Bound by Love (19 page)

Josef stepped forward, his expression sour. “I comprehend taking the wench if she is worth a fortune. But why burden ourselves with the servants? It took three of us to put that groom of hers down and that maid near bit the ear off Vladimir.”

The madman waved aside his servant’s concern, thankfully missing Leonida’s smirk of pleasure at the knowledge Pyotr and Sophy had put up a savage fight.

“My dear Josef, just consider a moment. If we were to take Miss Karkoff alone she would be a constant bother. Such a spirited lass would be honor-bound to try to escape. Or attract unwanted attention. But if she realizes that we shall willingly punish her beloved servants for her misdeeds, I sense she will be considerably more compliant.”

“You bastard…”

His hand was moving before Leonida could guess his intent, his vicious slap snapping her head backward and sending her tumbling onto the hard floor.

Standing over her, Sir Charles regarded the blood spilling from her split lip with a disdainful sneer.

“I did warn you, my sweet. I will not tolerate such language.”

“T
AKE CARE, YOUR
G
RACE
,” Boris warned, pulling up his horse as he peered through the night at the small, insignificant inn that bustled with activity. “Something is not right.”

Stefan agreed with his friend’s opinion, but rather than halting to take stock of the peculiar number of people that filled the small courtyard, he instead urged his weary horse to a quicker pace.

For endless days he had trailed one step behind Leonida, the knowledge she was in danger constantly gnawing at him to the point of near insanity.

Now his heart was lodged in his throat as he headed across the cobbled yard and gestured toward the large, uniformed guard who was shouting orders at a group of cowering peasants.

“You there,” he called in perfect Russian.

The soldier scowled, his weathered countenance showing an impatience that was swiftly hidden behind a resigned deference as he took notice of Stefan’s expensive greatcoat and the natural air of command.

Moving to the side of Stefan’s horse, he offered a dip of his head. “Yes, sir?”

“What has occurred?”

The man grimaced, glaring toward the inn. “Now that is a question I would like very much to be answered. At the moment it is nothing more than a muddle. One servant claims that a gang of brigands swept through the inn, destroying property and kidnapping the guests who they
deemed worthy of ransom. Another servant is certain that it was Austrian soldiers who hauled off a poor woman for nefarious purposes.”

Stefan’s hand tightened on the reins, his jaws clenched so tight his teeth threatened to shatter. Christ. Had Leonida been captured? Was she even now in the hands of her enemies?

By God, he would kill them. Every damned one of them.

“Where is the innkeeper?”

“The fat fool.” The soldier nodded his head toward the rotund man who was waving his hands in the air and complaining to anyone stupid enough to cross his path. “You will get nothing from him, except a demand to know who will pay for the damages.”

“There must be one witness who is credible?”

“The older maid near the stables appears to have more sense than the others.”

“Then I will speak with her.”

“Forgive me, sir—” the man halted Stefan with a frown “—but can I ask what interest you could have in this inn?”

Stefan briefly considered ignoring the challenge. He was a nobleman and in Russia that put him above the law. Then, thankfully, common sense overcame his impatience. With the appropriate enticement this man might actually prove to be useful.

“If I can trust to your discretion.”

“Of course.”

Stefan assumed his most arrogant expression, a ready lie tumbling from his lips.

“I was traveling to St. Petersburg with my ward, who is young and impulsive and inclined to fits of pique when she does not have her own way.”

The soldier grunted. “Much like any woman.”

“Indeed. This morning we had a rather heated argument when I caught her shamelessly flirting with a mere commoner. When my back was turned she took off with her maid and a groom.”

“An English girl?”

“Russian. A golden-haired female with light blue eyes.” Reaching into the pocket of his coat, Stefan withdrew one of his gilt-edged calling cards. “I would be excessively grateful if you would keep an eye out for her and send word to me if you should stumble across any hint of her.”

“Certainly…” The man’s eyes widened as he read the name scrolled on the card. “Your Grace.”

Stefan once again reached into his pocket, on this occasion pulling out several coins that he smoothly handed to the man.

“My carriage and servants are traveling in the direction of St. Petersburg. They should not be difficult to discover should you have information for me.”

The soldier tucked the card and money beneath his jacket and performed a deep bow.

“You have my word that I will do all in my power to discover the missing girl.”

With a nod, Stefan urged his horse toward the maid still standing beside the stables. Boris soon joined him, his expression revealing he had been blatantly eavesdropping.

