Summer of the Moon Flower (The de Vargas Family) (8 page)

Sofia let herself out the door and stepped
on to the footpath. All was quiet. The gas lights shone dimly in the early
evening gloom and cast eerie shadows onto the deserted street. She shook herself,
irritation settling in her chest. Since the attack at
Westbahnof,
she
had avoided going anywhere alone, but tonight she was determined to overcome
her trepidation. A visit to Café Schwarzenberg and Herr Hochleitner would help
her regain her confidence. The
Kaffeehäuser
was on the
Kartner
Strasse
on the other side of the
Ringstrasse
and a two mile walk
from her salon and she set off, composing the message to Indigo in her head as
she headed toward the palace on the
Museumplatz.

If she left the Rothmore order under
Lucienne’s direction, she could leave for Cornwall within a couple of days. She
had warned Indigo the visit was imminent so it should not be a problem to
collect the boys. The last she’d heard Jago and Jory had been sent home from
their boarding school because of their spirited behavior. She smiled to
herself; the chaos in her sister’s household kept her in a constant state of
amazement.

Sofia enjoyed her own quiet life alone in
her apartment above the salon. Granted, it did become lonely at times but she
would not be able to function in the noisy chaos that was Indigo’s manor house.
The boys had all inherited their mother’s strong will and were determined to
demonstrate it at every opportunity. Unfortunately, none of the schools they
had attended were predisposed to dealing with such boisterous young men.

The noise and chaos were kept in check to
some extent by Mr. and Mrs. Grimoult, Indigo’s trusted servants. Nevertheless,
Sofia loved visiting, and it gave her respite from the constant worry of overseeing
the moonflower research at the laboratory.

She paused as a carriage sped past her and
blinked in confusion. As it had flashed past it had reminded her of the
carriage the earl…Dougal…had entered earlier. Biting her lip, she determined to
forget this man who had occupied her thoughts since the moment he had walked
into the salon.

Even if she had been interested in a
liaison, it was out of the question. He was a client—or rather his wife was—
and that was the gist of the problem. He was married and therefore she would
give him no more thought. Taking a deep breath she thought of the forthcoming
expedition, as the sweet fragrance of the spring flowers in the
Burggarten
drifted out to her. There was a gap in the wall and a viewing area for the public
to see the private garden and Sofia stood with her hand on the cold fence rail.
The night flowers were illuminated by the rising moon and she craned her neck
to get a glimpse of the moonflower which she knew was growing amongst the ferny
fronds behind the fountain. It was the only place she knew where the moonflower
had been propagated successfully out of the Alpine region.

For a brief moment, she pondered the
possibility of breaching the garden one night and collecting the specimens from
there, but quickly realized there were few flowers in bloom. She stretched on
her toes and froze as a cold metallic finger brushed her arm. Turning swiftly,
she put her hand on her rapidly beating heart, and let a relieved breath out
when she realized it was only a decorative piece of the fence rail.

Looking around at the mist settling in the
spring evening, she tucked her head down and walked briskly toward the
Café
Schwarzenberg
, crossing the great
Ringstrasse
boulevard which was in
the midst of construction.

She pushed open the door and smiled at the
seated cashier who was flirting coquettishly with a young man in a kilt. Sofia
closed her eyes. The city is full of Scots today.

“
Willkommen.”
The booming voice of
Herr Hochleitner greeted her. “Madame de Vargas. It is such a pleasure. We have
not seen you for a few weeks.”

Sofia glanced across at the young man
staring at her with his mouth open, before she reached across and took Herr
Hochleitner’s arm. “Yes, Hans. The salon has been busy and I have come to say
farewell before I depart for the Alps to take some mountain air.”

She watched curiously as the young man
scurried into the gambling room at the back of the coffee house. Herr
Hochleitner smiled down at her affectionately before leading her to the special
lady parlour.

“Now tell me what has your dear wife
prepared today?” she asked as she slid into a single bench along the window.

“An egg in a glass, or a sweet perhaps?” he
asked. “Maria has made some
Buchtein
this afternoon with jam from the
spring plums in our garden.”

“Then I must sample one,” she replied.
Settling back against the timber-lined wall, she positioned herself where she
could observe the evening crowd who would soon be making their way to the
opera. It was early and she was the first customer in the parlor. The gilt
edged mirrors reflected the candlelight coming from the many ornate chandeliers
hanging low from the high ceiling. A low buzz of noise drifted from the smoky
atmosphere of the gambling room across from her. She glanced across to the
room; it was full of men, lounging around on the padded seats or leaning over
the pool tables.

Sofia turned her attention to the street as
a carriage hovered past outside the window. A footman ran forward and pulled
down the steps and she smiled as she recognized an evening gown from her salon.
Business had been brisk over the past few weeks as local society prepared for
the spring launch of the musical season. The Vienna State Opera hall had
recently been commissioned by the Viennese City Expansion Fund and would
provide further opportunities for her salon once completed.

Sofia sighed. As soon as her staff had
completed the creation of the elixir from this expedition to the Alps, she was
going to hand the research over to Ernst and Johann. It was time—

“A penny for your thoughts, Madame?”

The warm rolling words of a deep Scottish
brogue interrupted her thoughts. She turned slowly from the window, knowing
before she looked up the voice belonged to the Earl of Rothmore.

“Sir.” She nodded to him. “It is a surprise
to see you so soon.”

“It is a pleasure to see you again too,
Madame.” The earl slid onto the bench beside her.

“You are unaware, sir, this is the ladies parlor?”
She was determined not to let the warmth of his thigh pressing against her leg
affect her and she moved away. “Are you with your wife? I trust she has
recovered?”

