Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty-Two

It wasn't easy being a duchess.

Certainly, there were advantages. Her spectacularly beautiful new wardrobe and the jewellery the Duke had given her: an emerald necklace that matched her sage green dress perfectly. Her hair was expertly pinned up and a green ribbon woven through it, with several longer curls allowed to fall over her shoulder.

As she descended the stairs, the Duke had given her a long, lingering look that had made her blush.

Unfortunately, Mona was feeling unwell with a head cold and had to stay in that night. It was a pity, for there was a grand ball at the Imperial Palace to which they had been invited.

"It's a shame," she said, with a stuffy nose. "But if I go, I will sneeze all over the Emperor and that would not be good, would it?"

Lena had tucked her in tightly. "It would have been nice if you could have joined us, but your health is more important now. "

She had been immediately awed by the glitter and glamour that greeted them. She tightened her grip on Julius's arm.

"Never fear," he murmured, noticing her nervousness.

"I won't know a single soul here," she muttered as the footmen opened the wide doors for them.

"You know me," Julius replied.

Metternich descended the stairs, saw them, and headed straight towards them.

"And him," Julius groaned.

"What a pleasure to see you here," the Prince said, kissing her hand effusively. "Your Grace. Your presence brightens the place." He said that with such sincerity and charm that she smiled. Suddenly Lena understood why he was so popular with the ladies.

"Thank you, Your Highness," she replied, "but I dare say the hundreds of chandeliers do a better job of it than I do."

He threw back his head back and laughed. "Not only beautiful but witty. You are to be envied, Aldingbourne."

The Duke smiled a cool smile that did not reach his eyes. "Your purpose has been accomplished, Highness. You have her attention, and she seems jealous."

Metternich's smile did not falter. "Is she, indeed? A little longer, if you don't mind."

Lena's head swerved from one to the other, slightly tilted, trying to understand what they were talking about.

"But I do mind." Julius clasped his hand over Metternich's and removed it from Lena's. "I believe your own wife is waiting for you at the door. "

Metternich laughed softly. "Always the jealous husband, I see."

He bowed and strolled to the door, where his wife, a tall, thin woman with a kind but anxious face, awaited him.

Julius took Lena's hand firmly and led her up the stairs. Halfway up the staircase stood a gorgeous creature in white and silver. She had a round, expressive face framed by tiny, dark curls, and looked at them with open curiosity.

Julius nodded curtly at her. "Duchess." He swept past her, not pausing to introduce Lena.

"That was the famous Duchess of Sagan," he murmured in her ear. "The one who broke Metternich's heart."

"Oh!" Lena turned to look at her again, but she had slowly descended the stairs and uttered a sound of delight as she hurried towards a uniformed man who had just entered.

"Her new lover. Or old lover." Julius explained. "Depending on how one sees it." His forehead puckered to a frown. "Metternich was just trying to use you to make her jealous. With his wife standing at the door, watching."

"Dear me. His poor wife! How complicated everything is." She shook her head.

"These are the games Metternich plays, and I have no sense for them."

"It is all rather childish, is it not?"

"You don't know the half of it," Julius said heavily.

That elicited a chuckle from Lena .

"I vow, if the Duchess of Sagan would just elope with her new-old lover and remove herself from Vienna, I am certain Metternich would stop being distracted and finally focus on what really matters, and that is to move this deuced Congress forwards. As for now, as things stand, he is allowing himself to be drawn further and further into her snares. That woman over there, by the by, is her rival." He nodded to another glamorous creature in a revealing dress that clung to her curves so voluptuously that it made Lena blush. She stood against the wall, slowly fanning herself.

"That is Princess Katharina Bagration, another of Metternich's former lovers."

The Princess stared daggers at the Sagan, then moved her narrowed gaze to Metternich, who was offering his arm to his wife.

The orchestra began to play the stately strains of a polonaise that always opened the ball. Only the highest and most noble dignitaries, princes, and monarchs entered the ballroom with their ladies, starting with Emperor Francis. There was Metternich, of course, and Tsar Alexander. He was a tall, blond man with a charming face and full lips. He nodded to all right and left, especially to the ladies. The line of couples in the polonaise was almost endless.

Lena grabbed Julius' arm. "I may be imagining it, but isn't that—Lindenstein?"

She hardly recognised him. There was not a trace of the cheerful boyish charm that she'd come to associate with him. He was in a white uniform, looking proud and bored, leading a haughty-looking lady who wore one of the most extravagant tiaras Lena had ever seen. He raised their joined hands, forming a bridge so that other couples could pass underneath. She had never seen anyone dance with less enthusiasm.

"Correctly observed." That was all Julius said.

Lena turned to him, blinking. "But that means that he?—"

"Yes."

"Shouldn't we go and greet him?"

"No."

"But…why?"

"Because he asked us not to."

Lena digested this.

"He threatened fire and brimstone to hail down upon us if we do," a deep voice spoke up next to her, seemingly out of nowhere. "I have yet to test the matter."

