Read Online Portrait of Seduction by Carrie Lofty - Free Book Online Page B

of an interminable school day, they strode south through the Dombogen— the towering two-story marble arches that led to Domplatz.
    Oliver nearly hopped as he walked, so keen on seeing the sun again. Mountain air touched his face, a sweet reminder of life outside agendas and haggling. He felt alive, free—unaccountably so. That feeling of freedom was welcome, but it also reminded him of his youth, of near scrapes and misdeeds. The more respectable choice was to keep his impulses close.
    At that moment, however, still haunted by moonlight and wide blue eyes, he could not muster the strength to care.
    “ Guter Gott, Herr Kleinmayrn is a nuisance,” Christoph said. “I never thought he would stop talking.”
    “If he only tried varying the pitch of each syllable—not by much, mind you—he would increase the effectiveness of his arguments by half.”
    “I find myself wanting to agree with him just to shut him up.”
    Oliver grinned. “A subtle tactic on his part, if that brings him success.”
    “What? He saps opponents of their will to breathe? Quite a keen political adaptation.”
    “I’m simply glad to feel my feet.”
    Christoph looked his way, his hawkish features softening slightly. He shook his head. “I don’t know how you do it.”
    The uncharacteristic acknowledgment was as welcome as it was gratifying. “Thank you.”
    And then he was Christoph again, the stern-faced Lord Venner who all but a few believed to be the full measure of his personality. “Now what did you find out?”
    “Unfortunately very little.” Oliver ticked off a list on his fingers. “Kleinmayrn’s granddaughter may or may not be in a delicate condition by a second cousin who visited last month. And expect an invitation to Baron Reitzweller’s second wedding.”
    “To Lady Georges?”
    “Yes, still running from Napoleon’s blacklist and willing to bed a man three times her age to do so.”
    “I don’t like it,” Christoph said. “We spend hours dancing around what no one dares speak. If the French head eastward, they will retake Salzburg. There is no escaping that fact. We’re a mere bump in the road to Vienna.”
    Oliver frowned at his brother’s slight edge of temper. “What are you thinking, my lord?”
    “We must have other preparations in place. Contingencies.”
    “Yes. And soon.”
    They turned the corner into Kapitelplatz, where vendors had set up stalls along the perimeter. Flowers, fruit, vegetables and fresh pastries created a wildly sweet atmosphere. Oliver’s stomach moaned, his hunger a renewed ache.
    “Me too,” Christoph said, his gaze fastened on a nearby array of roasted meats.
    But only a few hundred feet from home, they pushed on. Their strides consumed long lengths of Kapitelgasse. Oliver liked the feel of his muscles after hours of inactivity, as if his body had been reanimated. Maybe he and Christoph would find time later that afternoon to take up their foils and spar. Such activity was most welcome after tedious days.
    “Oh,” Oliver said. “And on a lighter topic, Arie and Mathilda De Voss would like permission to debut their new sonata at your residence.”
    “Why didn’t they just ask Ingrid?”
    “They did, and she heartily approved. But it will involve several hundred people in the ballroom. They insisted on garnering your approval too.”
    Christoph smiled tightly. “I do so admire a sensible couple. Very well.”
    They arrived at the townhouse, a sleek marble structure that towered four stories above the street. Each row of windows was smaller than the one below, creating the illusion of even greater height. Christoph had come to own the building upon marrying Ingrid. Their union, when discussed by the strictest social matrons in Salzburg, was still a scandal, but Oliver viewed it as the oldest sort of match—influence meets money. Few seemed to realize advantages gained by each. Christoph’s good sense tempered his wife’s tendency toward caprice, while her verve ensured