Susan Johnson (21 page)

“Stay near,” Duras quietly ordered.

“Yes, sir. I’ll direct the cook to make some nourishing dishes for the lady, if you agree.”

“Yes, certainly. Now, you must follow his regimen, darling,” Duras went on, casting an admonishing glance at Teo.

“I shall be very pleased to nourish myself and the baby, Andre. You needn’t become authoritarian on that account,” she sweetly said.

“No authority intended, darling.”

This from the man who held power over France’s armies, over the future of the Republic. Mingen gave the countess considerable points for spirit.

*  *  *

Duras called for Bonnay before supper to go over the most pressing of their duties. And after Bonnay had offered Teo his salutations and good wishes, the men retired to a small table set near the fireplace to prioritize their agenda.

“How long will we be here?” Bonnay asked, his voice kept low.

“Perhaps a week.”

His shock showed.

“Teo can’t be moved until then.” Duras spoke in an undertone, as well.

“What if the Austrians attack?”

“Our intelligence reports indicate no movement anywhere on the front.”

“But if they do?”

“Then we move,” Duras quietly said.

“How ill is the countess?”

“She’s not ill. She may be pregnant.”

“Still?” Bonnay had seen all the blood last night.

“Teo’s hopeful.”

“And the doctor?”

There was the minutest pause. “With reservations, hopeful as well.”

“So we’re waiting—”

“Until she’s better,” Duras confirmed. “Bring Cholet out here and those of the staff we’ll need to expedite the retreat to Zurich.”

“We’ll be operating the rear guard?” Bonnay noted with faintly raised eyebrows.

“Neither of us has done that for a while,” Duras drolly replied.

His chief of staff chuckled. “Not since the retreat from Caldiero. We harassed the Austrians with a vengeance that time.”

“We’ll take them again, but hopefully from Zurich.”

“The regiments from Chur are almost there.”

“And the Sargans headquarters staff?”

“En route.”

“Good. I need a small company to bring Teo’s maidservant out.”

“Done. What are we going to do with Turreau’s regiments at Schwyz?”

“It’s an indefensible position with so few men. They’ll have to come in.”

“What of the Chechens?”

“They’re still alive?” Duras murmured.

“Considering their wounds, they probably won’t last the night,” Bonnay obligingly replied.

“I’m surprised they haven’t bled to death yet.” Duras’s voice was without pity.

“It’s just a matter of time, I’m sure.”

“See that it is.”

They spoke then of less emotional issues, the organization of the necessary defenses at Zurich of primary importance. They discussed the first line of defense and the second and third, as well, since the archduke’s large army presented a formidable foe. His attack was inevitable, with his troops poised to invade. It was just a question of time.

While they talked, Bonnay jotted down notes for the dispatches that would have to be relayed to their commanders. There was a certain amount of initial coordination they could accomplish from a distance, but the quintessential defense would require Duras there in person. Bonnay hoped like hell Archduke Charlie was having another one of his spells.
¹¹
Then with luck this week in Neuwilen wouldn’t have disastrous consequences.

Dinner that night was in the way of a celebration for the prospective family unit. The table had been moved
closer to the fire, and bundled in blankets, Teo was allowed to sit up for a short time. She was beaming with happiness as was Duras and when she proposed a toast to their child, Duras felt a miraculous awe that surprised him. He thought himself a thoroughly pragmatic man.

“I feel absolutely wonderful,” Teo exclaimed, enjoying the champagne bubbles in her nose. “Herr Mingen is a wizard.”

“He’s a very clever man,” Duras agreed, smiling at Teo over the rim of his glass.

“Have you rewarded him?”

“Not yet.”

“What do you mean, not yet?” she anxiously inquired, a flicker of fear in her eyes.

“I just meant I’ve been too busy. But I shall, darling. I’m grateful beyond words for his skill.”

“That’s better,” she said, the relief in her voice audible.

“You’re supposed to relax and not worry. Remember what Anton said just before dinner. Have you thought of any new names?” he inquired, wishing to divert her thoughts to less fearful ones.

“Do you have any family names?”

“None I’d use,” he said, grinning.

“Were your father’s and mother’s names so odd?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to tell me?”

