely that they were almost invisible.
She was, for her age, youthful looking, and the traces of her former beauty were still evident. The rouge had bled into the fine lines around her mouth, which she pulled to a smile that did not quite reach her eyes.
“My son. How tiresomely long it has been.” She stepped up to him and lifted her cheek for him to dutifully kiss.
“Indeed.” When had he last seen his mother? A year ago? Two? He hardly knew where she was when she was not in Vienna; it was a state of affairs his father had been only too familiar with. She was a restless spirit who was always travelling, constantly at some spa for her health, as she liked to explain. Georg had understood only much later what she really meant by that. She was actively avoiding his father, and quite possibly him. Even later, he understood the true reason. She was consistently, passionately in love with all sorts of men, and none of them had been his father. It had suited her, of course. She flitted from lover to lover like a butterfly, never staying longer than a few moments on each petal.
She appeared to be happy with her chosen life.
But it had destroyed his father.
His mouth hardened. “I suppose you did not receive the invitation to my betrothal ball in time.” The truth was that he had not really expected her to attend.
Her smile froze momentarily, then she fluttered her lashes in a manner that was artificially abashed. “Oh dear. No, I did not. Imagine that, my little Georg is betrothed and soon to be married!” She paused, and when he did not deign to reply, she added, “When was it?”
“Yesterday.”
She pursed her lips. “I had a commitment yesterday in Baden.”
That meant she had been occupied with her newest lover.
“Baden being, of course, so very far away from Vienna.” The popular retreat was about a two-hour coach ride away from the capital.
She lifted a fine hand, the blue veins prominent against the pale skin. “It was the most inconvenient timing, youknow.” She placed her hand on his sleeve with a practised, apologetic weight. “What is she like, your bride?”
“Do you not wish to meet her?”
“What an excellent idea, Georg. I heard she is a great beauty; an English beauty.” She dropped her hand and poured herself a drink. “She will suit you well.”
Georg could not, for the life of him, imagine Evie and his wayward mother in the same room; perhaps it was for the best that she had missed the betrothal ball after all. He repressed a sigh. “Would you like to meet her?” he repeated.
She drained the glass and refilled it, then drank again, quickly.
