have?”
“You know we are very shorthanded.”
“I’ll need someone to follow the French girl if I am ever to learn where she has the diamonds. Let me have Wragge back at least.”
“Oh very well. I suppose this business must have top priority. If your cousin had tupporth of sense . . . but I shall say no more. We are all encumbered with relatives who might behave more discreetly than they do. Sir Charles was drunk again and insulted Rosenkrantz . . . ." Castlereagh mumbled, leaving the room, his shoulders sagging with the awful weight of all his problems.
Chapter Ten
The home of Herr Kruger became a desirable location for Moncrief to hang out, being so ideally located, actually attached to Feydeau’s apartment. The Kruger family seemed very much aware of all Mademoiselle’s affairs too. Rather odd, when one considered that the French girl was considered too déclassée to actually take any active part in their social life. It was Maria’s doing. She possessed, like her father, an aristocratic independence in full measure. She saw whom she wished without much regard to the opinion of society. She was in evidence at all the loftiest and royal do’s as a matter of course. One day she would marry a title and fortune, but meanwhile she had a private circle of acquaintances from assorted walks of life. She attended teas where artists showed their wares, poetry readings where long-haired Germanic imitators of Lord Byron ranted on in a fine passion, she rode with officers from a dozen countries, and, for an occasional change of pace, she walked around the corner to Mademoiselle’s apartment to see how Mademoiselle was amusing herself.
Her pride had been cut by Anton’s defection, but as she was not aware she was a proud girl, she thought it was her heart that hurt, and enjoyed the consolation of the practical French woman. “You are well out of it, Miss Kruger. One of the two requisites for true love was lacking; either money or affection. If there is true affection, poverty will be overcome, and when there is great wealth, a little love suffices. There was insufficient of one or the other.”
“Anton is not poor, nor am I. His father owns thousands of acres. It will all be Anton’s one day. I am an only child as well.”
“One day—does one day ever come?” Mademoiselle asked, with a wistful smile. “Take your pleasure today. You are beautiful. You do not make the most of your style of beauty, if you will forgive my saying so."
“What do you mean? I have the best modiste and coiffeur in Vienna!”
“You are well gowned, but you lack the flair of distinction. If I had your money . . .” Mademoiselle stood back and partially closed her eyes. “Yes, the hairdo detracts from your style. A bushy head of curls is for ingenues. I would wear it more simply styled—smooth and pulled back. You are graceful, willowy—this should be emphasized. Leave the bundling of shawls for those who have a flaw in their bodies to hide, Miss Kruger. And more drama in your gowns would set you apart as something quite special. You have to create your own aura—like an actress on the stage. You think I do not practice what I preach, but I have no money, and go out so seldom that it does not matter how I dress.”
“You dress very well,” Maria said automatically, though she was not particularly happy to hear she lacked style.
Miss Feydeau gave a deprecating shrug. “I would do much better if I had more resources. Ah, which reminds me—would you mind terribly to do me a favor? Of the slightest—only a small delivery errand. I have no carriage you know, and to find one at this time, it is impossible.”
“‘What is it?”
“You mentioned you go to the Countess Poronovitch’s for dinner.
“Yes, Chabon takes me. Your handsome countryman. Miss Feydeau! I have just had a charming idea! I shall bring him over here to meet you before we go!”
“No! No, I don’t want to meet him!” she said quickly.
“But
“You know we are very shorthanded.”
“I’ll need someone to follow the French girl if I am ever to learn where she has the diamonds. Let me have Wragge back at least.”
“Oh very well. I suppose this business must have top priority. If your cousin had tupporth of sense . . . but I shall say no more. We are all encumbered with relatives who might behave more discreetly than they do. Sir Charles was drunk again and insulted Rosenkrantz . . . ." Castlereagh mumbled, leaving the room, his shoulders sagging with the awful weight of all his problems.
Chapter Ten
The home of Herr Kruger became a desirable location for Moncrief to hang out, being so ideally located, actually attached to Feydeau’s apartment. The Kruger family seemed very much aware of all Mademoiselle’s affairs too. Rather odd, when one considered that the French girl was considered too déclassée to actually take any active part in their social life. It was Maria’s doing. She possessed, like her father, an aristocratic independence in full measure. She saw whom she wished without much regard to the opinion of society. She was in evidence at all the loftiest and royal do’s as a matter of course. One day she would marry a title and fortune, but meanwhile she had a private circle of acquaintances from assorted walks of life. She attended teas where artists showed their wares, poetry readings where long-haired Germanic imitators of Lord Byron ranted on in a fine passion, she rode with officers from a dozen countries, and, for an occasional change of pace, she walked around the corner to Mademoiselle’s apartment to see how Mademoiselle was amusing herself.
Her pride had been cut by Anton’s defection, but as she was not aware she was a proud girl, she thought it was her heart that hurt, and enjoyed the consolation of the practical French woman. “You are well out of it, Miss Kruger. One of the two requisites for true love was lacking; either money or affection. If there is true affection, poverty will be overcome, and when there is great wealth, a little love suffices. There was insufficient of one or the other.”
“Anton is not poor, nor am I. His father owns thousands of acres. It will all be Anton’s one day. I am an only child as well.”
“One day—does one day ever come?” Mademoiselle asked, with a wistful smile. “Take your pleasure today. You are beautiful. You do not make the most of your style of beauty, if you will forgive my saying so."
“What do you mean? I have the best modiste and coiffeur in Vienna!”
“You are well gowned, but you lack the flair of distinction. If I had your money . . .” Mademoiselle stood back and partially closed her eyes. “Yes, the hairdo detracts from your style. A bushy head of curls is for ingenues. I would wear it more simply styled—smooth and pulled back. You are graceful, willowy—this should be emphasized. Leave the bundling of shawls for those who have a flaw in their bodies to hide, Miss Kruger. And more drama in your gowns would set you apart as something quite special. You have to create your own aura—like an actress on the stage. You think I do not practice what I preach, but I have no money, and go out so seldom that it does not matter how I dress.”
“You dress very well,” Maria said automatically, though she was not particularly happy to hear she lacked style.
Miss Feydeau gave a deprecating shrug. “I would do much better if I had more resources. Ah, which reminds me—would you mind terribly to do me a favor? Of the slightest—only a small delivery errand. I have no carriage you know, and to find one at this time, it is impossible.”
“‘What is it?”
“You mentioned you go to the Countess Poronovitch’s for dinner.
“Yes, Chabon takes me. Your handsome countryman. Miss Feydeau! I have just had a charming idea! I shall bring him over here to meet you before we go!”
“No! No, I don’t want to meet him!” she said quickly.
“But
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