Fates for Apate (4 page)

C
HAPTER
F
IVE

"May I have this dance?"

George turned to see that Mr. Rokiczana was looking at her keenly, waiting for her reply. She had, she thought, finally mastered the pronunciation of his name. The ‘rock’ at the beginning and ‘ah’ at the end had been easy enough; it was the middle that had been difficult, as though made of sounds halfway between English pronunciations. Not quite ‘ee’ or ‘ye’, not quite ‘sha’ or ‘cha’. Something between. But she'd heard it enough this last week and a half that it had settled in, it’s own unique sound.

He was, apparently, universally liked. The ladies found him attractive and attentive. The gentlemen found him a good sport. She hadn't even been trying to find out more, but it seemed she couldn't escape hearing about him. No one was that well liked. It made her suspicious.

She looked around. "Are you speaking to me?"

He grinned at her. "Yes, Mrs. Appleton, may I have this dance?"

"Surely you can understand my confusion, as I'm the only lady that you haven't danced with at all. Ever."

He bit his bottom lip as though suppressing a laugh. "Are you saying I've been negligent?"

"Oh, I have been assured by everyone here that you are unfailingly attentive. It seems that the Lord Himself has seen fit to set down one of His angels here in Vienna to oversee the proceedings, you are so well regarded."

He rolled his eyes at the ceiling and chuckled. "How is it that you can make something that should be a compliment seem an insult instead?"

She arched a brow at him but he looked unrepentant. 

The first notes of the waltz started and he swept her into his arms and onto the dance floor so quickly that she gasped. Her first thought was she was pleased they were only dancing and not fighting, since he had taken her completely by surprise. His speed rivaled that of her friend Sabre.

He was a shade too close, much as he had been the last time they spoke. On a turn he pulled her closer still, asking, "Is there anything I can do to make you regard me well?"

George accidentally gave a graceless snort.

Mr. Rokiczana laughed, the sound as warm and rich as his eyes. "I see. You think me irredeemable. Obviously ignoring you has left you cold and indifferent to me. Would you care for compliments, Mrs. Appleton? Your skin is as light and smooth as priceless porcelain. Your eyes hold the secrets of the deepest forests, such a lovely mix of brown and green. Am I gaining any ground?" 

“Your words are full of flowers and good smelling," George said tartly. "I wonder if, like most flowers, they will wilt away in short time leaving nothing but a lonely brown stem?”

“Perhaps. But there are many kinds of flowers. The thistle offers just enough beauty to draw you near, but once you have taken the time to reap them, you find yourself bloodied. The scars may last a very long time.”

“And I suppose the rose too attractive to not risk a few thorns for the joy of counting your romantic success?”

His smile brightened. Odd man, to enjoy her provoking him but not flirting with him. “Verily so. But ultimately I prefer the raspberry blooms. There is a promise of sweet providence. While the thorns may shred and the attendant bees may sting, the reward makes the endeavor worth doing. Seat me in a berry patch and you will find me a happy man."

George couldn't help herself, she found she was smiling back at him. She couldn't even feel chagrined. Somehow he had deviled her until she felt a moment of delight, a pure joy that she hadn't felt in more years than she cared to count. For that one moment she wasn't worried, she wasn't even thinking. Just floating in his arms, enjoying the feel of him against her. Enjoying the look he gave her, as though he approved of her vicious tongue.

* * *

Casimir had to fight his impulse to pull her even closer during this slow waltz, since they were dancing at a nearly scandalous distance as it was. But her smile was intoxicating. It was worth war and deprivation. Had he ever seen her give this smile to her husband then he would have stayed clear. Alas, she had chosen to grace him with it and now he found himself in sympathy with Paris for stealing Helen. Had he a smidgen less honor he would drag her from this room and beg her until she gave him her kisses and her body as well. Her smile slowly faded to something sadder, then on their next turn she stepped in to rest her head on his shoulder. He tensed. This was a pose only indulged in by a married couple that had no qualms in showing their love. He considered looking around the room to ascertain where Appleton was, to see if the man was furious over his wife's actions. But she was warm and supple in his arms. Certainly it wasn't too great a sin to enjoy the feel of her slender curves pressed against him. If he thought she was flirting to manipulate him again he would have pushed her away. But this felt like something else. It felt like... It felt like affection and comfort. If he wasn't enjoying it so much that thought would have panicked him. She was effortlessly engaging a number of his emotions that he normally held separate from those outside his closest circles.

When the music ended she stepped back and stared down at her clasped hands for a moment before looking at him again. Her eyes were red-rimmed and glistened with unshed tears. Her words were unexpected.

"Mr. Rokiczana, please don't ask me to dance again."

Then she left not only the dance floor, but the ball.

* * *

George wasn't sure quite what had happened to her. She had gone from nearly laughing with delight to leaning on Mr. Rokiczana as though he were her closest friend and she in need of comforting. But it had all happened so fast. Thinking on how long it had been since she had experienced pure delight made her consider why. Made her think of her parents, her home. Made her think of the secrets she had begun keeping well before she became a spy.

To have such thoughts, to run such a gamut of emotions in ten minutes, to lean on him as though he were the solution to her problems made her realize that Mr. Rokiczana was a very, very dangerous man. At least for her.

"What was that, then?"

She could hear Appleton's heavy step coming up behind her. The last thing she wanted was to deal with his boorish attitude, especially as she had given him reason for complaint.

"It was nothing."

"Nothing? Remember that your behavior reflects on me. You shan't be an utter embarrassment to me or I shall pack you off back to England."

She turned on him, fury lacing her tone. "Really? Perhaps you should remember that you are not truly my husband. I do not live on your sufferance. I will go where my superiors tell me to,
when
my superiors tell me to. It might jolly well be
you
who would be packed off to England without recourse if our relationship seems untenable."

