Charmed and Dangerous Read online

  “That’s what I hear.”

  The fellow was almost eerily emotionless, Gavin thought. He seemed to fade into the wallpaper. No doubt this was helpful in his profession. “Very well,” Gavin said, dismissing him with a nod.

  When he was gone, Gavin toyed with a quill pen lying on the table in front of him. He had begun to establish contacts in some of the seedier quarters of Vienna, to set up a network that would alert him to any unusual activities. But that sort of thing took time, and with the city full of foreign diplomats and the agents, observers, and hangers-on who trailed after them, it was far more difficult. He didn’t have time, he thought. And he didn’t have his customary authority and scope. There would be constant interference and a confusing overabundance of information to sift through.

  There was only one way to get rapid results, he thought. He had to persuade his adversaries to move. He had to make them uneasy by acting as if he knew their secrets, while putting himself in situations that tempted them to make a misstep. It would be simpler if he knew what they were after, but he had every confidence in his ability to flush them out. They would try something, and he would be ready for them. With a satisfied nod, he rose and went to dress for yet another dinner party.

  * * *

  “Friend of the Pryors, are you?” said George Tompkins.

  Laura nodded, though they both knew he was simply stating the obvious, since Catherine had brought her here and introduced her.

  He took his time looking her over, and she followed his lead, examining her host and his surroundings with lively curiosity.

  Mr. Tompkins was a figure from a bygone century. He wore knee breeches and buckled pumps, with a full-skirted coat made of blue satin. His white hair required no powder to give it the look of a previous era. He wore it long and tied back with a narrow blue ribbon. Several rings graced his long white hands, which lay at ease on the arms of a brocade chair.

  But it was his face that held the eye, Laura thought. Oval, pale, marked by the signs of age, it had the look of fine sculpture. Those dark eyes seemed to hold the wisdom of centuries, Laura thought. They also seemed to be reserving judgment. It was clear she hadn’t been approved just yet.

  “You are interested in history,” he said, as if it were a mere hypothesis he was testing even though Catherine had told him this.

  She was not going to be able to fool him, Laura saw. She had the sudden conviction that no one had deceived this man for a long, long time. “General Pryor invited me to Vienna to divert Gavin Graham. He wanted to keep him away from Countess Krelov.”

  Tompkins raised his shaggy white brows slightly.

  “I thought it was a silly idea myself,” she added. “But I couldn’t resist the chance to come here and observe the congress, to see the things I had read about really happening. I have always wished…” She faltered a bit under his skeptical gaze.

  “I do what I promise,” she continued firmly after a moment. “I cannot match Sophie Krelov on…on her own ground. But I thought if I could talk with Mr. Graham about the political situation, I might…catch his interest.”

  “You are in love with him?”

  “Not in the least! I am only trying to do as the general asked.”

  Tompkins’s brown eyes seemed to bore into her. After a while, he shook his head. “I’m not interested in your romantic intrigues,” he said, dismissing her with a gesture.

  “This is not—!”

  “You haven’t told me the whole of it,” he interrupted.

  Laura hesitated. She hadn’t told anyone about the attack in the garden. Gavin had asked her not to—she wrinkled her nose—he had not asked, he had commanded. But she hadn’t promised. Perhaps someone in authority should know. She looked at her host. Now that she had met him, she understood Catherine’s assurance that George Tompkins had vast, if unofficial, authority. He was not in the government, but he was listened to by everyone who was or would be. Instinctively, she knew that he was the right person to tell. “Something happened,” she began, and she gave him the whole story.

  There was a long silence when she finished. Tompkins was no longer looking at her. He gazed into the distance with cool calculation. Finally, when Laura was nearly ready to burst, he said, “You imagine yourself as a spy?”

  She flushed. “Of course not.”

  “This…incident. This is why you are here—not to further some plot of Matthew Pryor’s.”

  Her flush deepened. Did this old man read minds? Laura wondered.

  For the first time, he smiled at her. It warmed his brown eyes with golden highlights and softened the pale austerity of his features. “If you were a young subaltern, I would send you north of the Hindu Kush to fill in the empty spaces on our maps.”

  The thrill that went through her at these words matched any champagne she had ever drunk.

  Tompkins nodded as if gratified by a successful experiment. Complex ideas seemed to form behind his expression. His smile broadened a little before fading. “I will tell you some things,” he said then.

  He said nothing, however, until he had called for tea and it had been brought on an odd bronze tray etched with curling designs that made Laura’s eyes cross when she tried to follow them. She tried not to be impatient. He was testing her, she thought; he had been since the moment she entered his rooms. She had the feeling that George Tompkins weighed the value of every person he met, and found important uses for some few of them. She found she very much wanted his good opinion.

  “Gavin Graham,” he said meditatively at last. “I have had my eye on him for years.”

  Laura sipped her tea, a strange smoky blend, and tried to look only mildly interested.

  “He was hopeless at first, of course. So many of them are. Sent out to India to the political service when they only want to stay in London and idle their time away. But then we managed to…catch his interest.”

