Fates for Apate (7 page)

Yes, she was heart sick. And she took to her bed in the hopes that rest would cure it.

* * *

Casimir had been to three entertainments and hadn't seen her yet. Tonight was a masque, but he was still sure he would recognize her. Now after two hours, endless chatter, and too many glasses of tepid wine, he was ready to give up on finding her. At least at the masque.

He counted the windows three times before knocking on the one in front of him. Hopefully Wladek's information was as good as he thought. The curtain moved and he saw candle light.

He tapped the window again. "Gini, let me in."

She unlatched and swung wide the window, forcing him to step back when what he wanted was to be closer to her. She stood there, looking at him with a wry smile. "You look dressed for a ball."

His clothing
was
a bit dramatic, with a bright red jacket and black half-cape. But it was far too cold to be standing outside in his formal clothing much longer. "I found you."

"And you didn't have to climb a wall or anything."

"Yes. Lucky, since I'm sure these boots wouldn't be any good for it." 

She finally beckoned him inside. Rather than climbing to her, as she had to visit him, he had only to step in from the garden. While he closed and secured the window, she set her candle down on the bureau. She was dressed only in a chemise and wrapper. As soon as he had twitched the drapes in place he turned to gather her in his arms. She came willingly, he would almost say docilely. And his Gini was not, by nature, a biddable creature. But she smelled of orange blossoms and sunshine and this was the first time he had been able to breathe in a week. So he took a moment just to hold her.

"Did you miss me?" he whispered.

She made a noise that was too sad to be a chuckle, perhaps closer in kin to a sob. Her arms tightened around him. It was all the answer he needed.

"I missed you, too." He pulled away far enough to cradle her face in his hands and look into her eyes. "I was hoping to find you at the masque so that we could dance scandalously close together with no one the wiser."

"And how many women did you dance scandalously with while trying to find me?"

"Are you jealous?"

"Only if you don't make it up to me by dancing with me now."

He stepped back to bow to her. "May I have this dance?"

She curtsied prettily. "But of course, my lord."

Then he pulled her so closely that it would indeed be scandalous to dance. Each movement had them rubbing limbs together. It was a sweet, torturous friction.

He sighed into her hair. "Whatever shall we talk about without fellow dancers for you to skewer with your wit?"

"You don't see other dancers?" she asked. "I fear you lack imagination."

"Indeed? Tell me who is here."

"The dancers are a pastel swirl. Who I notice is on the periphery. Von Rosen always watches us. If he would dance more often then perhaps he wouldn't scowl so much."

"Hans? Hans doesn't scowl."

"Perhaps it is only when we are dancing together. Watch him next time."

"Here I only had eyes for you, and you're watching another man while we're dancing?"

She ignored his comment. "And what of Sims? He skulks about looking constipated. I've yet to determine why he's even here."

Casimir laughed. "Little did I know you were curbing your tongue on the dance floor."

"Certainly you don't want me to be a fribble."

"Thankfully, I think you're incapable of being a fribble."

She pulled her head back and looked him in the eye. "Oh, I'm capable of it, but you seem so disappointed in me when I do it."

"Well, I am actively anti-fribble."

"That's your political stance on it?"

"Indeed. If you remain pro-fribble then I'm afraid there cannot be peace between us."

"I will kindly remind the gentleman from Prussia that I did not advocate a pro-fribble stance. I only answered his allegations of whether I can, or cannot, effect an attitude that would be remarked upon as being a fribble. How does the gentleman from Prussia answer?" 

When he didn't immediately reply she crossed her eyes at him and he burst into laughter. God, how could he not love this woman? Appleton was a fool. A lucky, rotting bastard of a fool. That thought served to sober him quickly. "When we're dancing do you look at your husband?"

She frowned. "Appleton? Good heavens, no. There is a void in my vision wherein he resides. If you were to ask me to paint his portrait I would hold up the blank canvas and call it complete."

He stopped the subtle shifting that they were calling dancing. "I'm sorry, Gini. You deserve a happy marriage."

She pulled away from him. "That's very kind, but you don't know what you're saying."

"Yes, I do. You're lovely and clever. You deserve a man who is worthy, who adores you. One who is more than a blank canvas to you." He set his hand to her cheek and she closed her eyes to lean into it. She looked tired, pale, and fragile. He wanted to take care of her, have the right to love her. How he hated Appleton.

* * *

George leaned into Casimir's hand and sighed in pleasure. It was difficult not to tell him that he was the only one who gave her what she needed. Things she hadn't even known she needed before she met him. And more than a blank canvas? Her fingers had been itching to sketch him for weeks. A chance to paint him in oils would be the greatest bliss. Given that chance she would probably never tire of painting him in pose after pose.

"That's quite a smile. What are you thinking?"

She opened her eyes and met his gaze. They stood there a long time, just looking their fill. His expression was sad and wistful and she wished that they could leave the Congress and just go away together. Somewhere new and different. Somewhere that they could just be themselves. A tropical island or a country where they couldn't speak the language. Although Casimir did seem to speak a surprising number of languages.

"I was thinking about how I would paint you."

The emotions that chased over his features were hard to follow, but it was clear that he understood the implicit meaning of her statement. He was more than a blank canvas to her. He took her lips in a sweet kiss.

C
HAPTER
E
LEVEN

After Casimir visited her, his Gina returned to the evening entertainments. So long as they both attended, it seemed they had no excuse to visit each other's rooms at night. It was as though they had a tacit agreement to mostly go on as they had before. Friends. They danced scandalously close at the masque balls. At other balls Casimir watched Hans, and the Prussian officer was indeed frowning whenever Casimir danced with Gini.

