Lord Buckingham’s Bride (12 page)

Her house came into view and she reined in for a moment. It was a lovely house, with a green cupola and a Roman portico on white columns, and it faced across the park toward the wooden bridge
leading
to Kamenny Island. An elegant conservatory was built against the southern wall, its many glass panes catching the sunlight as she rode toward it. She always returned from her rides to take a little
refreshment
in the almost tropical surroundings of the conservatory, and accordingly a groom was waiting by the door to take her horse.

As he led the horse away, she paused to tease off her gloves. Her wedding ring shone on her finger, a constant reminder of the great love she had had for her dead husband. She would never forget Axel von Strelitz, and she'd never forgive the British for murdering him.

Pushing open the conservatory door, she stepped from the cold into the sweet-scented humidity inside. Flourishing green leaves pressed all around, and exotic flowers bloomed brilliantly, sometimes white,
sometimes a vivid salmon-pink or scarlet, and sometimes mauve or pink. Vines climbed up trellises, vases of cut flowers stood waiting on the red brick floor, in readiness for taking into the house, and tiny birds fluttered among the branches high overhead. There was a tinkle of water as fountains splashed into marble basins where fish darted beneath lily pads and the soft buzzing of insects among the blooms. The air was almost stiflingly hot after the crisp May air outside, for the conservatory was heated by a number of large stoves that were kept constantly stoked to make everything as warm as possible.

There was an alcove at the far end of the conversatory, a secret place where a white-painted wrought-iron table and several chairs had been placed, and it was there that she always liked to sip a small cup of sweet Turkish coffee after her rides. Gathering the skirt of her riding habit, she made her way quickly toward it, for the maid would have put the coffee there the moment her mistress had been seen riding toward the house. Her light footsteps sounded on the pathway leading between the towering greenery, and a small chattering call greeted her as her pet monkey jumped excitedly up and down on its perch, knowing that it was about to be fed some delicious
strawberries
from the little bowl that was just out of its reach.

Smiling, Irina hurried past the table and chairs without looking and took one of the strawberries to hold it out to the little creature. As the eager little paws snatched at the fruit, someone coughed very
deliberately
behind her.

Irina whirled about and found herself staring at a dashing figure in the uniform of a high-ranking officer in the Preobrazensky Regiment. ‘Nikolai,' she cried delightedly, hurrying to him and flinging herself into his arms.

He laughed, holding her close. ‘Irina, Irina, how very good it is to see you again.' He spoke in French, the first language of all highborn Russians.

‘But when did you return? I thought you would be in Stockholm for weeks yet.'

‘King Gustavus Adolphus is ill, thank God.' He smiled at her, his gaze moving over her lovely face. ‘You grow more beautiful each time I see you. I trust that his imperial majesty still pays you every
attention
?'

‘Of course he does. I will see him tonight, first at the opera and then afterward, when he comes here to be with me.' She drew back. ‘Will you come to the opera as well, Nikolai? You know how I hate it when I have to sit alone in my box, and the czar sits alone in his box. If you were with me, it would be much better.'

‘If you wish it, then of course I will come with you. Irina, how have things been in my absence?'

‘Things?' She went to the table to pour the coffee into the two little cups that the efficient maid had placed on the tray. ‘What things?'

‘Political things. Is Alexander more favorably disposed to France than he was when I left?'

‘Yes. I do my best.'

‘I'm sure you do.' He smiled as he accepted the cup she held out to him. ‘I trust that the new British ambassador hasn't too many
opportunities
to exert his charm upon him?'

‘Upon Alexander? No.'

‘Good, because if there is one thing our dear czar responds to it is the cultured and engaging manner of a gentleman like Lord St Helens.'

Irina's smile faded a little. ‘Don't talk about the czar like that.'

‘Like what? Oh, Irina, don't be silly, I didn't mean anything.'

She went to the table and sat down, sipping her coffee for a moment. ‘I don't like it when you refer to the czar in that way, Nikolai.'

A light passed through his eyes and then he nodded. ‘Forgive me, I didn't mean to offend you. Very well, you have my word that I will be more respectful in future.'

‘He has advanced you, Nikolai. If it were not for his assistance, you would not be of such a high rank in the regiment, would you?'

‘And if it were not for his intransigence, I would by now be married to the Grand-Duchess Helen,' he replied sharply. ‘It is good enough for him to bed you outside his marriage, but it isn't good enough for me to make his sister my princess.'

