But the music floating over the crowd had drawn their attention away from the new beauty. Few had heard such pure strains in their lifetime. He was a rare talent for he played with passion, not mechanically. It touched their hardened hearts and brought tears to eyes besides April’s.
In the prime seat over center stage, Tatiana preened like a red bird. Czar Nicholas himself shot her a glance of appreciation and an approving nod. Though Moscow boasted of being the cultural center of Russia, it had been sorely deprived of quality performances during the war.
Still, everyone could sense a slight something missing. The music Damien played was for dancing. In the mind’s eye, the vague shadow of a beautiful girl whirled to the lively refrain. It seemed only right somehow.
And Damien himself was conscious of the empty spot beside him, where no laughing green eyes challenged him to play faster and faster. His grip tightened vise-like upon the bow. Where was she now? In Ivanov’s bed perhaps, or gracing the saffron sheets of that vile Gold Room?
Glancing up, he faltered. Surely he was imagining things. The harsh glare of the spotlight was blinding, and for the most part he kept his eyes fixed on his violin, but for a moment he thought he had seen a familiar fair face reflected in the crowd above him.
No, April would not be here. She would have refused to come. As she should have. To be near Damien now was to court danger, as he was close to his goal. Just yesterday he had sent another missive to Lord Raglan regarding the latest movements of the Russian army. He had only two birds left now, and he must make them count. He also knew what a veritable fountain of information Tatiana would be, for she was General Alexsandr Menshikov’s niece. It would be foolhardy of him to pass up the opportunity.
Of course, it was not without dire risk. Tatiana might recognize him eventually. If she did, it would mean terrible consequences for both him and his countries. But he knew he must take the chance. If necessary, Damien would find a way to silence her.
The thought repulsed him, but so did the lusty stares the princess had been giving him all week. He would have no difficulty getting Tatiana alone tonight, he knew. And as he also recalled, she drank a great deal. He remembered the fiery redhead of twenty who had talked his ear off after a liberal dose of vodka.
Finally he finished, having played nonstop for almost an hour. The applause was stupendous. Damien bowed and waved, but was anxious to escape the spotlight. The moment he had left, the buzz of conversation filled the hall.
Who was the musician? Where had he learned
A Night in Madrid
? Had he studied under Mikhail Glinka, perhaps? Speculation flew as the
boyar
stood for an encore, but Damien did not reappear.
‘Take me out of here,” April begged Ivanov under the cover of clapping and cheering.
“Nonsense,” he said as he leaned close to her, “it will only confirm the rumors that you are my mistress then.”
“What? You cannot mean they believe the princess?”
Ivanov laughed at her. “Are you as innocent as you seem? They have been thinking that ever since you first appeared by my side in the sleigh. That is what I meant by opportunity, April. Either you are my mistress or you are a relative, but at any rate you are fit to be among the
boyar
.”
“You tricked me,” she said, yanking her hand free of his possessive grip, “but your little game is over. I want to leave.”
“Will you cause another scene so quickly, my dear? I assure you they are all still fascinated by your little duel with Tatiana earlier. You have opportunity to have them at your mercy now, if only you listen to me.”
“As you have me at yours? I am not a weapon to be used against those you hate.”
With surprising swiftness Ivanov recaptured her hand, and crushing it painfully under his arm, he murmured, “Are you not? We shall see.” And he rose then, dragging her with him down the aisle, making it look as if she clung to his arm of her own free will.
There was no opportunity to protest. Hundreds of eyes watched them leaving. April was helpless and furious at the same time. How could she have been so foolish as to trust Ivanov? It was clear he was only using her as a tool to strike back at the
boyar
who had laughed at him so long ago.
Instead of leading her to the exit, as she had hoped, the count took her to the ballroom for dancing. Other musicians were already set up, playing a lively ensemble. Flocks of people were arriving by means of various entrances after Damien’s performance.
“Now we will see what you are made of,” Ivanov told April in a low voice. “I know you can dance, but can you waltz?”
