Peace of Amiens - 24. Chapter 24

November 25, 1801

The Tuileries Palace

Paris, France

“This is a beautiful party,” Caroline said. They were standing in the big hall watching as the dancers performed a quadrille. The edges of the room were ringed by chairs, while at the ends people merely stood and watched. Granger, Caroline, and Daventry were at the end near the entry, making it appear as if they’d just gotten there, when in fact they had been watching the crowd for some time.

“The food was also good,” Granger joked, getting a chuckle from Daventry.

“I do not know why the First Consul does not seem to like me,” Caroline said a bit petulantly. She had tried very hard to charm him, but he had been just short of rude to her. Granger smirked at Daventry, who hid his smile. Bonaparte had evidently projected his irritation with his own cheating wife onto Caroline and had made it obvious to everyone that he wanted nothing to do with her. That had significantly truncated her social life. The only reason she had been invited to this gala was because she was Granger’s wife.

“Not everyone can be universally popular, dear,” Granger said soothingly. He smiled internally at the knowledge that von Hohenburg was only using Caroline as an excuse to come see him. Napoleon’s attitude had been obvious enough that Frenchmen avoided her, and her efforts to charm a handsome young Prussian diplomat had come to naught.

“You can,” Daventry quipped. “And where is your Swedish friend?”

Granger grimaced briefly but managed to hide it before Caroline noticed. Daventry was, unfortunately, much more observant. “He was sadly recalled to Stockholm.”

“That is most unfortunate since you had just reconnected with him,” Daventry said.

“It was indeed,” Granger said in a conversational way that belied how sad he was at seeing von Holstein leave. He was not sure why there was such an urgent need for the young man to go back to Sweden, especially at this time of the year, and von Holstein hadn’t enlightened him. Yesterday he had received a note asking him to call on him at Madame de Staël’s home. Von Holstein had led Granger to his room, they’d had an amazing sexual interlude, then the Swede had told him he was leaving the next day. Granger tried to get him to explain why, but there was no reason given. Granger had left disappointed and confused, and it was only the attentions of von Hohenburg that had brought him out of his bad mood.

In one sense, Granger was almost glad that von Holstein was gone because he’d had found it somewhat difficult to juggle both the Swede and the Austrian and, of the two, he enjoyed von Hohenburg more. The Austrian was so boyish and playful, truly the epitome of a rogue and a rake, yet when he was with Granger he was kind and passionate, and the danger of their coupling seemed to excite rather than scare him. As if his thoughts had willed the young man’s arrival, he appeared and bowed to Caroline. “My lady, I am wondering if you would dance with me?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Caroline said, batting her eyelashes at him in a coquettish way. As he led her off, he turned and winked at Granger.

“Caroline certainly seems enamored with that hussar,” Daventry noted, trying to probe how Granger felt about the situation.

“I am glad that she does,” Granger said. “I find him to be both interesting and enjoyable. She could have chosen so much worse.”

Daventry laughed. “And who are you going to dance with tonight?”

Granger scanned the room and his eyes locked on a woman he did not expect to be there. “If you will excuse me, I will show you.” He strode confidently toward her, watching as she flirted with a French cuirassier. She looked briefly away from him and spotted Granger approaching her. He was excited to see her smile broadly at him, an expression which he could not help but return. She quickly made excuses and abandoned the frowning cuirassier to focus on Granger.

“My lord, what a pleasure to see you,” the Countess von Lieven said, curtseying in the perfect way that she did. He bowed and kissed her hand.

“I was incredibly bored, madame, wondering whom I would find to dance with who would be even remotely interesting, when I was fortunate enough to spot you,” Granger said.

“And who says that I will dance with you?” she asked.

“I think you owe it to me,” he said, bantering back with her.

“I am not aware of any debt that I owe to you,” she said, making him laugh. He held out his hand and led her out onto the dance floor, where they were playing a minuet. “Is that not your wife?” she asked and watched as Caroline danced with the hussar.

“It is,” Granger said.

“She dances well,” the Countess said.

“She does indeed,” Granger agreed. He didn’t really want to talk about Caroline, but he was not to get his wish.

“I got your letters and was so sad to hear what you had endured,” she said, with a sympathy that was very real. In his letters to her, he had written at length about his battles with Caroline, so he knew that was what she was referring to.

“Thank you,” he said. “Things have been quite tense, but we seemed to have reached a détente.”

“And what are the terms of this treaty you have negotiated with her?” she asked, making Granger chuckle.

“We have mutual interests, not the least of which are our children. I opted to bring her with me in the hopes that she could make her way in society while we still remained separated.”

“So does that mean you are available?” she asked, raising an eyebrow in a suggestive way.

