Vienna Waltz (32 page)

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Authors: Teresa Grant

Tags: #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Mystery, #Historical, #Romance, #Historical Romance, #Mystery & Suspense

BOOK: Vienna Waltz
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“Malcolm, I’m sorry. I should have told you from the first. If not when we met, the moment you offered for me.”
“I never asked—”
“You offered me your protection, but you should have known what you were getting in a wife.” She stood before him, hands locked together, head high. “You knew I wasn’t a virgin, but you thought I was a victim of war. Instead I was a cast-off mistress.”
He heard the words, but it was a moment before he made sense of them. “God in heaven, Suzanne. How could you possibly think—” He crossed to her side in two steps and folded her in his arms. “Sweetheart,” he said, his voice muffled by her hair, “how could you think so poorly of me as to imagine any of this would matter?”
She drew back and took his face between her hands. Her fingers trembled against his skin. “Because you’re still a British gentleman, darling. And your world has rules.”
“And you didn’t think I could see beyond them.” He kissed her forehead, then her cheek, then her lips, but lightly. She seemed as fragile to him as she had on their wedding night. “I’m only sorry I didn’t find you before Radley did, so you wouldn’t have had to go through this.”
She clung to him for a moment with the abandon of the girl she had ceased to be before he met her. “How could I be sure? In so many ways we don’t know each other.”
He tightened his arms round her as though he could anchor her to safety and erase the past. Then, because his impulse was to crush her in his arms and cover her mouth with his own, he did just the opposite. Her story had served as a reminder of his own secrets, and why he didn’t deserve her trust or anything approaching love.
He pressed his lips to her forehead, then released her. “I need to report to Castlereagh about the meeting with Genz this afternoon. We’ll talk later. About what Tatiana might have known about Radley. About—what to do next.”
Suzanne rubbed her arms. He could feel the confusion in her gaze, but he couldn’t meet it. Not now. Too much was roiling inside him. He turned to the door.
“Malcolm—”
Heavy footsteps cut short her words. A single knock sounded, and then the library doors were flung open with scarcely a pause. Castlereagh stepped into the room, followed by Baron Hager.
The foreign secretary’s gaze went to Suzanne. “I’m sorry you’re here, my dear. Though perhaps it’s as well.”
“Madame Rannoch.” Hager inclined his head. “Rannoch.” He turned to Malcolm. “I regret to say I am here on unhappy business. I have a warrant for your arrest for the murder of Princess Tatiana Kirsanova.”
32
S
uzanne heard the scrape of her own breath. Beside her Malcolm had gone absolutely still. “Naturally I am at your disposal, Baron. But might I inquire as to what has changed since I saw you this morning?”
Hager met Malcolm’s gaze, his own impassive. “As I just explained to Lord Castlereagh, I have received evidence that Princess Tatiana was blackmailing you.”
“What?”
Malcolm’s voice ricocheted off the fretted ceiling with the force of a pistol shot.
“A letter from the princess to you came into our possession this afternoon.” Hager’s gaze flickered toward Suzanne. “And a reliable witness saw Madame Rannoch enter the Palm Palace alone, a quarter hour later than the time she had indicated. Which means you were alone with Princess Tatiana for an undetermined length of time and have no alibi.”
Suzanne started to speak. Malcolm’s fingers closed round her wrist.
“I’m afraid I am not at liberty to say more, Monsieur Rannoch,” Hager continued. “You must understand that we have had considerable interest in you from the moment you discovered the body. So often the person who reports a murder proves to be the culprit. With this new information we had no choice but to act. If you will come with me, sir?”
“Certainly.” Malcolm might have been agreeing to a game of billiards. “Might I beg the indulgence of going up to say good-bye to my son first?”
Hager hesitated, then gave a quick nod. “One of my men will accompany you.”
Four of Hager’s men stood at attention outside the library doors. At Hager’s signal, one followed Malcolm and Suzanne upstairs, though he waited outside the dressing room door. “Listening in case I make a run for it over the roofs,” Malcolm murmured as he closed the door behind them.
“It wouldn’t be the first time you’d done it.” Suzanne forced herself to match the lightness in his voice.
Blanca got to her feet and looked from Malcolm to Suzanne. “Mr. Rannoch?”
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to go away for a bit, Blanca,” Malcolm said. “Baron Hager requires my presence. He’s under the mistaken impression that I murdered Princess Tatiana.”
“
Madre de Dios
. The man is a fool.”
“Certainly he is grossly mistaken.” Malcolm moved to the cradle. He went very still, one hand on the flower-painted rail. For a long moment he stood looking down at their sleeping son. Then he bent and brushed his lips over Colin’s forehead, lightly so as not to wake him.
