A Foreign Affair (6 page)

“It is not that simple.” Shaking her head and sighing, Helena at last took pity on him. After all, what could an Englishman who had spent the past several years fighting in the wilds of Spain and Portugal be expected to know about European politics, especially German politics. “It is a matter of old rivalries and new threats to our way of life. France may have suffered a revolution, but its territories remained largely intact. Many of the German states, on the other hand, have been completely abolished during these wars, their hereditary rulers dispossessed, and their people left with no one to turn to for guidance and leadership. These people are not accustomed to change of any kind, and they are now lost and confused. It is clear to anyone who has spent even a short amount of time among the Prussians that they intend to restore order not by restoring former leaders, but by enforcing their own system on everyone else through martial law. These are simple, peaceable folk who want nothing more than to return to cultivating their lands and celebrating their ancient customs. This will not happen if the Allies allow Prussia to have its way.

“But many of the Allies are so afraid of Russia’s gaining too much power that they will do anything to stop it, even if they have to give land to Prussia in return for its support against Russia. To those not familiar with German politics, one state seems very much like another and Prussia is no different than Austria, so that to give territory to Prussia in order to keep a buffer between Russia and the rest of Europe seems the logical solution. They do not understand the danger of this, but they must be made to. It is difficult to do so, however, because none of our leaders is allowed to sit on the councils or to vote on the crucial issues. If Prussia is given control of a German federation, soon there will be no federation of German states at all; we will just be swallowed up by Prussia, and believe me, we will be no better off than we were under Napoleon. All our fighting, dying, and suffering will have been for nothing. We cannot let that happen.”

The passionate conviction in her voice made him smile. She sounded so much like the young Brett Stanford telling his parents so many years ago why it was imperative that they buy him a commission in the First Hussars. He too had been determined to stop oppression and change the course of history for the better. “But I see that I bore you. If you will excuse . . .” “No.” Brett caught her wrist as she turned to leave. “You mistake me entirely. I smile because it could be I who uttered those words you just spoke. You believe as strongly as I do that people should be protected from tyrants. As I told you, I learned my French from the émigrés who lived near me at Jumper Hill. But I also learned from them what happens when change comes too quickly, when people’s lives are taken over by an all powerful government. And I learned that a tyrant who begins by trying to establish order in one place soon progresses to trying to establish order over an ever expanding territory. No, Miss Devereux, you misunderstand me entirely. I am not laughing at you. I heartily agree with you. It was because I held beliefs like yours that I joined the cavalry in the first place. And then, having seen firsthand the misery caused by foreign rule in Spain, putting a stop to it became the reason I continued to fight, to watch my friends die, to endure . . .”

Brett paused, struggling against the memories that threatened to overwhelm him, and drew a deep breath. “But now
I
am the one who is making
you
smile.”

Helena was indeed smiling, for he truly did voice many of her own convictions, convictions that always caused her mother and her mother’s friends to shake their heads and look askance at her. “Now it is my turn to apologize. Major, but we live in a sophisticated age where such enthusiasms are regarded with dismay, if not downright suspicion. It is considered bad
ton
by most of society if one is passionately devoted to anything, which is why I do my utmost to avoid most of society and why I am so often the object of ironic smiles and cynical remarks that imply I am not only naively idealistic, but also a fool for espousing any cause with passionate interest.”

“Yet here you are in the midst of the largest fashionable gathering it has ever been my privilege to witness.”

“Here?” Her gaze swept the room. “But these are quite simple people. They are not the Metternichs, the Talleyrands, the Tsar Alexanders of the world.”

“No, I mean here in Vienna. The
crème de la crème
of all of Europe is here crammed into its palaces, its inns, and any accommodation that is to be found, no matter how humble or how uncomfortable. People are willing to endure any inconvenience simply in order to be here. It is the only place to see and be seen.”

