Prince Of Dreams (31 page)

The butler met them at the door, a small smile cracking his usual composure as he recognized her. “Miss Emma,” he said, welcoming them to the entrance hall just as Tasia hurried to meet them.

“I saw the carriage through my window,” Tasia exclaimed, rushing to Emma. Her face glowed with delight. “How wonderful it is to see you!” She threw her arms around Emma, and they both laughed in joy, the embrace none the less hearty for being muffled by Emma's mantled cape. Emma's anxiety began to fade as she basked in the familiarity of home, of Tasia's loving presence.

Tasia pulled back and surveyed her appraisingly. “Stunning,” she said. “Smiling, radiant, splendidly fit…you seem to be thriving, Emma.” Her gaze moved to the small figure at Emma's side, and her blue-gray eyes widened a little. Surprise caused her face to pale a shade or two. The soft lines of her mouth trembled, and she whispered something in Russian. Finally she appeared to gather her wits. “Who…” she said unsteadily. “Who is this?”

“This is Jake,” Emma replied, keeping her hand on the child's tense shoulder. “Nikolas's son.”

Exercising a great amount of self-control, Tasia managed to hide her surprise. “Of course…there is no mistaking the look of an Angelovsky. The eyes, especially.” She met the boy's gaze and summoned a smile. Her voice was very kind. “Nikolas's son…I suppose that makes me your grandmother, doesn't it?” She knelt in a rustle of silk and perfume to enfold him in her slender arms.

“You're too pretty to be a grandmother,” Jake said frankly, accepting her embrace. He added in a muffled voice, “And you don't smell like one either.”

Tasia laughed. “And you, my lad, have a way with women—just like your father. You may call me
babushka
, if you like. That's the Russian word for grandmother.” She stood and removed the boy's cap, smoothing his dark hair. “Would you like to sit with my son William and his tutor while they finish a lesson? Come with me, and we'll look in on them.”

“What about Zachary?” Emma asked.

“He's in the nursery—it's naptime for him.” Tasia reached down for Jake, who took her proffered hand obediently.

The three of them went through the halls, lined with marble and columns, to the stairs, which were bordered by priceless tapestries depicting social scenes of medieval life. Tasia encouraged Jake to talk, and he eagerly told her about the menagerie on the Angelovsky estate and all the things he did with his papa. They reached the schoolroom, a cozy place filled with toys and books, the walls covered with maps and framed engravings from children's stories.

William, who was sitting at the table with an earnest, scholarly-looking young man, looked up at the visitors. His gaze fell first on Emma, and he crowed in delight, hopping off his chair. “Emma!” he cried, flinging his arms around her excitedly. “Emma, you're back!”

She laughed and hugged him tightly. “Oh, William, you've grown at least an inch.” Her dark-haired brother was as wonderfully sturdy and energetic as ever. Glancing down at Jake, she saw that he had drawn back a few steps, watching them with a mixture of curiosity and possessive jealousy. She let go of her brother and drew Jake forward, keeping both her hands on his shoulders. “William, this is your cousin Jake. Nikolas's son.”

The boys regarded each other closely, while the process of appraisal and acceptance occurred in the space of a few seconds. “Are you an Angelovsky, then?” William asked.

Jake nodded with wary pride. “I'm part Russian.”

“So am I,” William replied, and they exchanged a shy smile.

“Look what I have.” Jake pulled a handful of soldiers from his pocket, and William examined them with great interest.

Tasia interceded then, talking briefly with the tutor and asking that Jake be included in the study session. When both boys were seated side by side at the table, Tasia and Emma left the schoolroom and walked together toward the parlor.

“Is Papa at home?” Emma asked.

“He's at a board meeting at the railway company. He'll arrive soon, I expect.” Tasia slid an arm around Emma's narrow waist. “Now, tell me about Jake.”

“Nikolas had never seen him until a few weeks ago. The mother worked at a dairy on one of Nikolas's farms. Recently she died, and someone from her village brought the child to us. Nikolas has decided to keep Jake and openly acknowledge him as his son.”

“I find that surprising,” Tasia said frankly. “I don't recall that Nikolas has ever liked children. Not only that, but the boy looks so much like Mikhail—it must cause Nikolas a great deal of discomfort.”

