Splendor (56 page)

It was early morning. They sat at the kitchen table in the bookshop, Carolyn having decided to go home after Nicholas had left in the middle of the night. Her father had been up, unable to sleep even a wink, at once relieved and dismayed to see her. His reaction had been as confused when she had told him everything that had happened. Neither one of them had even attempted to go to bed.

Carolyn stared out of the kitchen window. It was raining lightly. "I don't know. But he seemed very confident," Carolyn said, probably for the hundredth time. She stood. "I cannot stand this suspense. And I cannot stand myself, for betraying Nicholas, when he has asked me to be his wife."

George also stood and walked to her, laying his hand on her shoulder. ' This is all my fault. Maybe we should both flee the country."

It was so very tempting. But then she would certainly never see Nicholas again—unless they fled to Russia. The idea gave Carolyn an odd hope. But he could not possibly forgive her for her treachery, and what would be the point of residing in the same country with him? Eventually he would find someone else to wed. The thought was brutally painful. Carolyn could not stand it. Surely it would be most sensible .to live as far from him as possible. Perhaps China would do. Or America.

"Someone is at the door," George cried in a low, strained voice.

Carolyn whirled, knowing it must be Nicholas, for who else would call at this hour? It was not even eight o'clock yet. She flew to the kitchen doorway, as someone rapped Ughtly on the front door. Her heart fell. Nicholas's knock was far more aggressive. She crossed the store and lifted the shade a hair. Her gaze met that of her grandmother. She

glanced over her shoulder, releasing the shade. "It is Lady Stafford. What could she want at this hour?" She was dismayed.

"Are you going to let me in, granddaughter?" the old lady called through the door.

Carolyn sighed, unbolting and opening the door. As her grandmother marched in, raindrops on her hat and coat, she could not help peering down the street—but other than for her grandmother's barouche, it was deserted and silent, and there was no sign of Nicholas. She shut the door with a heavy sigh. Perhaps she should have stayed at the hotel. But she had been too ashamed, too filled with guilt, and surely he never wanted to lay eyes upon her again. Carolyn could not blame him. Carolyn had never in her life been at such a loss.

"Are you expecting someone?" Edith asked sharply. "Good morning, Browne."

"Good morning, my lady," George said with a bow.

"No. Maybe," Carolyn answered.

"Child, you look like death warmed over." The old lady's voice was unusually kind. She laid a hand on Cds:-olyn's shoulder. "And you are trembling. I do not know what ails you, as you have refused to say a word, when God only knows I am clever enough, not to mention seventy-five years of age, a true fountain of experience, to help and advise you. Granddaughter, I am very glad I paid a visit to your handsome prince yesterday."

Carolyn gaped. "You what!"

Edith smiled. "I called on Prince Sverayov to inform him that you were in trouble and most definitely needed his help, as you would not accept mine."

Carolyn felt as if she were losing her wits. "But why would you do such a thing?" she asked, not accusingly, but with utter bewilderment.

"Why? Because you're my granddaughter, and clearly you and your foolish father are in trouble, and Sverayov is as much in love with you as you are with him. And he is no fool." Edith Owsley smiled with satisfaction.

Carolyn felt as if her head were spinning. "I don't know whether to be dismayed by your interference or not," she said slowly. "I am so tired. Everything is all muddled in my head. I cannot think clearly."

"There, there," Edith said. "You are a strong girl, stronger even than your mother. You shall come out on top, I have no doubt."

Carolyn swallowed. "I suppose I should thank you for your faith."

Edith shrugged. "That would be nice. After all, it could be a beginning. A truce, of sorts."

Carolyn stared. A beginning? A truce? Was she so tired that she was hearing things? But no, she had not imagined all of the invitations to Midlands. And maybe Midlands would be the perfect place to go and hide, until the pain and sorrow and regret filling her broken heart became bearable enough to live with.

The doorbell tinkled and Nicholas limped into the store, his fur swinging about him as it was only draped upon his shoulders. Carolyn froze.

Lady Stafford marched toward him. "Good morning. Excellency. I think we have all been expecting you."

His gaze was on Carolyn and no one else. Not even looking at Edith, he bowed slightly, murmuring, "Good morning."