“For most, I am not, but for you, I most certainly am,” he said. The minuet ended, and before he could lead her off the dance floor a waltz began. They smiled at each other, and then they were off, dancing and twirling along with the other couples on the floor. Granger managed to glance and see Caroline on the side, frowning, because she had no idea how to dance to a waltz. The musicians played another, then another, and Granger was in heaven, spinning around with the countess in his arms. They finally decided to take a break, and walked deeper into the palace, beyond the throne room, to the Salon de Diane.

“I am surprised, albeit pleasantly, to find you in Paris,” she said. “I did not think you English would show up here until the treaty was formalized.”

“I came here with Daventry, as he is loosely attached to the peace delegation,” Granger said. She raised an eyebrow at that. “The First Consul was very vexed with me, and it was hoped that I would be able to convince him that I am not Satan.”

“I would think that would be a most difficult task for you,” she said.

“I tend to agree with you,” Granger agreed.

She giggled at his playfulness. “And what did you do that enraged Bonaparte?”

“He thought that I’d slept with his wife when I was in Paris,” Granger said. “I had not.”

“She is most pretty,” she said, teasing him.

“I am much more particular about the women with whom I copulate,” Granger said, making her laugh again.

“Not all men are like that,” she said.

“I am not most men,” Granger said with faux arrogance. They walked along for a bit, then he got more serious. “I am equally surprised to find you in Paris.”

“You once told me that women could be useful diplomats, and I have taken your advice. My husband has been sent to Vienna to temporarily relieve His Imperial Majesty’s ambassador. The Tsar tasked me to visit Paris and give him my impression of the First Consul,” she explained.

“Indeed,” he noted, and smiled at her. “I am so glad he appreciates your talents.”

“I am glad he does as well,” she replied, making him chuckle.

“And what will your report to His Imperial Majesty say about Napoleon?” Granger asked.

“I will tell him that Bonaparte is animated most by war, and that peace with him is unlikely to last,” she said. “And I will explain that he is so full of himself that he will use diplomacy only to advance his efforts, not to seek lasting solutions.”

“I think that is a most accurate summation,” Granger said.

“I will also tell him that while England will manage to restrict his conquests to Europe, she will not be able to defeat him,” she said boldly. “Only Russia can do that.”

She had probably expected him to respond defensively due to his national pride, but she was wrong. “I think that is also a very perceptive observation. I continue to be impressed by how clever you are.”

“Thank you,” she said. Strangely enough, despite that pleasant exchange, as they walked up and down the beautiful gallery, the tension between them seemed to rise exponentially. “We should go back.”

“Why did you stop writing to me?” Granger asked earnestly. He had not gotten any communications from her since February.

She looked away from him, but he stopped walking and forced her to look at him. “I was involved in an ordeal, and I was preoccupied,” she said vapidly, as if it was of no great significance.

“An ordeal?” Granger asked.

She frowned at him. “An ordeal.” Granger realized that to get her to open up, he was going to have to press her a bit more.

“I had felt that, even though we were separated, our written bond was a wonderful way for us to remain connected,” he said sincerely. “It saddened me greatly when that link was severed.”

“Well I am sorry,” she snapped, and made to hurry off. He grabbed her elbow gently and pulled her back, embracing her in his arms, then he kissed her. It was magical, as they just sank into each other. When they ended their kiss, she stared at him, breathless, remembering how passionate he was, and how he had ignited her body. It was as if, whereas he had not been able to restrain her with his words, he had managed to do so with his mouth.

“Tell me why you stopped writing to me, and why you are suddenly acting as if I am the last person in the world you want to be in this room with,” Granger said gently.

“You are not the last person in the world I would want to be with in this room,” she said, smiling ruefully.

“Then why?” he asked, unwilling to be put off.

“I gave birth to a son in February,” she said. He looked at her intensely and could read her mind enough to know that the child was his.

“And what did you name him?” he asked.

“Alexander Georgiy,” she said meaningfully. “He has blond hair and blue eyes just like his father.”

Granger could not help but grin like an idiot, so happy was he to have another son. “And he is healthy?”

“He is healthy,” she confirmed, smiling back at him. “I stopped writing to you because I felt guilty. The von Lieven heir does not even have von Lieven blood.”

“No, but he has your blood, and that is more than enough to make up for it,” Granger said. “I think you should try for a daughter who looks like Alexander, then people will assume they are both his children.”

She laughed, then rolled her eyes. “You are quite persuasive.”

“It was explained to me when I was in Russia that aristocrats weren’t overly concerned if their wives got pregnant by the seed of another man, providing that the man was of good rank,” Granger said. “I am an earl, and my father is a duke. Surely that will suffice.”

“It will suffice,” she said, shaking her head. “I had just envisioned that my eldest son would be my husband’s. That caused me no small amount of dismay, and that is why I did not write to you.”

“I am truly sorry that I caused you so much discomfort,” Granger said in a loving way.