“He did not believe your story of a ward,” he unnecessarily pointed out.

“It does not matter. His only interest is receiving a handsome reward for his efforts. It is to be hoped that he will set a few of his men on the search.”

“There will be talk.”

Stefan waved away the certain knowledge that the locals would soon be buzzing with the speculation that the Duke of Huntley was chasing after a Russian beauty.

“What do I care? Leonida must be found.”

“As you say.” Boris reached to grasp Stefan’s arm. “Perhaps I should speak with the maid alone.”

With a vile curse, Stefan wrenched his horse to a halt. Boris was right, of course. Who the devil could have suspected being a duke was such a bother?

“Be quick about it,” he growled, watching as Boris dismounted and moved to speak quietly with the maid, struggling against the near overpowering instinct to charge blindly through the dark in search of Leonida. Dammit. Once he had her back at Meadowland, he was never letting her out of his sight. After several minutes Boris remounted and returned to meet Stefan’s impatient gaze. “Well?”

“She says that anywhere from six to ten men arrived from the south and surrounded the inn,” Boris said, his words concise. “A few remained outside to keep watch, but at least three entered the inn and forced the staff into the kitchens where they were held by a man with a large gun.”

“So she saw nothing?”

“No, but after the men abruptly left, she made an inspection of the premise.”

“What did she discover?”

“She says that a young widow was taken from a private parlor along with her two servants.”

Even prepared, the words hit Stefan like a physical punch to the stomach.

“Damn.”

“She also said that the widow’s chambers had been torn apart, as if someone was searching for a great treasure.”

Grimly, Stefan gathered his composure. The sooner he finished his business here, the sooner he could be searching for Leonida.

“What could she tell you of the men?”

“Rough and uneducated.”

“English?”

“Russian, although she swears that she heard the voice of an Englishman.”

That damned Englishman.

What the blazes was his interest in Leonida? And more importantly, what did he intend to do with her now?

“How long ago did they leave?”

“Half an hour, perhaps a bit longer.”

Stefan shifted in his saddle, prepared to continue the hunt. “Then they cannot have gone far.”

“A moment, your Grace,” Boris murmured.

“What?” he snapped.

“The maid mentioned that the widow’s belongings had been left behind.”

Stefan parted his lips to condemn Leonida’s hideous black gowns and veiled bonnets to the netherworld, then he abruptly hesitated.

If Leonida was indeed in the hands of her enemies, she would be terrified by the time he managed to rescue her.

She would surely be comforted by her possessions.

“Gather them.”

St. Petersburg

H
ERRICK
G
ERHARDT STOOD
at his mirror, putting the finishing touches on his cravat. He was plainly attired, with only his various medals of honor pinned to his black coat to relieve his austere appearance.

His small home in the shadows of the Winter Palace was equally barren of the gaudy grandeur that so pleased the Russian soul. The furniture was solid pieces he had purchased from local craftsmen and the paneled walls were bare beyond a handful of military paintings he had collected over the years.

Spending most of his days among the lavish Russian Court, it was a relief to have a place where he could enter a room and stretch out his legs in comfort.

He had just finished with his morning toilette when there was a knock on the door. He turned as it was pushed open to reveal a young footman with a nervous expression.

“Pardon me, sir, but you have a visitor.”

Herrick lifted his brow. He rarely invited guests to his private home and never before he had read through the stack of reports that his various contacts provided each morning. He had not reached his position as Alexander Pavlovich’s closest advisor by allowing himself to be caught off guard.

“At this hour? Who is it?”

The footman cleared his throat. “I am not entirely certain, sir.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It is a lady.”

Herrick’s brows snapped together, sensing a trap. It would not be the first time his enemies had sought to put an end to his undeniable power with scandal.

“Lady?”

“With a veil.”

Herrick swiftly considered. It would be simple enough to have the intruder sent away. His staff was a collection of trained soldiers who were eager to protect their commander. On the other hand, the woman might have a genuine purpose in seeking him out.

“Where have you put her?”

“In the breakfast room. I hope I did not do wrong?”

“Not at all.” Herrick offered a reassuring smile to the young man. “I will be down in a moment. Please ensure we are not interrupted.”

“Yes, sir.”

Forgetting himself, the servant offered a salute rather than a bow and scurried away. Herrick chuckled as he reached to pluck a loaded pistol from the dresser, sliding it into the holster beneath his jacket as he made his way to the breakfast room at the back of the house.