Irina's brown eyes swung toward him in surprise at the force of his bitterness. ‘Nikolai, I had no idea you felt so strongly. You've never given any sign of it before now.

A nerve twitched at Nikolai's temple, for he hadn't meant to let her
realize so much. ‘Don't let us argue, Irina, for all this is old ground.' He looked pointedly at the wedding ring on her finger. ‘Perhaps now is not the time to mention this, but …' He allowed his voice to trail away.

She saw the way he looked at her ring. ‘To mention what, Nikolai?'

‘Well, knowing how you feel about the way Axel was killed—'

‘Was murdered,' she interrupted. ‘What do you want to tell me?'

He sat down, ignoring her look of disapproval as he raised his legs and rested his spurred heels on the edge of the wrought-iron table. ‘Do you recall an approach made to the czar by an Englishman called Lord Buckingham? He wishes to purchase a colt from the imperial stables.'

She nodded. ‘Yes, I remember. What about it?'

‘I've now met Lord Buckingham; indeed, I made his acquaintance and that of his bride-to-be while staying in Stockholm.'

‘And? Oh, do get to the point, Nikolai!'

‘I was agreeably surprised by them, and when I learned that I was to come back to St Petersburg, I waited for their ship at Kronstadt and conveyed them here in the
Irina
.'

‘I can only imagine that the lady is very beautiful,' Irina murmured.

‘I will ignore that remark,' he replied.

‘Which means I'm right. Do go on.'

‘Well, during conversation on the
Irina
, I learned that until very recently Lord Buckingham had been in the British navy and that he commanded one of their vessels at the Battle of the Nile.'

Irina looked steadily at him. ‘Are you sure?' she asked softly.

‘Very sure indeed, and what's more, I happen to know that his vessel was responsible for the final explosion on the
L'Orient
. Irina, Lord Buckingham may as well have put Axel to death with his own hand.'

Slowly she put her cup down. Her hand was trembling and her face had gone pale. She rose to her feet and turned away. ‘Why did you tell me?' she asked in a whisper, going to give the monkey another of the strawberries.

‘Because I happen to know how very much the Englishman desires that colt from the czar. It means a great deal to him, something to do with bloodlines and a red Barbary stallion from Syria. It occurs to me
that although it would be small revenge to you for losing Axel, it would nevertheless be quite a blow to his lordship if you were to thwart his plans to see Alexander. All you have to do is whisper in the imperial ear tonight and Lord Buckingham will be denied his dearest wish.'

‘Does the acquisition of this colt really mean so much to him?'

‘My dear Irina, he's an Englishman, a devotee of the turf, and a passionate breeder of the finest horses. He has set his heart on this colt because he has worked for years to perfect the thoroughbred. It would cut him to the quick to be denied not only that particular colt, but any other from the imperial stables. Indeed, the severest blow you could deal him would be to see that he is denied any prospect of access to the czar, for that would humiliate him as well.'

‘Humiliate him?' She turned, a third strawberry in her fingers.

‘He's a braggart and has been telling all and sundry that he will be able to persuade the czar to do as he wishes.'

She gave the strawberry to the delighted monkey. ‘Lord Buckingham will not see the czar,' she said softly, ‘you have my word upon that. When I see Alexander tonight, I will tell him it would hurt me if he received the Englishman who killed my husband.'

‘It is wise to ask Alexander a favor that concerns your late husband?'

‘The czar understands and respects my feelings for Axel, just as I understand the fondness and respect he has for the czarina, even though he comes so often to my bed. He will grant my wish, make no mistake about that.'

Nikolai smiled and got up from his seat. ‘Well, I think I'd better be going.'

‘I hoped you might stay,' she said quickly.

He went to her, kissing her on the cheek. ‘I've already ignored my duty by coming to see you before I reported to the Winter Palace, and after I've conveyed the situation with Gustavus Adolphus, I'll be expected to go straight to the barracks.'

‘But you'll still come to the opera with me tonight?'

‘Of course. And you will be sure to put a stop to Lord Buckingham's hopes?'

‘Oh, yes, I'll be certain to speak to Alexander tonight. The
Englishman will never be received.'

Smiling again, he turned to go, but Irina spoke once more.

‘What is her name, Nikolai?'

‘Whose name?'