“I can do anything I wish,” she shot back angrily. April carefully observed the couples whirling gracefully in triple-time to the lilting music. “It does not look so difficult.”
“We shall put you to the test shortly. But for now, I think I must revive your color with some punch. I trust you will not wander off.” His voice was genial, but his eyes were hard.
April nodded curtly and he left her standing alone for a minute. The Strauss music, though lovely, was beginning to make her temples ache. She sought for a place away from the curious eyes of the aristocrats around her. Some of the men had begun sidling closer to her the moment the count had gone.
Slipping into an adjoining small chamber that hinted a brief respite, April paused to catch her breath away from the crush and the stares. She closed her own eyes and tried not to think of the man she still longed for and loved.
“You are creating quite a stir, little girl.”
Damien! She opened her eyes and stiffened to see him appear on a circular staircase above her, walking down and studying her with cool blue eyes. “I did not recognize you at first, draped in all those jewels.”
“What are you doing here? I thought you had left.”
He reached the bottom of the stairs and regarded her indifferently. “But I was invited to attend the ball by the Princess Menshikov herself. How could I refuse?”
How indeed? April glanced just outside the antechamber then and saw the volatile Tatiana presently distracted with another gentleman across the ballroom. Otherwise she knew the woman would not have hesitated to create another scene.
“You are lovely tonight,” Damien said softly. And it was true. His wife — if she still was — did not look out of place in the slightest. What a beautiful countess she would have made at his side. Her bearing was as regal as a queen’s. For a moment, Damien wondered if he could pass her off in England as a Russian princess. Then he saw the fury in April’s eyes and he knew she would never agree to it now.
“Please leave,” she said, her hands clutching the blue velvet folds of her skirts. “You are only making things worse. I am doing what you told me to do —”
“Whoring for Ivanov? It certainly seems you are dressing the part.” Damien took in her low-cut gown with faint disgust. “Perhaps he is selling you to the highest bidder right now.” He gestured into the ballroom again at a paunchy, whiskered
boyar
who was talking with Ivanov at the refreshment table.
“That’s not fair. Count Ivanov has been kind to me since you left, and there is nothing between us —”
“Yet, he is not doing this merely out of the kindness of his heart,
ma chere
. Surely you realize that?”
“Kindness is not something you understand,” April shot back. “You left
me
, remember? Where else was I to go?”
She had a right to be angry, Damien knew. But seeing April coiffed and perfumed like a damned porcelain doll for men to drool over made him furious. He had made a mistake in leaving her. She was an innocent surrounded by wolves.
“I thought you were better off without me,” he admitted after a brief silence. “I was wrong, April.”
April refused to be swayed by Damien’s words. He had wounded her too deeply, too abruptly. The shock of his desertion would scar her for a long time, and the time that had passed had only made her bitter and resolved that she would never love so trustingly again.
“The count is returning,” she observed coldly. “I think you should go now.”
Damien’s eyes burned into hers. “I will be back, April. You cannot avoid me forever. And you know you won’t forget me …”
He stalked away just as Ivanov came in search of her. She stepped out of the antechamber with the breathless excuse that she had felt faint. Damien disappeared back up the stairs and the count was none the wiser.
“You are too pale,” he agreed critically. “Here, drink this.”
April took the punch he proffered and quaffed it in one unladylike gulp. It burned all the way down and brought tears to her eyes, but her color returned as two bright spots on her cheeks.
“Dance with me,” she said, aware that Damien emerged on a inner balcony and was watching her from above. “I wish to try this fancy whirling in circles.”
“It will make you giddy,” Ivanov warned, but April was not to be swayed. He saw she was prepared to return an encouraging glance to any of the men who lingered hopefully nearby, and with a sigh he swung her out onto the floor.
It had been years since the count had danced, but he had not forgotten how. Ivanov guided her smoothly into the next refrain, and April followed his lead flawlessly, watching the other dancers. She was gifted with a natural ability that made her appear light as gossamer, born to glide across fine floors with her belled skirts swirling.
