Bound by Love (27 page)

“I knew I could trust you to create a miracle. Your exquisite sense of fashion is exceeded only by your beauty.”

Vanya clicked her tongue although a pleased blush stained her cheeks.

“And I thought it was Edmond who inherited your father’s gilded tongue.”

“False rumors that I suspect came from my brother.”

“Ah.” She sent him a significant glance. “Speaking of rumors.”

He grimaced. “Please, Vanya, I have not yet had my first brandy.”

“Allow me.”

With a regal grace, Vanya moved to the brass inlaid table to pour a measure of brandy into a glass. Returning to Stefan, she pressed it into his hand and watched as he tossed it down in one swallow.

“I do not suppose this can wait until I return from the palace?” Stefan muttered, placing the empty glass on the nearby mantle.

“It could, of course,” she said succinctly.

“Very well, you cunning minx.” He conceded defeat with a sigh. He would be a fool to walk into the poisonous atmosphere of the palace without all the information he could gather. “Tell me of these rumors.”

“The first is that Leonida was sent to England to discover whether an English suitor would appeal more to her than those Russian hopefuls that she has already rejected.”

A peculiar resentment flared through his heart. “Have there been many?”

Vanya lifted a silver brow. “Many?”

“Many rejected suitors?”

“More than a dozen that I know of, and no doubt many more who I do not,” she admitted, her tone casual but her gaze piercing.

He clenched his jaw. Now was not the moment to dwell on the thought of Leonida being swarmed by anxious suitors. He had promised Boris he would at least attempt to remain civilized.

“Let us return to the rumors.”

Vanya’s full lips twitched. “Well, there are those who are speculating that Leonida found you no more pleasing than any other man and returned to Russia only to have you follow her in the hopes of changing her mind.”

No more pleasing? The woman had melted in his arms like warm butter.

“And what are the others speculating?”

“That you were the one to dislike the match and Alexander Pavlovich commanded your presence to bring you up to snuff.”

“So either I am a lovesick swain, or a marionette on the Czar’s strings? Lovely.”

Vanya toyed with a square-cut emerald that dangled from her ear. “What did you expect?”

“Can I not simply desire to visit my mother’s homeland without ulterior motives?”

Vanya’s laughter echoed through the large parlor. “My darling Stefan, you are in St. Petersburg. Nothing is done without ulterior motives.”

He could not argue with her logic. The royal sport in Russia was gossipmongering. How many noble families had been destroyed by stray whispers?

“So which rumor do you believe?” he abruptly demanded of his companion.

She studied him for a long, unsettling moment. “I believe that you are more confused than any of us as to your reasons for being here.”

The undeniable accuracy of her words wrenched a startled laugh from Stefan.

“Edmond always claimed that you were as crafty as a fox.”

“And a dependable friend.” Her expression softened as she moved to place a hand on Stefan’s arm. “Stefan, you must take care.”

He met the pale blue gaze, keeping his own expression guarded. He had told Vanya nothing more than the fact he had traveled to St. Petersburg to complete unfinished business between him and Leonida, but the woman was far too clever to be easily deceived.

She already suspected more than he desired.

“Am I in danger?”

Her fingers on his arm tightened. “My loyalty toward Alexander Pavlovich will never waver, but the Czar grows more unpredictable with every passing year. If he believes your arrival in St. Petersburg is connected with Miss Karkoff, he will demand to know your intentions.”

Stefan was not impressed. What father allowed his
daughter to be sent to England without ensuring she was properly cared for?

“I did not realize he took such an interest in the young lady.”

Vanya’s lips thinned as she was forced to acknowledge Stefan’s rebuke.

“It is admittedly haphazard and at his convenience, but your arrival is certain to recall it to mind.”

Stefan covered her fingers that lay on his arm, regretting his sharp words. Vanya had been nothing but kind since his ill-mannered intrusion into her home.

“I appreciate your concern, but I cannot ignore an invitation to the Summer Palace.”

“No, but you can avoid incurring the Czar’s wrath.”

Stefan smiled wryly. “I seem to hear that with monotonous frequency.”

“No doubt because it is excellent advice.”

“I promise to do my best,” he soothed, attempting to lighten the mood. “So, before I walk into the hornet’s nest, do you have any other words of warning for me?”

With a shrug she stepped back, obviously accepting that she had done all she could to keep Stefan from disaster.

