Fates for Apate (9 page)

Otto made no preamble. "Where is the letter?"

"Which letter? I have a good number of letters."

"Don't be coy with me, Pole. I was expecting a letter in English and Hans said that he noticed one on your desk yesterday. When he went back this morning to retrieve it for me, it wasn't there. Where is it?" 

The Prussian dignitary was red-faced. Casimir thought it best to proceed cautiously. "I can go look. I'm sure there are probably a number of letters on my desk in English."

Otto pounded his fist on the table. "This isn't a game. You gave it to that English whore of yours, didn't you?"

Casimir felt a moment of panic. His blood turned icy as it rushed through his veins and the instinct to run tensed his muscles. Above that, another primal instinct rose up. To protect Gina. He had given her the letter since he thought it would be of interest to her country, something of a gift of appreciation after she had so willingly helped him to do what was best for Poland.

But Otto was still talking. "You think you're so well connected that I can't touch you, but you're wrong. And I can do more than touch one little foreign bitch of no consequence."

"I'm sure the British might have an issue with that."

"Let them!" Otto roared. "They have intruded on Prussian interests too many times. They shouldn't even be here. You shouldn't be here. I don't care who sponsored you." His voice became low and deadly. "Don't you dare talk to Hardenberg or Metternich about this or about the letter."

Casimir was glad that one of the first things he had learned in life was how to lie convincingly. How to act calm and assured when he felt far from it. "Otto, I don't know what letter you're talking about. And I certainly haven't shared any of our correspondence with the British. However, if you want me to leave the delegation, I'll respect that."

"Where is my letter?"

"Have Hans secure all the correspondence on my desk, I won't even touch it. You can have him search my quarters as well. I have nothing to hide."

Anyone observing their conversation would have assumed it to be between a paranoid official and his perplexed but conciliatory underling. But while Casimir stood, seeming polite and attentive with his hand clasped behind his back, his mind was also churning with everything that he needed to do. The truth was that he had volumes of correspondence in his quarters, from every nation represented at the Congress, no matter how large or small. He had spent months purloining anything that he thought could help Poland. Other items had been given to him by helpful friends and acquaintances. It's not like he had it all piled up in the center of his bed, but a sufficiently clever man could find the hiding places where information was squirreled away. 

What bothered him most of all, though, was that Gina was likely in danger. Otto's reaction made him think that these dealings were not sanctioned by either the Prussian or British governments. Therefore, having it revealed to Britain could be an embarrassment for Prussia. Something that Otto didn't want to be caught in the middle of. That he might be willing to kill to conceal.

Otto finally spoke. "Just get out. Don't touch your desk. And I want to hear you are leaving Vienna by morning."

Casimir nodded. "As you wish, sir."

Once in the hallway, Casimir found Hans again.

"I thought we were friends," he hissed to the Prussian officer.

Hans looks confused. "We are friends."

"Then give me one hour before you come to search my quarters."

"Why am I searching your quarters?"

"Otto thinks I have his letter."

"Do you?"

"No, I don't."

"Then why do you need an hour?"

"If I make it through this, I'll explain it to you sometime."

Hans held out his hand to shake. "Good luck."

"Why-?"

"You're leaving."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I know things. That's why you like me."

"Watch your back with Otto."

Hans gave a half smile. "Someone should warn him to watch his back with me."

"Good luck to you, too. I hope to see you again."

"Of course you will. So you can explain that hour."

Casimir made his way to his quarters hastily.

"Wladek!"     

The young man emerged from his room. "Yes, Casimir?"

"Thank God you're here." He took hold of Wladek's shoulders. "I have to go. Now. I'll take the documents with me, but I'll be on horseback and can take little else. As for the rest of my things, sell what you can and take the rest back home."

"I'll go with you."

"No, Wladek, you've done enough. Go home to Jadzia. I'm sure your wife misses you." 

"Where are you going?"

Casimir frowned. "London, I think. I at least have to warn her."

"Your Mrs. Appleton?"

"That's the best part, Wladek," he said with a smile, while opening up a satchel. "I found out last night that she's not actually married. She's Miss… Hmm, you know, I didn't think to ask. But she's not married."

Wladek nodded thoughtfully while helping to pile documents into the bottom of the satchel. "That changes things. Your mother won't be happy."

"Yes, well, few things make my mother happy anymore."

"Forgive me, 
książę
, but that's not true."

"I correct myself, there's nothing that I can do that will make my mother happy. So I don't see the point in worrying about it."

"She has suffered a great loss. You should have more sympathy for her."

"I have every sympathy for her. But I can't do what she wants me to do, and that is something she will never forgive."

"Casimir."

"No, it's all right. I can't do what she wants me to, but I'm doing everything I can. That will have to be enough."

"You know you have my faith, 
książę
. You have the faith of all of our people."

Casimir kissed his loyal retainer on the forehead. "Take care of yourself, Wladek. Make yourself scarce until Hans is done searching our rooms. And then
go home
."

"Be careful, 
książę
."

After shrugging into his coat and securing the satchel over his shoulder, Casimir winked and said, "You know me better than that, Wladek. History isn't dictated by careful people."

C
HAPTER
F
IFTEEN

George had spared no expense for speedy conveyance. They had changed horses four times yesterday and only stopped about six hours for the night. If she wasn't mistaken they would be stopping to change horses again soon. She had fallen into that near-sleeping doze that made distance travel bearable, but shook herself awake as she heard the hooves of a galloping horse approaching. Sliding the barest bit of curtain aside she looked out the window as the rider passed by and neared her driver. All she saw was a coat and hat pulled low. If he was a highwayman, he was brazen to take on a carriage alone. She pulled her gun box from under her seat but froze as she heard the rider call out 'stop' in German.