He straightened up quickly and turned to Suzanne. For all the cheerful mockery in his voice, his face was very pale and his eyes darker than usual. “We haven’t much time. Blackwell may be able to help you with questions about Tatiana’s childhood. He knew my mother. Talk to Czartoryski. He’s our best ally in the Russian delegation.”
“Malcolm—” Suzanne put her hands on his chest. “Adam Czartoryski could tell Hager Princess Tatiana was dead before you arrived at the Palm Palace.”
“Assuming Hager believed Czartoryski. And even if he did, they’d argue I could have left after I killed her and come back.” He pulled his signet ring off his finger and pressed it into her hand. “If you need to communicate in my name.”
She nodded, her fingers closing tight over the metal. “Malcolm—”
“You can use the ring to open the false bottom in my dispatch box. You’ll find papers to get you and Colin and Blanca to Britain in case of emergency. Addison knows about them.”
She caught his hand in her free one. “Darling, for heaven’s sake, I wouldn’t leave you here.”
“Only as a last resort.” He bent his head and gave her a quick, hard kiss. “Take care of yourself, sweetheart.”
His lips were cool and there was a tang of good-bye that frightened her. She clutched the superfine of his coat for a moment. Then she forced herself to release him, because fears and imaginings wouldn’t help the situation.
Malcolm stepped back and smiled at Blanca. “Look after her for me.”
“I always do, Mr. Rannoch.” Blanca returned his smile, though her eyes were shadowed.
Malcolm touched her arm and turned to the door. “We’d best go, or our friend outside will think I’ve escaped.”
He cast one last look at the still sleeping Colin, as though imprinting the image on his memory, then held the door open for Suzanne. Hager’s man followed them downstairs, bootfalls heavy on the marble stairs.
Lady Castlereagh had joined Lord Castlereagh in the entrance hall. Tommy Belmont was also there, a puzzled look on his normally insouciant face.
Malcolm nodded at Castlereagh and gave Suzanne’s hand a quick squeeze. Suzanne watched the men march her husband out the door. Before he stepped through the door he turned back and gave her a brief, warming smile. An unvoiced cry choked her throat.
Lady Castlereagh put an arm round her. “Oh, my dear, I am so very sorry. But you must be brave for him.”
“Suzanne’s always brave. It looks as though Rannoch needs more than bravery.” Tommy stared at Castlereagh. “What the hell happened, sir?”
“Apparently new information came into Hager’s possession,” Castlereagh said in his colorless voice.
“And he seriously thinks that Malcolm—”
“So it seems.”
Suzanne pulled away from Lady Castlereagh’s comforting arm. “Thank you, ma’am, but I knew this might happen.” She moved to the foreign secretary. “I need to speak with you, my lord.”
Castlereagh inclined his head and held open the library doors. He followed her into the room and pulled the doors to behind them with a quiet click. “Suzanne, I know this comes as a great shock—”
“Not so very great.” She could feel the pulse beating in her temples. She clasped her hands behind her back, Malcolm’s trick when his shaking fingers threatened to betray him. “As I told Lady Castlereagh, we knew Malcolm being arrested was a risk from the night of the murder. Metternich and the tsar made no secret of their suspicions. My lord, this letter Baron Hager supposedly has that shows Princess Tatiana was blackmailing Malcolm. Have you seen it? Where did it come from?”
Castlereagh drew a breath. “Suzanne—”
“For God’s sake, sir, we’re talking about my husband.” She crossed to him and barely checked herself from gripping his arm. “A man who has served you loyally for over six years. A man who has risked his life for Britain countless times. You at least owe me this.”
Castlereagh moved to the library table, frowning at the medallions on the carpet, then turned to face her. “Hager allowed me a brief look at the letter. In it Princess Tatiana said she knew she could count on Malcolm to act as she wished over an unspecified matter because if he did not she would reveal certain information.”
“What information?”
Castlereagh slapped closed a book that lay open on the table. “The letter doesn’t specify.”
“But—?”
He stared down at the gilt-embossed book cover. “It does say ‘certain information you would not wish your wife to obtain.’”
Suzanne swallowed. Unvoiced fears clogged her brain. “Where did Hager get this letter?”
Castlereagh added the book to a stack on the table. “The letter came from a source I have reason to trust.”
Realization washed over her in an icy rush. “Frederick Radley.”
Castlereagh’s gaze jerked to her face. “I never said—”
“You didn’t need to. I can put puzzle pieces together.” She crossed to the table in two impatient steps. “Radley saw me go into the Palm Palace alone because he was there himself.”
“So you admit you went in alone?”
“Would you believe me if I denied it?” Suzanne gripped the brass-trimmed edge of the table. “Radley took this letter from Princess Tatiana’s rooms the night of the murder. Before Malcolm arrived at the Palm Palace. Which means the princess hadn’t yet sent the letter and Malcolm never saw it.”
