Fates for Apate (3 page)

Howards pulled at his cravat as though it were too tight and set off across the room, Casimir strolling in the man's wake. As they approached the group Casimir finally saw the woman clearly. She was looking up at her companion with a blank, pleasant expression until the man happened to look away. Then it was clear that she would happily run him through with a hat pin if one should be available. When her gaze settled on Casimir he almost stumbled. She had schooled her expression into that blank pleasantness again, but she was... Well, she was arresting. Her delicate bone structure and pale coloring indicated fragility, but her dark eyes burned with intelligence. Taken one at a time her features might be awkward: a longish nose, wide mouth, and sharp chin. But the overall impression she gave was of elegance. Her eyes narrowed briefly as Howards stopped in front of her party.

"Appleton," Howards said. "Allow me to make an introduction."

Casimir saw a flush creeping up Howards’ neck. It was possible that this introduction would be the sum total of social engagement that Howards would be able to stand for the week. Tomorrow Cas would visit the bookshop to find a tome that the quiet Brit might enjoy.

"Mr. Appleton, Mrs. Appleton, Mr. Sims, may I introduce Mr. Rokiczana from the Prussian delegation. Mr. Rokiczana, the Appletons and Mr. Sims."

Casimir bowed to each of them. Appleton certainly didn't deserve such a lovely wife. But her irritation with her loutish husband could be a boon to Casimir. He wasn't sure what he was looking for yet, but he knew he needed allies and information. Unhappy wives could be among the best finds for a man in his position. Although he was tempted to immediately ask her to dance, it wouldn't do to alienate her husband, a man who might also prove useful.

Instead, he engaged them in the banal conversation that greased all social interaction. "Your journey to Vienna was pleasant, I hope?"

"As pleasant as something like that can be," Appleton said in the bored tone that certain Brits thought conveyed a worldliness that they didn't have. Mrs. Appleton looked up at her husband, a very mild quirk of her lips telling Casimir that she had some quibble with the statement.

"It was easier for me, of course," Casimir continued in a friendly tone, “being so close and only needing to cross the Danube. Hopefully the weather wasn't a deterrent for you. I find traveling in the winter hardest of all. Of course, if it were summer, I would be complaining about the heat."

Mr. Sims, the smallest of the three of them, had beady eyes and a progressively sour expression as the politesse continued. "So tell us, what work do you do here at the Congress?"

Casimir raised a brow slightly. "Isn't it obvious? I'm a gentleman. And by definition gentlemen don't work."

Mr. Sims' expression soured more but Appleton guffawed at the jest. "Just so, Mr..."

"Rokiczana," Casimir supplied helpfully.

"Just so. I didn't know you had any entertaining friends, Howards." Appleton slapped the nervous Howards on the back.

"Speaking of our friendship," Casimir said, turning back to John, "didn't you express an interest in billiards earlier?"

Howards looked surprised for a moment, and then recognized the opportunity to escape for what it was. "Yes, yes. Indeed."

Casimir led their retreat from the ballroom as he knew there was nothing the man would appreciate more than an opportunity for a quiet pursuit. And Casimir always rewarded those who helped him.

* * *

George watched the two retreating figures with interest. Her sense was that her party had been "had," but she wasn't sure exactly how. The elegant young man from Prussia and the junior British clerk seemed an oddly matched pair, yet she couldn't complain that she wasn’t already making acquaintance with her targets within hours of arriving in Vienna. And to think, she had been concerned over how she would be introduced to the Prussians at all. Hopefully she could soon circulate on her own, as no young woman of fashion was expected to spend the entirety of a ball with her husband. Quite the opposite.