“You were indeed the cause of much discomfort,” she said. “Birthing an infant is not pleasant.”

“I am aware that that could be the case,” Granger said.

“Let us go back and dance for a while, then you can escort me home,” she said suggestively.

“I can imagine nothing that would make me happier,” he said. They danced a few more waltzes then strolled over to talk to Daventry, who happened to be alone.

“Countess von Lieven,” Daventry said, bowing and kissing her hand like the smooth operator that he was. “What a pleasure to encounter you in Paris.”

“Your Lordship is kind to say so,” she said, batting her eyes at him. Granger marveled at how much she had matured since he had met her in Russia, when she had been nothing more than a spoiled brat.

“I was wondering who had made George abruptly end our conversation and dash off onto the dance floor,” Daventry said. “I can now clearly see the reason for his actions.”

“Then you will also understand if I escort the countess home, to ensure she arrives safely,” Granger said, trying not to giggle as he did.

“I wish you both a good night,” he said, smiling. They managed to escape from the Tuileries and Granger was not surprised to find Talleyrand’s carriage waiting for them.

The countess told the driver to take them to an address on Rue Saint-Honoré, one quite close to the Palais-Royal, then Granger helped her into the carriage. “Now that wily old diplomat will know we were together,” she grumbled, referring to Talleyrand. That his coachman was also a spy who would report their movements was a given.

“We danced all night and we left together,” Granger said. “Are you really afraid of what they might say?”

“I have reasons to be afraid, but I will tell you about them later,” she said, and got a bit choked up.

“You can tell me whenever you want to,” Granger said softly, then leaned in and kissed her. He nuzzled his mouth into the spot where her shoulder met her neck, while she grabbed onto the back of his head and pulled him in. They were interrupted when the carriage stopped. “I will make my own way home,” Granger said to the coachman.

“Of course, my lord,” he responded.

The Countess led him into a beautiful townhouse, one that was quite similar to his own residence in Portland Place. “These are very nice quarters. How long were you planning to be here?” he joked, even as she led him upstairs.

“I will be here for another week, then I must return to Vienna,” she said sadly. She gestured for the servants to stay out of their way as they journeyed to her bedroom. They passed through the door to that room, Granger paused to lock it, then their mouths merged. Clothes seemed to fall off of them, not in a frantic way, but in a slow and calm manner that belied the passion buried just below the surface. Granger was determined to make this coupling last, and the countess willingly surrendered herself to him, letting him determine their positions and their activities. As he made love to her, Granger wondered if she were similar to von Holstein in that she liked to be dominated. Before he could ponder that, his orgasm began to form, demanding all of his attention. When he exploded, he subconsciously heard her cries of ecstasy, but he was solely focused on his own pleasure. When he was done, he collapsed next to her, panting and smiling, then glanced sideways to see her doing the same. “It is incredible, the things you make my body do,” she said.

“I had fun too,” he joked, getting a playful smack on the arm from her.

“I often think back to how you walked into my life in St. Petersburg, and when you departed, you left behind an entirely different person,” she mused.

“I often think back upon our time together and I remember acts similar to the one we just performed,” he jested again, trying to get her to be a bit more fun. It was not to be. She looked away, sulking. “Do not be vexed with me.”

“You are making fun of me,” she said, and sounded like her former, bratty self.

“I am not,” Granger said, and rolled onto his side to kiss her. “I was merely giddy from having sex with you, and that made my sense of humor flare up a bit.”

She pushed him onto his back then snuggled up to his chest. “I am concerned about my reputation.”

“Why?” Granger asked. “You conduct yourself much as most Russian wives of your lineage do.” During his time in St. Petersburg, Granger had become very familiar with how that society worked.

“It is because of my husband,” she said. She sighed and Granger could feel the tension inside of her.

“What did he do to you?” Granger asked as he gently stroked her back.

“It was obvious when Alexander was born that someone else had fathered him,” she said. “He is too handsome and his blue eyes are like yours and not his. He knows.”

“What did he say?” Granger asked.

“He had the nerve to shout at me for close to half an hour while I just stared at him, saying nothing,” she said. “He accused me of being a woman with no virtue, no better than a common whore.”

He felt tears on his chest and leaned in to kiss her forehead and held her tighter. “He is wrong.”

She chuckled. “In Russia, the husband is never wrong.”

“Perhaps, but you are not Russian,” he teased. She was a Baltic German, a race of people who seemed to specialize in having enormous pride. “Is that how you left things?”

“We parted company in Vienna and he cautioned me that if I embarrassed myself in Paris, he was going to leave me,” she said.

“He is posturing at you because he is weak,” Granger pronounced. She looked up at him oddly. “Why else would he act this way instead of ignoring it like any other Russian nobleman would?”

