Bound by Love (37 page)

The edge in his voice sent a sudden chill down her spine. “Does the information have anything to do with Sir Charles?”

“Intelligent as well as beautiful, a most charming combination.” Taking her hand, Dimitri Tipova placed it on his arm and turned to lead her toward a door on the far side of the room. “Come, I have tea waiting. We shall discuss the sad end of Sir Charles over freshly baked gingerbread.”

R
EGRETTABLY FAMILIAR
with the perils of traveling by sea, Stefan remained settled in Vanya’s carriage, far away from the crowd of waiting passengers and the unpleasant stench that permeated every dock around the world.

There were few things worse than the smell of rotting fish and unwashed bodies.

Outside the tiny window of the carriage he could view the large ship that would soon carry him to England. Thank God. For the first time since his mad flight he realized just how much he missed his rambling old house and the well-tended fields. He had been a fool to ever leave.

Once he was back at Meadowland and surrounded by the familiar companionship of his family and tenants, Leonida would soon become nothing more than a stale memory.

He grimly held on to that thought, as if it could keep at bay the howling emptiness that swept through his soul.

Watching the crew scramble about the deck of the ship, Stefan breathed a sigh of relief as Boris tugged open the carriage door. He wanted to be away from this place.

Away from the temptation of Miss Leonida Karkoff.

“They are preparing to board.”

Climbing out of the carriage, Stefan grimaced as the pungent scents assaulted his nose.

“You have seen to the luggage?”

“It is safely stowed, along with your servants.”

Placing his beaver hat on his head, Stefan angrily tugged at the cuffs of his moss-green jacket.

“I was a fool to come to Russia.”

“Not a fool.” Boris clapped a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You would have regretted letting her go without a fight.”

“And yet I still lost her.”

Boris frowned at Stefan’s harsh tone. “Perhaps in time she will come to her senses and realize she can’t survive without you.”

The memory of Leonida’s obstinate expression as she had walked away from him seared through his mind.

“Perhaps,” he muttered, knowing even as the word left his mouth it was never to be.

The knowledge was a festering wound in the center of his heart.

Stepping back, Boris waved a hand toward the dock that was now nearly empty.

“We must go.”

“Of course.” Commanding his reluctant feet to carry him forward, Stefan was abruptly spinning back toward his carriage as he heard the sound of horse hooves thundering in his direction. His breath squeezed from his lungs as he easily recognized the rider. “What the devil?”

Boris grudgingly moved to stand at his side. “What is it?”

“Pyotr.”

Boris grabbed his arm. “Huntley, we have no time to waste.” He muttered a curse as Stefan wrenched his arm free and headed directly for the Russian groom who was dismounting from his winded horse. “Huntley.”

Ignoring his companion’s attempt to halt him, Stefan stalked to stand directly before Pyotr.

“What are you doing here?”

“Is Leonida with you?” the servant demanded, not bothering to disguise his alarm.

Stefan frowned. Why the devil would the man think Leonida was with him? Unless…

She was missing.

A stark, savage fear gripped Stefan’s heart.

“No.”

“I had hoped…” The man shook his head, already turning back toward his horse. “No matter.
Bon voyage
, Huntley.”

Stefan grabbed the back of the groom’s jacket, yanking him around to meet his scorching gaze.

“Dammit, Pyotr, tell me what has happened to Leonida.”

“I don’t know,” the man reluctantly admitted. “She was in the garden, obviously upset after your visit. I checked on her several times, but when I returned to bring her a tea tray she was gone.”

Stefan’s heart refused to beat. He knew Leonida too well to believe she would wander off without telling Pyotr of her destination. Not when she was well aware that her faithful servant would panic the moment he discovered her missing.

Christ. Sir Charles obviously had survived his wounds. And now he had Leonida.

“Why the hell did you ever leave her alone?” he rasped.

Pyotr attempted to disguise his sense of guilt behind a fierce scowl.

“It was obvious she desired her privacy. Besides, I was close enough to hear if she cried out.”

“And you truly imagine a madman would allow her the opportunity to scream for help?”

Pyotr leaned forward, stabbing Stefan with an accusing glare. “It was not me who left her crying alone in the garden.”

His hands clenched at his sides as an agonizing remorse pierced him. He did not need Pyotr to point out the obvious.

He should never have left her. Not when he knew there was a possibility that Sir Charles might still be alive and in a mood for revenge.

Bloody hell. He should not have left her regardless of Sir Charles.

It had been his wounded pride that made him storm from the garden. He had offered Leonida all he possessed and she had flatly rejected him. Or at least, that was what he had told himself.

So you intend to force my hand
…

Stefan winced as he recalled his mocking words. Christ. It was no wonder she had attempted to slap his face.

Edmond would laugh to know how he had bungled his first proposal. Especially since Stefan rarely allowed his brother to forget his clumsy pursuit of Brianna.

Looking back he realized that he’d felt as if he were being manipulated into a declaration against his will. Only now could he accept that he had simply been…terrified. The answer to his proposal had mattered far too much, so he had treated it as if it did not matter at all.

And had received precisely what he deserved.

Vanya had tried to tell him. To warn him.

Leonida was not a woman who would ever trade her body to grasp position or power. And she most certainly would never be content with a man who could offer no more than a transitory passion.

For God’s sake, she had told him.

I am not my mother
…

Without warning Boris was at his side, jerking Stefan out of his bleak thoughts.

“Huntley, we must board,” he said, glaring over his shoulder at the large ship. “The captain is bleating he will leave without you. As if I did not pay the fat pirate three times what the tickets were worth.”

“Leonida is missing,” he said, the very lack of emotion in his voice revealing the depths of his fear.

