Flight to Verechenko (19 page)

The Countess flustered. ‘ My apologies. If I had known …'

Kiril was no longer listening to her. Impatiently he waited to be divested of his cloak and gloves and strode through into the gaming room. The roulette tables were not as well attended as usual. The Countess had been right when she had complained that his grandmother's ball had robbed her of custom. At the far end of the room, behind scarlet velvet curtains, was a smaller room used for baccarat and poker. Upstairs were the mirrored and perfumed boudoirs where the Countess's gentleman clients relaxed, helped by her staff of continually changing young ladies from Paris and Moscow.

As Kiril unceremoniously entered one of the rooms it was to disturb a pillar of St Petersburg society, a flimsily clad girl on his lap, as he indulged in a game of cards with a companion he would never have acknowledged publicly. At any other time Kiril would have enjoyed the gentleman's consternation. Now he was in too much of a hurry.

He let the curtains fall behind him and undisturbed by any of the Narymovna's staff who had been given strict orders by the Countess to let the wild-eyed Prince continue his search unrestrained, he stormed into the next luxuriously-furnished vestibule.

Dominic, a full bottle of champagne in ice at his side, an empty one waiting to be disposed of on a silver tray, was deep in a hand of faro with Leon Vasileyev and waiting patiently on a couch was one of the prettiest of the Countess's new imports. With difficulty Kiril drew his eyes from unbelievably thrusting breasts beneath a gauze of chiffon, resolving to return to the Narymovna at the earliest opportunity.

‘What the devil do you want?' The Marquis might have consumed a full bottle of champagne, but it didn't show in either his speech or in his eyes. Kiril wondered nervously if the Englishman carried a pistol, and remembered too late the vague stories of scandal with an out-raged husband outside the Royal Box at Ascot when a pistol had been fired.

He said hurriedly, without his usual suave sophistication,

‘I owe you an apology. My behaviour at Verechenko was reprehensible.'

The Marquis continued to play, ignoring the uncertainty in the eyes of his partner who desired nothing more than to leave the room.

With cool insolence the Marquis raised his eyes from the cards. ‘You came within an inch of the beating of your life, Dolgorovsky,' the Marquis said as if he was speaking to a lackey. ‘ Unless you want it now, I advise you to leave.'

‘I was under a misapprehension,' Kiril said stiffly, wishing the nubile young lady would cease posing so provocatively. Damn it all, she wasn't wearing a stitch beneath that gown. How he was expected to keep his attention on the matter in hand he didn't know.

‘You are certainly under one concerning the young lady calling herself Eleanor Cartwright,' The Marquis agreed, pouring himself another glass of champagne. ‘If I were you, I should find out more about her. You may be in for a shock.'

‘I am well aware that Eleanor's background is a mystery,' Kiril said, trying to hold onto his temper. ‘But as I am not marrying her it concerns me not in the slightest.'

The Marquis laughed mirthlessly. ‘So she played for two and lost both games?'

‘By God, Clare! If you continue talking about her like this, I'll plant you another one, I swear it!'

Strong muscles rippled beneath Dominic's evening jacket and he raised his eyebrows. ‘ I shouldn't try it if I were you.'

‘I don't
want
to fight you Clare,' Kiril said exasperatedly and with truth. ‘I just wish to God you would give me a chance to explain!'

‘No,' Dominic said quietly. ‘Let
me
explain to you.'

Without even looking at her, he motioned the young woman to leave them. Disappointedly she rose to her feet, smiling alluringly at Kiril as she disappeared through the drapes, and Leon escaped with her. Kiril dragged his attention back to Dominic.

‘That young woman who wormed her way into your affections, promising to marry you at the same time as she was allowing
me
to pay court to her, is no governess and never has been.'

The conversation was not going as Kiril had intended.

‘I know very well that Eleanor is more than a governess. Otherwise my grandmother would never have encouraged our marriage. That has nothing to do with my reason for seeking you out tonight.'

The Marquis shrugged. ‘Maybe not. No doubt you want to tell me that you now realise she is incapable of fidelity to one man. Nevertheless I wish to tell you exactly who and what she is, and put an end to her masquerade.'

