Chapter Twenty-Nine

B ea’s gaze met Violet’s as she nodded subtly, her fingers tightening on the back of her husband’s chair, when the footman placed the crystal stopper on the decanter. Only a small amount, perhaps a glass and a half, was left. Bea should have been astonished at List’s composure; he certainly held his liquor. Was it time to push him to talk?

But as the game of whist continued, the serum barely seemed to take hold. While List’s German accent became stronger, his breaths came faster and sweat beaded on his forehead, tracing a path down his temple, he wasn’t giving the impression of losing control over his composure. It didn’t appear he would say anything incriminating yet—nothing useful for Stan.

The room was filled with the low hum of haughty chatter and crystal glasses clinking. Although the setting was lavish—golden chandeliers casting a warm glow over the opulent décor, the scent of rich tobacco and expensive liquor mingling in the air, Bea had not yet had the chance to prove her worth as an associate for Stan’s espionage. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus. This was more than a game; it was an opportunity to gather vital intelligence. For the first time in her life, Bea felt a purpose for all of her years of mingling among the Ton and a use for making small talk and meaningless, polite chatter.

Though now, List’s words echoed in her mind, heavy with the weight of their implications. The conflict along the borders was far more nuanced than simple territorial disputes. It was a complex web of personal vendettas, long-standing feuds, and a hunger for power that drove the Prussians and Austrians to such lengths. Understanding this required not only a keen awareness of the geopolitical climate but also an ear to the ground for the latest gossip that could change alliances overnight.

“What benefits the Bavarians in forming an alliance with the House of the Habsburgs?” she asked, feigning a prim smile and the na?vety of a debutante. It was a role she’d perfected.

“ Och, immer das selbe , always the same. It’s what Max said before, everything costs more and more.”

Stan raised his chin, and Bea noticed that he’d missed his turn to play a card when he turned to Alfie and cast him a questioning look. “What do you think he’s referring to?”

Alfie nodded at his cards. He didn’t betray the undercurrent of communication between them.

But he also didn’t make eye contact with Bea again, and that stung.

“Max has done so much for Bavaria already; it’s flourishing these days. Ein Schlaraffenland ! A land of milk and honey.” He chuckled. “And beer!”

“Bavarian beer is rather different from our own,” the earl said, apparently for good measure. Bea understood right away that he was gearing the conversation away from food and drink and toward national interests. They were on course to explore where exactly the collision of interests would occur.

And hopefully, List wouldn’t remember any of this on the morrow.

“ Nicht hier! ” Not here! List cursed and hit the table with his fist and lay his cards flat on their faces. He was losing his poise.

Bea held her breath at the outburst—did he mean the cards or international relations?

“The beer in England doesn’t deserve the name.” He shook his head, beads of sweat making their way down his hairline to his eyes, the only part of him that had remained pale. “You know how much an acre of hop costs these days? And the workers harvest so slowly on the hills.”

Stan narrowed his eyes. “Where does the money come from for the new crops?”

“Och,” List turned the corners of his mouth down. “Here and there.”

“I heard about the issue with the Carpathian Mountains,” Bea said to Violet with a nod that meant play along . On their perch behind the men they were in view of the baron and yet, as women, they could speak any amount of nonsense without incurring any suspicion of their intent. This was a great time to take advantage of List’s prejudice against women, it was good to go underestimated. She knew he didn’t have a magnanimous view of her gender; he hadn’t even greeted her when she’d entered the drawing room.

“You don’t say!” Violet let go of her husband’s backrest and put a hand on her mouth. “You heard about it at the masquerade ball?”

Bea nodded gravely. It was all a ruse, but List didn’t know that. None of the men did. But when Bea and Violet had been at finishing school together, they’d used the term “masquerade ball” as a code for the-event-that-I’m-making-up-right-now. It was a way to pretend and glean information from someone, though never in a situation with as much importance as this.

She noticed that neither Henry, nor Stan, or even Alfie paid her any heed. Instead, they too eyed List intently. Her heart warmed because it meant that they trusted her and knew she was setting a trap.

