replied the officer. “That is Count Grunwald, of the Saxon delegation.”
“Hmmph.” He let out a loud belch. “Need to find Von Buehlen. I’m told he knows the best brothels in town.”
The officer shrugged and walked off.
Marco made a show of draining a glass of punch before returning to Kate. “You are sure that is the man you saw at Lord Tappan’s estate?” They couldn’t afford to make a mistake.
“Positive,” she answered.
He slumped a shoulder to the wall and looked up at the painted plaster ceiling, where a classical scene of cavorting nymphs and naked putti leered down on the modern-day revelry. A gilded reminder that beneath the artful smiles, the guests here were all in pursuit of their own selfish desires.
If Kate was wrong, a king would die.
Dropping his gaze, Marco stole a quick look at her profile. Fatigue smudged her features, yet it could not dim her luminous strength. She had been thrown to the wolves, but rather than swoon with fear, she had faced the snapping jaws without batting her lovely golden lashes.
Light hung for an instant on the curled fringe, a pure pale glimmer of clarity among all the excess. Kate was no innocent, but she had been true to herself. He wanted to lean over and press his lips to her cheek. Somehow, she had lived her life in a tough world without being sullied by its sordidness. It made him feel a little ashamed of his own cowardice. Perhaps one day he would find the courage to face his inner demons.
But that day would have to wait.
“Well done, cara,” he said softly.
“You believe me?” It might have been the brittle clink of the crystal, but her voice seemed to have an odd edge.
“Without a doubt.” Marco twined his fingers in the fringe of her shawl. “Let’s take our leave. I’ll explain in the carriage.”
It wasn’t until the wheels began clattering over the cobbles that he spoke again. “It’s all beginning to make perfect sense. In the wake of Napoleon’s wars, the biggest controversy facing Europe is how to divide the Baltic states. Russia, Austria, and England each has its own agenda, and the Kingdom of Saxony is key to the matter. The king is adamantly opposed to giving up any territory to Prussia. If he were eliminated…” He went on to explain the details that Lynsley had given him on the politics of the region.
“Our sources tell us that Grunwald favors the Russian claim—and he holds great influence over the heir to the throne. If the present king is assassinated, he stands to profit immensely, both in prestige, and no doubt in gold. Tsar Alexander is quite generous when it comes to buying alliances.”
“I see,” said Kate. The window draperies were drawn, leaving the interior of the carriage wreathed in darkness. The gloom seemed to add a certain coolness to her tone.
“We are very fortunate that you are so observant.”
She gave a curt laugh.
Marco drew his brows together. Her nerves seemed strung taut, but then, given all the stresses on her of late, it was a wonder that she hadn’t snapped.
“We’re also lucky that you are so resilient, Kate. I’m sorry that your life has been turned topsy-turvy by forces out of your control.”
The whisper of silk slid across the soft leather. “I’ve survived by knowing how to land on my feet.”
Marco remained silent, unsure how to respond. He had not been nearly as successful in uncovering useful information. The baroness, who usually knew of every bit of gossip between Lisbon and Moscow, had nothing to offer on Lord Tappan. She had been much more interested in turning the talk to a more personal level.
It had taken a very firm hand to keep her lithe little fingers out of his trousers.
He shot a regretful glance in Kate’s direction, wishing he could see a hint of her expression. He longed to wrap himself in her smoky laughter, to taste the heat of her mouth, her skin.
The scent of her—the fragrance of sun and sea—wafted through the blackness. Sweet, elusive.
And then it was gone as the carriage lurched to a halt and Kate flung open the door to let herself out.
Chapter Twenty-five
Woozy with wine, Kate slowly climbed the narrow stairs to their rooms, glad that she had told her maid not to wait up. Her body ached all over. The rigors of traveling and the tension of hunting an elusive quarry had taken a toll, but the pain was more than physical. Her spirit—always her stalwart strength—felt