Chapter Fourteen

The carriage wheels hummed. Through the window Elissa heard the faraway tolling of a bell in St. Stephen’s Cathedral. The music of an orchestra playing in the park drifted on the cool spring air. As she rested in Adrian’s arms, the rough wool of his scarlet coat rubbed comfortingly against her cheek. His heart beat steadily beneath her hand.

She didn’t want to rouse herself, to remember what had happened to her this night. She wanted only to stay where she was, feeling safe and warm and protected. She turned to study the profile of his face, the strong planes and valleys, his straight patrician nose, the hard line of his jaw.

“How did … how did you know where to find me?”

Adrian shifted her on his lap, his hold unconsciously tightening. “The duchess was concerned when you left with Steigler. Apparently she knows him far better than you. She had you followed. Fortunately, I happened along shortly after the discovery of his plans.”

“Are you taking me home?”

Adrian smiled softly. “To my home, yes. We need to talk, and I don’t think you’re ready to face the duchess quite yet.”

Naked except for her cloak. Battered and beaten. No, she wasn’t ready to face anyone yet. “Thank you. You always seem to know what is best.”

His chest rumbled slightly. “Not always, angel, I assure you.”

They said no more until he reached his town house in Naglerstrasse. Wrapping her securely in her cloak, he lifted her out of the carriage and carried her into the house. A tall dark-haired man she recognized as Major St. Giles stood at the top of the landing, a navy blue dressing gown tied around his waist, a book in one hand. A look of surprise came over his face as Adrian carried her into the entry and began to climb the stairs.

“Good Lord, what’s happened?” Cloaked as she was, St. Giles could see only a portion of her face, but the blood at the corner of her mouth and the swollen, purple bruise along her jaw told most of the ugly story.

“She had a run-in with Steigler.” Adrian’s voice sounded gruff. “Thanks to the duchess, I arrived in time to alter his plans for the evening.” He made his way to the guest room, and the major rushed to open the door. Adrian headed straight to the four-poster bed, pulled back the plum satin counterpane, and settled her between the pristine sheets.

“She hasn’t a thing to wear,” he said to the major. “Perhaps you could fetch one of my robes.”

“Of course.” St. Giles left to do his bidding, and Adrian returned his attention to her.

“I’m afraid the robe will have to do. I would offer you a night rail but I don’t own one, since generally I sleep in the nude.” He smiled a bit roguishly. “That is one point on which we apparently agree.”

Elissa found herself blushing, thinking of their first encounter, glad for the brief distraction from her thoughts about Steigler.

“You’re smiling,” Adrian said. “That’s a very good sign.”

Elissa looked into his face. Such a beautiful face, so incredibly male yet so disturbingly handsome. “You have dimples when you smile,” she said. “Not always. It takes a certain wicked glint for them to appear.”

His lips curved faintly. He reached out and took her hand, brought it to his lips and gently kissed the palm. “I don’t really feel like smiling. Not when I think what that bastard did to you.”

A shudder rippled through her. A queasy feeling rolled through her stomach. “He didn’t … he didn’t force himself on me. You got there before either of them had the chance.” She glanced away, but her voice caught. “If you hadn’t come when you did—”

“None of that now.” He squeezed her hand. “I came and you are safe. What matters is that you tell me what this is about.”

Elissa stared off in the distance, tears stinging the backs of her eyes, her thoughts cloudy with images of Karl and Steigler and all that had occurred these past few months. “I’m not quite certain where to start.”

“The beginning is usually best. How about telling me your name?”

Surprise made her eyes go wide. “My name is Elissa Tauber. I didn’t lie about that.” She sighed. “But I’m not a countess—my mother is. Count von Langen is my father.”

Both dark brows went up. She wondered what identity he had imagined. “The count is your father?”

“Yes.”

A knock sounded just then and Adrian strode to the door. He accepted a bundle from the major, said something she couldn’t hear, closed the door, and crossed to the bed.

“Apparently Jamie has come through as he always does. He has supplied a night rail and one of my dressing gowns. Do you feel well enough to put them on or shall I help you?”