‘Lord Buckingham's bride-to-be. She is what all this is really about, isn't she? You desire her?'

‘You wrong me, Irina.'

‘I know you, Nikolai.'

He smiled a little. ‘Her name is Miss Alison Clearwell.'

‘And do you think you will succeed with her?'

‘Oh, I mean to succeed with her, Irina,' he replied softly.

‘Then I wish you well,' said Irina, taking up a fourth strawberry and holding it out tantalizingly toward the monkey's quick little paws.

Nikolai left the conservatory, and as he returned to the landing stage where a boat was waiting for him, he hummed lightly to himself. Soon Lord Buckingham would be thwarted, whether or not he was a British agent; and if he were to disappear in the near future, it was going to be highly unlikely that Alexander would order an
investigation
. Alexander would be afraid that Irina was behind the
disappearance
and would stay his hand in order to shield her.

Lounging back in the stern of the boat, Nikolai smiled a little. He was beginning to feel safe again now that he was able to take control of things himself, and soon he would be as completely secure as ever. In the meantime, however, before his ultimate aim came to rewarding fruition and Alexander paid the price for the insults of the past, there was the delightful prospect of possessing Miss Alison Clearwell. His desire for her had increased rather than lessened, and she was constantly on his mind. Her perfume permeated his dreams, a
seductive
blend of lavender and innocence to torment his senses, and the need to make her his grew stronger with each passing hour.

A
lison looked at her reflection in the tall cheval glass, for her preparations were now almost complete and it was nearly time to leave for the ordeal of the opera and Mrs Fairfax-Gunn. Outside, the long northern evening was still light, even though the hour was late, and it would be some time yet before the lamps were lit along the embankment. The
Pavlovsk
had arrived an hour or so before, and now lay at her mooring on Vassily Island, just a little downstream from the
Irina
. Francis's luggage and her valise had been brought straightaway to English Quay.

The new maid Natalia had provided for her had proved to be very talented indeed. Katya was small and slight, with dark hair worn in coiled plaits that were almost completely concealed beneath a large white mobcap, and she wore a sturdy beige linen gown, with a neat white apron to protect it. She had a rather flat face and would have been quite dull had it not been for her lustrous dark-brown eyes, which shone as appealingly as those of a spaniel.

Language had proved something of a problem, for Katya spoke only Russian, with a spattering of French learned from the young tutor from Lyons with whom she had had a brief liaison. French was therefore the only common ground between maid and new mistress, and it was in this language that they had endeavored to get by. After a few initial misunderstandings they had managed quite adequately, so much so that Alison was able to tell Katya exactly how she wished her hair to be dressed and describe to her the sort of posy of fresh violets she wished to wear on a ribbon around her wrist. Now Katya had gone to purchase such a posy, and she would be back in a few minutes.

It had been very satisfying to again have the choice of her full wardrobe, instead of just the rose dimity or the
black-and-white-checked
wool. Her father had always provided amply for clothes, knowing that it wouldn't have done at all for his daughter to be at a disadvantage among her titled fellow pupils, and so she had had a number of suitable gowns from which to choose for the opera. She had decided upon a simple low-necked silver silk with long diaphanous sleeves that were gathered in a lacy frill at the wrist. It had a pretty amethyst buckle on the high waistband directly beneath her breasts, and so she wore with it the amethyst earrings and necklace that had been her mother's and that thankfully hadn't been among the few pieces of jewelry she had carried with her on the journey, for those pieces now lay at the bottom of Stockholm harbor. It was because of the amethysts that she had thought a posy of violets would look perfect tied around the gathered frill at her wrist. It was a
fashion
that she had first seen when Pamela had returned from a Christmas vacation at Marchington House, and soon all the girls at the academy had adopted it for special occasions. It was eye-catching and pretty, and not exorbitantly expensive, provided one was sensible about the flowers one chose. Here in St Petersburg it was early spring, and there were always violets in spring, no matter where one was in the world. She regretted that she didn't have any violet scent, and so used her customary lavender water.

Her hair was pinned up into a knot on top of her head, with a few wispy silver-blonde curls framing her face. The knot was twined with silver satin ribbons that fluttered at the slightest movement and gave the knot an almost temporary appearance, as if at any moment a cascade of hair would tumble down to brush her naked shoulders.

There was a discreet tap at the bedroom door, and she left the dressing room. ‘Come in, Katya,' she said.