Casimir?

By the time she returned to the window she was sure it was his voice. He was trying to reason with the determined driver and not getting anywhere. She lowered the window and leaned out, gripping the edge of the door to steady herself against the vicious swaying of the carriage.

She shouted so that he would hear her above the hooves and creaking of the carriage. "He stands to earn a hefty bonus if he gets me to the docks early. I doubt you'll persuade him to stop before we change horses."

Casimir reined in his horse to draw even with her window. He doffed his hat. "M'lady. What a surprise to see you here."

She had admired his grace on the dance floor, but seeing him effortlessly control his stallion was nearly breathtaking. "You have a habit of stopping random carriages?" she asked.

He smiled at her. "Not random ones, no. Do you mind if I join you?"

"Be my guest."

He nodded. "I'll be along presently. If you could take these for me?"

He handed over his hat and satchel before reining in his horse again, disappearing behind the carriage. George sat down with a laugh. She heard a thump on top of the carriage and a few minutes later Casimir looked in the window from above.

"Hullo, love," he said. "Just wanted to make sure you weren't in the window before I came in."

"No, I'm not in the window."

"Good. Stay where you are for a moment." He disappeared again, then swung in feet first, sleek as a cat jumping through a fence. He sat down on the bench opposite her. "You're wearing my hat."

"Well, you did give it to me."

He gave her an appraising look. "It suits you."

She laughed. It felt so
good
to see him again. "Why are you here?"

"I realized I don't know your last name. At least I assume it isn't really Appleton. And how was I supposed to find you in London if I didn't even know your last name?"

"Lockhart."

"Lockhart?"

"Yes."

"How appropriate." He paused for a moment, playfully tapping his boots against hers. "Oh, and there is one more thing. Someone may try to kill you because of that letter I gave you."

"Over the letter? Really? It must be more important than I realized."

"Do you still have it?"

"No, I used it in the first necessary we stopped at. Of course I still have it."

Casimir shrugged. "I didn't know if perhaps you had already passed it along to someone else."

She shook her head. "I'm taking it to London. Thank you for the warning. Are you," she paused, not sure if she wanted the answer. "Are you going back to Vienna?"

"Sadly, this little imbroglio appears to have cut my career in Prussian politics short."

"I'm sorry," she said, feeling anything but sorry that he wouldn't be returning immediately to Vienna.

"No need to be. I'd probably accomplished all that I was going to be able to. Staying was based more on hope than reality."

"What did you hope for?"

He gave a sad smile and looked out the window. "A free and united Poland? We all know that wasn't going to happen." He turned his attention back to her. "So, I am at your disposal. If you want me."

She tossed his hat onto the bench next to her, then crossed the carriage to place her knees on either side of his thighs and settle into his lap. "Want you?" she asked, running her fingers through his hair. Leaning in to kiss him she whispered against his lips, "You know that I want you."

* * *

Casimir wrapped his arms around her and sank into the kiss. He couldn't explain exactly what it was about her, but she drew him like no other woman ever had. He ran his hands over her delicate curves. Over her ribs, down her thighs.

He broke the kiss. "Good Lord, how many knives are you hiding under this dress?"

She shrugged. "A few."

"I'm starting to think that Otto needed to be warned, not you."

"Why ruin the surprise for him?"

He chuckled. "Why indeed?"

She smiled at him and began unbuttoning his waistcoat. He captured her hands.

"Gini, I know that I said I would court you and speak to your father, but would you consider marrying me now?"

"Right now? Do you have a vicar in your pocket?"

"I could wait until Nuremberg."

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"How many languages do you need to hear it in? Yes, ja, oui, si-"

He cut off her recitation with another kiss. When he let go of her hands to bury his own in her hair, she went back to unbuttoning his waistcoat. Hopefully they would be to Nuremberg soon.

* * *

George could barely believe that she had said yes to his proposal. She was almost beginning to feel like two separate people. Old George, who was still cynical and bitter and skeptical. And New George, or perhaps better to say Gini, who was full of hope and love and felt cherished by a man that she was happily throwing her heart to. In some small corner of her mind, Old George rolled her eyes and declared that none of this could end well. But Gini would hear nothing of it.

How she had
hated
the nickname Gina as a child, but now it felt like the special nickname that only Casimir would call her, and he had improved it vastly to Gini. No one else had ever called her that.

The jolting and rocking of the carriage that had been distracting earlier when she was trying to rest was distracting in an entirely different way now, with their bodies pressed together in a most intimate way. She finally finished unbuttoning his waistcoat and ran her hands over the fine linen covering his chest. Even that barrier seemed too much keeping her from the firm warmth of his skin. When she started pulling his shirt from his trousers he groaned low in his throat but captured her hands.

"Gini," he warned thickly.

"We're practically married."

He kissed her palms, the delicate skin on her wrists. "Patience, love."

"Patience? We have been patient. How long has it been since our first kiss?"

Casimir ran his thumb over the seam of her lips. "Five months, twenty nine days, and four hours, give or take."

George's heart stuttered to a stop. He was so earnest. So sweet. She rested her head on his shoulder and hoped it wasn't far to Nuremberg.

C
HAPTER
S
IXTEEN

It was far after dark when the carriage made its final stop for the night. They had changed the carriage horses twice since he had caught up to them, with Casimir selling off his saddle horse at the first stop. There was no need to make the poor thing keep up while tied to the back of the carriage as he wouldn't take it across the Channel. He hadn't been to England before and was looking forward to seeing something new. To seeing Gina's home. She had fallen asleep and was charmingly wrapped against his side. He regretted having to wake her.

"Gina, my sweet."

She burrowed closer against his neck. "No."

He chuckled. "I thought you wanted to get married."