“Yes,” Emma said earnestly, “the whole thing has been a tremendous shock to him. At first he could barely stand the sight of the boy. But now he adores Jake. It's amazing to see them together.”

Tasia shook her head in bewilderment. “I suppose children can bring out the best in people. Even in a man like Nikolas.” She paused for a moment. “You look so healthy and happy, Emma. I hope that means Nikolas is treating you well?”

“He didn't at first,” Emma admitted, coloring slightly. “But lately…” Her blush deepened. “Lately things have been better. He's different now. I can't even be certain the change is permanent. All I can do is hope.”

They sat in the parlor together, talking while Tasia attended to some needlework. Her hands were delicate and deft as she repaired the torn cuff of her husband's shirt. Finding it a relief to unburden herself, Emma told her about Nikolas's strange behavior of the past months. “At first he had these odd episodes in which he had a feeling of seeing something familiar. He had visions he didn't like to talk about, and they seemed to disturb him greatly.”

“Visions,” Tasia repeated, setting the mended shirt in her lap and staring at Emma intently. “What kind of visions?”

“I don't know exactly. But every time it happened, there was such a strange look on his face, such fear and anger…and then I found the painting. Do you remember one of the letters I sent to you in which I mentioned that we were having an old landscape restored? It turned out that underneath it was a portrait of an Angelovsky ancestor…Nikki's distant grandfather, actually. It's a mirror image of him. When he got his first good look at it, he turned white and fainted dead away. We couldn't revive him for an hour. And when Nikki finally awakened, he was…different.”

“Different?” Tasia was startled and intrigued.

“It was like the flip of a coin. One minute he wanted nothing to do with Jake or me, and the next, we were the most important things in the world to him. Later he said that he had remembered a—a past life, in which we were married to each other. For him it seems to have changed everything.” Emma frowned self-consciously. “No rational person would believe such a story. The surprise is that Nikolas, of all people, would invent something like this. Tell me,
Belle-mère
, is my husband going mad, or is he trying to make me out as the greatest fool alive?”

Tasia was quiet for a while, concentrating on her needlework. “I suppose I could believe Nikolas's story,” she finally said.

“You must be joking!”

“It's a Russian's nature to believe in such things. We're a people full of contradictions. Intemperate, mystical, superstitious…” Tasia shrugged and smiled slightly. “Perhaps we have all led past lives. Who am I to say we haven't?”

“But you're so religious! You know the Bible by heart!”

“For Russians, religion is an elastic thing. It encompasses many different beliefs and ideas.”

“I'm not like that. I can't allow myself to believe in something so extraordinary. But I do know that Nikolas is convinced his experience was real, and it seems to have influenced him for the better.”

“Then perhaps you don't need to question it too much, Emma. You might try to accept what has happened and simply go on from here.”

“But
how
—” Emma began, and suddenly she became aware of someone's entrance into the room. She looked up, and her heart jumped as she saw her father. Lucas Stokehurst looked the same as always, tall and distinguished, his blue eyes bright and piercing. A change came over his face as he stared at her, his features softening with hope and love.

“Emma—”

She sprang up and ran to him, throwing her arms around him. He was so comfortingly solid and dear. A wave of happiness rushed over her, and she lowered her face to his shoulder. “Papa, listen to me,” she said rapidly, her arms locked hard around his neck. “I've realized so many things lately. I've always demanded so much of other people, expecting them to be perfect. And I was the hardest on the people I love, so angry when they disappointed me by being human. You were trying to protect me and help me, and you were absolutely right about Adam Milbank. Forgive me for things I said. I was in such a rage, I didn't mean any of it. I love you, Papa. I've missed you so much.”

Her father couldn't answer, only pressed his chin deeper in her hair and swallowed hard, while his arms threatened to crush her. Emma brushed away her own tears of happiness. She was with her family, and everything was finally all right.

Emma sat and talked eagerly with her parents, telling them a carefully edited version of her life at the Angelovsky estate. She took pleasure in the way her father reached over to squeeze her hand. Tasia beamed at them both, delighted by their renewed closeness. After a while the boys came to the parlor to have tea and cakes. William and Jake were becoming fast friends. Zachary, still drowsy from his nap, sat on Tasia's lap.