She jumped and whirled around. A man in a field marshal's uniform stood beside her. He had short greyish brown hair, and his sharp grey eyes sparkled merrily at her.

"Blast you to hell and back," Julius exclaimed. "You just appeared out of nowhere. What the devil are you doing here?"

"Likewise, brother, likewise." He thumped him on the shoulder. "I see you are healthy and well. Since you are as rude as ever and not introducing me to your wife, I must do so myself." He made a military salute. " Gestatten , Field Marshall Georg von Hartenberg at your service. It is a delight to finally make your acquaintance, Your Grace."

"Oh! I have heard of you. You are one of Julius's, I mean, Aldingbourne's friends." She had met Lindenstein before, but never Hartenberg.

He took her hand and kissed it. "I hope only good things. As for the things I have heard about you, I had to come and hear the story with my own ears. Before we do so, where is she?"

"Who?"

"My lovely betrothed." He raised a jagged eyebrow that looked like a comma. "Your sister, Lady Evie, of course. The woman I am to marry. I presume? Though she may be in the frame of mind to call it off at the moment."

"Evie?" Julius's brows puckered to a frown. "She said she was visiting a friend—the devil."

"She was indeed visiting a friend." Hartenberg's face was deadpan.

"And now?" Julius barked. "You've met? She is back? Since when? Is she here?"

"So I assumed. But it appears I lost her. Again," he muttered.

Before Julius could ask what the deuce he meant, he patted him on the shoulder. "Do not worry, my friend. Dance with your lovely wife. We shall talk another time."

He disappeared as quickly and unexpectedly as he had appeared.

"He is rather…fast," Lena said.

"He is good at that. Military training in stealth and whatnot." Julius tried to get a last glimpse of his friend, but he'd already gone. "Strategising and sneaking up on enemies and friends are his forte. Apparently, it helps him survive in the field."

"You certainly have interesting friends." Lena turned to watch Lindenstein again, who was staunchly ignoring them. "He is a good dancer."

"It's one of those new-fangled dances," the Duke observed. "I believe they call it a waltz. Would you like to give it a try?"

Lena knew how to waltz. Every peasant child in Vienna did. They danced the waltz at every village fête, in every restaurant, café, and wine tavern. When the violins began to play, it was usually to the lilting 3/4 time of the waltz. The common folk had been doing it for centuries. The upper aristocracy had taken notice of it only recently. Tired of their stiff minuets and formal polonaises, they found the waltz's lively and intimate nature intriguingly different. The close embrace of the dancers, considered scandalous by some, only heightened its appeal at aristocratic balls.

The Duke danced it well.

Lena danced on a cloud. Her feet were light, and he led her in twirls and turns about the dance floor, expertly manoeuvring them to avoid collisions with other couples.

By the end of the dance, she was rather breathless, but exhilarated and happy.

The Duke led her to the side of the ballroom, next to a huge marble urn. "Wait here, I'll procure some refreshments."

Lena leaned slightly against the urn and fanned herself with the fan attached to her wrist. A dreamy smile played on her lips.

The dance was beautiful. She hadn't wanted it to stop, ever .

"Did you see that?" a female voice said from the other side of the urn. "That English Duke's wife. I saw Metternich fuss over her, no doubt to make the Duchess of Sagan jealous. Her stare had the force of a hundred daggers. How he flirted with her, and right next to his wife, too." The voice sniffed scornfully. "I vow I have seen her somewhere. But where?"

Lena's movements froze.

"You are right. I saw her dancing with the Duke. It is a familiar face. Oh! I know! Wasn't she at Metternich's soiree? Wasn't she one of the—performers?"

A queasy feeling settled in her stomach.

"You're right!" the other voice said gleefully. "But surely not? Can the English Duke's wife truly be a mere performer?" She gasped. "I can hardly say it, it is such a preposterous notion, but can she be—a commoner?"

"Does Metternich know? Oh. Surely not! Can you imagine the scandal if it were true?"

"It is not true," a cold, cutting voice interrupted.

Lena jumped, as did the other two ladies.

"Oh. Your Gr-Grace. I didn't see you there," the first voice said weakly, followed by a nervous giggle.

"If you must spread rumours, do so with a hint of truth, if you please. My wife Catherine is the daughter of His Grace the Duke of Maplethurst, and the granddaughter of a cousin to the current King of England. To call her a "commoner" is to insult the King of England directly."

The ladies spluttered. "We were merely conjecturing?—"

"Do not conjecture. Nothing good ever comes out of it. Now, if you will excuse me, I must deliver this to my duchess."

There was dead silence.

Lena's hand had gone to her mouth.

Julius appeared, scowling, holding a glass of champagne to her. "I got held up for a minute."

"Thank you." She took the glass and sipped from it.

He nodded.

"I mean, thank you for defending me from those two harpies."

"I cannot bear it when people spread untruths. Especially about you." He touched her cheek gently.

"Thank you," she whispered a third time, fighting the sudden urge to weep. He had defended her publicly. As far as she could remember, no one, not even Simon, had ever done that before.

He nodded again, and there was something in his eyes that made her heart leap.