  Questions weren’t a good idea, Laura thought. She must let him tell the story in his own way.

  “Sent him north through the Punjab to meet with a fellow who claimed to have information on Russia’s plans for the khan of Khiva. Graham succeeded at the mission, and had a fine time skulking about the frontier as well. Requested another such job at once, I believe. And after a bit, he was given it.” Tompkins looked at Laura as if checking to see whether she was following.

  “Khiva?” she couldn’t help but ask.

  The old man put the tips of his fingers together. “A city in central Asia. You have seen Asia on a globe.”

  “Of course.”

  He smiled slightly at her offended tone. “Russia has extended her empire across northern Asia, all the way to the Pacific. She controls the great Siberian forests, and so on. Britain is extremely influential in southern Asia—India, Burma, Ceylon. But in between…” He made a gesture.

  “The two countries are rivals.”

  He nodded. “Bonaparte took advantage of that. He offered to join the czar in an invasion of India, you know.”

  Laura shook her head. She hadn’t heard this before.

  “They were to march through Persia, another country where we are vying with Russia for an alliance. Graham was one of the chief reasons why the French lost out in Persia. His work there was brilliant.”

  “What did he do?” Laura still didn’t understand the exact nature of this “work” everyone kept mentioning.

  “I can’t tell you much more about that,” was the frustrating reply.

  Laura put aside her empty teacup.

  “Gavin Graham’s talent is his ability to win respect,” he went on. “He discovers what the people in a given area admire, and then he does it. If it is horsemanship, he risks his neck on their wildest mounts. If it is skill with weapons, he matches it. If it is intrigue and treachery—well, he’s shown a remarkable flair for those for an Englishman. His father’s doing, I suppose.”

/>   “His father?” echoed Laura, surprised.

  “One of the most devious men I’ve ever encountered.”

  She digested this.

  “This attack on him is interesting,” Tompkins added.

  “That’s what he called it,” she replied. “You are both rather cavalier about knife wounds.”

  The old man smiled. “It is easy for me. These days, I only analyze dangers from comfortable armchairs in well-heated rooms.”

  “But once you were out in them,” guessed Laura.

  He met her gaze, amusement lurking in his dark eyes. “Perhaps. That is another story. We are wondering who is showing Graham such marked attentions.”

  “The Russians?” wondered Laura. “Sophie is Russian. Isn’t she?”

  “I have heard Hungarian,” murmured Tompkins. “I have also heard Swedish and Belgian. She has a new story each time she is asked.”

  Laura remembered Sophie’s advice—to remain a mystery.

  “I have never inquired seriously,” added Tompkins. He considered this lapse for a moment, then said, “It could be Russia. We are allies now, but it won’t last. And Graham has certainly antagonized them. The French hate him, of course. And he will offend the Prussians by making jokes at their expense.”

  “What is he doing here? He doesn’t seem at all suited to the congress.”

  “I may have suggested it,” answered Tompkins with studied vagueness.

  “You?”

  “It is always…useful to add an unexpected element in negotiation. When men are off balance, they trip themselves up.” He nodded to himself. “It wasn’t a popular request. Of course, a number of his own countrymen dislike him quite intensely.”

  “You don’t think…?”

  “I don’t have enough facts to form a theory,” he responded. “I shall endeavor to gather more.”

  “I could help,” offered Laura, trying to keep the eagerness out of her voice.

  His expression said he’d heard it anyway. “Most of my colleagues would politely suggest that you stay in the drawing room and not bother your pretty head about such matters.”

  “Rubbish!”

  He smiled. “Not entirely, I’m afraid. You have no experience, and no organization behind you. This is not a criticism of your intelligence. You are too vulnerable.”

  “I have looked out for myself for the last ten years!”

  He raised his white brows inquiringly.

  “I was governess in the house of the Earl of Leith.”

  “The deplorable Anthony? I am sorry.”

  “And he never noticed me.”

  Tompkins looked her over as if he didn’t quite believe this assertion.

  “No one did.”

  “It’s true I heard nothing about you.”

  Laura got the impression that he heard about most things that went on in London.

  “You never cared to join your parents in Bombay?”

  She stared at him in astonishment.

  “I don’t agree to see people without finding out a bit about them,” he told her.

  “By the time they were settled there, I had already been employed for two years. And my father was not…optimistic about being able to support me.”

  “Spends every cent he has on horses,” Tompkins commented.

  “He always did.”

  “A convivial man, I understand.”

  “My father is the best of good fellows unless you have to rely on him for something he finds unpleasant.”

  “You are on the outs?”

  “On the contrary. I exchange regular letters with my parents. We are all quite comfortable with the current arrangement.”

  “Hah.”

  Laura didn’t know what to make of his tone. Indeed, she didn’t understand why he had brought up this subject.

  “You may come and see me whenever you like,” the old man said, as if he had come to some sort of decision. “I will instruct the servants to admit you.”

  Because of the way he said it, Laura felt compelled to thank him. It wasn’t until she reached home and told Catherine about the conversation that she discovered just how rare a privilege she had been granted.

