A Foreign Affair Read Online Free Page B

go fetch her this instant.”
    Helena could not help chuckling at his astonished expression upon being addressed in his native tongue. He recovered instantly, and executing a ruefully gallant bow, he apologized. “Ah, mademoiselle, forgive me. I had no idea you were British. Ordinarily it is only Frenchwomen who possess such a decided air of fashion.”
    “Why, thank you, sir.” Helena curtsied with what she hoped was a properly maidlike and respectful air. “If you will excuse me now, sir, I shall get the princess.”
    “Thank you. Such a lovely day should not be wasted, though we have been exceedingly fortunate in the weather thus far. It has been exceptionally fine, don’t you think?” He flashed her a singularly attractive smile that made her feel as though he actually cared what she herself thought about the weather in Vienna at that moment.
    “Yes sir. I shall not be a minute, sir.” Helena hurried out of the library, but as she closed the door behind her, she leaned against it struggling to gather her wits about her. Small wonder that her mother had chosen this man to be her latest flirt; he had charm by the barrelful—a charm that extended even to maids.
    Left alone, Brett went back to examining the shelves:
    Letters from Albion to a Friend on the Continent, An Inquiry Into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations, Advice to Young Ladies on the Improvement of the Mind. Them there were titles by authors he recognized as German political theorists: Karl Freiherr von Stein’s Nassauer Denkschrift and Gentz’ Fragmente aus der neuesten Geshchichle dies poliaschen Gleichgewichts in Europa. Brett let out a low whistle of surprise. These were not the books he would have expected to find lining the walls of a fashionable lady’s library, especially a lady who professed to a profound disinterest in politics. Could he have been entirely mistaken in his view of the Princess von Hohenbachem as a delightfully and totally frivolous individual?
    Certainly her maid was a sprightly creature. There had been an alertness about her, a knowing twinkle in her large hazel eyes, and a countenance that wore an unusually thoughtful expression for a woman of her station. In Brett’s considerable experience, the maids usually resembled the mistresses; coquettish mistresses had coquettish maids while proper young ladies guarded their virtue and reputation with dragons of equally rigid propriety. Yet, the divinely lovely and coquettish princess was attended by someone who more nearly resembled a governess than a fashionable lady’s maid.
    It was an intriguing consideration, most intriguing, but it was also trouble. Was the Princess von Hohenbachern another one of Vienna’s clever political ladies after all? Brett certainly hoped not, for he had been looking forward to giving himself up totally to lighthearted dalliance with a skilled coquette and indulging in the luxury of admiring a beautiful face without having to wonder what was going on in the mind behind it. Was he going to have to be on his guard with the Princess yon Hohenbachern as well as everyone else? Was she also someone whose every word he should be remembering so that he could later transcribe it into one of the flying dispatches that were sent almost weekly to Paris for Wellington’s perusal? Surely not. Surely his instincts about women, sharpened by years of experience, instincts which had never been wrong before, were not going to fail him now.
    “Major.” The princess, looking exquisite in a carriage dress of deep blue Gros de Naples and matching bonnet that enhanced the blue of her eyes, appeared minutes after her maid had left.
    Eyeing her appreciatively, Brett relaxed at least a little. No woman who presented such a picture of perfection, as though she had just stepped out of the pages of La Belle Assemblée, could have the time for anything but her toilette. Brett was well enough versed in the details of feminine dress to know that such a high degree