“I want to visit Jake and see the menagerie,” William announced, his fingers and cheeks sticky from the iced cakes he and Jake were devouring. “When can I go? Will you take me there, Emma?”

“You must come soon,” Emma replied, smiling. “The animals would love to see you, William.” She hesitated before suggesting to her parents, “Now that the holidays are here, perhaps you might come to our Christmas Day party, and share supper with us afterward.”

Tasia agreed immediately, smacking her lips at the thought of the Russian delicacies the Angelovskys' cook would undoubtedly prepare. While they were in the midst of making plans, the butler arrived with the announcement that a police inspector was waiting at the front entrance. “I've been expecting him,” Luke said. “Excuse me. I must talk with him privately for a while.”

William and Jake suddenly found an excuse to leave the room. Emma was certain they were going to get a look at the visitor.

As the parlor emptied rapidly, Emma stared at Tasia with wide-eyed surprise. “Why in heaven's name is a police inspector here?”

Tasia grimaced. “The house was robbed the night before last, while we were sleeping! It has unnerved me and the children terribly. Your father's been in a fury.” She lowered her voice confidentially. “It hurts a man's pride to have his property stolen from right under his nose. Luke has set Scotland Yard on its ear—they sent two sergeants and an inspector yesterday—and he won't let anyone rest until the culprit is caught.”

“I pity the poor thief when Papa finds him,” Emma said dryly. “What was taken?”

“Some jewelry, a cashbox, a case of pistols.” Tasia frowned and shook her head. “The ease with which it was accomplished suggests that the thief was familiar with the house plan and the location of our valuables.”

“Then it's likely we know the person who did it?”

Tasia nodded, kissing the top of Zachary's head and holding him protectively. “Our servants are all old and trusted ones, so we believe the culprit has probably been a guest of ours in the past. We might even have entertained him at supper or a party.”

Emma shivered slightly. “I don't like that at all.”

Tasia shrugged, turning pragmatic as usual. “Life is always full of surprises, praise be to God.”

When Emma and Jake returned to the Angelovsky estate, Nikolas was in the process of ushering out a small group of estate agents, accountants, and lawyers, all of whom had delivered semiannual reports on his holdings. The last of the visitors departed, and Nikolas took his son on his knee, asking how the day had gone. Patiently he listened to Jake's excited account of his newfound cousins and grandparents. “Then you like the Stokehursts?” Nikolas asked quietly.

“Oh, yes,” Jake assured him. “I never met anyone like them before.”

“That I'm sure of,” Nikolas replied dryly, with a sideways glance at Emma. He grinned at her faint scowl and turned back to his son. “Why don't you go up to the nursery, Jake? There might be a new toy waiting for you.”

Jake ran upstairs to investigate, leaving with such unseemly haste that Nikolas and Emma laughed.

Nikolas stood and arched a tawny brow quizzically. “How was it?”

Impulsively Emma went over to him and slipped her arms around his lean waist. “Tasia was as sweet and kind as always, and Papa and I managed to iron out all our differences. Before I left, he even admitted that you couldn't be such a bad husband if I looked so well. I think Papa would like to make peace with you, Nikki. Don't be surprised if he wants to talk to you privately someday soon—I think he might be ready to accept you as his son-in-law.”

Nikolas smiled sardonically. “Why does that thought give me cold chills?”

She bit his ear lightly. “If Papa decides to be nice to you, I expect you to do your utmost to charm him. For my sake.”

Nikolas removed Emma's hat and smoothed his hands over her head. “I don't like it when you braid and pin your hair so tightly.”

“I'm trying to look respectable.”

“You weren't meant to be respectable. You were meant to be unbound and natural, like your animals. No, don't bite me again…I have a present for you.”

“What kind of present? Where is it?”

“You'll have to find it,” he said, smiling as she began to search his pockets. “Not so roughly,
ruyshka
…you may damage something of value.”

Triumphantly Emma located a heavy velvet pouch and pulled it out. Loosening the drawstring, she shook the object into her palm. “Oh,” she said softly, her breath catching. It was a ring, a single sapphire mounted in gold. The rich, glittering stone was the size of a robin's egg, seeming to contain every shade of blue in its glowing depths. Emma turned her stunned gaze to her husband's face.