Joanna Maitland – His Reluctant Mistress (страница 4)

‘I fancy I see an inn yonder, old fellow,’ Leo said thoughtfully. ‘A good gallop across this turf and we will both be able to rest and refresh ourselves.’ Hector’s ears twitched. He understood the tone of voice, if not the words. Leo stroked him again. ‘Good fellow. Nun,’ he said, touching his heel to the horse’s flank, ‘los!’

Hector responded by lengthening his stride into an effortless canter and then a gallop. Leo bent low over his neck, relishing the breath of the warm wind on his face and the power of the fine beast under him. ‘Sehr gut, Hector. Sehr gut.’ Responding, the horse laid his ears back and flew faster.

Hector was blowing hard by the time they reached the inn. It was a typical country Gasthof, with a steeply pitched roof against the winter snows, and flower-hung wooden balconies on the upper floors. The heavy door stood open into the yard where stable lads were bustling about, unhitching the horses from a fine carriage. It bore no crest, but its gleaming burgundy-purple paint-work, elegantly picked out with gold, suggested that its owner was a man of means.

Leo dismounted and passed Hector’s reins to the ostler. ‘Walk him until he cools and then see he has a good rub down. I shall be returning to the city in an hour or so.’ The ostler frowned in response. He did not move.

Leo swore inwardly. His German was not yet up to this. He explained again, in French. The ostler still looked bewildered.

‘Darf ich Ihnen behilflich sein?’ said a man’s voice from behind him. Then, switching to slightly accented French, ‘May I be of service to you, sir?’

Leo turned to find himself looking down at a much older man dressed in a coat of purple cloth over a purple velvet waistcoat embroidered with gold. Was this the owner of the carriage? Did he match his dress to the colours of his conveyance? He certainly looked extraordinary for, in addition to his splendid clothes, he had eyebrows as extravagant as a Prussian officer’s mustachios.

Leo hoped his smile did not betray his amusement at the thought. ‘Why, thank you, sir,’ he replied. ‘Most kind. I need to ensure the care of my horse.’

‘Pray allow me.’ The purple-clad gentleman translated Leo’s instructions to the nodding ostler. Hector was led away.

‘Thank you, sir.’ Leo bowed. ‘May I have the honour of knowing the name of my interpreter?’

The older man smiled up at Leo. ‘The Baron Ludwig von Beck,’ he said proudly, clicking his heels and bowing from the neck.

Leo returned the bow, in a rather more nonchalant, English fashion. ‘Lord Leo Aikenhead. Most grateful to you, Baron. My German is, sadly, not good. And I doubt that the man speaks English any more than French.’

‘Alas, no. He does not even speak German. Or not German that anyone from my country would recognise.’ He chuckled at his own wit.

‘You are not an Austrian then, Baron von Beck?’

‘No, indeed.’ There was more than a touch of hauteur in his voice. ‘I am a Prussian.’

‘I see. You are attending his Prussian Majesty at the Congress?’

‘No. I am simply returning from Italy. I have been there for some months, seeing the antiquities and buying art for my collection. And you, Lord Leo?’

Leo’s story had been very well rehearsed since his arrival in Vienna. ‘My brother and I have taken the opportunity of Bonaparte’s defeat to travel in Europe,’ he said smoothly. ‘We were planning to go to Italy, but all the world is in Vienna for the moment. Decided to indulge our curiosity and join them. For a few weeks, at least. Promises to be quite amusing, do you not think?’ Leo’s lazy drawl made it sound as if the brothers were a pair of rich wastrels with nothing to do but follow their latest whim. Unflattering, but necessary. While Vienna society believed them to be harmless gawpers, there was a good chance that people would forget to guard their tongues in their company.

‘No doubt. But you must not miss the sights of Italy, sir. You will find it most rewarding. For example, I have spent the last few months in Venice. A beautiful city, sir, beautiful. Have you visited it?’

‘Alas, no. Due to the recent…er…difficulties, it has not been possible. But we do hope to journey there. In a few months. Perhaps, Baron, you would do me the honour of taking a glass of wine with me?’ Leo gestured towards the inn behind them.

Baron von Beck shook his head. ‘Thank you, Lord Leo, but I am afraid I must decline. I am expected shortly in Vienna.’

