not the only man who has been helping himself to pretty things that do not rightfully belong to him.”
Cluyne’s expression appeared carved out of granite, making Marco wonder what the duke had been told about the true purpose of his presence here.
Not much, he decided. Lord Tappan had been the one to request that Marco’s name be added to the guest list. But despite the baron’s position in the Foreign Office, and his upcoming trip to Vienna as part of the English delegation, he was not privy to the real role that Marco played with Lord Lynsley’s secret intelligence service within English government.
Lies and deception. By now they fit like a second skin, thought Marco as he smoothed a wrinkle from his sleeve. His cover as a rakish reprobate, interested in only the pleasures of the flesh, kept anyone from asking any serious questions about his presence in London.
“I daresay Ghiradelli will be on his best behavior here,” said Tappan lightly. “The duke’s treasures are perfectly safe.”
Cluyne tightened his jaw. “I should hope so.”
“Tell me, Vronskov, is it true that your tsar is seeking Prussian support for the creation of an independent Poland?” asked Tappan, tactfully seeking to change the subject. “We hear that in return for giving up some of his coastal ports, he will agree to the annexation of Saxony.”
“There are many rumors floating around,” countered the Russian. “Tell me, does England view the idea with favor?”
“Ah, well, that would depend on a number of things….”
Marco listened to the discussion for a bit, then excused himself to go talk with the French envoy who was holding court on the other side of the room.
A cousin of Prince Talleyrand, the Foreign Minister of France, Rochambert was one of the lucky aristocrats whose family had managed to escape the terror of the Revolution’s early years. Aided by his powerful relative, the Frenchman had risen to an influential post in the diplomatic service and would be representing the newly restored Bourbon monarchy in Vienna. Whether France saw Russia or Austria as its main ally was a key question.
Concentrate. Marco forced his gaze away from Kate as he made his way past several other groups of guests. It was going be hard enough keeping all the names and alliances straight in his head without adding a distraction. This gathering was a little like a chess game, with the international envoys jockeying for position on the board while using the countries of Europe as their pawns.
The balance of power rested on the outcome of the conference, and one errant move could prove costly for England.
He sipped his wine, feeling the tiny bubbles explode against his tongue. The prickling sensation somehow seeped through his throat and slid down his spine.
The actual war might be over, but Marco had a feeling that the battlefield was still as treacherous as ever.
“Miss Woodbridge, do come sit beside me.” The Countess of Duxbury patted the plump pillows of the sofa. “I have heard much about you from my younger brother and am delighted to finally make your acquaintance.”
Kate cast an apologetic look at Charlotte. “I suppose that we must make a stab at being social,” she whispered.
The sumptuous supper finally over, the ladies had withdrawn from the dining room, leaving the gentlemen to linger over their port and cigars.
“The invitation did not include me,” observed Charlotte under her breath. “You go on. I shall oversee the setting up of tea.”
Repressing a sigh, Kate joined Lady Duxbury. Given the fact that she shunned most of Society’s parties, she couldn’t imagine what the countess had heard from her brother.
“Ah, finally a chance for a comfortable coze.” The countess flashed a dimpled smile. A statuesque brunette, she wore a stylish gown cut to show off her flawless alabaster skin and well-endowed bosom. An expensive gold necklace, highlighted by diamonds and a large teardrop topaz, accentuated the creamy expanse of cleavage.
The widow did not appear to be mourning her marital state, thought Kate with a touch of cynicism. Though she paid little attention to tittle-tattle, it was hard to avoid seeing the frequent mention of the lady’s name in all the newspaper gossip columns.
“As I said, I’ve been quite anxious to meet you,” added Lady Duxbury.
“I’m flattered,” murmured Kate. “But perhaps your brother has me confused with someone else. I don’t go out much in Society.”
“Oh, make no mistake, he definitely knows who you are.” A mischievous gleam lit the lady’s brown eyes. Lowering her voice, she added, “Apparently you threatened to