Forever in Your Embrace (61 page)

The maid was by no means the only one desirous of seeing the presentation. Synnovea was elated over the prospect of watching Tyrone and his men perform on the field for the tsar, yet she was a bit anxious about it, too, considering His Majesty would be comparing the skills of her husband’s company to others. Now that there were other troops of Hussars eager to win the distinction of being the best and most impressive riders on the field, she was anxious for Tyrone to accomplish a flawless exhibition.

For the occasion, Synnovea had garbed herself in an emerald-green
sarafan
lavishly embroidered with twining vines and small silk clusters of pale blue flowers. It was one that Tyrone especially liked. Not only did the darker hue accentuate the green in her eyes, but the rich color complimented her fair skin. A matching
kokoshniki
had been created with tufted ribbons of light blue interspersed among green silk leaves, which had been adorned with dewdrops of translucent beading. Lastly she draped a fringed shawl of iridescent green silk around her shoulders, hoping the weather would stay pleasant long enough to allow her to escape the need for a cloak, which she had prudently brought along in the carriage.

Natasha had also been caught up in the enthusiasm of her companions and vivaciously waved and called greetings to friends and acquaintances as she followed to the reviewing stand to which Tyrone had verbally directed them before taking his leave earlier that morning. Prince Adolphe hailed Natasha from afar and hastened to catch up as she, in turn, tried to keep pace with Synnovea. Arriving at the pavilion where the wives and families of the officers were gathering, the younger woman paused to catch her breath, much to the relief of the two older women, who had lagged behind in spite of their attempts to keep up. Rosy cheeks on all attested to their rapid flight across the grounds in the crisp morning air.

“You should be grateful that Tyrone wasn’t here to witness your arrival, my dear,” Natasha exclaimed breathlessly, dabbing a lacy handkerchief to her cheeks where a fine mist of perspiration now glistened. “Otherwise you might have given him cause to think you’re anxious to see him all spiffed and polished in his uniform.”

Synnovea had taken a measure of delight in withholding news of their new marital relationship from the older woman. Since it was clearly what the elder had been expecting, Synnovea had no doubt that she’d be teased unduly, and was just as certain that she’d never hear the last of Natasha’s gleeful hooting if she even hinted of her growing infatuation with Tyrone Rycroft.

Tossing her head, Synnovea sweetly needled, “And I suppose you just came along to pester me and have no real interest yourself in watching the proceedings. If that’s all you’ve come for, perhaps Prince Adolphe can entertain you while Ali and I watch the festivities.” She inclined her head to indicate the gray-haired man who was hastening up the steps of the pavilion. “He’s here now to save you from the dreadful boredom of this event.”

Natasha chuckled at the girl’s spirited rejoinder. “You should know by now that a team of Adolphe’s finest horses couldn’t drag me away from here today.”

“Of course,” Synnovea answered with a smug smile. “But I just wanted to hear it from your lips.”

Both women swept into deep curtsies as Prince Adolphe joined them. The man’s dark eyes twinkled admiringly as he complimented Synnovea on her apparel, but when they settled on Natasha, a different light glowed in their depths, one that closely resembled adoration. Even after being gently rejected several times, the widowered prince hadn’t yet lost hope that Natasha would someday relent and accept his proposal of marriage.

“Perhaps the two of you should adorn the tsar’s pavilion, where your beauty can be better viewed,” Adolphe suggested with a chortle, “and where I can also benefit from your radiant glow while adhering to my duties.”

The two women laughed at his magnanimous compliment, but Synnovea kindly rejected his gallant invitation. “My husband will be expecting to see me here, Prince Adolphe, and I wouldn’t want him to think that I hadn’t come. Therefore I must forgo the privilege of joining you. But there’s no reason why Natasha cannot.”

The prince was eager to convince the older woman. “So many of our friends are already there, Natasha.” Puckish humor tugged at the corners of his mustached mouth. “But then, there are several who might not be quite as pleased to have you there as I. Princess Taraslovna has made a point of joining her cousin, perhaps in a quest to get back in good stead with him. That sober little cleric she dotes on is also trying to gain favor with the tsar
and
Patriarch Filaret, but his duplicity seems ill-timed.”

The last time Natasha had seen Ivan, he had been trying to rally support for a second advisor to be appointed for the tsar. She wasn’t at all surprised by the cleric’s cozenage, but she was curious to know why it seemed inappropriate. “How so?”

“From what I understand, the good patriarch got wind of Ivan Voronsky’s efforts to see himself appointed as counselor. Right now, the cleric is rather hampered by a swollen jaw and can’t offer explanations as skillfully as I’m sure he would like.”

“But what happened to his jaw?”

Adolphe chuckled. “Prince Vladimir and his sons got miffed over a remark that Ivan made about a certain colonel’s wife. Well, you know their tendency to pick a fight with anyone they find fault with. I’m afraid poor Ivan didn’t fare too well in the process.”

Natasha cast a quick glance toward Synnovea, whose attention had been snared. The older woman carefully voiced an inquiry. “Was the colonel’s wife anyone we know, Adolphe?”

“None other than your beautiful house guest, my dear.”

Synnovea could imagine the insults that Ivan was wont to lay upon her and gingerly offered a supposition. “I assume the remark was terribly offensive.”

“It was,” Adolphe Zherkof admitted, “but after Sergei nearly fractured his jaw, Ivan has been extremely hesitant about repeating the slur lest that brawling brood come after him. At the time, he probably thought Vladimir would agree with him when he said something about you supposedly being caught with the Englishman soon after the document for your betrothal to the old prince was signed, but from what Feodor told me about his brother’s attack, Ivan’s slander not only incensed their father, it outraged the whole family. ’Twould seem they are still much taken with you, my dear.”