“There are the inevitable squabbles among the minor nobles and the Austrian ambassador is currently out of favor, so if he sends you an invitation it would be best to refuse.” She paused, an expression of distaste rippling over her striking features. “You will also discover the Court littered with peculiar gentlemen and ladies who claim to be mystics. It is important that you disguise your opinion of their absurdities.”

“You forget I have spent time in English society. Ignoring absurdities is as obligatory as a properly tied cravat.”

Vanya’s smile returned. “I suppose I should also warn you that you will not be particularly welcomed by those gentlemen who had hoped to claim Leonida as a bride. At least not if they believe you to be a rival. There are many
who are convinced that marriage to her will further their position in society.”

Stefan’s brows snapped together. Leonida wed to further the ambitions of some worthless buffoon? Never.

She deserved a man who could appreciate her rare combination of sweet innocence and fiery courage. A man who would lavish her with his undivided attention and make certain she understood just how extraordinary she was.

A man like himself.

“If that is true then it is little wonder she has refused to wed,” he said, caught off guard when Vanya tilted back her head to laugh with rich humor. “What is so amusing?”

“Miss Karkoff is unwed because she has not yet discovered a man worthy of her heart. Such an intelligent and spirited woman would be foolish to settle for anything less.”

Stefan’s scowl remained. Somehow he had the sense that he was included in those men whom Leonida found unworthy.

“And precisely what makes a man worthy?”

“That is for her to decide.” Vanya pursed her lips. “I do hope for her sake, she will consider carefully before committing to any man. A woman in her position has the luxury of remaining independent for as long as she desires.”

Even knowing the woman was attempting to provoke him, Stefan couldn’t halt the stab of annoyance.

“It is little wonder you are considered a danger to young ladies of society,” he said tartly.

“Because I believe that women are capable of making their own decisions? The world is changing, Stefan. Women are no longer the property of men.”

“A pity,” he muttered.

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“You sound remarkably like your brother before he at last accepted he would have to put aside his pride and earn
the trust of the woman he loved. No doubt you intend to be just as stubborn.”

Stefan froze, refusing to consider why the accusation had made his heart clench in alarm. Edmond’s stormy courtship of Brianna had nothing in common with his desire for Leonida.

Nothing at all.

“Good God, I am suddenly relieved that I am forced to endure dinner at the palace,” he retorted. “An evening in the Emperor’s company is fraught with far less risk than sharing a brandy with you, my dear. At least with Alexander Pavlovich I stand a fair chance of coming out unscathed.”

She shook a warning finger in his face. “A wise man does not praise himself going into battle, he praises himself coming out.”

P
ETERHOF, THE
S
UMMER
P
ALACE
of the Emperor of Russia, was a tribute to Emperor Peter’s fascination with the seas and the sheer force of his will.

Stretching along the Gulf of Finland, the grand palace separated the upper and lower parks that had been designed by the French architect Leblond, a student of Le Notre who had created the Versailles gardens. Leblond (along with his fellow architects) secured his own fame with his exquisite Grand Cascade that began at the front of the palace and directed the channel of water through sixty-four fountains and past hundreds of gilt bronze statues that glorified the sea gods and goddesses. At the bottom of the Cascade was the mighty Samson Fountain that Peter had constructed to proclaim his victory over Sweden.

The palace itself had been built with large windows and terraces to admire the view, and beneath Peter’s daughters’ rule it had been expanded by Rastrelli. The talented architect added a floor to the central Baroque building and connected two sweeping wings with golden domed pavilions at each end.

It truly was a masterpiece, Leonida had to acknowledge as she stepped from the carriage and paused to admire the brilliant yellow structure trimmed with white that glowed like a jewel beneath the flames of a thousand torches.

A pity that her nerves were so tightly knotted that, for once, her invitation to the palace was more a punishment than a treat to be savored.

Allowing herself to be swept along with her large party of elegantly attired companions, her heart thudded with a painful dread.

Damn Stefan.

When Herrick had arrived at the cottage to return her to St. Petersburg she had been certain that she had seen the last of the Duke of Huntley. She was once again surrounded by the protection of her family and any hope he could have harbored at continuing their affair was at an end. What could possibly keep him in Russia?

The aggravating man, however, refused to accept the inevitable.

He had shown up at her house demanding to see her, and while she had managed to have him turned away, she had discovered this morning that he still possessed the means to force a confrontation.

Why else would he have accepted an invitation to dinner with Alexander Pavlovich?

The devious duke had to know that she would be terrified at the thought he would expose her mother’s foolishness to the Czar and confess her true reasons for traveling to England. What better means of forcing her from her home?

