Page 255 of The Ladies Least Likely
“My father fought for Prussia and for right!” Franz Karl’s eyes blazed with what Harriette feared was a touch of fanaticism. “You hated him because he took the side of King Frederick, who forced you and your husband from Calenberg when you refused to concede. Her father—” Again he pointed his pampered finger in Harriette’s direction “—fought for a Silesia that no longer exists, either. His death was well-deserved and ought to have come much earlier. It would have spared the rest of us more loss and pain.”
Harriette carried the dish of tea to the seated man. The liquid trembled in the delicate cup. Her head swirled with these revelations, and she didn’t know which to latch onto first. Her father was a prince of Bohemia? Franz’s father and hers had been on opposite sides of the wars?
“Tea, cousin? I assume these accusations are the reason my grandfather and mother arranged our marriage. To put any rivalry to rest.”
He took the tea with a begrudging air, clearly not pleased by the reminder of their betrothal. Harriette returned to her seat,her hands shaking. She had known none of this history, and she called herself a fool for never asking. Why had she never pressed her aunt? Why had she never demanded answers from her mother?
Her heart ached anew for the woman she had known so little about and whom she had now lost the chance to know better. She had thought her mother contemptible for sitting in dark rooms nursing resentment for what she had lost, when Harriette was inclined to face forward and make the best of things. But her mother had lost a great deal, and she had found sympathy in Mrs. Demant, but not Harriette.
“I would like to hear more of my father,” Harriette said.
“A self-righteous murderer,” Franz Karl replied. “I forbid you to speak of him in my presence. Or place his image in my house.”
“You forget it ismyhouse,” Harriette said. Had she ever consoled herself, in darkest night, with the hope that she would get on with her prospective husband? So far, she could see very little potential for amity between them.
“And speaking of houses.” She turned to her aunt. “How did he get here? Is he staying under your roof?”
“Mein Gott, nein. No,” Franz Karl said. “Dietz and I have rooms in a hostelry. It does no credit to our dignity, but it provides a roof, and we have no intention of staying long. Once I have dispensed with your lover, I think we will return home to Löwenburg,” he said to Harriette, as carelessly as if he were asking for another lump of sugar in his tea. “We will be married in a church there, and I will have my investiture. I look forward to wearing my ducal robes before His Highness Frederick the Great.”
Harriette saw her future, and it was not kind. Franz Karl was clearly allied with the Prussians and would spend his days seeking favors at court. Meanwhile the people of Löwenburg,who still considered themselves Silesian, would be ignored by the man who held their fates. As would she.
“Do you even speak my language?” she asked Franz Karl in Silesian.
“You will not speak that peasants’ tongue in my house,” he responded sharply in German. “The Prussians won the war and Silesia is ours now, and if the people wish to become anything more than poor backward farmers, they will accept this.”
Harriette stood. “I must go. I—I need to make some calls.”
Franz Karl saw right through her. She wondered if it was because they were related—horrible thought, that she shared blood with this supercilious, pompous, self-indulgent, arrogant man—or because he had a mind more devious than hers.
“I have already sent my challenge to his house, and if he is a gentleman, he will accept,” he said smugly. “There is nothing you can do at this point,Mäuschen.”
“Do not call me your little mouse,” Harriette retorted. “I am the Duchess of Löwenburg.” She tried to recall how dukes were addressed in German countries and was struck with inspiration. “You may address me as Your Serene Highness, or simply Highness will do.”
Her aunt’s amused smile, hidden behind her cup of tea, almost made Harriette crack open with laughter, save that her errand was of the utmost importance.
Abassi stood waiting in the foyer with the black velvet coat she’d shed upon entering the house. “Me not liking that man,” he whispered as he settled the garment around Harriette’s shoulders.
“Me neither.” It left Harriette’s middle feeling hollow to think she was promised to marry Franz Karl. She could see not a single point upon which their minds and temperaments were in accord. Worse, she could not imagine allowing him to touch her in the intimate ways that would produce heirs.
But she would worry about that after. First she had to save Ren.
Princess waited in the street with the cabriolet, a fur tucked over her knees. Jock sat atop Hyperion, and Beater, after helping Harriette ascend the high step, leapt to his platform in the back.
“We are going to Renwick House, I hope?” Harriette asked.
“You are.” Princess flicked the ribbons and Jock nudged the horse into motion. “I am paying a call on a certain spurned gentleman to encourage him to cease and desist with his threats against the Catherine Club. Jock and Beater,” she added, “are thinking up ways that Fritz’s drowned body might show up in the Serpentine, or better yet the Thames.”
“That can’t be the man as marries and takes ye away from us, Lady H,” Beater said. “’E’s a molly.”
“A what?”
“Gentleman of the back door,” Jock clarified. “An indorser. Navigates by the windward passage. ‘E goes in for men,” he said shortly, when none of these provided illumination.
Harriette swiveled between them. “You can’t know that by looking at a man.”
“You can when you send inquiries to the inn where he is staying,” Princess said. “The boys went over as soon as we heard Fritz was in town.” Her lips pursed. “You’ll not have a happy marriage with him,Liebelein.”
Harriette slumped in the seat. “Believe me, I strongly agree. But I see no way out of this other than to stop him from challenging Ren to a duel. I’ll try to make Franz Karl leave London as soon as possible, and…”
