"Perhaps we are finally making some progress," Maggie replied. "But I feel more as if we are opening Chinese boxes, and that each contains another that is even more complicated."
At that moment, the butler entered to announce the arrival of the physician. Helene rose to take her leave, promising to return that evening after her confrontation with Colonel von Fehrenbach.
Maggie prayed that her friend's initiative would bring them closer to their goal before another disaster struck.
Chapter 17
Helene dressed carefully for her confrontation with Colonel von Fehrenbach, choosing a blue dress that was feminine but unprovocative. Though she had two reasons for visiting him, neither was seduction in the usual sense.
Candover took her to von Fehrenbach's in his own carriage. He had also arranged for four British soldiers to meet him at the colonel's building, where they would wait on the back stairs in case she needed assistance.
On the carriage ride, Rafe offered Helene a pistol small enough to fit into her reticule. She rejected the offer with distaste. To appease him, she agreed to take a whistle whose shriek could penetrate several walls if necessary.
Her mind drifted to thoughts of Maggie and Rafe. She could feel the tension between them and wondered if it was because they desired each other and had done nothing about it, or because they had____________________
Thinking about them made a refreshing change from worrying about her own concerns, because in spite of her surface confidence, the prospect of this interview with the Prussian officer terrified her.
The carriage halted in front of a mansion in the Marais district, not far from Madame Daudet's. The building was divided into flats, and the colonel lived in one with only a manservant, who should have the evening off. Since von Fehrenbach avoided the temptations of Parisian nightlife, going out only when his duties required it, Helene should find him alone.
Candover got out and went around to the back to meet his soldiers and enter the building from the rear. After touching a nervous hand to her hair, Helene also stepped down from the carriage. Inside, the concierge directed her to the second floor, front apartment.
The mansion had been built in the early eighteenth century, and it retained much of its grandeur. As she stood in front of von Fehrenbach's door, Helene glanced down the hall to the door which concealed her bodyguard. Then she knocked.
After a delay of some moments, the colonel answered the door himself, confirming that the servant was out. Though von Fehrenbach was not in uniform, his unyielding posture marked him as unmistakably a soldier. His pale blond hair shone silver in the lamplight; he was a very handsome man, in the fashion of an ice prince.
They regarded each other in silence while fierce, primal attraction thrummed between them. It had been that way since the first time they had met, though neither had ever acknowledged it.
His face reflecting shock, and a complex mixture of other emotions, he said coldly, "Madame Sorel. What an unlikely pleasure. What brings you here this evening?"
"A matter of some urgency." Meeting his gaze required her to tilt her head rather far back. "If I promise not to compromise you, will you let me come in so that I may discuss it?"
A hint of color touched his cheeks, and he stood aside so she could enter. Inclining her head in thanks, she stepped into the drawing room and accepted an offered chair.
The rooms were well proportioned and impeccably neat, but apart from the well-filled bookcase, there was an unwelcoming austerity. It was as Helene expected; a person's interior state was mirrored in his surroundings, and the colonel had winter in his soul.
Not bothering to offer refreshments, von Fehrenbach seated himself some distance away and said forbiddingly, "Yes, madame?"
Before answering, Helene spent a moment studying his face, feeling the tension that lay beneath his impassive expression. In a stab of self-doubt, she wondered if she might be wrong about the nature of that tension. Perhaps he really did make dark and dangerous plans to injure others. She was suddenly glad of the whistle in her reticule.
Not bothering with social niceties, she said bluntly, "There is a conspiracy to disrupt the peace conference by assassination. The accident that sent Castlereagh to his bed was in fact an attempt on his life, and Wellington may be die next target."
Von Fehrenbach's pale brows rose marginally. "Paris is rife with plots. What has that to do with me?"
Her hands locked in her lap, for what she was about to do was outrageous. "There is some reason to believe that you might be behind the conspiracy."
"What?" His calm shattered, the colonel bounded furiously to his feet. "How dare you accuse me of such a thing! What perversion of logic could lead anyone to suspect me?" With a flash of blue fire in his eyes, he added in a low, menacing whisper, "And why do I hear it from you, of all people?"
Helene remained still. "That is three questions, none of them simple to answer. If you will sit and listen for a few minutes, I will explain." As he hesitated, she added, "It is in your best interest to hear."
His eyes narrowed. "Are you threatening me, madame?"
"Not at all, Colonel. What threat could I possibly pose to you? You are one of the victors, a man of wealth and position, while I am only a widow from a defeated nation. If you are threatened, it is not by me." As he stood uncertainly, she added impatiently, "Come, surely you do not fear me. It will cost you nothing to listen."
He took a chair closer to Helene, saying so softly that she might have imagined the words, "In that you are wrong, Madame Sorel. I do fear you."
With dizzying relief she knew that she was right- that every exchange between them took place on more than one level. But before pursuing her own ends, she must attend to the business that had brought her here. "Considerable effort has gone into investigating this plot, and it was determined that you were one of a handful of possibilities who had the intelligence, skill, and motive to organize it."
"I am flattered by your assessment of my ability," he said dryly. "Now explain to me why I would do such a thing."
"You are known to hate France and everything French. Twice you have killed French officers in duels. You have also said repeatedly that the proposed settlement is too moderate. If Wellington or Castlereagh is killed, what will happen to the treaty that is so close to acceptance?"
The colonel's brows arched with surprise. "I begin to understand. If either of them is assassinated, the voices of moderation would be stilled and all Europe would demand reprisals. France would be dismembered and impoverished."
"Does that thought please you, Colonel von Fehrenbach?"
"It might please me, but I am a soldier, not an assassin," he said curtly. "I killed two predatory French officers who preyed on junior Allied officers. That is a long way from plotting against your country. My duty is to follow my sovereign's orders, not to make policy."
"I believe you, and that is one of the reasons I am here." She sat without flinching as he examined her with new thoroughness. He was beginning to really hear what she was saying, and that was what she had hoped for.
"Are there other reasons I am under suspicion?" he asked. "I am hardly the only Allied officer who hates France."
"There is another reason, circumstantial but strong. We have learned that the man behind the plot is called Le Serpent."
"Again, what has that to do with me?"
"The cunning of a serpent, the courage of a lion,"' she quoted, watching his reaction closely.
He sucked in his breath. "Of course, my family motto. Interesting, but as you said, entirely circumstantial. Many family arms carry serpents. In fact," he added after a moment's thought, "it needn't refer to family arms. There is a French general who was nicknamed Le Serpent, and for all I know the Parisian king of thieves is called that as well."