Warm color rose into her cheeks. “I can do it.” Adrian nodded, his face stoic. He handed them over and turned away, allowing her to shed the cloak that was all she wore and pull on the soft cotton nightgown. It was a man’s, she saw, the major’s apparently, and a good few sizes too big. But it was soft and warm and she was grateful for it.

“You were telling me about your father,” Adrian gently reminded her, his broad back still turned away.

“Most of the story you heard was the truth. The count died three years ago, leaving my mother—his widow—behind. What I didn’t say was he also left three children, my older brother Karl, my younger brother, Peter, and me.” She leaned back against the pillow. “I am dressed now, my lord. Please thank the major for his kindness.”

He turned, his gaze warm on her face, yet a hint of worry lingered in the green of his eyes. “You may thank him yourself on the morrow. In the meantime, I should like to hear the rest of the story.”

Elissa sighed, feeling suddenly tired. Her head throbbed and her jaw ached where Steigler had hit her, but she owed Adrian the truth.

“In a way this began with my father. He was a wonderful man and all of us loved him, especially my brothers. He lost most of his fortune and was forced to leave Austria as a young man. As far as I know he was happy with the life he led in England, but he was fiercely loyal to his homeland. He instilled that loyalty in us. My mother’s mother was half Austrian, so German was spoken as well as English in our home. After he died, Karl and Peter joined the Austrian Army.”

Adrian frowned. “Your brothers are here?”

She thought of Karl and sadness filtered through her. “Only Peter. Six months ago Karl was killed, murdered here in Vienna. No one has discovered who did it, but the letter my mother received just before he died said he had stumbled upon a traitor, a man who called himself the Falcon.”

Adrian fell silent for a moment. “The Falcon. That is his name?”

“Yes. Why? Do you know something of him?”

He didn’t answer, but the look in his eye said he had just made some sort of connection. She wondered why he evaded the question, and a whisper of unease crept through her.

“Go on,” he softly urged.

“For whatever reasons, Karl was certain the Falcon was one of three men: Ambassador Pettigru, General Steigler, or an aide to General Klammer by the name of Josef Becker. Karl was trying to discover which of the men was a spy when he was killed.”

Adrian pondered that for several long moments. “So that is why you came to Vienna—to finish the job your brother started.”

“That’s right. It was Karl’s most fervent wish that, should something happen to him, we would see the matter of the spy resolved.”

“Surely he didn’t expect his younger sister to travel to Vienna in search of a traitor.”

“I’m sure he didn’t, but there seemed no other choice. We had no proof, no idea whom we could trust. My mother wrote to the duchess. She was an old friend of Father’s, and we thought that she might help us, since her country’s future was at stake. The duchess agreed and she has done so. We decided to investigate Sir William and the general first, since they were here in Vienna. Becker is with General Klammer, somewhere with the archduke’s forces.”

“And your brother, Peter?”

“He’s a lieutenant with Kinsky’s Chevauxlegers, wherever they are presently stationed. He knows nothing of this. I had hoped to seek him out, but so far there hasn’t been time.”

Adrian walked to the side of the bed, his dark brows pulled together in a frown. “I understand your grief for your brother. I applaud your wish to see justice done, but I am surprised your mother would allow an innocent young woman to embroil herself in something as dangerous as this.”

Elissa shrugged. “Perhaps she wouldn’t have, except that she suspected I might come on my own. She is quite independent herself, you see. She would have come in my stead but she has been ill of late. And she was right—I would have found a way to come even without her assistance. Now that I have, I intend to put an end to Steigler’s spying—”

“Steigler? You have proof that Steigler is the spy?”

“Not yet, but sooner or later I will. That is the reason I decided to submit to his advances. I thought that as his mistress, he would trust me with his secrets. It wasn’t what I wanted, but there was a time I believed I could go through with it.”

Adrian leaned forward, tipped her chin with his hand. “But you couldn’t, could you, angel? You aren’t cut out for that sort of thing.”

Elissa glanced away. “My mother was an actress. I thought I could play the part, but I could not.” She set her jaw. “It doesn’t matter. I won’t give up—I’ll find another way.”

“What makes you believe it is Steigler?”