Entering the brightly lit room with a pretty cherrywood table and chairs that matched the sturdy sideboard, Herrick studied the slender woman standing beside the French doors.

As his footman warned, the woman was heavily veiled and attired in a black French silk gown that was stylish enough to have cost a small fortune.

So, a woman of society.

Interesting.

Sensing his arrival, the stranger abruptly turned, a slender hand clutching a folded piece of parchment.

“At last,” she breathed.

Herrick strolled slowly forward. “Forgive me for keeping you waiting, but I must admit I did not expect a strange woman to be served with my breakfast.”

“Not so strange,” the woman muttered, impatiently sweeping back the veil to reveal a pale, beautiful face that was framed with glossy black hair only a few shades darker than the wide eyes.

“Nadia.” Herrick stiffened in shock. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”

“I had to see you at once.”

“You should have sent a message. If it is discovered you were here we will both be answering to the Emperor.”

She waved a dismissive hand, as always indifferent to the rigid rules that guided most women of society.

“No one will know and I could not wait.”

Dismissing the futile urge to shake some sense into the reckless woman, Herrick instead studied the barely controlled panic that smoldered in the dark eyes.

“What has happened?”

“Here.”

Without a word, she shoved the sheet of parchment into his hand. A chill of premonition pricked Herrick’s heart before he even read the demand for a hundred thousand rubles in return for Leonida Karkoff.

“How did you receive this?” he asked, his voice harsh with dread.

“It was on my dresser when I awoke this morning.”

The bastard had dared enter the home of a countess?

“Did you question your staff?”

“Of course I did,” she snapped, wrapping her arms around her waist as violent shivers shook her body. “They claim that they heard nothing during the night and that all the doors and windows were locked tightly this morning. Herrick…”

Taking his companion’s arm, Herrick gently steered the growingly hysterical woman to the small settee in the corner of the room.

“Sit down, Nadia,” he urged, settling himself beside her to hold her hands in a reassuring grip.

“I should never have sent her to England,” she muttered.

Although Herrick was in full agreement, he kept his thoughts to himself. The only thing that mattered at the moment was rescuing Leonida.

“You could not have known just how dangerous or desperate your enemies could be.”

Easily sensing his disapproval, Nadia grimaced. “Do not attempt to lessen my guilt, dear Herrick. I thought of no one but myself when I sent Leonida on this mad quest. I was horrified at the thought of Alexander discovering my indiscretion and having it used against him. I thought…he might never forgive me.” Tears of regret streaked down her pale face. “Now I will never forgive myself.”

“This is doing no good, Nadia,” he said sternly. He could not allow the volatile woman to fall into despair. “We must concentrate on Leonida.”

As hoped, Nadia brushed away her tears and squared her shoulders.

The Countess might be impulsive and self-centered, but she genuinely loved her daughter.

“You are right,” she agreed. “I have my maid gathering my jewels and I have called for my solicitor to discover the precise amount of money I can raise. It will not be enough, but perhaps it will satisfy the brutes.”

“No, Nadia. You cannot pay this ransom.”

Her brows lowered at his unyielding command. “Do not tell me what I can or cannot do. Leonida is my daughter. I will do whatever necessary to save her.”

Herrick muttered a low curse, knowing he had no choice but to reveal at least a portion of his sickening fear. “I had hoped to avoid telling you this, but the man who has been blackmailing you is more than just a greedy opportunist.”

“What do you mean?”

“He is…deranged.”

She gasped, her eyes wide with horror. “A madman?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know this?”

Herrick shook his head. Nadia would not be comforted by the realization his information came from a notorious criminal. “Please, my dear, just accept my word.”

“Dear God.” She swayed, her ashen pallor revealing the effort it took to hold on to her composure. “You think she is already…”

“No.” Herrick refused to even entertain the notion. “He is desperate for the money, so he will keep her alive until he is certain you have agreed to his demands. But I very much fear once he has possession of the money he will no longer consider her of use.” Herrick’s lips curled in contempt. “Besides, he dare not leave her to reveal his identity.”

“But you already know his identity, do you not?”

“He is not yet aware of that fact.”

With a jerky motion, Nadia was on her feet, pacing back to the window.

“Do you know how to find him?”

“I have several men searching.”

She whirled back to stab him with a frown. “That is not good enough.”

“You must trust me, Nadia.” He crossed to grasp her shoulders in a firm grip. “Can you do that?”

“I trust you, but I cannot stand aside and do nothing.”