  * * *

  Prince Charles-Maurice De Talleyrand had arranged a most unusual entertainment for the members of the Congress of Vienna. He had discovered a huge glasshouse attached to a nearby estate and convinced the owner to let him use it for a night. Lit by a thousand tapers, the orange trees and orchids and other exotic plants made the guests feel they were in a tropical paradise, instead of the chill of Vienna in December.

  “Isn’t it odd that everyone has come?” wondered Laura as they removed their wraps.

  “What do you mean?” said Catherine. “Look at that grapevine. It covers half the wall.”

  “Well, he is French,” continued Laura, “and the head of the French delegation. I’d think people would avoid him, after the war with France and…everything.”

  “Can’t afford to,” grumbled the general. “Man’s as slippery as a sack of cats. Trying to keep us at each other’s throats so we won’t have time to give France what it deserves. Shouldn’t even have been allowed to come, I say.”

  “Why was he?”

  “Observer.” Pryor practically spat the word. “Ingratiated himself with King Louis as soon as he was restored to the French throne. I swear, the Bourbons never had a—”

  “Matthew!” admonished Catherine.

  “Eh? Oh.” He abandoned what he had been about to say. “The champagne should be good, anyway.”

  “Look at those palms,” offered Laura tactfully. “They look just like the pictures I have seen of Egypt.”

  “I’ve heard the owner imports plants from all over the world,” said Catherine.

  “I want to see them all.”

  The general made a disgusted noise. “I have to find our host. Castlereagh sent me to represent him.”

  “Won’t you come with us?” Catherine asked Laura.

  Laura looked imploring. She had discovered that the formal duties of the congress could be quite boring.

  “Well…don’t wander too far. This place seems to be like a maze.”

  “I’ll take care.” Laura hurried off before Catherine could change her mind.

  It was like a maze, Laura thought a few minutes later. Although the glasshouse was one giant room, it had been divided into paths and garden nooks by the plantings, some of which looked quite impenetrable. Trees festooned with lianas towered to the ceiling; great bushes loomed, creating corners and arches. At every turn, she found other guests wandering in confusion or delight, and exclamations of amazement floated through the foliage from all sides. Just as she was beginning to wonder how she would ever find the Pryors again, she heard her name spoken. “Have you lost your way?” asked Baron von Sternhagen in German. “You are walking alone?”

  Laura smiled up at him ruefully. “I was looking at some purple flowers, and then at a tree with odd green fruits. By the time I took another turn, I found I didn’t know where I was. This garden is incredible.”

  “You should not be walking alone,” he answered, as if she hadn’t spoken. He offered his arm. “I will escort you.”

  Suppressing an ironic response, Laura put her hand on his forearm. She was actually a bit relieved to see someone she knew. “Have you mastered the pattern?”

  “Of course.” He started off briskly.

  “Do you know who owns this place?” wondered Laura, walking quickly to keep up. “He must have devoted his whole life to searching for plants.”

  “A waste of time,” replied von Sternhagen, as if he was agreeing with her stated opinion. “A man with a fortune should devote himself to his country’s welfare.”

  “As you have done?”

  The baron gave one definite n
od.

  “You have been a diplomat for a long time?”

  “I am a military officer,” he answered stiffly. “I am attached to the Prussian delegation here as special duty.”

  “Ah. It is very interesting, isn’t it? There is so much going on under the surface. Each conversation seems to have several meanings.”

  Von Sternhagen looked at her blankly.

  Laura sighed. This conversation wasn’t going well, and as far as she could see they were wandering aimlessly among the exotic plants. “You were involved in the war, then?”

  This proved a popular topic. The baron proceeded to tell her every detail of his military career, beginning with his training and first engagement in the field. It could have been exciting, Laura thought, but he had no knack for storytelling. He included far too much, and passed over the thrilling bits with little emotion. He was probably some sort of hero, she concluded, but after ten minutes of his droning she didn’t care. She was seriously considering a plunge into the glossy foliage that lined the path when she saw Gavin Graham up ahead. He was talking to a small man half hidden behind a hanging branch. As soon as the latter became aware of them, he stepped back and then was gone. Had he actually done it? Laura wondered. Had he slipped into the plantings as she had been imagining? This question occupied her only briefly, however, banished by her need for escape.

  “Mr. Graham,” she said. “Are the Pryors looking for me? I would be glad to rejoin them.”

  Gavin looked at her, then at her companion. Amusement showed in his handsome features.

  “Did they send you to find me?” she added, silently commanding him to do as she wished.

  He raised one golden brow, taunting her. “Did they?”

  “You are to escort me back to them?” she said through gritted teeth.

  “I would be most happy—” began the baron.

  “Ah, yes, I believe I am,” interrupted Gavin. He offered his arm, and Laura took it.

  “Thank you for a…a most pleasant conversation, Baron,” she said.

  Looking offended, von Sternhagen simply bowed his head, clicking his heels smartly together.

  “Had enough of the Prussians for this evening?” inquired Gavin as they walked away.