"She's very lovely," Gabrielle said. "But it's true that the emperor's impervious to her charms. He was cruel at dinner. He wanted to know why she was wearing a turban. He said it couldn't be in homage to Alexander, since the Russians were at war with Turkey. She didn't know where to look or how to reply."

"Perhaps I'll go and comfort her," Tolstoy said with a smile. "I am far from impervious to her flirtatious ways, so if you'll excuse me, comtesse." He bowed and strolled off toward the disconsolate Queen Louise.

"You have sharp ears, madame," Nathaniel observed coolly, his eyes darting around the salon to see if they were being observed with any unusual interest.

"And sharp appetites," she whispered, her tongue touching her lips, her eyes glowing. She took a step closer and he could feel the warmth of her thigh beneath the gauze of her gown.

"Careful," he warned, smiling at an acquaintance who was trying to catch his eye. "May I procure you a glass of champagne, comtesse?"

"Thank you, monsieur." She tools his proffered arm and they walked casually toward the supper room. "My godfather is of the opinion that Alexander's negotiators haven't a brain between them," she said in a normal voice.

Nathaniel inclined his head courteously toward her. "Is that so, comtesse."

She smiled. "It seems to be the received opinion, sir."

"By all but Alexander and his negotiators," Nathaniel agreed blandly. "I imagine your godfather's running rings around Prince Lobanov and Prince Kurakin at the treaty table."

"He runs rings around most people," she responded with a touch of asperity.

She bowed and smiled to Madame Duroc and paused to exchange pleasantries, casually introducing Nathaniel. "Monsieur Lubienski has kindly offered to procure me a glass of champagne."

"Perhaps I may fetch something for you also, Madame Duroc."

"Why, thank you, monsieur, a glass of negus, if you please. Now, tell me, Gabrielle, what is your opinion of poor Queen Louise." The general's wife took Gabrielle's arm and drew her aside.

Nathaniel went to fetch the required refreshment, somewhat amused by Gabrielle's comments. He knew now how fond she was of her godfather, but she was very clear-sighted when it came to her assessment of his ambition and his scheming.

He returned with the two glasses. "It seems too mild a night for negus, Madame Duroc." Smiling, he handed her the glass of warm spiced wine. "More a night for strolling under the moon."

"A glass of negus makes me nice and sleepy," Madame Duroc said. "And at my age, a good night's sleep is infinitely more valuable than a stroll under the moon."

"Oh, but I find a walk before bed has the same effect," Gabrielle said. "Particularly after an evening spent in an airless, crowded room. It's so hot in here, it gives me the headache in no time."

"We all have our own remedies," Nathaniel said pleasantly. He bowed and excused himself, sauntering into the card room, confident that Gabrielle would appear under the willow tree later that night.

Chapter 23

Gabrielle was dressing for a ball at the Prussian residence the next evening, when her godfather knocked and entered her apartment. He had just returned from the day's negotiations and had not yet changed into evening dress.

"Leave us," he ordered the maid, who, looking startled, dropped a curtsy and departed.

Talleyrand closed the door and regarded Gabrielle gravely for a minute. Then he spoke. "What I am going to tell you now will have the most far-reaching effect on the outcome of this war. It's vital that the English government should hear it without delay. It's providential that Lord Praed is here. He will understand the importance of the information immediately and will know how to convey it to the right ears with all due speed."

Gabrielle had turned on her dressing stool at his entrance, and now stared at him, uncomprehending, her fingers stilled in the act of screwing a diamond drop in her ear lobe.

"There are certain secret articles to be appended to the treaty," Talleyrand said, taking a pinch of snuff. "Listen to me very carefully."

In stunned silence Gabrielle listened, and when he'd finished said, "I don't understand what you want of me." But she did understand.

"You will inform Lord Praed of the details of the secret articles," her godfather stated.

Gabrielle shook her head. "No… no, I can't do that. I am no longer a spy."

"I am not asking you to spy on the English spymaster," Talleyrand said patiently. "Iam asking you to give him some information that his government will find invaluable. I am asking you to spy forhim, not against him."

Gabrielle closed her eyes as she saw the inexorable logic of her godfather's thought processes.

"Why do you not simply tell him yourself?"

"Don't be naive, Gabrielle. If the English knew that I was plotting against Napoleon, there's no telling what they'd do with the information. They could discredit me with the emperor with the merest hint. I am not particularly popular with the English, ma chere." His smile was mildly sardonic. "And I am a great deal more useful to everyone if I remain in the emperor's confidence."

"I have done with this dirty business, monparrain," she said slowly. "You know that. I've told Nathaniel I'll play no further part in espionage."

"This is a different kind of espionage," Talleyrand pointed out with the same patience. "You will give your lover this information as a gift."

"And how would I explain betraying my country?"

"People have been known to switch loyalties for deeply personal reasons," he observed mildly. "You will not be harming your lover, ma chere, you will be doing him the greatest service."

"But I will be deceiving him," she said wretchedly.

"For the good of France, of England, of the whole of Europe," he said, and there was a ringing conviction in his tone. "This time I'm not asking you to be a double agent. I want no information from you. I have no interest in hearing English secrets. I simply want you to tell Lord Praed something that he and his government desperately need to know.

Gabrielle stared at the diamond drop in her hand without seeing it. She felt as if she were teetering on the brink of a snake pit.

"How will you feel, Gabrielle, if you withhold this vital information from Lord Praed. It will bring him only credit and advancement and the deepest professional satisfaction. Do you have the right to deny him those opportunities?”

She looked up at him then, her expression bleak. "You are an arch manipulator, sir.''

Talleyrand's countenance was impassive. "I am a statesman, a tactician, a diplomat, Gabrielle. If that also makes me a manipulator, then so be it. I believe in the stability and peace of Europe. That will not be achieved without Napoleon's downfall. If you don't share my goals, then there is nothing more to be said."

An end to war, Gabrielle thought, a war that had been fought almost continuously for the last fifteen years. An end to the killing. She knew her godfather was right, just as she knew the depths of his convictions. He was a manipulator, a man with few personal ethics, a man of deep and abiding ambition. But he was passionately loyal to his country and, like most men born and educated in the last century, he understood the need for a balanced Europe. Without a balance of power, chaos would reign, as indeed it now did.

"How am I to explain how I came across such information?"

Talleyrand showed no indication of his satisfaction at her tacit acceptance. He stroked his chin. "It is a difficulty, I admit. I would hardly tell you such a thing in conversation, or leave a paper lying around with the articles described. I believe you must have overheard my discussion with Duroc and the emperor.”