His smile was roguish. “I don’t think so.”

“Then how did you acquire such a normal name?”

“A priest suggested it as a compromise. I was three months old and my parents couldn’t agree on a name. My father was raiding on the Ionian Sea at the time. My real name is Andreas.”

“Perhaps you’d like an Andreas to follow you?”

“Not particularly,” he said with a small shake of his head. “I have no dynastic impulses.”

“Do you have any preferences?”

“None at all,” he pleasantly replied. “You name the child.”

“Would you mind a Russian name?”

His gaze narrowed briefly and then he said, “Not if you wish it.”

“My mother’s family was Russian.”

His brows quirked in inquiry. “Siberia is a long way from Russia proper.”

“My grandfather, Prince Samarin, had been exiled.”

“He couldn’t have approved of his daughter’s marriage to a native.”

“Society meant nothing to him. His concern was only with my father’s political views. He knew how dangerous it was to oppose the state and he wished more security for his daughter.” Teo paused, her mind flooded with memory. “He died by his own hand,” she slowly went on, “when he learned of my mother’s death. Mama was his last surviving child.”

“A Russian name would be fine,” Duras softly said, thinking Teo had been very alone in the world.

“Thank you.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I didn’t think it would matter after all these years.” She offered a tentative smile.

“You never forget,” Duras said, reaching across the table to touch her hand. His own parents had been dead for years and he thought of them often. “But we can begin our own family. We
are
beginning our family,” he added with a smile.

“You have to win this war.” Her voice was earnest.

“I intend to.”

“And then you’ll take me home to Nice?”

He smiled. “First thing.”

“I’ve never been on a yacht.”

“You’ll like it,” he simply said, not mentioning she’d be the first woman to step foot on the
Marguerite
.

“As long as you’re there, I will.”

“I’ll always be there.”

Her gaze held his in quiet appeal. “I’m frightened sometimes … with all the—”

“I’ll keep you safe,” Duras promised. “This won’t happen again.” He had bodyguards in place against any eventuality.

She took a small shaky breath, trying to suppress the awful memories. “Thank you for finding me.”

“I would have found you anywhere in the world.”

“I’m so weepy again,” she apologized, wiping her eyes with the napkin.

“You went through too much.” He inhaled to steady himself, vengeance gripping his senses. “You shouldn’t have suffered so,” he soothed, repressing the violence of his feelings. The Chechens had died slowly that afternoon; he’d had their veins opened, but he wished to kill them again for what they’d done to Teo. “Do you like Mingen’s menu?” he abruptly queried as if he were a guest at a dinner party making conversation.

“I do,” she said, sniffing.

Leaning over, he took the wet napkin from her hand and wiped away her tears. “Then you should eat more,” he coaxed. “My baby needs some food.”

“I love when you say that,” she whispered. “I love having your baby.”

“I’d like to lock the world away and sail off in my yacht with you. And never come back.”

“Someday we will.”

“I’ll see that it happens.”

He was a man of great strength and resources, and in the following days, he set to work realizing his goals. Goals that would have daunted a lesser man. He had a war to win. Bonnay and Cholet were permanent residents
in the small bedroom on the second floor, and dispatches were sent off in a continuous cavalcade of couriers. Teo was cosseted and fed and superintended with fond and chary prudence by Duras, Mingen, and a great number of servants. She protested once she felt like the goose being fattened for Christmas. “Just fattened for me,
ma chère
,” Duras had murmured. “And I’ll adore every blossoming curve.”

When Mingen pronounced her ready to travel two days short of a week, a coach was readied with a bed so soft, none of the bumps and potholes in the road would jar its precious cargo. Duras rode with Teo occasionally, but he and Bonnay were more often riding alongside, working, Cholet between them scribbling as fast as he could.

Tamyr met them at Bassersdorf and Teo was pampered and ordered about like a child for the remainder of the journey to Zurich. But she was grateful for Tamyr’s common-sense advice and company. The baby was still safe, Mingen and Tamyr had confirmed. Duras was at her side; the Austrians weren’t on the march yet.

It was a blessed respite.