Carolyn gripped her hands. She did not know what to say, or where to start. "Nicholas."'

"Come with me into the kitchen," he said.

Carolyn turned. "Please excuse us."

"Oh, such impropriety," Lady Stafford remarked, but with unconcealed humor, not censure, as Carolyn preceded Nicholas into the other room. She shut the door firmly after him as he limped past her, and then, slowly, both terrified and hopeful, she faced him. In the folds of her skirts, she could not help crossing the fingers of both hands.

And outside the kitchen, two pairs of ears were glued shamelessly to the other side of the door.

"It is done," Nicholas said. "For now, Davison will

never dare to threaten you or your father again."

Carolyn clasped her hands to her bosom. "For now?" Her gaze was ensnared by his.

"He is a dangerous man, and a traitor, and is harmful to the interests of your country and mine. We shall send your father to St. Petersburg as soon as is possible, within a day or two at most, I hope. Once he is safely out of the country, I am bringing Davison's crimes to light. He must be prosecuted, Carolyn. I have evidence against him. I am certain we can attain a pardon for your father in return for his testimony at the trial."

"And if not?" Carolyn whispered.

"If not, he will be safe at Vladchya Palace. Or anywhere else that he chooses to live. I will take care of it," Nicholas said fintily.

Carolyn felt her knees beginning to buckle. She could not tear her eyes from his. It was difficult to breathe, to think, but not to feel. Oh, God. The hope was explosive inside of her breast. The hope, the yearning, the love. "Why are you doing this? Why? When I have behaved so abominably in betraying you and our love?"

He limped forward and clasped her shoulders firmly. "Because I love you. Because I understand."

Two such simple statements. So simple—and so powerful. Carolyn's breasts heaved. The very air seemed to bum her lungs. "You still love me?" she whispered.

"I could never stop loving you, not as long as I am alive. Carolyn, I do not want to lose you. Not now, not ever."

"You can never lose my love," she said, beginning to cry.

"But you? I want you at my side, now and always. I want your promise, now, that you will marry me. I want you to accompany me to Breslau, and then home to St. Petersburg. As my wife. Carolyn." Tears had appeared in his own eyes. "Dear Gpd, I do not think I should wish to live without you."

She collapsed against his chest. And so many memories flooded her, good and bad, happy and not, memories of the

first time he had walked into the bookstore, impossibly handsome, arrogant, and royal, filling it up, turning her heart over, and memories of Charles Brighton's charade, of the ball and the races, and then there was Nicholas's flirtation with her. She thought of her first glimpse of Katya, so melancholy, and she thought of Katya now, a child no longer afraid to express joy and pain, fear and hope. She closed her eyes, remembering the sea voyage to St. Petersburg with his impossibly charming brother as she actually dared to follow him back to his homeland. And of course, she recalled his sudden, unexpected appearance at Vladchya Palace, and the stunning night of love and passion which had ensued. The following morning of devastation, betrayal, cruelty, and loss. And then Moscow, aflame, Katya lost, and their flight from the city with Nicholas and Sasha wounded and unconscious in the back of the wagon, afraid of French soldiers on their heels. A tear shd from her eye as Carolyn remembered their being married in the army field hospital—^and as she remembered Marie-Elena walking back into their lives on the eve of the tsar's reception. She clung to him. Tightly, so tightly, overwhelmed and afraid to ever let go.

"We have lived and shared and loved and suffered so very much," she whispered against his chest. "I love you more than is humanly possible,, and I could not live even passably without you. Nicholas, I will return to Russia with you. I will be your wife. And I will cherish every moment of every day that we spend together, from this moment on. But I think I am always going to be afraid of having our love, one day, taken away from us."

He tilted up her face. She sensed he wished to reply, but instead, his mouth found hers. Carolyn melted against him as his mouth became hungry, when behind them, the kitchen door burst open.

"Enough of that until the wedding night," Edith Owsley stated.

Carolyn and Nicholas broke apart. Carolyn knew she was blushing, but they shared an amused smile nevertheless. "I

do beg your pardon," Nicholas said very formally to the old lady.