Dougal reached across and held her chin
gently with his hand. “I know it is the ladies room. However when my manservant
told me you had entered the establishment, I could not resist coming in to see
you.” The warmth from his strong fingers travelled down her neck and lodged in
her chest, just above her fast beating heart.

“And your wife, sir?” she repeated.

He looked at her with a strange expression
on his face and did not answer.

“I am not a courtesan, sir. I may be
liberal and forward minded, however I am not in the habit of partaking of a
dalliance with a married man,” she said firmly. “However flattered I am by your
attention, it is unwelcome. I am about to partake of my meal. It has been a
long day and I am tired.” She turned and waited for him to leave but the grip
on her chin tightened and the first prickle of unease flickered across her
skin.

“Sofia?” His voice was soft. “May I call
you Sofia?

She did not reply and tried to inject
displeasure into the stare she directed at him. He let go of her face and
trailed gentle fingers down her neck before placing his hands on the table.

“Sofia, I am an honest man and not used to
deception.” He held her gaze and continued. “I do not have a wife. The woman
you met this afternoon is… my…” He paused and looked at her.”She is the wife of
an acquaintance who knew I was travelling to Vienna.”

Her first reaction was relief, but then
discomfort covered her like the cold fingers of the mist outside as suspicion
began to build in her mind.

“Why, then sir, did you pretend she was
your wife?” Her voice was heavy with displeasure. He hesitated and she sensed
he was being less than truthful with her.

“I did not want you to think I—”

“Why were you in my salon?” She cut off his
words before he could complete the lie she knew was about to come from his
lips.

“The truth?”

She nodded.

“I wanted to meet you and it seemed the
only way to make your acquaintance. You do not mix widely in society.”

“No, that’s true,” she replied. “However,
sir, you have me intrigued. Why would you wish to meet me? So far from your
earldom and your island…or is that all a fancy as well?”

Dougal straightened in the seat and smiled
at her. “I apologize for the one and only untruth I told you today, Sofia. Yes,
I am an earl. I have a castle on Little Rothmore and I am travelling to the
Alps to take the mountain air. I am with my manservant, Edward and I will be
leaving the…my acquaintance’s wife in Vienna until her garments are ready.”

“And her health?”

“Er…she is indisposed and is need of
medical attention which has been arranged.”

He turned his gaze to the window as he
spoke and she knew once more, he was not telling the truth. Despite his lies,
she was pleased he was sitting here with her. It was not often she had the
company of intelligent men in a social setting. The time she spent in the
laboratory with Ernst and Johann was fraught with tension, and Henri, her own
manservant was more like a father to her.

“Would you like to join me for coffee?”

His features relaxed as a smile broke over
his face and he reached across and picked up her hand. “I would be delighted,
Madame.”

Hans returned with her
Buchtein
and
sweetened milky coffee. He assured Dougal it was acceptable for him to stay in
the ladies parlour until more customers arrived later in the evening. Sofia
sipped on her coffee and observed the man sitting across from her.

His dark hair was pulled back and tied in a
tail with a strip of leather, and left his features clear for close inspection.
Deep blue eyes of a clarity she had not seen before, were framed by dark
curling lashes. Her gaze travelled down to his full lips and on closer
inspection, discovered a narrow white scar ran from the side of his mouth to
the centre of his cheek.. His cheeks had the ruddy glow of a man who spent a
lot of time outdoors and the hand that had held hers was work-roughened.

“Tell me about yourself, Dougal. Why are
you in Vienna?”

“I had business to attend to and then I am
taking a holiday in the mountains,” he replied. “There is an Austrian cattle
breed which survives in the rocky conditions and cold temperatures in the
alpine pastures I wish to inspect.

“The rocky condition and bitter
temperatures are the same as my island home.” He laughed. “Very different to
the sophistication of Vienna.”

“I am well used to travelling in your
country. My sister lives in Cornwall and I visit her.” Sofia sighed. “Although
not as frequently as I would like.”

The sound of laughter drifted in from the
foyer and Dougal stood and held his hand out to her.

“I shall depart the ladies parlor,” he said
with a smile. “Perhaps you will allow me to escort you to your apartment?”

Sofia looked up at him, torn between her suspicions
of him and her intuition he was a good man.

She shrugged. “Certainly, it is a lengthy
walk, but a pleasant evening. I would appreciate the company.”

Dougal insisted on paying the cashier for
Sofia’s coffee and after a quick word with his young manservant, led her out
onto the street. Sofia shivered as the cold wind from the Alps met them.
Dougal’s warm fingers brushed her throat as he tucked her cloak more snugly
about her shoulders and she shivered again, but not from the cold this time.

“If we walk close together, it will shield
the wind from you,” he said thoughtfully. “I am used to the cold. My castle is
cold and draughty and the wind blows from the sea in all directions.

They walked soft-footed in the stillness of
the clear night and only her occasional direction to take a turn, here or
there, broke their companionable silence. It seemed to be no time at all before
they reached the
Lindengasse
and they stood together under the gas lamp
outside the door of her salon.

Sofia gasped as a rhythmic clicking
surrounded them and looked over her shoulder waiting for the metallic grasp of
an automaton. Dougal pulled her close and his arms banded tight around her.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

She grasped his shirt and burrowed into his
hard chest trying to control her shaking.

“Can you see it? Where is it?” She was
barely able to get the words out as fear snaked up her spine. Lifting her head,
she peeked around his solid bulk. A piece of metal had come loose from the gas
lamp and the wind was blowing it against the lamppost. She drew a shaky breath
and let go of his shirt.

His hold gentled and he reached up and
tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Why so timid?” he asked gently.