“Oh, Vienna, yes.” She dismissed the assembled monarchs and ministers, potentates and plenipotentiaries with a scornful wave of her hand. “But here, at the Princess von Furstenberg’s salons, we are not the bored sophisticates who are so jaded that the only thing left to amuse them is the redrawing of the map of Europe. For us, it is our very way of life that is at stake. Others may be here to enjoy the excitement of intrigue or to savor the heady sense of power that comes from negotiating the future of the Continent and changing history, but we are here to fight for our very existence.”

Brett was silent for a moment, struck by her words. When he had first been given his assignment by Wellington he had been bitterly disappointed, for he had hoped to be one of the duke’s
flying dispatch
riders carrying diplomatic pouches between Vienna and Paris. The role of observer and translator had seemed unbearably tame in comparison. And Vienna, with its frivolity and its political intrigue seemed almost a mockery of the fighting and suffering that had preceded it. Brett had asked himself a hundred times what he, the man who had led cavalry charges at Salamanca and Talavera, was doing in the ballrooms of the Austrian capital But this young woman now made him feel as though perhaps the work at the Congress was a fitting conclusion to all the fighting after all, that someone, at least, was trying to see to it that after twenty years of war, Europe emerged a better place for its inhabitants as well as for its rulers. “Fighting for your existence? How?”

“We
must
convince the powers that be to keep Prussia at bay, to allow Austria to lead the German world, otherwise we will be swallowed up by Prussia, which aspires to become the Sparta of Europe. Believe me, the Prussians are greedy as well as militaristic. Austria, on the other hand, will let us be. The rest of the world
must
be made to see this. We
must
make it understand.”

Once again, Brett heard the quiver of passion in her voice, and he suddenly found himself wanting to swear to her that he would do his utmost to see that her dreams would come true.

But it was not his place to do this, and Clancarty, having finished his discussion with Baron von Gagern, was now turning back to address the two of them. “Miss Devereux, the baron informs me that you are well acquainted with everyone in this room. I do hope I can prevail upon you to introduce me to some of the others. German politics and the multitude of states, principalities, and electorates quite make my head swim. They are so very confusing to us foreigners.”

Helena warmed to the diplomat’s ingenuous appeal. “I shall be delighted to do so, my lord.” And recovering her poise, she smiled graciously and led the two of them toward a group of bemedaled gentlemen engaged in earnest conversation in the far corner of the room.

Chapter Six

As Brett and the Earl of Clancarty strolled back to the British delegation later that evening, it occurred to Brett that while he knew the name of the young woman who kept popping into his life in a most unnerving fashion, he still had no true notion of her identity. While her comments on his horsemanship had been flattering indeed, it bothered him that she had been able to observe him unawares. And when he had been introduced to her at the Princess von Furstenberg’s soiree, she had known who he was but had given no clue as to her background. In every situation she had him at a disadvantage—an unusual state of affairs for him. It was a rare person indeed who could establish an advantage over Major Lord Brett Stanford, and while some might have succeeded at it once, no one had ever succeeded at it a second time.

This young woman had done it, not once, not twice, but three times, not only had she observed him in the Prater and then later allowed him to think she was a maid, but she had thoroughly enjoyed his discomfiture at their formal introduction. And now he was leaving the Princess von Furstenberg’s salon with no clearer idea of who she really was than when he arrived, except that he knew her name and that she was a passionate advocate for the sovereignty of the smaller German states. The Princess von Furstenberg had simply introduced her as
Miss
Devereux and the young lady had done nothing further to elaborate on that except to say that her stepfather was German. Which stepfather? And from which German state? And what was she doing running tame in the Princess von Hohenbachern’s library? Brett was thoroughly annoyed with himself for not having discovered anything further about her. And it irritated him even more to think she had deliberately kept it that way.

For he was certain that she had not been forthcoming on purpose in order to maintain her advantage over him. Usually young women were all too eager to tell Major Lord Brett Stanford everything about themselves—their parents, their friends, where they lived, what hours they were to be found at home, and the next social events they planned to attend. Not this young woman. This young woman had been singularly reticent about any details of her existence, though she had not had the slightest qualms about giving him a piece of her mind.

