Nathaniel smiled. 'Count Joachim von Metternin, that there is Rufus Branch.'
'And the other two?'
'You don't need to be knowing their names. I'll do the killing on them.'
'I think I shall come to appreciate the egalitarian notions of Mystria.' The Count smiled over his shoulder at Rachel. 'And you would be Mrs. Warren, the owner of this shop?'
Rachel curtsied. 'How may I help you?'
Von Metternin grabbed a handful of Rufus' tunic and tugged him around so he could face Rachel without moving his dagger. 'My mistress, the Princess Gisella, has heard of this thing called a 'picnic.' She is desirous of hosting one. So she will need a dinner service for twelve, table, chairs, all the necessaries for this. And if you know a kitchen which can prepare the correct foods, I should be thankful.'
He glanced up at Rufus. 'And you, my fine friend, shall I be killing you, or finding a use for your brawn? I shall need these goods carted to the place and taken away again. A crown per man for a day's service.'
Rufus nodded while his brothers rubbed their hands together.
'Good. The bargain holds as long as I do not see you again until the appointed day and time. Otherwise, I shall have to kill you. Do you understand?'
'Yes, sir.' Rufus gave Nathaniel a glare, then departed with his brothers.
'I reckon I owe you thanks, Count Joachim.'
The Kessian shrugged, slipped the dagger back into the sheath on his forearm. 'I have a service to request of you, too. And you, Mrs. Warren.'
'Yes, Count Joachim?'
'This evening, the both of you shall attend dinner with my mistress and me. For the sake of propriety, our dinners must be chaperoned and I, quite frankly, have tolerated all the boring people I can abide. This evening it would have been Bishop Bumble and his family, save that his gout is acting up. If you should be so kind.'
'A pleasure, sir.' Rachel smiled.
'I shall send a carriage for you. No fancy dress. My mistress would get to know Mystria's people for who they are, not who they pretend to be.' He clapped his hands. 'This is wonderful. She shall be very happy. And then, tomorrow, Mr. Woods, you shall lead her to meet her husband, and all shall be well.'
Chapter Thirty-Seven
August 25, 1763
Prince Haven
Temperance Bay, Mystria
P rince Vlad waved as Nathaniel rode up to the estate. He and Kamiskwa had just finished supervising Mugwump's feeding. The Altashee had remained down by the river, tickling fish out, while the Prince had changed in anticipation of the Princess' arrival. He wore a blue velvet jacket with gold trim over a fresh white shirt, pants to match jacket, white hose, and black shoes with gold buckles.
'How far back of you are they?'
'Well, 'bout an hour. Maybe more. I set out before they had fully commenced coming.' Nathaniel dismounted, flipped open a saddlebag, and handed the Prince a note sealed by Count von Metternin. 'He said this would explain it all, and that you ain't got no worries.'
The Prince accepted the note. 'Will you tell me of her?'
Nathaniel smiled. 'I was swore not to, and I keep my word on things confidential.'
'Meaning?'
'Meaning I reckon we're going to have us a conversation.' Nathaniel turned the horse over to a stablehand, having shucked his sheathed rifle from the saddle-scabbard. 'The Princess said you was to wait for her in your laboratory. She respected what the Count tole her about you. That's where she's fixing on meeting you.'
Interesting. Though the Count had not seemed horribly fixated on protocol, Vlad had assumed Princess Gisella would be. She'd certainly been schooled in it. She was being sent to him as an instrument of diplomacy, so all that truly mattered was that conventions be observed. If she is not concerned with them, what does concern her?
'And you will share no observations with me?'
'Nope. I do as I is told.'
'I would be more inclined to believe you if you were not clearly so pleased with the situation.'
Nathaniel grinned. 'I might be taking some satisfaction in it.'
'And on this matter you and I need to discuss?'
The woodsman frowned. ''Pears the Count got some notions in his head about Rachel and me. More than gossip notions.'
'That would be because I told him about you after he asked.'
Nathaniel's rifle rested easily in folded arms. 'I'll grant you got spine to just up and say it that way. Said anything else, I'd a-thumped you.'
The Prince opened his hands. 'Nathaniel, you told me of your situation in confidence, and I do respect that.'
'But you thought sharing it with the Count was just fine and dandy?' Anger gathered on Nathaniel's face.
Vlad did not back down. 'I employ you as my agent. I am responsible for you. I am responsible for your actions. What you told me was told in confidence, because you trusted me. You trusted me not to hurt you, and I have not. The Count has his duties, and they require him to trust you, too. He could only do that if I disclosed things that would counteract any gossip he heard about you.'
Nathaniel shook his head. 'How do you know you can trust him?'
'Does he seem like the sort of man to gossip about another man's affairs?'
'Hain't seen nothing to suggest he is, but he could be fooling you and me.'
'He could, but he knows the worth of a man. And he knows two things about you. One, I value you as the best woodsman in Mystria. Second, he knows that if social opprobrium was something you cared about, you would never go near Temperance again.'
'You still oughtened to have said nothing.'
Vlad blinked. 'Do you think he could not have learned everything?'
'Not the truth of it.'
'But close enough that he, being clever, could have figured it out.' Vlad started ticking points off on his fingers. 'Rachel Warren has two children. Ason, six, Humble Warren, who looks nothing like his father and a daughter, three, Charity, who, poor thing, looks too much like her father. Her husband has hired people to watch you and watch his wife. He cannot prove anything, but there's scant few people in Temperance who aren't certain what is happening.'
Nathaniel ran a hand over his mouth. 'I reckon what you say is true and all, but you oughtened not to have said nothing.'
'I am sorry I broke your confidence, Nathaniel. I would not have done so if matters of very great import did not hinge on it.' The Prince squeezed the other man's shoulder. 'One thing you may not understand is that most people who hear the stories don't think badly of you. They know what happened. If Zachariah Warren was shot dead in the middle of Sunday services, half the congregation would claim not to have seen anything, and the rest wouldn't agree on what had happened.'
Nathaniel shook his head. 'I wouldn't never murder him.'
'I know.' The Prince nodded solemnly. He believed Nathaniel, and even believed that Nathaniel believed his words, but then Nathaniel didn't know of the Prince's other violation of trust. Four years earlier, when Nathaniel and Kamiskwa had been out on a hunting expedition, word had come that Zachariah Warren, in a drunken rage, had beaten his wife and exerted his marital rights. Vlad had bought the silence of the two female servants in the Warren house and had sent them to his mother's plantation in Fairlee.
He also summoned Zachariah Warren to Government House and explained very carefully how, if he ever hit his wife again, his business would burn to the ground. The Prince informed him that no bank in Norisle would ever again grant him any sort of credit, and the Prince would see to it that he was driven into utter ruin. Vlad had assured him