She rapped her cane on the floor. "1 have an announcement to make." "

Everyone turned. Nicholas reached for and held Carolyn's hand. Carolyn smiled up at him. She could not believe that this was happening. Not -when they had gone through so much, starting out so shakily, she just could not. Her hand tightened on his. In spite of her fear that one day their love would be suddenly taken away, as it had almost been, she was not just stunned, but so deliriously happy. The possibility that she and Nicholas could have a glorious lifetime together was worth any and all risks.

"I was leaving my monetary fortune to charities. In fact, I had already informed that, buffoon, Thomas, of it." Edith smiled. "But I have changed my mind. It shall be my wedding gift to the two of you. Provided, of course, that you agree to be married at Midlands."

Carolyn froze. Not because of the incredible, generous gift—and all that it signified—^but because suddenly she saw herself and Nicholas being crowned man and wife at her grandmother's estate, and she had never wanted anything more.

"Well?" Edith Owsley demanded. "Aren't you going to at least say thank you, child?"

Carolyn wiped away more tears. "My lady, I—"

"Isn't it time you called me grandmother?" she interrupted.

Carolyn swallowed. ' 'My lady . . . Grandmother ... I am overwhelmed." She shot a glance at Nicholas, whose heart was there in his eyes, his happiness for her apparent. ' 'The fortune I too shall give entirely away to good causes. But if Nicholas would agree," and she faced him, wide-eyed, "there is nothing I want more than to be married at Midlands."

"It is done," Nicholas said softly. "It is done."

Their gazes held. Carolyn was in a state of disbelief. Her

entire world was being righted, all at once. She could not move.

"No one deserves this more than you, Carolyn," Nicholas said softly.

And then her father was embracing her, and wishing her good luck. Edith was demanding that Nicholas kiss her on both cheeks, insisting that she had known from the moment she had seen them together at the Davisons' ball that their fate was this union, and then George was shaking Nicholas's hand and apologizing for their past differences. Carolyn stepped away, watching her family with Nicholas.

Her family. Suddenly her mother's image was there in her mind, crystal clear, the way it had not been clear in years, and Margaret was smiling with happiness and forgiveness. She reached out, and Carolyn felt her hair being smoothed over. And finally, Carolyn knew she was at peace.

Nicholas moved to her side. "Are you all right?"

The image had blurred in her mind's eye. The sensation of having someone touch her hair was gone—but that had only been her imagination. Carolyn leaned against Nicholas as he put his arm around her. "I have never been better," she said. And already, the heavy pain of loss and sorrow in her chest, carried there for so long, was easing, lightening, beginning to fade away.

"I am afraid, too, Carolyn," Nicholas said gravely.

Carolyn looked up at him. "Maybe, when love is like this, so profound and precious, maybe, when two people have endured what we have, it is natural to be afraid."

"It is." He smiled, and in spite of the fact that her father and grandmother were watching them and listening to their every word, he pressed his mouth to her cheek. "Time heals all wounds, Carolyn, and it shall heal ours, as well."

Carolyn hesitated. As much as she believed him, he was in error. "No, Nicholas, I must disagree."

His eyes widened and he paused, about to press a kiss to her temple. "You wish to debate with me now?" But rich laughter warmed his tone.

She had to nod, smiling. ''Love heals all wounds, Nicholas, and it will surely heal ours as well."

He laughed, hugging her. "Forgive me, darling, for. being such a confounded realist."

"Only if you forgive me for being the eternal romantic," she whispered, hugging him back.

"I would not have it any other way," he said.

And Edith Owsley laughed and clapped her hands. "Bravo!" she said. But tears were in the old harridan's eyes.

An orphan from London's East End, Violet Cooper was

tired of being hungry and cold. But she dared to enter a

world forbidden to her and her kind...

He was a man of the world. The rules of Victorian society

did not interest him. Yet Theodore Blake was immediately

compelled by Violet—and soon found himself defending

the vulnerable young widow in the face of a murder

investigation...

Two people from different worlds were brought together by

passion, bound together by whispered accusations, and torn

apart by scandal and misfortune. The world claimed they

should never love each other. Their hearts claimed