Brett smiled to himself as he climbed the stairs to his chamber. No, she had been most forthright, insistent, one could even call it, about her political opinions and the course of action needed to put them into effect. Most young ladies did their utmost to keep their opinions to themselves so as not to run the risk of offending an attractive male—not this one. Not only did she not worry about offending him, it almost appeared as though she would enjoy it. Certainly she had been determined not only to express her opinions, but to convince him of their validity.

Wellington’s words of warning concerning the political machinations of the women to be found at the Congress rang again in Brett’s ears. Was Miss Devereux one of those women the Duke had cautioned him against? There had been nothing duplicitous or intriguing about her manner. She had been forthright to the point of bluntness about her politics and she certainly bad not tried to exert her feminine charms on him.

In fact, Brett reflected as he stripped off his coat and poured himself a glass of brandy, he would have to say, judging from his first encounter with her, that Miss Devereux depended on her intellect rather than any attractions she might possess to advance her cause. He rather suspected, having observed the plainness of her dress and the simplicity of her coiffure, that she scorned to use such standard feminine ploys. Not that she was unattractive. There was a liveliness in her face, a sparkle in her eyes, and a vitality about her that had drawn him to her immediately in a way that he was not usually drawn to women.

In her company he had felt oddly inspired in a way he had not since leaving the Peninsula. And then there had been that teasing twinkle, that ironic smile that were far more intimate than any fluttering lashes or seductive glances. She had been laughing at him, but at the same time she had been inviting him to share in her amusement, an amusement that no one else but the two of them could share. Yet all the while, she managed to convey the sense that she herself was under no illusions about herself or anyone else.

Brett found such a lack of affectation as intriguing as it was unusual and as delightful as it was novel. Thus it was that arriving the next night at Prince Trauttmansdorff’s reception, he found himself scanning the crowd not only for the beautiful and alluring Princess von Hohenbachern, but for the lively intelligent face of Miss Devereux.

He had barely entered the brilliantly lit room, bow-ever, when he was accosted by a vision of loveliness. Jaded though he might be after years of flirting with the beauties of Portugal, Spain, and Paris, he felt his body’s immediate response as he fought to keep his eyes from straying to the entrancing white bosom revealed by the Princess Bagration’s daring décolletage. Not for nothing, he thought grimly as he schooled his features into a creditable semblance of bored indifference, was she called
the Naked Angel.

“Oh, Major, I wonder if I might have a word with you.” The seductive huskiness of her voice and the wealth of promise in her dark eyes left him feeling powerless to resist being drawn into what was sure to be a web of intrigue.

“But of course. Princess. You have only to speak and I am yours to command.”

Any Englishwoman would immediately have detected the irony in the effusiveness of his response, but the alluring Russian took it as her due. “Not here. Not now. It is far too public. I shall send a message to you tomorrow. Until then, not a word.” She held a finger to full red lips and smiling invitingly slipped back into the crowd as unobtrusively as she had appeared. But throughout the rest of the evening, when a prickling sensation at the back of his neck told him he was being watched, Brett would look up to find those dark eyes looking at him, the red lips curving into a mysterious smile. What did she want with him? He was less than a minor player in these affairs, and all the world knew that the tsar had made her half of the Palm Palace, which she shared with the Duchess of Sagan, his de facto embassy and much more. Why, if she had the ear of Alexander, would she bother with a simple British major?

Free of the Princess Bagration, Brett again began to survey the crowd in search of Miss Devereux, but he looked for her in vain. After listening to her scornful dismissal of the Congress’ more frivolous aspects the previous evening, he had not held any realistic expectation of encountering her at this reception. Still, there had been something about her, a refreshing honesty, an idealistic passion, that had made him hope, despite her professed distaste for such social affairs, that she might appear to enliven his evening.