“Damn.” Boris paused, then cleared his throat. “I thought the woman was no longer our problem?”

“He is right, your Grace,” Pyotr added. “Get on your ship. I will find my mistress.”

“You should not have lost her to begin with,” he snapped.

Boris regarded him with a frown, no doubt wondering if he had surrendered to madness. “Huntley?”

“Christ.” Stefan sucked in a calming breath. He had to think clearly. Leonida’s very life might depend upon him. “Return to England, Boris. Tell Edmond I will return as swiftly as possible.”

Boris threw his hands in the air. “I knew that woman would manage to keep you here.”

Pyotr narrowed his gaze. “Are you implying that this is some ploy to—”

“I don’t imply, Pyotr,” Boris interrupted, using his considerable bulk to loom over the smaller groom. “If I thought Miss Karkoff was attempting some nasty trick I would say so.”

“Enough,” Stefan snapped, his control hanging on by a fragile thread. He glared at the belligerent Russian. “Do you know anything beyond the fact Leonida has disappeared?”

Pyotr shrugged. “One of the maids claimed she saw a black carriage pull away from the mews and a…”

Stefan stepped forward as the man’s words trailed away. “What?”

“She said there was a small man with a face like a rat.”

“That hardly describes Sir Charles.”

“No, but it describes his devoted servant.”

Realization hit Stefan like a blow. “Josef.”

“Yes.”

Turning, Stefan slammed his fist into a nearby brick wall, indifferent to the shock of pain that raced up his arm. His thoughts were consumed with the horror of Leonida being in the clutches of the lethal madman.

Boris grabbed his arm, as if afraid that Stefan might do himself more damage.

“We will find her, Huntley.”

“How?” Stefan whirled back, a violent fear shuddering through his body. “We do not even know where to begin the search. Sir Charles could have taken her anywhere.”

“I will return and question the neighbors,” Pyotr abruptly decided. “Perhaps one of them noticed something that will be of assistance.”

Stefan gave an absent nod. Knowing the curiosity of most neighbors, it was worth the attempt.

“Very well.”

Leaping back into his saddle, Pyotr glanced down at Stefan.

“What do you intend to do?”

Stefan grimaced. Did he truly have a choice? He was not about to race around blindly, simply hoping to stumble across Leonida. No. He needed assistance, and there was only one man in the position to help.

“I am going to find Gerhardt.”

The groom allowed a whisper of hope to ease his grim expression. “You believe he knows where Sir Charles is hidden?”

“If he does not, he at least has the ability to gather enough soldiers to search the city. House by house, if necessary.”

P
ERCHED ON THE EDGE
of the settee, Leonida sipped her tea from a cup made of Wedgewood china and allowed her gaze to roam over the elegant parlor.

She could sense Dimitri Tipova regarding her with an unwavering interest, but she was still attempting to reconcile the sophisticated decor that currently surrounded her with the shabby exterior of the warehouse. Who could ever suspect that such a place would hide priceless Rembrandts and a collection of jade figurines that would make her mother swoon with pleasure? And the books…even from a distance she could tell they were well-worn with use rather than simply put on display.

Dimitri Tipova was proving to be an astonishingly complex man.

And a dangerous one, a voice whispered in the back of her mind. She would be a fool to allow his smooth charm to
lull her into a sense of complacency. She sensed he could be as ruthless and cold-blooded as Sir Charles in his own way.

“More tea?”

Setting aside the cup, Leonida warily returned her attention to the gentleman negligently sprawled on a chair directly opposite her.

“Thank you, no.” She ran her damp hands down her skirt. There was no means to hide her fear. “Please, will you tell me why you have brought me here?”

“Of course,
ma belle
,” he murmured, glancing toward the door leading to the private chambers. “That will be all, Josef.”

The scarred servant lifted a brow. “You are certain? She is a tiny thing, but she is cunning.”

Dimitri chuckled, seemingly content to have his commands questioned. A rare quality for most leaders.

Indeed, the only other gentleman she had encountered who treated his servants with such respect was Stefan.

Leonida crushed the thought of the Duke the moment it flared painfully through her mind. She dare not be distracted. Not now.

On this occasion, she could depend upon no one but herself to survive this encounter. Stefan would not be riding to the rescue.

“I have hopes that we shall soon come to an understanding,” Dimitri drawled, interrupting her futile thoughts. “Keep a close guard on the road. I prefer not to be surrounded by the Emperor’s Guard without warning.”

“Very well.” Josef performed a sweeping bow. “Miss Karkoff.”

Waiting until the servant had left the room and pulled the door closed behind him, Dimitri pointed a slender finger toward a small box wrapped with a bow on the inlaid ebony table in front of her.

“I have a gift for you.”

She licked her dry lips. “What is it?”

“Open it and see.”

With stiff reluctance she collected the box and tugged off the silver ribbon. Pulling off the lid, she prepared herself for what lay inside.

Surprise stabbed through her as she caught sight of the flawless diamond that glittered against the black velvet cloth lining the box.

“A stickpin?” she muttered in confusion, then without warning she realized that she had seen the diamond before. “
Mon Dieu
. This belongs to Sir Charles.”

“Yes. He has no further need of it.”

Leonida jerked up her head to meet the cruel satisfaction that glittered in the depths of his black eyes.

“He is dead?”

“Quite dead.”

A shudder of sheer relief shook her body. “Thank God.”

Dimitri dipped his head. “I thought you would be pleased.”

“I am,” she swiftly agreed, holding out the box as if it contained the plague. “But I want no reminders of the monster.”

The handsome criminal leaned forward and gently closed her fingers around the box.