The Chemickal Marriage

possibly
need
that he should stillbreathe? He nodded deferentially to the woman’s bosom. ‘You preserved two papers from Harcourt’s portfolio.’
    ‘I did indeed. Will you retrieve them?’
    ‘I should prefer you did not mock me, madam.’
    ‘We all
prefer
, Doctor, it does not signify.’ She slid two slim fingers beneath her bodice, then drew them out with the papers pinched between. ‘I will happily exchange a view of their contents for another cigarette.’
    Svenson took the papers and handed the Contessa his case, making sure she was occupied before beginning to read. She exhaled a jet of smoke and then, rolling her eyes at his caution, crossed to the divan, swatted a dusty corner, and sat.
    The first document brought a lump to Svenson’s throat: a dispatch from the Foreign Ministry’s attaché in Macklenburg describing the upheaval in the aftermath of the Crown Prince’s death. Konrad, Bishop of Warnemünde – the ailing Duke’s brother – was now the power behind the throne, filling vacant positions with his own appointees. Svenson sighed. Konrad had been the Cabal’s hidden agent in Macklenburg, enabling their acquisition of lands rich in indigo clay. He refolded the letter with a heavy heart. Had the Cabal reached Macklenburg as intended, Konrad would have remained a strictly managed puppet. In the absence of his masters he had simply adopted their ambitions. Had their success in destroying the dirigible accomplished anything at all?
    Svenson read the second document twice, then extended both pages to the Contessa. She nodded without interest to the divan next to her and he dropped them on it, stepping nearer. The second page was the Contessa’s death warrant, signed by Matthew Harcourt.
    ‘I thought he was your creature.’
    ‘Serpent’s teeth, Doctor – we all have felt them.’
    ‘I am surprised you did not end his life.’
    ‘You do not know what the glass has shown him.’ She suddenly chuckled. ‘And the perfection of his people returning to find him
thus
– it is a small compensation.’
    ‘His career will be ruined?’
    ‘His career is nothing to me – but his heart, his dreams? Those have been spoilt
forever
.’
    Svenson collected his case and lit a smoke of his own. He nodded to the folded paper. ‘What will you do?’
    ‘That changes nothing. It has not gone out. And if it had – well, you are a fugitive yourself. If caught, your head will be pickled and sent back to Macklenburg in a cask, evidence of this government’s friendship.’
    ‘And what of you?’
    ‘Being a woman, as befits an honourable nation, I will be treated far worse.’
    She looked up at him, and then to the archway.
    ‘What is it about an open door that so fires a body for mischief? As simply joyful as a sweet breeze or the embrace of hot water – do you not agree? About open doors, I mean, about their
spark
.’
    The Contessa ground her cigarette into the divan and hooked a foot behind the Doctor’s knee, pulling until he stood between her legs. She parted his greatcoat with both hands, eyes fixed somewhere near his belt buckle.
    ‘That is an intrusive, large pistol in your belt. Do you mind?’
    Before Svenson could reply she had eased the weapon from its place, sliding the long barrel clear, and dropped it atop her papers. He looked into the crease of her white breasts. Perfume rose from her hair. He ought to take hold of her soft neck and squeeze. This woman had killed Elöise. No greater good, no compromise could justify –
    The Contessa laid one hand – still in its thin silk glove – flat upon the Doctor’s groin, her palm conforming to the stiffening shape beneath. He gasped. She did not look up. Her other hand caressed the outside of his leg. He looked wildly about and saw the jewelled bag, pushed away, the spike inside. Her fingers closed about his length. She dragged along the fabric with her thumbnail. He quickly gripped her hand with his.
    ‘You –
ah
– you mentioned a bargain …’
    ‘I did … and you never answered me about open doors.’
    ‘Your point seemed indisputable.’
    ‘What a charming thing to say – I appreciate being indisputable … most ardently …’
    She pulled away his hand, taking the cigarette from his fingers. She inhaled once, then flicked it into a corner. As she exhaled, the Contessa unbuckled the Doctor’s belt with three sure, unhurried movements. Her fingers returned for a single delicious slow stroke, and then, with the same easy