She wondered what she could find out about this Mr. Rock-something. She was usually good at pronunciations, but his name had confounded her. Although her curiosity was piqued, it wouldn't do to ask about him directly. At least not so soon. But he was a handsome, friendly man so it was quite likely that the other ladies would mention him on their own. He was no taller than herself but had what her mother called "presence." His figure was lithe and looked well in the immaculate attire he was wearing. His valet was undoubtedly proud. His coloring, which could be considered unremarkable with brown hair and brown eyes, managed to seem luxurious instead, reminding her of the gleaming wood in her father's study. Rich chestnut locks and warm walnut eyes. Yes, the other ladies would mention him. She just needed to make friends among them to begin her research and identify if by pure luck the first Prussian gentleman she met was her path to successfully completing her assignment: knowing what the Prussians were planning so that Britain could turn it to their own best interests.

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

Casimir had faced many challenges. Living on his wits both in the wilds and on the streets. Bitter cold. Facing down soldiers when he was barely more than a child. Reinventing himself to be accepted as a gentleman when his father had sent him to university. He would, he thought, happily do any of it over rather than this infernal shuffling of paperwork. Whereas before he had considered himself capable of conquering anything, now he found himself in sympathy with Sisyphus. Every day they rolled the stone of diplomacy up a hill, and every day it fell back down to the bottom. He had nearly given up on finding anything useful or even interesting in the constant stream of missives. Periodically he would find some mention of Silesia, but it was never enough to give any clue as to the expected disposition of the land at the conclusion of the Congress. More mention was made of Poland, but the term meant so many different things to so many different people that it was hard to establish which version of Poland to which they referred. His homeland had been sliced up like a pig at a feast so many times that it was difficult for anyone to know what the real boundaries were. But part of that was because the boundaries weren't something to be found on a a map. What defined his homeland were the people. The ones who knew in their heart they were Polish. Regardless of geography, regardless of names, regardless of what ruler dictated their future.

But something else was eating at his peace of mind, as well. Typically he didn't look forward to the balls, but this time he would see 
her
 again. Mrs. Applegate seemed a poor moniker for her. He found his mind turning to her the last few days more often than he would like, but there was something about her that intrigued him. He knew he wouldn't be satisfied until he knew what it was.

* * *

George positioned herself in the midst of ladies chatting near the door. A dreamy gasp followed by the fluttering of fans around her made her glance to the entrance. Yes, her Prussian gentleman had arrived, but the reaction of the ladies around her was even more dramatic than she would have expected. Then she watched him saunter towards the group with a pleased smile on his face that managed to make him attractive rather than arrogant. His coat was the color of a ripe plum, the velvet flashing a deep purple where it caught the candlelight. Having approached their bevy he began to greet them individually, in each lady's native language. George was cynically impressed with his ability to flirt with ten women at once. Then it was her turn to be greeted. Her rational mind cataloged the aspects of how he engendered a response. He stood a bit too closely, yet without crowding. His grip on her hand was firm without being tight as he raised it to his lips to kiss. His touch was warm, even through her gloves. His eyes never left hers as he murmured a greeting, his voice low enough to infer that he only wanted her to hear it, perhaps even lean closer to hear it.

"Good evening, Mrs. Appleton."

Oh yes, he was good. Even while her mind analyzed his movements, she felt a shiver of awareness go through her. Being wise to his machinations did not, apparently, make her immune. She wasn't sure if he had studied seduction or was just a natural at it. But thus far he was her only potential entry to the Prussian delegation so she would play his game. She dipped her chin like a shy ingénue while shifting slightly to draw attention to what chest she did have. Looking up through her lashes she whispered, "Good evening, sir."

She saw some emotion flicker through his eyes that looked suspiciously like disappointment. Then he moved on to greet the next lady in the group. 

George felt a keen disappointment that he had let her go. A mild frown tugged at her lips. Although she had yet to have carnal relations with a man, her training had certainly included a number of encounters similar to this one. All of the men at Madame Blythe's were attractive and practiced, but none of them had caused this flicker of desire with so brief a contact. And she knew that her body language had clearly communicated desire, how could he find that disappointing?