The punch, which was mostly colored vodka, went to her head as Ivanov had predicted. She smiled and enjoyed the breeze blowing across her face as they spun gracefully around the huge floor among the other brilliantly-costumed dancers.
Suddenly, another
boyar
cut in unexpectedly. The man was unfamiliar to April and Ivanov purpled, but was forced to relinquish her to avoid a scene. Soon the interloper was replaced with another and yet another enchanted nobleman.
All of them tried to coax personal information out of April. Who was she? Who was her family? She laughed and chatted easily, avoiding any direct questions. They were all too charmed by her dazzling beauty to note how she adroitly failed to reply. April left many a man standing bemused after she whirled off with another courtier, realizing he knew nothing about the mysterious beauty except her first name.
Soon it was like spring inside, and the hothouse flowers lining the bowls about the room brightened under April’s spell. She was indeed a breath of fresh air to a court long since grown stale, and her various admirers sighed and stared after her. Half a dozen men were convinced they were in love, including two older gents who distinctly recalled her predecessor Katya and the heartbreak that one had wreaked as well.
Only two people were totally immune to April’s magic that eve. One was Damien, glowering helplessly as his wife was swept laughing from arm to arm; the other was Princess Tatiana, thoroughly enraged and inconsolable that she should be so upstaged at her own
fête
.
“Mikel,” she snapped to her escort, who hurriedly tore his own gaze from April and rushed to do her bidding. “I find I am weary of this night. It seems that Ivanov’s slut has all the men slathering after her. But I have my own entertainment that will prove far more amusing.” And she flicked a pointed fingernail in the direction of Damien standing rigidly on the balcony, watching the dancers. “That one. See that he follows.”
Without waiting for the young man’s reply, she raised her Titian head and sailed from the room. Mikel gulped and hurried to do the princess’s bidding. It was not up to him to approve or disapprove of her lovers, as she often scolded him. Like many young men, he was enthralled by Tatiana and her potent personality. Her willingness to take on all comers was common knowledge, but morals in czarist Russia were different from other European courts.
“Sir?” Mikel approached Damien, stammering in polite Russian, receiving an ice-blue stare in return. “The p-princess Menshikov requests an — uh — audience with you.” The stammering boy colored, not knowing what else to say. To his surprise, Damien let out an abrupt laugh and slapped Mikel on the shoulder as he passed. “That much I understand, boy. Now go find a less dangerous woman to play with. You would do well to learn from my mistake.”
Damien found Tatiana out in the reception hall, where she stood impatiently waiting and tossing her brassy hair like a high-strung filly.
Whirling by the gilded portal, April’s eyes widened to see Damien take the princess’s arm and murmur something low against the lady’s ear. Laughing huskily, Tatiana shot a seductive look up at her handsome partner. Damien was helping her into a luxurious red fox coat that nearly reached the floor.
April’s own grip tightened on her dancing partner so noticeably that he made an exclamation of delight, supposing she urged him closer. Then they were on the other side of the room, and April looked about in vain when they passed again. Damien and Tatiana had left, obviously together. She was so distraught she could hardly choke down her tears when her escort gushed passionate compliments to her under his breath as they parted.
In a daze, April sought the only refuge she knew. Ivanov smiled triumphantly as he took her on his arm, having seen what she had. It suited his cause well that the insatiable Tatiana had taken a liking to Damien. Though he was annoyed Dmitri had failed to dispose of the gypsy as ordered, the fact Damien had caught the princess’s eye would surely keep him out from underfoot until Alexei could be sent to finish the job.
So Ivanov had April all to himself now, body and soul. And when he saw her tortured green eyes, he knew too that he had his beloved Katya back.
N
UZZLING CLOSELY INTO HER
chosen lover inside the gilded sleigh, Tatiana murmured, “You played divinely, Demetro. I know I shall never forget the sound of your music. It brought tears to my eyes. I know my uncle felt the same, for I watched him during the performance.”
“Uncle?” Damien repeated stupidly, probing for information, which she provided with a willing little laugh.