The Chemickal Marriage

Bronque. Do you know Bronque?’ She gave him the mug, which he set down with annoyance. When he looked back she held a tightly wrapped piece of silk, plucked, while his gaze was diverted, from between her breasts. She tossed it to him, like a treat for a lapdog.
    ‘I stole that from Celeste Temple. The handkerchief belongs to Robert Vandaariff.’
    Svenson unwrapped the silk: a blue glass spur.
    ‘I have seen these before. At Raaxfall – and in the square –’
    ‘Everyone has seen them,’ she said. ‘Why give it to
her
?’
    Svenson glanced quickly to the door. ‘It must be different.’
    ‘I have not time to investigate, but had I the time I do not think I would, as it was given to Celeste precisely before her delivery to
me
.’
    ‘I am your enemy just as much as Miss Temple –’
    Svenson began to stand. She caught his belt. ‘Of course you are, lord – what does a woman have to do?’
    ‘To do, madam?
To
do?
’
    She bit back whatever tart reply she was about to make and met his eyes. The moment stretched. ‘You’re not afraid of me, are you?’
    ‘Of course not.’
    ‘No. You’re afraid of yourself.’
    Svenson pursed his lips, shrugged. She relaxed her grip on his belt, and gently arched her wrist so her four fingers slipped inside the Doctor’s trousers.
    ‘Do you recall,’ she asked, the back of her fingers slipping into his woollen undersuit, ‘our
first
meeting? When we
first
spoke?’
    Svenson’s body tensed. ‘The St Royale Hotel. I sought the Prince.’
    ‘And I told you where he was.’
    ‘Because doing so amused you. You later consigned me to death for the same reason.’
    ‘But you did
not
die.’ She studied him closely,
warily
. Her hand slowly slipped deeper, until her nails just traced his groin, then just as suddenly withdrew. She sat back in the chair. Her manner became brisk.
    ‘Robert Vandaariff has exchanged Cardinal Chang, who was mine, for Celeste Temple, who was his. Now Celeste – and you – are guests of Drusus Schoepfil –’
    ‘As are you.’
    The Contessa let this pass as immaterial. ‘She must be freed.’
    He spoke bitterly. ‘Because the child has died?’
    ‘What child?’
    ‘Francesca Trapping! And since Celeste is the other person with knowledge of your horrid book – and thus the Comte – you require her, to sacrifice her as well, to defeat him!’
    ‘The child is dead?’
    ‘You sent her to me!’ he said savagely. ‘You sent
us
to Mrs Kraft! What else could happen?’
    The Contessa sighed. ‘I did not know.’
    ‘Did you care?’
    ‘About what?’
    ‘About her!’
    The Contessa caught sharp hold of Svenson’s chin and pulled his face to hers.
    ‘Of course I didn’t!’ she hissed. ‘She was an odious and unnaturally born cast-off. She was doomed, like every girl born to ruin. The world cannot withstand them grown.
Their kind makes the world pay
.’
    She stood, forcing Svenson back onto his heels.
    ‘I regret you bore the burden. And Madelaine Kraft?’
    His mouth was dry. ‘Restored.’
    ‘Superb. If you survive, you may visit every brainless victim of Oskar’s books and make a fortune reclaiming their precious minds. A grateful nation, lacking such a bounty of overlords, will grovel at your feet.’
    ‘Did you know it could be done?’
    She swept to the door. ‘I do now, don’t I?’
    Doctor Svenson held up the handkerchief. ‘And what of this?’
    The Contessa lifted her dress and kicked the door. ‘It’s yours now, Doctor. Isn’t that enough for you?’
    The grenadier only just dodged from her path. He frowned with jealous disapproval at Svenson, still on the floor, and hurried after her.
    Svenson paused to help the Duchess back through the oval door. Kelling had collected his papers. The footmen and the wounded soldiers had been taken away. Mr Nordling had returned with a dozen men of the court, and, though their presence had caused the Ministry men to retire – and then to join their number – Schoepfil paid them no mind. He told Kelling to be quick and sneered at Svenson’s kindness.
    ‘You must answer, sir,’ called Nordling, sword cane in hand. ‘You have transgressed, most gravely – and the person of Her Grace –’
    ‘Let him pass, Mr Nordling.’ The Duchess squeezed the Doctor’s hand as she pulled away.
    ‘Of course I’ll
pass
!’ cried Schoepfil. ‘I’ll leave the man who tries to stop me in tears!’
    The Duchess spoke to the room. ‘That girl, the colonial with the Chinese name