“My dear—” Castlereagh stretched out a hand across the table and then let it fall. “You can’t possibly be sure of any of that.”
Suzanne stared at the foreign secretary. “You aren’t certain he’s innocent.”
For a moment Castlereagh’s cool gaze held genuine regret. “I’m very fond of Malcolm. I owe him a great deal, as you said. But in the course of my career, I’ve seen all sorts of good people commit acts of which I would have sworn they’d be incapable.”
“Malcolm isn’t—”
“My dear Suzanne, if Malcolm went into the Palm Palace without you, even you can’t be sure he didn’t kill Princess Tatiana.”
“But I am.” The sterling certainty in her voice surprised even her. In so many ways she still didn’t know her husband, and yet she was sure of this. She’d stake her life on it.
Castlereagh gave a sad smile. “Malcolm will have the best legal assistance possible. You have my word on it.”
“But you can’t be seen to intervene yourself. It could upset the balance of the Congress if it looked as though you were interfering with justice to save one of your attachés, who had killed the woman who’d been mistress to the tsar and Prince Metternich.” And yet Malcolm had probably loved Princess Tatiana more than either of those two gentlemen had done.
Castlereagh put up a hand to the pristine folds of his cravat. “You know what a critical pass we are at just now. Tsar Alexander could storm out of the Congress, and without Russia any agreement we manage to come to is unstable. We could find ourselves in the midst of armed conflict in a frighteningly short time.” He touched Suzanne’s arm with awkward sympathy. “Malcolm may yet be safely returned to you. And I assure you that that is the outcome I hope for.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Suzanne gave a contained smile. “But surely Malcolm’s arrest—even Malcolm’s guilt—doesn’t negate the need to learn who is the target of Count Otronsky’s plot.”
“No.” Castlereagh strode back to the doors and opened them. “Belmont. Vaughn,” he called.
Tommy, who had apparently been waiting outside the doors, stepped into the room, closely followed by Fitz.
“I know this is difficult, my dear,” Castlereagh told Suzanne, “but I fear we have no time to waste. I want you to brief them on what we know of Otronsky’s plot. They’ll need to take over the investigation.”
“Count Otronsky’s plotting?” Tommy said. “To do what?”
“We don’t know,” Castlereagh said between gritted teeth.
Suzanne quickly outlined the bare bones of the Otronsky plot. The fragment of a letter Princess Tatiana had discovered, the secret meetings at the Empress Rose, Margot’s identification of Otronsky, the note she herself had taken from Otronsky (was it only last night?) at the Duchess of Sagan’s musicale.
“You think Count Otronsky is planning to assassinate someone at the opera gala?” Fitz said in disbelief.
“Cleverer than I’d have given Otronsky credit for,” Tommy said. “Think of the havoc he could wreak.”
“Precisely,” Castlereagh said. “I’m putting you two in charge of learning the truth of the plot before December tenth. With Malcolm gone, you’re the best I’ve got.”
“Thanks,” said Tommy. “Nice to know where we stand.”
“Don’t, Tommy,” Fitz said. “There’s too much—” He turned to Suzanne. “I’m sure you can’t even consider—”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’ll work with you.”
Tommy grinned, and Fitz pressed her hand. They both knew her too well, thank God, to treat her like a creature of porcelain. They asked brisk questions, which she answered in equally brisk tones. But when she left the library, Fitz followed and caught up with her in the hall.
“Suzanne.” His voice was low and urgent. “I’ll do everything I can to help you. To help Malcolm. We’ll get him out of there somehow. I can’t believe Hager was mad enough to make this accusation.”
She turned at the base of the stairs and put her hand over his on the newel post. “You’re a good friend, Fitz. But even you must have doubts. Castlereagh does.”
“Castlereagh can be a cold-blooded pragmatist. And while he’s known Malcolm a long time, it’s not the same as being friends from university as we—” He broke off. His gaze clouded, then turned away from hers altogether.
“It’s all right, Fitz,” Suzanne said. “Malcolm had doubts about you. He’d understand your feeling the same.”
Fitz gave a bleak smile. “Malcolm had learned I’d betrayed my wife. He had a right to wonder who and what else I’d betrayed.”
“And you aren’t wondering the same about Malcolm?”
Fitz drew a breath as though to make a quick denial, then shook his head. “Any fleeting thoughts I may have had don’t lessen my friendship for him. We’re all capable of nightmare imaginings. I suppose I’m still a suspect myself.”
She swallowed. She couldn’t deny it.
He shook his head. “Perhaps one day when all this is over, and we’re safely back in England, we’ll be able to trust each other again.”
“Fitz—” Suzanne reached out and hugged him, taking comfort from his brotherly embrace as his arms closed awkwardly round her.
“I meant what I said,” he told her, hands on her shoulders. “I’ll do anything in my power.”

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