She told him about the conversation she had overheard outside the garden window, explained about the lands the general had lost and his need of money, and reminded him of Steigler’s brutal, unconscionable nature. “It has to be him. After tonight, how can you doubt it? It is plain the sort of man he is.”

“I know very well the sort Steigler is—a disgusting bit of humanity that walks in the guise of a man. That doesn’t, however, mean that he is also a spy.”

“But—”

“To begin with, Austria is on the brink of war. The conversation you overheard could have been in regard to any number of things—troop movements, supplies. There are countless reasons they might have such a conversation.”

“But Holdorf said he’d make certain the message got through—as if he might be crossing enemy lines. He talked about relay points. He said—”

“You have told me what he said, and I have told you there is nothing in his words that is the least bit extraordinary for a man in his position.” He brushed a lock of her hair back from her forehead. “As much as I detest him, I don’t believe the general is a spy. I think you are confusing Steigler’s brutality with the notion that he is disloyal to his country. They are not necessarily one and the same.”

He dragged the covers up to beneath her chin, tucked them securely around her. “Did your investigation happen to disclose that both of Steigler’s brothers died at the hands of Napoleon’s Grande Armée? They were killed four years ago in the fighting at Austerlitz. Since then, Steigler has become fanatic in his hatred of the French.”

“I thought … I thought perhaps that was a cover to mask his role as the Falcon.”

Adrian shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Elissa chewed on that. “I don’t think it’s Pettigru. He isn’t the sort for spying and I found nothing suspicious in his room.” She yawned behind her hand, the throbbing in her head beginning to intensify while her eyelids drooped with fatigue.

“I don’t think it’s Pettigru, either, but we can talk about that in the morning. You have told me enough for tonight and you need to get some sleep.”

She wanted to argue, to ask him what he might know of all this and if he would agree to help her, but she was simply too weary. As Adrian said, they could discuss it again on the morrow.

Her eyes began to drift closed. “I should love a bath,” she whispered. “I want nothing more than to wash away Steigler’s touch, but I am just too tired.”

Beside her Adrian stiffened. “You’ll have your bath, love, I promise you. For now, get some sleep.” Quietly, he turned and left the room.

*   *   *

Jamison sat across from Adrian in the study of the town house. They had spoken briefly of what happened between Elissa and Steigler, then Adrian had fallen unaccountably silent. Jamison knew there was more to the story. He wondered when his friend would tell him. It was well past midnight, yet Adrian seemed not the least bit ready for sleep. Instead he stared into the brandy glass in his hand as if it held the secrets of his existence.

“You’re brooding again, Ace.”

Adrian’s head came up. He sighed across the distance between them. “I’m sorry. My mind is elsewhere, I guess.”

“Perhaps on the lady upstairs?”

He took a sip of his brandy, swirled the amber liquid around in the bowl of the glass. “I told you what happened. I didn’t tell you the rest.” He shook his head, then a muscle flexed in his cheek. “She wasn’t a spy, Jamie. She was trying to catch one.”

So his instincts had been right after all. “Well, that’s a relief.”

“To some extent, yes.” Adrian went on to relate Elissa’s story, a tale that little by little fit together in Jamison’s mind like the final pieces in a heretofore-unsolved puzzle.

“I should have known she wasn’t involved,” Adrian said. “I should have seen it as you did, but I didn’t want to. I wanted her, Jamie. I wanted an excuse to have her and she gave me one. I blackmailed her, Jamie. I told her I’d go to Pettigru if she didn’t do what I said. God, I behaved little better than that foul beast Steigler.”

Jamie swirled the port in the glass he was sipping. “I daresay, you weren’t exactly the model of gentlemanly behavior. On the other hand, I’ve seen the way she looks at you. Did it ever occur to you she might have cared for you enough to agree to your advances, that perhaps you simply gave her an excuse to do what she wanted to do all along?”

Adrian scoffed as Jamison had known he would. “She was an innocent,” he said.

“She is a woman. A lady of courage and fire. I find it hard to believe you could have forced her to do anything she didn’t want to no matter what you did. Steigler couldn’t manage it. Perhaps her caring for you was the reason you were able to succeed where he could not.”