Leo did not press the invitation. The Baron was scrupulously polite, but there was something about his manner that jarred. Perhaps that stiff-necked pride? Whatever the cause, Leo had no desire to know him better.

The two men took their leave of each other and Leo entered the inn. There, to his relief, he discovered that the innkeeper had more than a smattering of English, plus adequate French, so it was easy for Leo to order a light meal and a bottle of wine. His host showed him into a private parlour where a bright fire was burning in the grate, in spite of the warm weather outside.

Throwing his hat on the settle, Leo sank gratefully into a cushioned chair by the fire and stretched out his legs towards the flames with a sigh of pleasure. A moment later, a pretty blonde servant appeared with his wine. She was wearing a plain gown with a very low-cut neckline that displayed her ample charms.

Leo mumbled his thanks in his best German. She was attractive enough, and he had enjoyed the view, but he had never yet had to resort to the servant classes to find his mistresses. He did not mean to start here in Austria, even though he was beginning to feel the lack of a woman in his bed. Still, there was yet time. Once he was more familiar with the ways of society here, he would be able to choose safely. He was not so desperate that he would put his mission at risk for a quick fumble in a dark corner.

The girl straightened and curtsied, saying something in a broad accent that Leo found totally unintelligible. It seemed that no response was expected, he was glad to note, for she turned and left the room.

Leo felt a sudden draught hitting the back of his neck. She must have failed to close the door properly. No point in calling her back. He rose to shut it himself.

Over the general hubbub of a busy posting inn, he heard raised, angry voices. A man’s and a woman’s. And the woman’s voice, though speaking in what might be German, contained an unmistakable thread of fear.

Leo flung the door wide and strode out into the corridor. Baron von Beck was gripping the arm of a beautiful young lady shrouded in a long, dark cloak, and trying to drag her towards the inn yard. Her hood had fallen back, exposing lustrous black hair, coiled at the back of her head. She was trying, vainly, to push him off with small, gloved hands. Her frightened protests were being drowned by the Baron’s angry words. And all the inn servants seemed to have mysteriously melted away.

Leo did not stop to wonder what might be going on. He simply seized Beck roughly by the shoulder. ‘You go too far, Baron,’ he snarled in French. ‘I suggest you let the lady go.’ When Beck made no move to obey, Leo tightened his grip and forced the man back against the opposite wall, holding him there with his superior strength. He would not free Beck until he was sure that the man’s cowardly attack would not be repeated. Behind them, the lady pulled her cloak more closely around her body, automatically putting up a hand to rub her injured arm.

The two men stared at each other in open hostility for what seemed a long time. For a moment, Leo fancied they were about to come to blows. He stiffened in readiness, but the martial glint soon faded from the Baron’s eyes, to be replaced by injured pride as he recognised that he was outclassed. Leo was relieved. The last thing he wanted was an unseemly brawl at a public inn, especially with a gentle lady as audience. He allowed the Baron to shake himself free.

‘You are very quick to judge, sir,’ Beck said haughtily, pulling himself up to his full height. ‘And on this occasion, your judgement is wrong. Quite wrong.’

‘Nothing justifies such brutal treatment of a lady,’ Leo growled, dismissing the man. He was no longer a threat. Leo turned back to give his full attention to the lady. ‘Perhaps you would like to sit by the fire to recover your composure, madame?’ he said, still in French. The lady looked darkly exotic. He imagined she was more likely to speak French than English.

She swallowed hard and put a gloved hand to her lips. Then she looked up at Leo with glowing dark eyes and nodded slightly.

Ignoring the Baron’s spluttering outrage, Leo ushered the lady into his private parlour and closed the door firmly. She stood for a moment, gazing round the empty room as if she did not know quite where she was. She looked ruffled, Leo decided, like a bird caught by the wind from an unexpected quarter. ‘Will you not be seated, madame?’ Leo pulled forward his own chair and was glad to see the lady smile at last. She was recovering some of her composure. Good.

With exquisite grace, the lady took Leo’s seat by the fire and accepted the glass of wine he offered her. ‘Thank you, sir. You have been most kind. Believe me, I am truly grateful to you for rescuing me.’ Her French was almost perfect, Leo decided. Almost good enough to pass for a native. Almost, but not quite.