Clenching her teeth, Leonida climbed the wooden steps of the Gala Staircase. About her the milling guests whispered in awe at the dazzling display of gilded garland and flowers that decorated the white walls along with golden mythological statues tucked into shallow alcoves. Even the wrought-iron railing was decorated with traces of gilt.

Leonida paused on the wide landing, pretending to study the two female statues representing spring and summer that towered on pedestals connecting the railing. It was more than a simple appreciation for their flowing robes and graceful features. She needed to escape her chaperones without the tedious necessity of inventing some excuse.

Once certain she had escaped notice among the crowd, Leonida continued up the stairs, determinedly heading
toward a side door once she reached the formal hallway rather than continuing on to the reception rooms. From there she hoped to be able to scan the guests from the shadows. She had to find Stefan before he could meet with Alexander Pavlovich.

She had just reached the door when a hand reached to grasp her arm, keeping her from her escape.

“Leonida?”

She swallowed a sigh of resignation as she turned to greet the older man attired in a plain black jacket and white waistcoat.

This was one gentleman she could not dismiss with a frown.

“Herrick.”

Waiting for her to perform a graceful curtsy, Herrick regarded her with a suspicious gaze.

“I did not realize that you would be attending tonight. Alexander Pavlovich mentioned that the Countess was still recovering from her illness.”

Leonida smoothed her hand down the gold satin ball gown that was embroidered with rubies along the low-cut bodice and tiny puff sleeves that barely caught the edge of her shoulders. Her pale curls were loosely piled on top of her head and a wide ruby ribbon encrusted with diamonds encircled her throat, disguising the cut that was rapidly healing.

She had told herself that she had chosen this particular gown because the Czar would expect her to appear at her best. It had nothing to do with the infuriating Duke of Huntley.

“Princess Rostovsky was kind enough to request I join her party,” she retorted.

If she hoped that would be enough to send Herrick on his way, Leonida was doomed to disappointment.

“I trust the Countess will soon be fully restored to health?”

She smiled with rueful amusement. When she had first returned home her mother had been nearly hysterical with
relief, barely allowing Leonida out of her sight. Then Nadia had learned that the letters were once again missing. She had taken to her bed, refusing to believe that her world was not coming to a ghastly end.

“We both know she will not be fully recovered until the letters are returned and the danger of scandal is at an end,” Leonida said, her voice pitched low.

“It is not in Nadia’s nature to hide from trouble.”

“She is still blaming herself for my unexpected adventures and has convinced herself that she is destined to be properly punished by having her sins exposed to Alexander Pavlovich.”

Herrick shook his head, a hint of impatience rippling over his gaunt face. “She has always possessed a love for the melodramatic. I will speak with her.”

“You are always welcome, Herrick, but I am not certain that even your powers of persuasion will persuade Mother to leave her bed.”

“I will simply point out that her continued absence from the palace is stirring the Czar’s suspicion that she is avoiding his company.” A glint of humor softened his dark eyes. “If that fails I shall say that the Court is beginning to whisper that Alexander Pavlovich has at last wearied of her and has banned her from his presence.”

Leonida chuckled, easily imagining her mother’s horror at the mere thought. She would be scrambling from her bed before her maid could pull back the covers.

“You are a devious man, Herrick Gerhardt.”

“I should be, I have had years of practice.” He reached out, cupping her chin to study her pale face. “Now, my dear, why do you not tell me what you are doing here?”

Leonida cursed the luck that had crossed her path with this all too shrewd man. He knew her far too well.

“I was invited. Is there a reason I should have declined?”

“You know that the Duke of Huntley will be attending?”

“Will he?”

Herrick narrowed his piercing gaze, not fooled for a moment by her innocent tone.

“Leonida, if you even consider the notion of putting yourself in danger again I will have you put in shackles and hauled to Siberia.”

She pulled away from his grip with an aggravated sigh. There were moments when she wearied of being treated as a witless child rather than a grown woman.

At least Stefan…

No. She would not allow herself to think of him as her tender lover. She was furious with him.

“And how could I possibly be in danger surrounded by the Czar’s personal guard?” she demanded. “Not to mention that Pyotr refuses to allow me out of the house without him at my side. He even rode beside the Princess’s carriage tonight, as if I were going to be attacked in the middle of St. Petersburg.”

“There are many varieties of danger,” Herrick observed in a hard voice. “I do not trust the Duke.”

Leonida blinked, rather startled by the older man’s reaction to Stefan. He had always been devoted to Edmond. Surely the brothers were not so different?

