“I think we bloody well shall,” Stoker stated, his innate courtesy deserting him for once.
“You dare to swear in my presence?” The chancellor’s moustaches were quivering in indignation.
“I will do a damned sight more than swear if you think you can simply dismiss dangers to Miss Speedwell with a flap of the hand,” Stoker told him in a tone of ringing finality.
“Now, see here,” the chancellor began.
I held up a hand. “Gentlemen, please. No brangling. Stoker, you have been decidedly rude to the chancellor but your concern is understandable. Excellency, what sort of dangers do you anticipate?”
“One cannot anticipate every danger,” Stoker said icily. “That is why they are dangerous.”
“I am aware,” I told him, maintaining my composure. “But forewarned is forearmed, is it not, Excellency? Now, what form have these threats taken?”
The chancellor was clearly not pleased to have his feet held to this particular fire. He turned to the baroness and she hastened to reassure me. “A few letters, nothing more. The usual sort of thing one encounters when traveling. And even at home. A ruler is never universally popular.”
“What sort of letters?” Stoker asked.
She shrugged. “The odd complaint about a matter of policy. The occasional anarchist.”
Stoker and I exchanged glances. Our previous encounters with anarchists had been decidedly less than pleasurable. The baroness went on. “Those who wish to see the Alpenwald annexed to France. Those who wish to see her annexed to Germany. Those who want the princess to marry, those who want her to remain unwed. The sentiments are predictable.”
“But you suggested there were real dangers,” Stoker reminded her.
“I spoke out of turn,” she replied with a submissive look at the chancellor.
I turned to Stoker. “You see? Nothing to be concerned about. Just the usual madmen and fanatics.”
“Nothing to be concerned about. Veronica, have you entirely taken leave of your senses? Have all of you?” he demanded, looking from each of us to the others. “Your princess is missing. Have you not considered the possibility that one of these threats has at last materialized? Have you not considered the possibility that she may have been abducted?”
The chancellor shifted in his chair. “Her Serene Highness left a note.”
“A note! I should like to see it,” I told him.
His gaze slid from mine. “It was destroyed. We cannot risk the story being made public that the princess is not at hand.”
“What did it say?” Stoker demanded.
The baroness sat forward, perhaps eager to make amends for raising the specter of violence in the first place. “That she was leaving on a personal matter and did not wish us to worry.”
“What does that indicate to you?” I inquired.
“That she meant to return before tonight when her presence is required,” she said promptly.
“Then why worry now? She may yet turn up,” Stoker pointed out.
“And if she does not?” the chancellor countered gruffly. I did not think it was possible for his posture to be any more erect, but he stiffened noticeably. “My dear fellow, my position in the Alpenwald is the pinnacle of all possible appointments. I did not achieve this by failing to anticipate every difficulty. We cannot risk the princess failing to appear tonight.” He turned to me, his tone gentle. In another man, I might have called it coaxing. “If the princess does not show herself in the royal box, she will gravely offend her hosts as well as the other dignitaries. Do you think the English will forgive such a slap in the eye? No, they will not! Help us, Fraulein.”
“Of course, Excellency.” I turned to Stoker. “You see what is at stake here. It must be done.”
“I do not like it,” he replied.
“I am rather afraid you have no choice,” the chancellor said, his moustaches almost concealing a triumphant smile. “Fraulein Speedwell has consented.”
“But I have not,” Stoker returned, baring his teeth. “And I have only to alert the authorities or the newspapers to the fact that the princess is being impersonated to bring the entire house of cards down around your ears.”
The chancellor’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “You would not dare!”
“Wouldn’t I?” Stoker crossed one leg lazily over the other and regarded the chancellor with the icy hauteur of four hundred years’ worth of English noble blood.
The chancellor drew a handkerchief out of his pocket and dropped it to the floor. “Then I challenge you to a duel as you are a man of honor!”
I looked at the baroness. “Is there any way to stop this nonsense?”
She gave me a helpless shrug. “The chancellor likes to duel. It is a very common sport in our country. Almost as popular as mountain climbing. It gives the people something to do when the peaks are too dangerous to climb.”
“What about the women?” I asked.
“Oh, the women duel as well,” she assured me. “We use wooden swords, but it is very exciting all the same.”
Stoker had picked up the handkerchief and risen to his feet, a slow smile of acceptance spreading over his features. Recognizing the look, I plucked the handkerchief from his grasp and returned it to the chancellor. “Mr. Templeton-Vane will not duel you.”
“I rather like the idea,” Stoker protested.
“I know you do, and you really ought to examine that, but now is not the time,” I said. “Excellency, you and Mr. Templeton-Vane will not duel because if you do, I will not impersonate your princess.”
“That sounds like a win on both counts for me,” Stoker began.
I held up a hand. “I will take on the role of the princess on the condition that you be permitted to accompany me,” I told Stoker. He rocked back on his heels, thinking.
“Why would I agree to that when I can put an end to the whole bloody mess?”
“We both know you will not do that. You are too fine a gentleman to ruin a young woman’s career because of trifling matters. Mademoiselle Fribourg is depending upon this performance, and I daresay the composer is as well. Your concern is for my safety. Very well. You will come along and see to it personally. This meets with your approval, I take it, Excellency?” The chancellor gave a grudging nod as he returned his handkerchief to his pocket.
“But do not forget, the challenge has been issued and may be accepted at any time,” he told Stoker darkly.
“I will remember that,” Stoker promised.