“I do not know,” she said. Granger knew he had triggered her brain, and he could almost hear the gears begin to speed up as she began to process things.

“Once you figure that out, you will know how to deal with him,” Granger said, then distracted her with another round of lovemaking.

November 26, 1801

Rue du Bac

Paris, France

“You are home,” Caroline said to him coldly as he walked into the dining room.

“I apologize to all of you for arriving so late for the first meal of the day,” Granger said to Talleyrand, Caroline, and Daventry.

“It is not a problem,” Talleyrand said with an amused air. He was probably hoping for some conflict to erupt. When it didn’t, he motioned Servienne over and whispered in his ear. The result of that conversation was obvious a few minutes later when a plate full of very good food was set in front of Granger.

“Thank you,” he said to the servant who’d served him, but including Talleyrand who was providing his sustenance.

“I was worried that something horrible had happened to you,” she persisted.

“It had not,” Granger said firmly, to let her know she was stepping far out of bounds. She responded by pouting and ignoring him. He was intensely annoyed that she had conducted her affair with von Hohenburg in front of him, yet now she was mad that he’d spent the night with someone.

“I fear that shortly we are going to leave you isolated in Paris,” Talleyrand said to Granger. “Lord Daventry and I must travel to Amiens.”

“Have you heard from Cornwallis?” Granger asked Daventry. “He was not at the gala last night.”

“He arrived a few days ago and has been staying with some friends,” Daventry noted, but his tone told Granger not to probe the issue. Granger suddenly felt guilty for not worrying about Cornwallis or checking in on him at all, then opted to let those feelings dissipate. He would find out the real issues later.

“And it is possible that he was not in attendance last night because he was not invited, but who can be sure about such speculation?” Talleyrand said. Granger and Daventry worked hard to restrain their smiles.

“I have decided to return to England,” Caroline announced. “Will you escort me?” Granger was enjoying Paris and he had just reconnected with the countess. He knew she was struggling with her husband’s anger towards her, and he felt obligated to support her since he was primarily the cause.

“I have business here in Paris and I cannot possibly leave for at least a week,” Granger said, remembering that the countess was leaving then as well.

“I suppose I will have to travel alone, braving the risk of being captured by highwaymen,” she said, being dramatic.

“I think that is unwise,” Granger said calmly. He was not willing to have a conversation where Caroline was being dramatic as if she was an actress on Drury Lane. “Travelling alone is quite dangerous, especially for a woman of means.”

“That is what you are leaving me to deal with,” she said in a smarmy way.

“I think a better alternative to risking capture would be to take a number of rather imposing footmen along with you,” Granger said. “Then you would not be alone and would in fact be quite well protected.”

“I can certainly arrange for such an entourage,” Talleyrand offered.

“The other option,” Granger said, “would be for you to remain here with me for another week. I would remind you that we planned to be in Paris for a month.”

“I didn’t realize our schedule was so inflexible,” she said to Granger, the annoyance clear on her face and in her tone. She finished her sentence by standing up and stalking out of the room.

“Her Ladyship appears to be a bit vexed with you,” Talleyrand observed, a statement that made all three of them burst out laughing.

“She will get over it,” Granger said. He was not going to let Caroline use emotional blackmail to get him to do what she wanted.

He and Daventry finished eating, then walked upstairs and into Granger’s room. “She still loves you,” Daventry noted.

“I know that,” Granger said, a bit too brusquely. “I am not sure how to handle it, but I am aware of it.”

“With some women, it is best to ignore that they are in love with you and hope that they will ultimately tire of the futile chase,” he observed. “With others, it requires a direct confrontation.”

“And Caroline is which of those types of women?” Granger asked.

“I am not sure,” he said. “I think that she is normally the type who, if she is ignored, will move on to someone else. With you, I think she is more attached.”

“How would you recommend that I handle her?” Granger asked, wanting some solid advice from his womanizing friend.

“I think you should remain in Paris for another week. Enjoy your liaison with your countess,” he said with a leer. “Make sure you buy Caroline a nice present and give it to her on the carriage ride back to Le Havre. Be pleasant and do not argue.”

“You are suggesting that if I am that nice on the trip back, she will forget that she is mad at me?” he asked. “It may work for that, but it will not end her focus on me.”

“It will not, but over time it will work,” Daventry said. “She will become used to the fact that you are not intimately involved, but she will look forward to seeing you because you are pleasant and you bring her baubles from time to time.”

Granger looked at him skeptically. “I will follow your advice.”

“Do you think that when you leave the countess, you will be as devastated as you were when we left Russia?” Daventry asked. Granger was surprised by his comment, because he hadn’t been upset over leaving her; he’d been upset over leaving the Tsar. He forced his mind to pretend that was the case anyway.

“I suspect I will handle it better this time,” Granger said.

“I suspect you will,” Daventry said, then got up and went back to his own room.