“You believe he is a threat?”

“I believe that he is a man fascinated by a woman and that he is not thinking as clearly as he should.” The older man shifted, as if discomfited by the conversation. “He could easily tarnish you with scandal.”

Equally ill at ease, Leonida glanced toward the passing guests. How could Herrick possibly suspect Stefan’s desire to have her in his bed?

Surely the Duke had not been so tasteless as to reveal their brief affair?

“I have agreed to trust you to retrieve those horrid letters,” she said stiffly. “You must trust me to manage the Duke of Huntley.”

Herrick’s expression tightened. “And how do you intend to manage Huntley?”

Since she hadn’t the least notion, Leonida could have happily kissed the uniformed servant who halted directly beside Herrick and performed a deep bow.

“Pardon me, sir, but the Emperor has requested your presence.”

Herrick waved an impatient hand, sending the footman scurrying away.

“Leonida.”

“Go to the Czar, Herrick,” she urged, managing a confident smile. “I will be fine.”

“If he harms you.

“Go.”

A
CCUSTOMED TO THE TEDIOUS
formality that surrounded a royal evening of entertainment, Stefan attempted to remain philosophical as his carriage crawled behind the long line of carriages leading toward the steps of the palace. He had waited days to see Leonida, he reminded himself as he fidgeted with impatience. A few more minutes would hardly matter.

Unfortunately, he could not entirely forget Vanya’s blithe reference to Leonida’s determined suitors. The thought that she was even now smiling as some man kissed her fingers or led her onto one of the shadowed terraces was enough to twist his stomach into a painful knot.

By the time his carriage reached the sweeping front steps, Stefan was climbing out before the footman could assist him. Brushing past the small clusters of guests, he rapidly made his way up the steps and entered the vestibule where he handed his hat and gloves to the servant waiting beneath the large portrait of Emperor Peter.

Belatedly aware of the curious glances trained in his direction, Stefan forced himself to take a breath and make
his way to the upper floor at a dignified pace, occasionally nodding in the direction of vague acquaintances.

The Emperor was already curious about the Duke of Huntley’s presence in St. Petersburg. He would not call more attention to himself by dashing through the palace like an imbecile.

Reaching the top of the limewood steps of the Gala Staircase, he paused to study the various guests. Most were gathered together in an effort to see and be seen, although a few were admiring the large portraits that lined the walls.

His hands clenched as he realized that Leonida was not among the crowd. Then, from the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of curls the shade of morning sunlight.

An excitement he had no intention of examining fluttered through the pit of his stomach as Stefan thrust his way past a lady attired in a hideous puce gown and her whey-faced daughter. He was not about to allow his prey to escape.

Not again.

Keeping his gaze trained on the golden curls, Stefan pushed his way to the edge of the gathering, a predatory smile curving his mouth as he caught sight of Leonida’s delicately carved profile.

So his instinct had been right. She was here. His body tightened with a scorching need as he moved forward. He had spent too many nights lying awake, aching to feel her in his arms. He was damned well not spending another night with nothing more than empty frustration.

Almost as if able to read his thoughts, Leonida glanced at him over her shoulder and then deliberately slipped into a side chamber.

With long strides he was following in her wake to enter the small living room with Chinese silk on the walls and an embroidered divan that echoed the Oriental theme near the fireplace. Assuring himself they were alone, he firmly closed the door. A pity there was no lock.

For a moment, he leaned against the wooden panels of the door, simply appreciating the sight of Leonida as she stood in the center of the room.

Christ. She shimmered like a golden angel in the candlelight.

An alarming warmth filled his heart, spilling through his body. With a low growl he pushed from the door and stalked toward her. It had been too long since he had felt her pressed to his body.

Her eyes widened at his relentless approach, as if sensing his barely leashed hunger. And then he had his arms wrapped around her and the disquiet that plagued him for days slowly eased. She fit against him with astonishing perfection.

“Leonida,” he muttered, his lips restlessly stroking over the satin skin of her face, her warm jasmine scent clouding his mind with pleasure.

For a precious moment Stefan could feel Leonida melt against him, a soft moan of pleasure wrenched from her throat. He shifted to claim her lips in a kiss of blatant need, allowing the distant clamor of elegant guests to fade until it was just him and Leonida alone in the world.

Then the sound of a string quartet soared to life in the reception hall, breaking the spell. Leonida stiffened, raising her hands to press against his chest and turning her head to escape the demands of his kiss.