The door opened and Francis stepped in, smiling slightly.

‘I've been called many things in my life, Alison, but Katya isn't one of them.'

‘I thought it was my maid.'

‘So it seems.' He paused, his gaze moving slowly over her. He wore a black velvet evening coat, white satin waistcoat, white gloves, a frilled white silk shirt, white silk pantaloons and stockings, and a ruby
pin of some size adorned the lacy folds of his neckcloth and there was a
chapeau-bras
tucked under his arm. He looked the picture of formal elegance, and Alison doubted if there was another man in the world who could match him for style and looks.

His blue eyes met hers and he smiled again. ‘You look very lovely, Alison.'

‘Thank you.'

‘When St Petersburg society sees you tonight, it will understand full well why I wish you to be my bride.'

‘You don't have to pretend, Francis.'

‘I'm not. I thought I'd made that quite clear.'

She turned away, going to the window to look down into the walled garden. ‘Did you and my uncle go to the Winter Palace?'

‘Yes. I left my name as is the custom, and now I can only wait and hope that Alexander sends for me without delay. I know he's going to Memel soon, for a meeting with the Prussian emperor, so I trust that he will attend to as much as he can before he leaves.' He studied her. ‘Aren't you going to ask if I also called at the embassy?'

‘Did you?' She faced him again.

‘Naturally. There will be a slight wait before the special license can be issued, something to do with documents, but it will be granted in just under a week. I had hoped that it would be a little more swift, but it can't be helped. Your aunt isn't too displeased, however, for now she has time to issue a few more invitations than had initially seemed possible.'

‘Invitations? I thought it was to be a very quiet affair.'

‘And so it will be, but it isn't going to be hole-and-corner. Alison, I think you're laboring under something of a misapprehension where this wedding is concerned. There isn't going to be anything
underhanded
or shameful about it; it's going to be a proper ceremony, and at the end of it you will be Lady Buckingham. Your conscience may make you feel guilty about it, but I swear to you that there is no need to blame yourself for anything.'

‘How can you say that! How
can
you,' she cried. ‘At this very moment Pamela is at home in England planning for her marriage to you. She loves you, she wrote to me time and time again to say so, and yet here we are, calmly planning to face her with a shocking and
unkind
fait accompli
!'

‘Well, one of us is planning calmly,' he replied dryly. ‘Very well, let me explain again why I think it is essential that we go through with this. First, there is the need to keep Naryshky's suspicions at an absolute minimum, and the way to do that is to give him proof that we are the runaway lovers we say we are. Next, there is the
far-from-inconsequential
matter of your reputation, which has been greatly harmed by events so far. From your manner now, I begin to wonder if you wish to be known as a woman of no virtue. Then there is the shame that will fall upon your family – upon your father in particular – if we decline to tie the knot and you are left with a considerable stain upon your character. And now we have the further complication of your aunt's father and his difficulty with Naryshky. Do you
imagine
that Leon Razumov's situation is going to be improved if Naryshky's wrath falls upon the occupants of this house? Well, do you?'

‘I – I …' She couldn't reply.

‘Put all these things on the scales of justice, and try to balance it with your damned conscience, and I don't think there's a very even case, do you?'

‘And in the future, when we're married—'

‘The marriage will be what we make of it, Alison,' he interrupted quietly.

There was another tap at the door, and this time it was indeed Katya. She had the posy of violets in her hand, but she looked strangely pale and uneasy.

Alison was concerned. ‘Is something wrong?' she asked in French.

‘No, madam,' replied the maid, but it was obvious that she was lying. Something was wrong.

‘Are you sure?' pressed Alison, not liking to see the girl so
disquieted
.

‘Everything is all right, madam,' insisted the maid, hurrying to a drawer to select a suitable ribbon with which to fix the posy to Alison's wrist, but as she found one and came to tie the flowers in place, Francis shook his head.

‘That isn't where they'll show to best advantage. Here, let me.' He put his hat on the bed and then teased off his white gloves before
taking the violets from the maid. ‘Bring a hairpin, if you please,' he said to her in French.

‘Yes, my lord.' Katya hurried into the dressing room and returned with the pin.

Francis took it and slid it carefully over the stems of the violets; then he stood in front of Alison, gently pinning the posy to the knot of hair on her head. When he was satisfied that it was in the right place, he moved slowly around her, examining her from every side, and then he halted in front of her again. ‘That's much better,' he said, suddenly taking her face in his hands, moving his thumbs against her cheeks.