But the look on his face said Adrian didn’t believe it. In his thirty-two years, his friend had never believed himself worthy of that sort of love. His parents hadn’t loved him. Why should anyone else?

Jamison took a drink of his port, set it down on the piecrust table. “If you feel so guilty, there is a way to ease your conscience.”

Adrian scoffed. “You’re speaking of marriage again.”

“What if I am? Your ten-year enlistment was up years ago. ’Twould seem you could do far worse than Lady Elissa.”

Adrian grunted. “I started down that road once before, if you will recall. It was an utter disaster. I don’t intend to engage in that folly again—not now, not ever.”

Jamison said nothing more. He remembered only too well the year Adrian had courted Miriam Springer, the daughter of a moderately wealthy nobleman. Miriam had agreed to the marriage, and an extravagant wedding was planned for the fall of that year.

From the start, Jamison had been skeptical. With her long auburn hair and creamy complexion, Miriam was a beautiful girl, but she was also shallow and selfish, not the sort who could give a man like Adrian the kind of love he needed.

In the end, Jamison had been right about her and the marriage had not taken place. Unfortunately, Adrian blamed himself for what happened, another nail in the tightly built wall he had built around his heart.

“What will you do?” Jamison asked into the silence of the room.

“Stay away from her. I owe her that much. I can hardly press her into my bed after what has occurred. Even I am not that big a cur.” He sighed, looking far more weary than he had when he had walked in. “I’ll see Ravenscroft first thing in the morning, tell him what I’ve learned. There is more to Elissa’s story, but she was so exhausted I didn’t have the heart to press her. I’ll talk to her again in the morning when I return.”

Jamison simply nodded. He had no idea where the pair was headed from here, but somehow the notion of them staying apart didn’t seem a good bet, either.

*   *   *

Adrian felt like pacing. Instead he stood stock-still, his bearing perfectly correct, in the center of the canvas tent that served as General Ravenscroft’s regimental headquarters in the muddy field outside Vienna. A weak morning sun filtered in through the dingy canvas, lighting the room with a dim yellow glow, and a chill tinged the moist dawn air.

The general sat behind his battered work desk listening to Adrian’s report, a half-empty tin cup of coffee growing cold near his elbow. “That is quite a story, Colonel Kingsland.”

Not by half, Adrian thought, his thoughts returning to the night before. But he wasn’t about to tell the general about Elissa’s disastrous encounter with Steigler. “It’s something to go on at least. I was hoping you could look into the death of Karl Tauber, as well as locate Lady Elissa’s brother, Peter.”

“I’ll get on it straightaway. Finding Lieutenant Tauber shouldn’t be a problem. Unfortunately, getting to Becker is going to be a whole lot harder.”

“Why is that, General?”

He shoved his cold mug of coffee away, a few drops spilling onto his battered desk. “You might have noticed a bit of activity around here this morning.”

“Actually, sir, I did.” There was an excitement in the air he had noticed the moment he’d set foot in the camp, a stirring among the men, a heightened anticipation no military man could fail to detect.

“Word came down just this morning. Bad news, I’m afraid.”

“Sir?”

“Four days ago, the archduke and his forces clashed with Marshal Davout and Lefebvre’s 7th Corps near Ratisbon at a place called Abensberg. Marshal Lannes showed up in time to split Charlie’s forces. Half of them retreated to Echkmuhl, the other half to Lanshut. There may be as many as seven thousand Austrian casualties.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Exactly so, Colonel.”

“Four days, you said, and there’s been no further word?”

“Not yet. In the meantime, stopping this traitor is becoming all-important. Since the Tauber girl is the only lead that’s turned up so far, I want you to stay with it. You’ve leave to take whatever action necessary in order to pursue this matter to its resolution. We’ve others looking into it as well. Hopefully someone will turn up something.”

Adrian nodded. “I’ll look into the Tauber murder, see how it might be connected, then go after Becker.”

“Sounds good. In the meantime, I’ll keep an eye on Steigler, just in case.”

“And Pettigru?”

“I don’t think he’s our man, but we’ll watch him, too.” The general rose from behind his desk. “Good luck, Colonel.”

“Thank you, General.” With a smart salute, Adrian turned and left the tent.