“I knew I liked those boyars,” Natasha chimed in with amused laughter. “I just never knew how much until now.”

Adolphe grinned. “I thought you’d enjoy that bit of news, my dear. In fact, you’ll probably hear more delectable tidbits if you’d consent to join me in the tsar’s pavilion.”

“I’d love to, Adolphe, but you’ll be busy introducing diplomats and foreign emissaries to His Majesty, so if you wouldn’t mind, I’ll come after the parade, when you’ll have more time.” Lightly resting a hand upon his arm, she asked, “Will you be able to join us this evening for dinner, or must you attend the banquet for the dignitaries?”

“Alas, my services will be needed at the banquet.” He peered at her hopefully. “Tomorrow, perhaps?”

Natasha smiled. “Of course, Adolphe, but we can talk about it later.”

His dark eyes gleamed back at her. “After the parade,” he assured her, lifting her hand to bestow a kiss upon her slender fingers. “I’ll return to fetch you.”

“I shall be awaiting you,” the woman told him with a soft, warm light shining in her own eyes.

Synnovea slanted a curious stare upon her companion after the prince made his departure. “Do you suppose you’ll ever marry him?”

A sigh of contentment slipped from Natasha’s smiling lips as her gaze followed the man. “Aye,” she breathed. “When I no longer have to worry that my late husband will come between us. After enjoying a love that seemed without equal, I fear at times that it might not be the same with Adolphe.”

“If I’m any judge of men, Natasha, I rather doubt that you’d ever be sorry if you married the prince. He loves you very much, and if I may be so bold, I think you’re also in love with him, but just too reluctant to let go of your memories.”

Natasha’s dark eyes danced with humor as she met the other’s gaze. “Not so long ago, I was the one giving counsel to you. Now here you are advising me. What a turnabout indeed.”

Synnovea laughed. “Aye, and ’tis sweet revenge to be on the giving end,” she teased, squeezing the other’s fingers fondly. “At times some women are blinded by circumstances when a matter is too close to the heart, but they’re able to see things much more clearly from a distance.”

“I can hear the gossips now,” Natasha replied with a feigned sigh of lament. “That awful Natasha Andreyevna, they’ll say. Married again for the fourth time! Disgraceful hussy! And now she’s a princess, for heaven’s sakes!”

“There’s not a woman your age who isn’t envious of you,” Synnovea reasoned.

“ ’Twill certainly give Anna Taraslovna something to talk about,” the older woman predicted. “After all these years, she has never forgiven me for being Aleksei’s first choice for a wife.”

Synnovea was taken aback by surprise. “I didn’t know.”

Natasha lifted her slender shoulders in a casual shrug. “ ’Twas nothing of any import. We met while visiting mutual friends at their home. We were together for several days after a snowstorm hindered us from leaving, and although nothing untoward occurred, Aleksei vowed afterwards to have me as his bride. At the time, I was a bit overwhelmed by his charm and good looks and fervently hoped something more would come of it. Aleksei offered my parents a contract of marriage, but by then they had already promised me to my first husband. Like you, I preferred the younger man, yet my parents were alive and I could neither disobey them nor ignore the contract. It was as simple as that. Nothing more came of it, and a pair of years later, Aleksei and Anna were wed. I was widowed a week later, and when the Taraslovs came to offer their condolences, Aleksei whispered that he should have waited. I’m not sure whether he told Anna about his offer of marriage to me or she found out on her own, but she took it upon herself to draw me aside during that same visit. In short, she warned me to stay away from her husband.”

“All this time I couldn’t understand why Anna hated you so intensely,” Synnovea said in amazement. “But now I understand. She’d begrudge any woman who her husband thinks is attractive.”

“Anna must be eaten up with jealousy by now, considering the legions who’ve been beguiled by him,” Natasha observed. “I can count myself fortunate that I never had to worry about a promiscuous husband.”

“Perhaps Aleksei would have been of a different bent if he had married you,” Synnovea ventured to suggest.

The countess sighed. “Nevertheless, it has seemed my good fortune that I didn’t marry him. Who knows? I might have turned out to be as shrewish as Anna.”

“Good morn’n’!”

The greeting came from behind them, and though the voice was strangely familiar to both women, neither Synnovea nor Natasha could place it until they each turned to find Aleta Vanderhout moving toward them. The woman’s eyes swept over their elegant Russian apparel and chilled perceptibly above a stiff smile. “My, my! Yu two certainly make every effort to claim masculine attention, don’t yu?” she simpered in a voice dripping with derision. “Why, it’s a vonder the two of yu aren’t avaiting the soldiers on the field.”

Synnovea’s own smile was rather stiff as she rejoined with a fair measure of sarcasm, “We don’t need to follow them as some women are wont to do, Aleta.” Glancing aside at Natasha, she lifted a hand to indicate the newcomer. “Do you perhaps remember Madame Vanderhout? She came to your house with her husband, General Vanderhout…after my wedding.”

Natasha could hardly forget the general’s shouts filling the manse when he had chided Tyrone, or his angry search for his wife when he had sought to storm out in vexation after being gently reprimanded for his rudeness. “Of course, how could I forget?” she replied, bestowing her attention upon the blonde. “Your husband was quite insistent that I find you and wouldn’t allow me to desist until you finally made an appearance. Ever since then, I’ve been wondering where you had wandered off to. Did you get lost, perchance?”

“Tell me, Synnovea,” Aleta urged snidely, ignoring the countess’s query. “Have yu come to view your husband at this affair, or does some other man interest yu?”

The flashing green-brown eyes conveyed Synnovea’s irritation. “When my husband is the most handsome among the tsar’s troops, why in the world would I look elsewhere, Aleta? But I can certainly understand why
your
eyes are inclined to roam.”