Her words rocked him back on his heels a bit, but he narrowed his gaze at her. "You are too full of yourself by half."

"On the contrary, I happen to know exactly what I'm capable of. It would be wise of you not to test my limits."

She had pushed him to the point of seething, his fists clenched at his sides. With a few more well-chosen words she might provoke him into using those fists. It was a dangerous risk for her to fight a man of his size and strength, especially as she wouldn't feel free to damage him. But it was tempting to use him to vent her anxiety and frustration. Perhaps she should just thank God that she wasn't married to him in truth.

She spun on her heel and continued on her way to the front door so that she could go to her quarters in peace.

C
HAPTER
S
IX

Casimir stood at the window of his room, staring out into the darkness. There were few stars in evidence and the crispness of the night made its way through the glass to him. The fire in his hearth had burned down some time ago but he didn't care to stoke it yet. The night was peaceful and would soon give way to dawn. Wladek snored in the room next door, reminding him of the sleep he was missing.

What to make of Mrs. Appleton? She had completely distracted him. He should be spending his time thinking about how to best serve his people. How to keep their region from being fought over and chewed up like a tasty bone tossed down among dogs. Of the nations referred to as the ‘Four Great Powers’ at the Congress, only Britain had little to gain directly from Polish lands. Russia, Prussia, and Austria had all warred across his country for generations, taking what they wanted and cursing the people to servitude.

But he wasn’t thinking about how to help his people. Instead he was up all night thinking about a woman he had no business thinking about. But she had felt right in his arms. So few times in his life had things felt
right
. He rubbed at his tired eyes.

Regardless of how she made him feel, she was claimed by another. And it wasn't as if he were free to make any decisions he might want to for himself. Even though the engagement that his father arranged had failed, and badly, that didn't mean that he could act without thinking of what was best for his people.

But for a moment, as dawn tinged the horizon with a faint blush, he closed his eyes and imagined if he could. If they were both free to discover more about the attraction between them. Then he rested his forehead on the cold glass and tried desperately to send those thoughts away.

* * *

George had, she was fairly certain, met and talked to every man in the Prussian delegation and most of their wives. With the exception of Mr. Rokiczana they had all behaved as she expected. Receptive to her subtle flirtations and close-mouthed about their true purpose here. She had been here nearly a month and was no closer to building a relationship she thought she could exploit for information. Only Mr. Rokiczana had been different. She still felt him watching her from time to time, though when she looked at him he always looked away. She knew that he was dangerous for her peace of mind, but as she was currently unable to establish a rapport with anyone else it seemed the best course of action was to approach him again. Time was flying quickly and her reports to Robert had thus far been terribly short of useful information. She wondered if his other agents were having as difficult a time with the other delegations.

She approached the refreshments table as Mr. Rokiczana was ladling a glass of punch. 

"Is that for me?"

His movements paused at the sound of her voice, then he finished filling the glass. "Of course," he said easily, handing it to her. "I've been filling them for you at each ball without fail and they would sit here alone and undrunk. I'm glad that you finally noticed."

Although his words were teasing, he had a reserve that she didn't typically associate with him. "Thank you. It must be frustrating to labor in vain." She ran her finger around the rim of her glass, considering him. "I only asked you not to dance with me, not to avoid me entirely."

His smile was wry and he crossed his arms and looked away before answering her. Protective and withdrawn stance? Why? "You must understand that English is not my first language. I'm sure I miss many meanings."

Perhaps he wouldn't be receptive to her machinations after all. Somehow she had wounded his pride? She wasn't sure. She switched to German. "We can talk in other languages if you like."

That drew his gaze back to hers and he said something in another language that by tone she took to be a question, but for the life of her she had no idea what it meant.

"What language is that?"

"Polish." He moved away from the table and she thought he would brush past her, but he stopped at her side, holding her elbow as he whispered into her ear, first in the sibilant language he had identified as Polish, then with what she assumed was the English translation. "Your beauty makes the nymphs weep that they do not have skin so fine or hair so lustrous. I only pray that you arrived on the west wind of fortune."

George felt herself flush. She knew that he was an inveterate flirt, but hearing his compliments murmured so earnestly directly into her ear had affected her. She understood why the ladies formed a clutch to greet him at the door. With the barest of effort he could make her
feel
. Her, Georgiana Lockhart, who had buried her feelings so deep for so long that even she wasn't sure what they were anymore. Spending time with him would be terribly dangerous but she had to try. She set the punch cup down and looked around to see if anyone had paid them any attention. After a moment she left the ballroom.

* * *

Casimir decided to make an early night of it. She smelled of orange blossoms. Her scent had teased his memory for some time, but tonight leaning close to her he realized her scent was of orange blossoms. Of course she wore a citrus scent. The combination of sweet and tart suited her.

He pushed open the final door to the street and breathed in the night air. Crisp but not too cold. His walk back to his quarters should keep him warm. Soon it would be Christmas. Considering that the Congress held an endless number of balls for no apparent reason, he couldn't imagine what would happen once the season was upon them.

"Mr. Rokiczana."

She was behind him. She was here alone on the street with him, easily a dozen steps from the safety of the assembly. He wasn't sure if he was overjoyed to have her to himself, or angry that she would put herself in such danger. He turned and she stopped suddenly, only a few steps away from him.

"Yes, Mrs. Appleton?"

She had at least put on a spencer jacket before stepping outside, but the chill of the air was turning her breath to frost. He wanted to pull her close and warm her.

"Gina," she said.

"Beg pardon?"

"My name. My name is Gina."

He found himself taking an involuntary step towards her. "Gina?"

She nodded. Her nose was already turning red in the cold. "I don't like being called Appleton."