The Three Colonels

agreement in your house, cheri?”

“Absolutely not,” he replied with some force.

“You may need to—observe!” She gestured to the dancers with her fan. Buford saw Caroline dancing with Baron Wolfgang von Odbart.

Buford’s throat tightened; he had learned via his research into the other members of the Congress that Baron von Odbart was a notorious seducer and womanizer. Buford saw no parallel to his own previous behavior; his past conquests had all been voluntary, but the baron’s had not.

“They look lovely, oui? I think she will thank me for the introduction,” the countess purred. “What time shall I expect you tonight, Jean?”

Deep anger flushed Buford’s face. He turned to her, and it took all of the colonel’s discipline not to slap the woman.

“Madam,” he spoke in English through clenched teeth, “I am afraid you are under a mistaken impression of our acquaintance. I shall say no more. If you would excuse me, I shall return to my wife.”

The countess’s jaw dropped slightly. “Have you made un mariage d’amour—the love match?” She laughed again. “Oh, that is too amusing; that cannot be. Not you, cheri.”

Buford pursed his lips but said nothing. He certainly would not reveal his feelings for his wife to her.

A grin touched by malice was on the countess’s face. “You had better hurry, cheri. The dance is finished.”

Buford whirled around. Sure enough, the music had ended, and most of the couples had already left the dance floor. Caroline was nowhere in sight.

*   *   *

After two sets of dancing, Caroline was in need of refreshment, and she noticed that others were like- minded.

“Lady Buford, these tables are so crowded,” said the baron. “Come, there is another near the library.”

Wishing to slake her thirst as soon as possible, she allowed herself to be escorted out of the ballroom. Once they reached the table, the baron gave Caroline a glass of punch. She drank as quickly as a gentlewoman could and shyly requested another.

“Ja, dancing is hot work, is it not?” remarked the baron with polite humor. He handed Caroline her replenished glass. “Here you are, my lady. I am at your command.”

“Thank you, Baron.”

“Sie sind herzlich willkommen—you are most welcome.”

Caroline thought it would be best to make some polite conversation with her companion before she was claimed for the next set. “Have you always lived in Vienna, sir?”

“I was raised in a small village outside Berlin. My estate has been in my family for eight generations.”

“It is very beautiful, I am sure.”

“Ja, es ist ein schoner Ort—a most beautiful place.” He grew very close to Caroline as he eyed the library door. “I will take you there soon, mein schones Madchen.”

“Baron von Odbart, what are you saying?” Caroline asked.

*   *   *

Buford tried not to appear anxious as he walked through the crowd looking for Caroline. Unconsciously, he looked for feathers—Caroline was one of the few ladies wearing them. He had searched the ballroom twice without success, when he noticed M. Talleyrand looking at him. While he was anxious to find his wife, Buford could not ignore the French ambassador.

“Bonsoir, Excellency,” he greeted him in French.

“Good evening, Sir John,” he returned in English. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Very much. Do you join the dance?”

“Non, such pastimes are beyond me. I take pleasure in observing the festivities.” The minister owned a pronounced limp.

“Yes, the ladies are lovely.”

“Oui, tout a fait—yes, indeed. But there is more; one can learn much from watching.” Talleyrand eyed Buford closely.

Buford knew he was trying to alert him. “Absolutely, monsieur.”

Talleyrand sighed. “There is much beauty to be found by a dashing knight. It is everywhere—the ballroom, the dining room, the library…” The sentence hung in the air.

It took Buford a moment to understand the ambassador. “I—excuse me, Excellency. I have enjoyed this enlightening conversation. Merci beaucoup. Bonne nuit.”

“You are very welcome, Sir John. Good night.” Buford headed towards the library. The ambassador watched him go with a glint in his eye.

*   *   *

“Baron von Odbart, what are you saying?” Caroline asked.

“Lady Buford—”

“Ah, there you are, my dear!” said Sir John as he entered the hallway before the library. “Baron, good evening!”

“Sir John!” Caroline exclaimed in surprise and relief. The Prussian glared at the interloper.

“Have you been keeping Seine Exzellenz company? Wunderbar! ” Sir John turned to the baron. He let the Prussian know that he had heard their last exchange and that he spoke German. “Lady Buford takes her duties as my wife seriously—all of them,” he said with a mouth that smiled and eyes that did not.

Baron von Odbart did not reply. The two men locked eyes.

“My dear,” Sir John said, half turning to Caroline but not breaking eye contact with his adversary, “Lady Beatrice was looking for you. She is near the dining room, I believe.” His smile never left his face.

Caroline was confused. She had at last realized that she had been propositioned, but Sir John did not seem to be angry at all. The last time a man did thus, John had threatened to kill him, but now her husband just smiled at the baron.

“I… thank you, dear. Baron, excuse me,” she offered with the barest of civility, before she turned and left for the ballroom.

The two men were left alone. Finally, the baron spoke. “If you will excuse me, I shall return to the ball.”

He is an ambassador—you can do nothing, Buford reminded himself. I cannot challenge him; I cannot! But Buford could not let things lie and remain a man.

“A question first, sir. Do you hunt?”

The baron looked into his eyes. “Ja. Grouse and deer.”

“Musket?”

“Ja.”

“Perhaps we should go shooting together once the spring comes. I am proficient with the musket, rifle, pistol, and bow. I particularly enjoy hunting at dawn. Very productive, you know. I have had many successful… hunts at dawn.”

The baron replied with a grunt.

Buford lowered his voice. “Have you ever hunted with a blade? There is nothing like killing a wild boar with a sabre. The sound it makes when the blade strikes home… ah!” There was a wild look in his eye.

The baron shuddered; the message had been delivered. “I shall remember that. But, excuse me please; I do not think I shall have time to… hunt while in Vienna. The Congress…” he shrugged. “My apologies— bitte entschuldigen Sie. Gute Nacht.”

*   *   *

“Lady Beatrice, you were looking for me?” greeted Lady Buford.

The older lady smiled at her friend. “Why no, but I am glad to see you. Did someone say that I was?”

Caroline’s confusion returned. “Sir John did. I was just with Baron von Odbart—”

Lady Beatrice started. “Baron von Odbart!” She collected herself. “Caroline, is Sir John still with the