Time slipped by. Winter gave way to spring and inexorably marched toward summer. Members of the delegations came and went. Hangers on flitted at the edges of the Congress, some more interesting than others. For a while Appleton had a new friend, a man so plain and unassuming that he made John Howards seem dashing in comparison. The only thing interesting about the man was the ouroboros pin he wore on his plain brown jackets.

If anyone had asked Casimir, he knew exactly how long it had been since he had last danced with Gini. Two days and three hours. And how long it had been since he had last kissed her. Four months and twenty days. Essentially forever.

It was almost June and the Congress of Vienna seemed to be winding down to a close. He was going to lose her. Although he'd never really had her, he wasn't prepared to lose her either.

* * *

George opened the packet of letters that Robert had forwarded. His simple cover note read, "Now is a good time for these." Haberdashers letters. She'd thought that perhaps her friends had decided not to worry with writing to her up in Scotland since the post was notoriously spotty in the region where Aunt Martha lived. She should have known better.

By the third letter her stomach was a queasy ball of dread. Both she and Sabre had missed Jack's wedding. Poor Jack. The fifth letter made her laugh, as it was a sharply worded rebuke by Sabre that George had jolly well better march herself back down to London because she was obviously needed. Then the more sobering sixth letter from Jack informing her that Sabre had set her cap for a duke. A duke! That was their Sabre.

Once she made it through the letters she read them all again and made herself a wreck of conflicting emotions. Then all she wanted was to go find Casimir and tell him about the news from her friends. Read the entertaining parts to him, and ask his opinion on the difficult parts. She covered her face with her hands. That was exactly what she needed 
not 
to do. It wasn't fair to either of them to prolong this attachment. It couldn't be. He was a gentleman in Prussia, with attendant duties and...

Her thoughts stilled. What were his attendant duties? Once she thought about it, he had been no more forthcoming about his life than she had. That first night he had referenced himself as a gentleman. Other than that she really only knew that he considered himself Polish, not really Prussian. Much like her, his stories of childhood were carefully disconnected from a sense of time or place. Bloody hell, she had been so concerned about not having her own obfuscation noticed that she had failed to notice his. She ran her fingers over her friends' letters, as though invoking their assistance.
It's time to think, ladies. What do I really know about him?

Three hours of thinking later she could only come to one conclusion. He was a spy as well. Had she been playing him? Or had he been playing her?

Two nights later she saw him across the ballroom with new eyes.

The very best operator will never be noticeable
, Master Dorchester had said. 
They are the most genuine. The most human. They may have been your best friend for years. Because if you are a good information source you really are their best friend. But they don't value the same things from a relationship that most people do. Once you are no longer useful, they are done with you.

Was Rokiczana a master operator? She had been searching her mind for anything that she might have said, or even hinted at, that would be worthwhile information for the Prussians.

He saw her looking at him and smiled. Although her mind was still contemplating what it was he really wanted from her, she felt heat bloom in her chest from his attention. She had thought him attractive when she met him, but now he was irresistible. He had somehow become her ideal of attractive and that worried her. Madame Blythe had been correct. She should have run away the first time he kissed her. Far, far away. Now she had to worry that she had unwittingly betrayed the Empire. Or would. Or could.

She turned to the refreshments table for a cup of Arrack punch. It wasn't the best solution, but perhaps with enough of the sweet liquor in her veins she would stop obsessing and be able to make some progress.

A hand touched her elbow. "What's wrong?"

He must have moved across the ballroom as soon as she looked away from him.

"It's nothing," she said. "I just received some correspondence from home."

"Bad news?" His voice was soft, intimate. Every tone suggested sympathy. But could she trust it? She looked up into his eyes. Warmth. Worry. Could it be feigned? She knew better than most how long people could live with lies.

On the other hand, lies made people brittle, not warm. But Master Dorchester's warnings about the best operators lingered in her mind. Her silence must have gone on for too long because he gripped her elbow more firmly and said, "Come."

She didn't fight him as he led her around the periphery of the room and through the doors to the outside.

C
HAPTER
T
WELVE

Casimir took Gina down the stone steps and out into the gardens, past the lights of the party. Once they were in sufficient shadow her pulled her close. How he had missed holding her like this. But rather than lean into his embrace as she had before, she remained tense. Not fighting him exactly, but not embracing him either.

"What's wrong, Gini?"

"It's nothing important, I just… I missed a wedding."

"Whose?"

"A friend. One of my best friends. She had to marry suddenly in February and I wasn't informed of it until today."

He regretted that he couldn't see her face clearly in the pale moonlight. She sounded sad. Bereft. "I'm sure she'll forgive you."

She snorted at that. Where most women would cry, his Gini just became derisive. "Undoubtedly she will."

"So what's truly bothering you?" She was quiet for so long that he began to doubt that she would answer him.

"What will you do once the Congress is over?" she asked softly.

Ah. This he could understand. He was also agonizing over the ending of the Congress and not seeing her again. "That's hard to say. I don't… I don't really have anywhere to go. Well, that's not exactly true. I have places I can go. Just no place that I have to be."

"You said you were a gentleman. You don't have lands?"

He gave a dry chuckle. "It's complicated, but the short answer is no. I have people, but no lands."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"I have to agree, but such is life."

"Then isn't your place with them?"

"Again, that is complicated."

"Do you have a wife?"

He was confused by the question. Certainly after all this time he would have mentioned such a thing to her. Didn’t she know that? He could hear the thickness in his own voice, as he said, "No."

"Any family other than your mother and sister?"

"Scads of cousins. What about you? Any family other than the ones you’ve mentioned before?"

He saw her golden hair flash in the moonlight as she nodded. Again she lapsed into silence. Her mood was strange, but perhaps he should just be pleased that they had a few moments by themselves. It was hard to know how much longer they would both be here. Either he or Appleton could be told they were no longer needed at any juncture.