Her breath caught a little, and she felt telltale color warming her skin. She knew he was going to kiss her, and her lips trembled. She wanted him, she wanted him so much that her whole body ached.

Katya went out discreetly, and he drew Alison gently toward him, kissing her softly at first, but then holding her closer as the kiss lost its gentleness and became more urgent. She could feel the firmness of his body against hers, and her own body quivered with forbidden excitement, stirring with the desire that he could always awaken. Her skin tingled at his touch, and the stuff of her gown was so thin that it was as if she were naked in his arms. Her secret was betrayed in that intimate moment. She wasn't capable of hiding the truth any longer: she loved him, and that love was revealed in all its pain.

He cupped her face in his hands again, gazing down into her guilty eyes. ‘Oh, Alison, Alison,' he whispered, ‘at this moment I can see into your very soul.'

‘No …'

‘Yes, Alison, because what you try to hide with your eyes is given away by your lips. Your guilty conscience is as much due to your
feelings
for me as it is to your remorse over Pamela.' His blue eyes were dark and intense, and he didn't intend to allow her any quarter. ‘Be honest with me, Alison,' he said softly.

She pulled away in confusion, moving to the window and looking down into the garden. The shadows were slowly beginning to lengthen, but as she gazed at the summerhouse, all she could see was Pamela's tearstained, accusing face. The vision seemed to shimmer in the evening light, and it brought a touch of ice to the heat of passion.
She stared out and despised herself. Why was he doing this? What reason could he have for pressing so unfairly? Indeed, what reason was there, except the obvious one, that his secret mission must be safeguarded, no matter what the cost?

‘Alison, there is no need to feel guilt—' he began.

‘Why? Because you feel none?' she cried, all the emotion suddenly bursting forth. ‘Oh, it's quite clear that you have no conscience, Francis, for your sole motive in all this is the protection of those
documents
you carry with you. They are the be-all and end-all for you, and you don't really care about my reputation, about my family's feelings, or about Natalia's father. Those things are just levers that you don't scruple about using in order to achieve your purpose.' Was she really saying all this? The words seemed to be spilling out from lips over which she had no control.

For a moment he was silent, but his eyes had frozen. ‘Is that what you really think?' he asked at last.

‘Yes, for how else am I to think about a man who so lightly accuses his innocent love of still having a
tendre
for her former suitor?'

‘You sincerely believe that I am shabby and calculating to that degree?'

‘Aren't you?'

‘No, madam, I am not, but I don't intend to lower myself to explain to you. If you choose to think that the documents are all that matter to me, then think it. Proceeding on that sole assumption, I must ask you if you intend to renege on your promise to me or if you mean to stand by it and go through with the match?'

His cold anger cut through her like a knife, and it was all she could do to meet his icy gaze. ‘I'll stand by my word.'

‘I'm all gratitude,' he murmured acidly, sketching her a derisory bow. ‘Very well, madam, now that we understand each other so well, I suggest that we go down in readiness for the joyous evening ahead.'

‘Francis—'

‘Oh, don't be alarmed, madam, for I don't mean to go on in this vein when we are in company. I shall keep it contained until our private little moments together. When we are with others, I will be the tender and adoring lover, make no mistake of that.' Coldly he offered her his arm.

She felt numb and confused as she picked up her shawl, gloves, and reticule, which Katya had put out in readiness on the back of the
fireside
chair, then she hesitated. ‘Francis, I didn't mean to—'

‘But you did all the same, madam,' he interrupted frostily.

Tears stung her eyes, but she overcame them, placing a shaking hand over his black velvet sleeve. He said nothing more as they left the bedroom and made their way to the head of the staircase.

When Katya withdrew from the room several minutes before, she didn't linger by the door but made her way quickly toward Natalia's room, outside which she hesitated, pressing her hands nervously against the crisp folds of her apron. Her tongue felt a little dry in her mouth and she tried to compose herself because she knew that what she had to say would be received with alarm. Taking a deep breath, she knocked at the door.

After a pause it opened and Natalia's maid looked out. ‘What is it?' she asked in Russian, her tone superior because she and not Katya was maid to the mistress of the house.

‘I must speak with
madame
.'

‘She is very busy getting ready.'