“Well, I didn’t think much of it at first.” Violet inclined her head and put a hand on Bea’s elbow. “But you know what they say, where there’s smoke…”

“What have you heard?” List asked, his open vowels strongly enunciated.

“Oh, I’m not one to spread rumors, my lord.” Bea shook her head and flattened her lips into a line. She fluttered her eyelashes prettily for good measure, like any vapid debutante might; at least, in what she imagined the baron thought.

“As you shouldn’t, Lady Beatrice,” Stan said kindly. “It’s never good to fuel a scandal.”

Violet harrumphed. “I dare say, this one would be explosive and there’s not much we can do. It’s a matter of time really until she shows…”

“Shows what? Who?” List put both hands on the table. They were bluish-purple and his nails looked unhealthily white.

Bea cast Alfie a look. She could tell from his expression and his focus on the baron’s fat fingers that he had noticed it, too.

“I don’t know the man but from what I was told, he’s rather dashing,” Violet said, raising her eyebrows at Bea.

“Yes, and the family owes him so much.” Bea watched List as she tried to come up with a rumor that could just be plausible enough and provoke List the right amount. “He’s been a royal surveyor for years now. Ignatius… no… Ivan…” She cast a look at Stan. Help me.

“Ionel Petrescu?” Stan asked credibly confused.

“Yes!” Bea lifted her hand. “Exactly, Your Highness.”

List had followed their exchange intently.

“Your move, baron,” Alfie said, his voice pulling her—and List—back to the present. It was the first time this evening his eyes had met hers. He smiled, but the look in his gaze was serious as if urging her to stay focused. She nodded, her mind racing as she considered her next step but in the delicate dance of espionage and alliance.

“ Moment mal .” Just a moment . List leaned back and crossed his arms. “What do you know about the royal surveyor?”

Bea shrugged as if there were so much to say. In reality, she had to think something up quickly. But there was too much she didn’t know, even though they’d finally found a topic that irritated List enough to lose his temper. Perhaps he’d lose control over his words, too.

“She’s a woman and doesn’t know the half of it,” Stan said as if he were the only one leveling with List. But Bea realized that she’d opened a door for him, and he was taking control. “You’d have to be there to understand just how important his reports have been.”

“So you know?” List asked, raising his chin and eyeing Stan.

“I beg your pardon? Are you trying to insult my intelligence or my rank?” Stan was buying time and eliciting information. Bea had to give him credit. She was no expert, but even she could tell that he was good at his spy craft.

Her eyes flickered to Alfie, seated across the table. He was effortlessly professional, his casual posture masking his sharp intellect. His eyes—for those who knew how to read him—showed that he was watching List closely, counting how much he drank, and how he reacted.

Bea’s heart ached with a longing she couldn’t afford to show. Alfie was astoundingly talented, a master at reading people and situations, but she had to hide her admiration—especially from Violet. Violet’s eyes were ever watchful, and Bea was supposed to be with Stan. The thought of Stan brought a wave of guilt, but she quickly pushed it aside. There would be time for remorse and explanations, hopefully later, but for now, she needed to prove her worth if her plan to achieve her freedom was to succeed.

“I’m certain my guest is doing neither. Are you?” Henry asked List and put a friendly hand on his shoulder. but then List hit it away and rose. His face was red, and the paleness of his eyes made them look like ice cubes about to succumb to the heat of his rage.

“We take the virtues of our daughters very seriously. She wouldn’t risk the alliance for a mere surveyor! The rumors cannot be true!” List raised his voice. It was working; gossip about Princess Sophie’s virtue provoked him.

“Much has been said behind Princess Sophie’s back.” Bea kindled the flames of List’s fury.

“Time will tell. It always does,” Violet added in the same tone she used among women. She was a master at eliciting gossip. “And even if it’s true, the Archduke will have his pick—

“No, he will not! He must not!” List stomped on the floor.

“Why do you care so much about the connection between the surveyor and Max’s daughter?” Stan asked.

“Because! It must not happen!” For it was a connection at the heart of List’s evil power and Alfie needed to have one thing he could stand up against, the baron threatening his friends.