He chose one of the other ladies to dance with and her frown became even more pronounced. As he led the lady to the floor he glanced back and met her gaze, and upon seeing her expression he gave her a devilish smile. Now she was confused as well as irritated. What on earth did that mean?

* * *

Casimir led Frau Mahler through a country-dance. He had hoped that Mrs. Appleton wouldn't be another of the simpering ladies that hung on him. He knew that they considered him a pleasant diversion or, at times, a handy bit of leverage to make their husbands jealous and therefore more attentive. But he had expected better of Mrs. Appleton somehow. Perhaps it was that tiny moment of mutiny she had displayed the first day when her husband looked away from her. He thought that she didn't suffer fools gladly. Then she had all but thrown herself at his feet tonight. Well, perhaps it wasn't that extreme, but when she had glanced up at him and wet her lips before returning his greeting his body had reacted as though he had found her naked in his bed. A woman of her beauty and intelligence had no need to lower herself by playing the flirt. And if she wasn't just flirting, well, then he should stay away from her entirely. The last thing he wanted to do was inspire an addled husband into challenging him to a duel or some nonsense in defense of honor. But when he had looked back and seen her angry frown he'd had to smile. If it was just flirtation then that could be most enjoyable. But he would prefer the tart replies that he could tell she suppressed, rather than a sighing feminine pose. 

* * *

As George expected, once the Prussian gentleman left for the dance floor the ladies around her began chatting about him behind their fans. Sadly, her German wasn't as good as her French and she wasn't able to track all of the conversations as she wished. But among all the breathless descriptions of his form, whispered discussions of whom he had kissed, and proclamations of who would marry him if only their own husbands would die, George did manage to tease out a few interesting facts. Even if the rest of what the ladies said made her want to roll her eyes, she discovered his duties in the delegation were minor at best, but that he had won the post due to some highly placed connections. Perhaps he wasn't the best person in the delegation for her to focus on, especially as he had seemed unimpressed with her flirtation. But that left her with the job of discovering the next man. If all of these ladies were sighing over a chance for attention from one man, then certainly their husbands were in need of sympathy.

* * *

This was the fourth ball since
she
had arrived. It bothered him that he knew that. They hadn't spoken since the night she had flirted with him and they had literally been dancing around each other ever since. She seemed to have something of a preference for the Prussian gentlemen and he wondered if it was to draw his attention. Surely not, but the idea of it pleased him. What didn't please him was watching her spin around the floor with Hans yet again. The officer's height and fair complexion made him an ideal partner for her. They looked like figures from a fancy Black Forest clock. Hans was enough of a gentleman that he held her at a polite distance. Cas couldn't imagine doing that. He would need to lean in, whisper in her ear, see if he could elicit a genuine smile from her. Not the practiced smile she cast at her other dance partners. Or perhaps he could tease out one of her vicious frowns. He had seen them again when she danced with her husband. That man had tried to hold her close but had to contend with her rigid arms holding him at a distance. An arranged marriage, no doubt, with her very much not in favor of it. It was unfortunate that such a woman could be forced to marry where she didn't wish to.

He turned his attention back to his dance partner, a sweet but silly French girl who was here with her family. She couldn't be more than sixteen and always flushed and giggled outrageously when he paid her the least attention. He found her no more interesting than he did his cravat. She was pretty enough, but not sophisticated and intriguing like Mrs. Appleton. Realizing his gaze had slid over to that woman again, he brought it back and purposefully flirted with his dance partner to make her giggle and preen.

It would probably be best if he continued to avoid Mrs. Appleton. She inspired some combination of lust and protectiveness that couldn't turn out well. He was always careful not to take a flirtation beyond the most innocent of encounters, lest he have a husband ready to kill him. And he was careful to always spread his attentions evenly among many of the ladies so that none of them thought they had a claim on him over the others. Mrs. Appleton had spoken all of three words to him and she was already a distraction. Yes, avoidance was the best course.