‘I came,' Kiril said firmly, ‘to tell you that there never
was
going to be a marriage, that …'

‘That you already suspected,' the Marquis agreed smoothly. ‘ Let me set your mind at rest, my dear Prince. The young woman's background is as impeccable as her behaviour is unspeakable.'

‘But I
know
that!' the Prince interrupted exasperatedly. ‘Damn it, man, will you
listen
for a second?'

‘I was taken in as you were.' Dominic's eyes were bruised black with pain, the lines around his mouth harsh. ‘I fell in love with her years ago, when she was little more than a child. I thought her the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. She became betrothed to my brother Robert who brought her to Paris especially to show her to me. Under the circumstances we could not meet openly. My father's attitude was unbending and I was
persona non grata.
It was the only time in my life I ever envied Robert anything. When he died I was reconciled with my father. He wanted me to marry and I saw a way of marrying the only woman I had ever wanted. She wouldn't even countenance the idea. Wouldn't even meet me. Oh, I can see I was a thick-headed fool, but I knew how devoted she had been to Robert. I knew she would refuse any offer of courtship so soon after his death and so I thought that if I proposed it as a marriage of convenience, taking care of her for Robert's sake she might accept. And, in time, learn to love me. I was a fool to think even for a moment that a girl of Catherine's spirit would marry for convenience.'

Kiril sat down slowly, listening as Dominic continued to talk as if to himself.

‘I met her the night she first tried to flee. She braved the London streets alone and in the night to borrow money from a friend and some oaf assaulted her. I heard her scream and went to her assistance.' There was a long pause. ‘It was very dark. I thought her a harlot and acted accordingly. Then, when I learnt from the Duchess that Catherine had fled, I left London immediately, hoping that by doing so she would feel free to return. On board the
Gretel,
despite her attempts to disguise her appearance, I recognised her, not only as the young woman I had treated so freely, but as Catherine Davencourt, the girl my brother had loved and wanted to marry. The girl I had loved at a distance for years.'

‘But then why didn't you tell her you knew her real identity?'

‘Because I am a fool,' Dominic said savagely, slamming his fists onto the table. ‘It was pleasurable teasing her, allowing her to think I thought her a reformed harlot. And I wanted to make her want me as I wanted her. She would have nothing to do with me for weeks, but then, the day war was declared, I knew she felt the same as I did.' He ran a hand despairingly through his thick hair. ‘I was going to tell her this evening that I knew all along who she was, and then you burst in and I realised what a fool I had been. I had been taken in by her beauty, by Robert's description of her sweetness and vitality. Thank God he never knew what a faithless whore she is at heart. To allow me to kiss her, desire her as I did and to respond to it. And all the time to intend marrying you to become a Princess!'

The dark eyes blazed with torment. ‘I wasted years of my life on a dream woman that didn't exist. A pretty mirage without substance. Well, I'll waste no more! She can rot in hell now. I'll never see her again,' and he strode backwards and forwards across the red plush room a nerve twitching at the corner of the white-lipped mouth.

‘But she loves you!' Kiril protested.

‘No doubt she told you she loved you as well, otherwise you would never have asked her to marry you!'

‘But she didn't! She said she would think about it and that was only because I told her that you were to marry Amelia Cunningham.'

Dominic stopped his marching and in one quick movement pinned Kiril against the wall. ‘I never proposed marriage to that sly-eyed cat, and well you know it!'

‘You paid her enough attention,' Kiril protested, hoping that the Marquis had not damaged the expensive lace of his shirt front.

‘To make Catherine jealous,' he hissed, as if talking to a child. ‘Do you know nothing of how a woman's mind works?'

Kiril felt he did but that now was not the time to say so. He remained silent.

‘So she never
did
say she would marry you?' Dominic showed no intention of releasing Kiril, he held him by the throat his eyes burning into his.

‘No. Tonight she told me she loved you. That she could never love another man. She was half out of her mind with grief.'

Dominic let go of him so suddenly Kiril stumbled.

‘Where are you going?' he asked, picking himself to his feet as Dominic wrenched the curtains to one side.

