Free Susan Johnson by Taboo (St. John-Duras) Page A

at his hip. Helping himself to a veal cutlet from the platter on the table, he suggested Gontaut eat as well. “The servants can get his face out of his supper,” he said, taking a large bite of the tender meat. Selecting a second cutlet from the plate, he added with a smile, “I’ll send them in as I leave. Good night, Captain. I wish you a lucrative journey.”
    He stopped next at headquarters, issued orders for Gontaut’s escort into Zurich and asked for the newest dispatches.
    The stack of messages and mail was formidable considering everything of import had been relayed south to the army at Chur.
    “The latest ones, sir,” the young aide, Cholet, offered, sorting through the pile. “This one just came in from Mainz.” And as Duras’s brows rose in surprise at the sight, Cholet handed him an official-looking document engraved with thedouble eagle of the Russian army. Mainz was a very long way from the Tyrol, Duras mused.
    The message was brief, written in diplomatic terms, referring to Teo obliquely as the general’s wife. Citing precedent and gentlemanly honor. Asking for her immediate return.
    No
, Duras thought, as if he alone determined the response, as though precedent and conventions of war didn’t exist. Not yet, not now … perhaps never. Lifting his gaze to his aide, he said, “Send a tactful reply to this. Allude to the difficulties of an exchange at this time—in the midst of the campaign, etcetera. After being on Bernadotte’s staff, Cholet, you know how to extrapolate on nothingness.” He smiled. “Assure them of the countess’s good health. Sign my name. Send it to Vienna.”
    “Not to Mainz, sir?”
    “To Vienna,” Duras softly ordered.
    And then for an hour more, he scrutinized the latest reports from Bernadotte’s and Jourdan’s armies. Archduke Charles was moving closer each day, with Jourdan likely to bear the brunt of the attack. The tone of Jourdan’s dispatches was remarkably optimistic, as if he didn’t realize the extent of his danger. General Jourdan’s Army of the Danube, 41,000 strong, had crossed the Rhine at Kehl on March 1 and was advancing eastward through the Black Forest, meeting no opposition.
    Duras’s espionage system knew Prince Schwarzenberg’s corps, which formed the advance guard of the archduke’s army, was approaching Stockach, only miles from the Army of the Danube’s last bivouac. He dictated a hasty note to Jourdan apprising him of Schwarzenberg’s position although it was unthinkable he didn’t already know.
    Duras issued orders for a commissary train to be victualed and sent south by morning. And then he called in his spies and questioned them on their most recent reports from the north. Two of his informants hadn’t appeared at theirprearranged rendezvous yesterday, a worrying circumstance although it wasn’t always possible to arrive at the meeting posts as scheduled. Still … a warning. He left orders to have any messages coming in before morning to be delivered to him at the burgomaster’s house.

7
    The note Duras had sent to Teo wasn’t a love note. With a stub of a pencil on a sheet of paper torn from his campaign notepad, he’d written “Have a bath ready at nine.” And realizing it sounded too much like a command, added “if you don’t mind.” His name at least was personal. He’d signed “Andre.”
    But he didn’t arrive at nine and Teo had finally sent Tamyr out at ten to see if he’d returned. Relieved to hear that Duras was safely back, she busied herself with seeing that food was prepared for him and his bath arranged. And she felt so gloriously happy that he was alive, she pitied the entire world for their lesser joy. She changed her gown three times and then a fourth, and when she had Tamyr take yet another gown from her wardrobe, her nursemaid dryly said, “He won’t notice.”
    “But I want to look perfect. I want everything perfect,” Teo laughingly declared, twirling about the room in giddiness. “I