A Fatal Waltz

me, pulling it close so that he could hold my hand. His grip was tight, his expression serious. “I’m much more concerned about what Harrison’s done to you. I can’t have you hurt.” 

“I’ll have to be more careful about going places alone.” 

“You’ll have to stop doing it entirely,” he said. “It’s an unnecessary risk. Can you count on Bainbridge to accompany you when you need him?” 

“Yes, of course.” I spoke rather too quickly, immediately feeling nervous and wanting to redirect the conversation. “I’m still worried about you. I think you’re a bit too cavalier about your own safety. Why couldn’t Schröder hurt you?” 

“Because, my dear, I am at least four times as clever as he, and I’ve dealt with adversaries more sinister than he can ever hope to be. I can take care of myself.” 

“But—” 

“In my line of work this sort of thing falls in the realm of the ordinary. You needn’t worry.” I did not reply. He was unnervingly calm, not flustered in the least to have his life threatened. I couldn’t imagine anyone could be so immune to such a thing, regardless of his line of work. “I’m sorry, Emily, I can see you’re troubled. I can’t expect that this won’t be hard for you, but I don’t want to have to shelter you from these things.” 

“I’d never want that,” I said, knowing it to be true, but wishing that it weren’t so difficult. “My head hurts, that’s all.” 

“I’m so sorry.” He placed a gentle hand on my cheek, leaned forward, and kissed me. “You’re going to try to see Schröder tonight?” 

“Yes. I’ve no illusions about him giving me information about his plot. I only want to determine whether it’s possible he has ties to Britain.” 

“I’ve a meeting at the Hofburg, or I’d come with you. You’re taking Bainbridge?” 

“Yes.” Jeremy again. I bit my lip, debating whether to tell Colin about the kiss. Honesty is, in theory, always the right choice. But what good could come of full disclosure in this situation? I remained silent, wondering if I was setting a bad precedent. 

“Good. He’ll keep you safe.” The easy manner with which he said this cut, filling me with guilt. Lying, even by omission, didn’t come easily to me. “I wish I could do it myself.” 

“So do I,” I said, again feeling the urge to change the subject. “The Countess von Lange tells me she’s a friend of Herr Schröder’s. Do you know what their connection is?” I asked. 

“I didn’t know they had one.” 

“Are you certain that you can trust her, Colin? I say that not as your fiancée but as your colleague.” 

“Together we’ve faced difficult foes, and she’s never once let me down.” 

“But is the situation different now?” I asked, unable to meet his eyes. 

“Because I’ve left her? You think she’s a woman scorned?” 

“No, I don’t think she’d allow herself to be scorned.” I had to tread carefully here, or I would look like a jealous society girl. “But she knows Schröder. Why doesn’t she find out for us what we need to know? She wouldn’t even give me the names of his compatriots. I don’t expect her to befriend me, but—” 

“Did it occur to you that she might be acting like this to give you room to solve things for yourself? How would you feel if she were to swoop in and save Robert?” 

“It wouldn’t trouble me in the least so long as he was out of Newgate.” 

“I don’t think that’s true, Emily. Maybe she’s helping you more than you know. Her husband brought you the list of names, correct?” I nodded. “Do you really believe that he got it without her knowledge? She’s far too careful to allow such a thing.” 

“I’ll defer to your judgment this time. Don’t, however, expect me to make a habit of it.” I wanted to ask him if he’d seen her the previous night, why she’d come to him this afternoon. I wanted to further question his faith in her. But if I were to keep my small secret from him, I could hardly expect him to divulge everything to me. I trusted him enough to allow him secrets of his own. 

That said, if the countess had dropped suddenly off the face of the earth, I would have felt very little regret. A person’s maturity can only be expected to go so far. 

That evening we took a fiacre to the Ofenloch, leaving the classic elegance of the Ringstrasse behind us and descending into the grimy neighborhoods where Herr Schröder’s associates lived. If they were dingy during the day, they were darkly terrifying at night, when the figures that stepped out of shadows would be unidentifiable until they were too close to escape from, even by running. Jeremy sat across from Cécile and me, keeping quiet and looking sullen the whole way. 

“I have never seen you so dull,” Cécile said, leaning forward and poking him with her walking stick. “Have you grown tired of protecting hapless females when you could be courting a mistress?” 

How I wished she’d said anything but that.

“I find doing anything on behalf of hapless females tedious—not that it stops me, mind you. But though Emily could be described as many things, hapless is not one of them.” 

I smiled at him, but he did not look at me. Instead, he was staring intently at his gloves. 

“I cannot have you glum,” Cécile said. “It is intolerable. I spent the entire afternoon with Friedrich and Anna and cannot stand even one instant more of romantic angst.” 

“Angst?” I asked. “I thought they were blissfully happy?” 

“Oh they are, chérie. Until they remember that their time together is limited. Then it’s all weeping and sighing and—” She stopped and shrugged. 

“I can assure you, Madame du Lac, that there is no angst of any form in this carriage tonight,” Jeremy said. 

Cécile reached over and took his hand. “I’m so glad, mon ami. I was afraid you had decided to never flirt with me again.” She winked at him, and he laughed. 

“Far from it,” he said, kissing her hand. “You’re irresistible.” 

“And old enough to be your mother,” she said. “I begin to care less and less that you are not so handsome as Monsieur Hargreaves.” 

“Coming from you, madame, that is a compliment of the highest order.” The carriage slowed as we reached our destination. Jeremy paid the driver and helped us down from our seats. The street was filthy, and a man stumbling in an intoxicated blur nearly knocked into me as we made our way to the door of the Ofenloch. Jeremy steered me to safety with a firm arm, a thin smile on his face. I wanted to make a teasing remark about him rescuing me, but no longer felt I could do such a thing. My head hurt all the more at the realization of this. 

The inside of the tavern was not at all what I had expected, particularly given its surroundings. An enormous fireplace filled the room with a cozy warmth, and boisterous laughter came from the patrons who occupied nearly every table. There was a bright energy about the place, a sort of sincerity in the atmosphere that I hadn’t often felt. 

“There’s Rina,” Jeremy said, walking towards her without pausing to make sure we were following. When he reached her, he bowed as carefully as he would have at a party at Buckingham Palace. He kissed her hand, and she blushed, her expression turning hard the moment Cécile and I reached them. 

“I brought your muff,” she said, grabbing it from a chair and thrusting it at me. She was wearing what must have been her best dress, a carefully constructed copy of last year’s latest fashion. The material, a soft wool, claret-colored, was worn but well cared for. 

“I meant for you to keep it,” I said, hoping this would not embarrass her. She looked at me through narrow eyes. 

“I s’pose you’ve got so many you won’t miss one?” 

“Not at all.” I had no desire to flaunt my wealth. “But it looks lovely with your hair and ought to be yours.” 

“Then I guess I might as well keep it.” She tried to glare at me, but I could see in the dim light that her eyes were shining, just a bit. “Who’s your friend?” 

“I am Cécile du Lac.” She shook the girl’s hand and sat down at the table. “What shall we eat? I’m famished.” 

This seemed to take Rina by surprise, as she jumped and looked at Jeremy, who sat across from