The quarters found for them in Zurich were per Duras’s instructions—the first consideration that of security. And when he lifted Teo from the carriage in the curved drive and walked with her to the doorway, he said with a smile, “Welcome to our first home.”

Teo glanced up at the imposing façade of the villa dramatically situated on the heights of the Zurichberg, and then at his smiling face. “You’re going to spoil me.”

I’m going to keep you safe, he thought. “With the greatest of pleasure,” he said instead. “Make a wish when I carry you over the threshold.”

The door opened then as though by unspoken command and a stately butler stood at attention in a vast, vaulted hall.

Ignoring him, Duras dropped a light kiss on Teo’s nose. “Ready?”

She shut her eyes briefly and then, opening them, nodded.

And as he moved in a long-legged stride across the porch and over the threshold, he felt a level of happiness formerly unknown. He always wished for the same thing—long life. Confident, assured, he could ensure the rest himself.

Keep him safe
, Teo wished as he swung her over the threshold. After that, she thought, everything was possible.

With Tamyr to care for Teo and a heavy guard placed around her, Duras left shortly after to make an inspection of his entire front. He recommended to the Directory that the advanced fortress of Mannheim, on the right bank of the Rhine, should be evacuated, as it involved a useless waste of troops in an indefensible position. As for the rest, he saw to the defenses of a lengthy frontier. And as Duras had expected, orders from Vienna were laggard, with the political factions fighting over policy.
¹²

The Austrian Chancellor Thugut wanted to retain the archduke’s army in Bavaria so this force could watch both Prussia and the unreliable German princes. Therefore Charles was restrained from moving into Switzerland. Troubled and despondent, the archduke had one of his nervous spells, which always appeared in times of stress and frustration, and asked for a leave of absence.

While he recuperated on his estates, Feldzeugmeister Count Olivier Wallis took over command and Thugut busied himself with schemes to replace the emperor’s brother Charles.

Duras knew that in Austria political considerations always overrode military plans. Moreover, when he heard Wallis had taken over command, he surmised no major operations were to be undertaken immediately. Grateful the Austrians didn’t follow up their victory at Stockach,
Duras was given a breathing space to redistribute his forces.

The last week in April, Duras returned to Zurich from his inspection tour. His intelligence services reported that Charles had recovered and the emperor had decided to keep him on as army commander.

“I don’t wish to be disturbed tonight,” Duras told his staff as they parted after weeks in the saddle, “unless Charlie is within a league of Zurich.” His smiling gaze took in the full array of officers assembled in his offices. “Enjoy yourselves, gentlemen, and if you can tear yourselves away from the Zurich coquettes by ten tomorrow morning, I’ll see you in my office.” Flinging his saddlebags over his shoulder, he walked toward the door.

“The demireps will miss you, sir,” Vigée merrily countered, a full cognac glass already in his hand.

“I’m sure you can keep them busy,” Duras murmured, exiting the room.

Raising his glass toward the door, Vigée said with a grin, “Any bets whether he gets here by ten?”

“He’ll be here before you,” Bonnay replied, smiling. “I hear Mademoiselle Georgette has been pining away since you were gone.” Vigée’s current mistress wasn’t known for her faithfulness.

“Georgie doesn’t pine, as you well know, Henri,” Vigée retorted, his bright smile undeterred by nuances of infidelity. “I only ask for her undivided attention when I’m here. Beyond that I lay no claim.”

“How
can
you with a wife of independent wealth?” Cholet lightly interposed.

“An intelligent man,” Vigée replied, a roguish lift to his brows. “Luckily Cecile prefers paved streets and the opera nearby.”

“Zurich has paved streets and an opera,” one of the officers said.

Vigée cast him a sportive scowl. “For God’s sake, don’t tell her. Now if any of you gentlemen would care to retire to Georgie’s with me,” he went on with a grin, “she and her pretty friends will try to convince us we were sorely missed.”

As Duras walked through the entrance gate to the villa, he stopped to talk to the troopers standing guard, thanking them for their vigilance.

“Are the Austrians ever going to move, sir?” one soldier asked. “It’s been damned dull.”

“We’ve heard rumors Charlie’s finally coming up to scratch,” another said.