“It will not be nothing,” he soothed, silently considering the best use of the Countess. His most important duty was to ensure she did not do something foolish that might endanger Leonida. “I need you to continue on as you are.”

“Continue on with what?”

“We cannot be certain that this man is not keeping a watch upon you and your household.” Herrick’s jaw tightened. Sir Charles Richards would suffer for his effrontery. “He did, after all, manage to have a note delivered into your bedchamber.”

“
Mon Dieu
, do not remind me,” Nadia rasped.

Herrick regarded her sternly, needing her to understand the importance of his request.

“We want the villain to believe you are panicked and attempting to gather the money to pay the ransom. The longer you can keep up the charade the better.”

“And what will you be doing?” she demanded.

“I am going to seek assistance in the most unlikely of places.”

L
EONIDA PACED THE CRAMPED
attic with a sense of burning frustration.

The past three days had been a lesson in utter misery, beginning with the bone-jarring flight from the inn and ending with her and her servants being shoved into the attic of this derelict cottage. And just as disheartening was the knowledge it had all been for nothing. The letters she had sacrificed everything to acquire were now left miles behind, hidden among her scattered belongings that could be in the hands of anyone by now.

It could always be worse, of course, she grimly reminded herself.

At least she had not been forced to endure the company of Sir Charles since arriving at the cottage, and while there were always one or two guards to be seen prowling the grounds, only Josef had entered the attic to bring them cold bowls of porridge or lead them to the foul outhouse near the stables.

Still, she could almost feel time slipping away from her.

Shortly after their arrival at the cottage yesterday, she had watched from the window as three of the guards had charged down the road toward St. Petersburg, clearly in a hurry to deliver the ransom note to her mother. Once they had arranged the details with the Countess Karkoff…

Shaking off the morbid thought, Leonida turned on her heel to glare at Sophy and Pyotr. The two were huddled on
the floor, refusing to sit on the narrow cot that was the only furniture in the dank space. They were adamant that Leonida be given the one attempt at comfort.

It would have been amusing to fret over the proper protocol when they were being held by a raving lunatic if she were not terrified out of her mind.

“Sophy…” she began, only to snap her lips together as Sophy gave a shake of her head.

“No, I will not do it.”

“Neither will I,” Pyotr added for good measure.

“Must you two be so stubborn? Nothing can be served by your absurd nobility.” Realizing the two would not be intimidated, Leonida sucked in a deep breath and softened her tone. “Indeed, if you managed to escape you could ensure that I am rescued. What could make more sense?”

Sophy sniffed at the perfectly reasonable request. “There is no point in arguing. Neither Pyotr nor I will leave you, and that is all there is to be said.”

Leonida pointed a hand toward the window that overlooked the side of the house and the surrounding forest. There was another window that overlooked the front of the house and the overgrown courtyard. Beyond the courtyard was a narrow path, but Leonida had yet to observe any travelers passing by.

“Well, we cannot continue to sit here and hope someone might discover us. This is the first time that the guards are out of sight. We might not have such an opportunity again.”

“We must wait.” Rising to her feet, Sophy futilely brushed at the dust clinging to her skirt. “Your mother is bound to find the money to pay the ransom and then we will be released.”

Leonida pressed a hand to her queasy stomach. “I wish I could be so confident.”

“But surely…” Sophy began, her words stumbling to a halt as Pyotr straightened beside her and wrapped a protective arm around her shoulder. His somber expression warned her that he agreed with Leonida’s suspicions. “Oh.”

“Sir Charles would never have allowed us to know his identity if he intended to release us,” Leonida said softly. “He would be ruined.”

Sophy pressed a hand to her mouth. “Blessed saints.”

“Now you comprehend why you must attempt to escape,” Leonida pressed.

“I will not leave you.”

Considering the notion of bundling her stubborn maid out the window whether she wanted to go or not, Leonida stiffened as Pyotr held up a hand in warning.

“Someone comes.”

There was the sound of footsteps on the narrow flight of stairs. Leonida’s heart plunged as Sir Charles came into view, attired in a pristine gray coat and a mocking sneer on his lips.

“Ah, I hope I do not intrude?”

Leonida smoothed her expression, not willing to give the man the satisfaction of witnessing her fear.

“Not at all.”

“Good. Then perhaps you will join me downstairs for a light luncheon?”

Her heart missed a painful beat. Dear God. Had her mother paid the ransom? Was this the end?