‘Where am I going?' Dominic said. ‘To Catherine of course!' And the curtains swished behind him, leaving Kiril breathless and dazed as he struggled to adjust his shirt frills to their usual perfection.

Amelia had been well aware of Dominic's absence from the ballroom. One waltz with her and he had disappeared—and so had that redhaired creature.

As she circled the polished floor in the arms of an elderly Arch-Duke she caught sight of her mother's face and froze inwardly. Lady Cunningham was obviously in the grip of barely-controlled passion. The dance seemed endless. Not waiting to hear the Arch-Duke's thanks as the music finally finished playing, she made her way hastily to her mother's side. ‘What is it? What is the matter, Mama?'

‘Not here.' Lady Cunningham clicked her fan shut, forcing a smile across at Countess Nestoreva who was watching her. ‘Take a glass of champagne and we will seek some air on the balcony.' Her voice was trembling with suppressed emotion.

Hardly able to contain her impatience, Amelia took a glass of champagne and strolled with apparent nonchalance onto the flowerdecked balcony with its myriad fairylights.

Lady Cunningham carefully avoided the couples who were also seeking seclusion. At last, satisfied she would not be overheard, she said grimly, ‘ Princess Dagmar's companion coerced the Marquis into one of the smaller salons, a
darkened
salon!'

Amelia drew in a swift intake of breath, her lips tightening.

‘Fortunately the children's nanny saw them and had the sense to inform the Prince. Of course the Princess is saying the Marquis forced his attentions on her companion and that the girl called for help, but
I
know which version to believe.'

‘And what happened—was happening—when the Prince entered the salon?' Amelia's fingers curved, itching to scratch long weals down Catherine's cheeks.

Lady Cunningham wasn't sure whether it was best to tell her daughter or not. She still hoped to gain the Marquis for a son-in-law and men would always be men. A pretty face and a willing one and they all behaved like fools. She had the good sense to realise that the Marquis had entered that candle lit salon of his own free will, but it would not do to give her daughter that impression.

‘The hussy was forcing herself upon him, wrapping her arms round his neck. The whole affair was perfectly disgusting. Naturally the Marquis was trying to disentangle himself. But the Prince was so mad with rage—apparently he
was
going to marry her—that he would not listen to reason. The Marquis told him what a harlot the girl was and the Prince knocked him to the ground.'

‘Harlot?' Amelia's eyes, so soft and appealing by day and hard by night, lit up. ‘Did he actually call her a harlot?'

‘Oh yes!' Lady Cunningham's informant had been most insistent of that point and it gave her Ladyship great satisfaction. ‘ But the damage is done, Amelia. The Marquis has left Verechenko and without proposing to you.'

‘And all because of that common-place little slut!' In a vengeful fury she swept back into the ballroom, disregarding her mother's restraining hand.

There was no sign of the sea-green satin and lovely head of red-gold hair crowned by a single perfect rose. Instinct led Amelia from the ballroom to the private apartments upstairs. She stopped a footman, enquiring as to the whereabouts of the suite of rooms occupied by Princess Dragmar's companion. Obediently the footman led the way. As they stopped outside an exquisitely carved door, Amelia dismissed him curtly. Then without even the courtesy of knocking, she flung the door open and entered. Vilya rushed forward protestingly, then, seeing who the invader was, fell back uncertainly. Catherine raised a tear-stained face from her arms, staring in bewilderment.

Even with eyes red-trimmed from crying and cheeks scored by tears, Catherine's beauty was undeniable. Amelia glared at her in hatred.

‘He's gone! Because of you he's gone!'

A vicious hand slapped Catherine's cheek, nearly knocking her off the satin-padded stool. ‘You weren't satisfied with Kiril were you? You had to have him as well!' She laughed mirthlessly. ‘ He's not such a fool as the Prince. He knows what you are. A harlot. That's what he called you, isn't it? A harlot. And the Prince knows now too. You'll never be Princess Dolgorova now. But I shall be Marchioness of Clare. I am going to him at the Nestorevs' to tell him I realise the scene was none of his fault. That you flaunted yourself, compromised him. I shan't lose him because of a gutter-snipe like you!' And she slammed the door behind her leaving Vilya open-mouthed in amazement.