Prologue: Prague Spring, 1898

Her German was more than credible, the estate agent concluded, his eyes lingering on the woman seated before him in the handsome study of a seventeenth century town home. Her accent had improved, and she rarely stumbled over her words anymore. She had supervised the restoration of the house from a great distance. Her letters had come from London, Paris, and Madrid, spanning nine months. She was much, much younger than the letters might have suggested. She spoke, wrote, and thought like an older woman. He found that a little disturbing, but also oddly attractive.

When he met her train he had been looking for a matronly grand dame, not this little slip of a girl dressed rather austerely. Even now, she was wearing a starchy white blouse with a high neck, and a bottle green wool skirt without adornment. Her auburn hair was drawn up in a chignon at the back of her head. No jewelry; nothing pretty or soft, or decorative about her.

He had tried to change the terms of the relationship. Once he realized that she was so young, he had become more assertive. He was curious about her. She seemed so alone in the world, controlling what appeared to be a small fortune. Where was her father or husband, or some other concerned male relative to guide her? To represent her in dealings with people like him? And if there was no male relative, or husband to guide her . . . well, she was rich, and foreign, and perhaps she needed a man.

His overtures had been analyzed and dismissed. She had been surprisingly blunt. They had been in this very room and he had been explaining why he disagreed with her plans to divest holdings in a railroad scheme in favor of investing more heavily in a tea plantation in Ceylon. Before he had become her estate agent, such conversations had been purely theoretical. He had never had a client with financial interests as diverse as hers. She had delicately suggested that that could change if he was not able to follow her instructions.

He was a little disappointed when she explained that her family was joining her in Prague within the week, requiring a shift in the disposition of some of her assets to cover the increase in the expenses of her rather modest household. He had a feeling that what opportunity he had to influence her had disappeared. There was a man, a brother, an uncle, or a cousin who was probably waiting in the wings to take charge.

“If I may be permitted to inquire, will I be receiving instructions from your . . .” he paused, hoping that she would clarify the precise nature of the relationship with her family.

Her eyebrows lifted at this, and she let the pause develop into a silence that was almost uncomfortable. “Only in the event of my death,” she said, speaking of it so casually that he thought she was, perhaps, making an odd joke.