A Foreign Affair by Evelyn Richardson Page B

myself quite overcome with the noise, the heat. ..” Helena pressed her band to her brow, and doing her very best to imitate her mother’s charming die-away air, allowed herself to lean more heavily on Brett’s arm. “I beg your indulgence, sir, and yours, Major, but I am very much afraid I must ask you to restore me to our carriage, if you would be so kind.”
    “But of course. It must be rather overwhelming for a delicate young lady.” Augustus von Stieglitz turned and held out his arm to clear a path for them through the crowd.
    “I do apologize. Miss Devereux. You should have told me sooner that you were not feeling quite the thing.” Taken by surprise at this sudden sign of weakness, Brett glanced down at his companion.
    “Oh, it is nothing, I . . .” Helena broke off as she tried unobtrusively to get a good look at the Franz, who had been talking to von Stieglitz and had remained behind when his companion stepped forward to converse with Brett. Taller than von Stieglitz, with a narrow bearded face and wearing clothes that were as common as his speech, he seemed an odd companion for the clearly aristocratic von Stieglitz. Yet his bearing had been the rigidly straight posture of a soldier. Helena frowned thoughtfully as she tried to make sense of the entire episode.
    Even more puzzled by Helena’s sudden fit of abstraction, Brett studied her closely. The sudden weakness had seemed most uncharacteristic in the redoubtable Miss Devereux, who now appeared to have recovered miraculously once they parted company with Augustus von Stieglitz. She was as sprightly and alert as ever, though preoccupied, and she no longer dung to his arm as she marched determinedly back to the carriage. “Why did you not mention your relationship with the von Hohenbacherns to von Stieglitz? I would have thought he would have been delighted to encounter someone with such an interest in and sympathy for German affairs.”
    “Saxon.” Helena corrected him.
    Brett stared at her blankly.
    “The man is a Saxon,” she reiterated fiercely. “I could tell by his accent when he spoke with the man behind us. After Napoleon embarked on his conquest of the German states. Saxony became one of his most loyal allies, and many of the Saxons, especially the younger generation, were his great admirers. In fact, they are still. Did you not think it odd that he asked you about the troops being sent to America, or that he was even aware of it?”
    “No.” Brett was more at sea than ever.
    “The more troops Britain has in America, the fewer she can call on here should there be war in Europe. Not everyone is glad to have Napoleon beaten and the old monarchies restored. Some of the younger generation of Germans welcomed the democratic ideals that the revolution represented and that Napoleon brought to the conquered territories. They do not want life to return to the way it was.”
    “What? Surely you are not suggesting . . . why the man is miles away, on an island, cut off from the rest of Europe by ocean on all sides.”
    Helena shrugged. There was a dismissive tone in his voice that she found thoroughly annoying. “That may very well be true, but as you have already admitted, you have not the least knowledge of European politics.”
    “But it is absurd to think that Napoleon could possibly be a threat!” Finding her air of smug superiority to be equally annoying, Brett did not even bother to stifle his own irritation.
    “Is it? You, after all, were on the Peninsula, where the troops you fought against were led almost entirely by Napoleon’s marshals. I, on the other hand, have seen firsthand the soldiers led by Napoleon himself and have witnessed his troops’ utter devotion to him. Even to the sick and the wounded he was both a hero and a god who could do no wrong. I have no doubt they would welcome him back in an instant and follow him anywhere should he reappear.” And with a triumphant nod of her head, Helena stalked off in the direction of