Romancing Lady Stone (A School of Gallantry Novella) (14 page)

“Good-evening, sir,” he called out, quickly approaching. “I require assistance.”

“Of course,” the balding man declared. “How might I be of service to you, sir?”

Konstantin removed his wool cap, smoothing the sides of his hair and leaned against the ledge of the open window. “I am looking for a gentleman by the name of Lord Stone. Would you happen to know anything of his whereabouts? From my understanding, he and—”

“Do you have an appointment?” The man lifted both bushy brows.

“An appointment? What do I need an appointment for?”

“To see Lord Stone, of course. So you may discuss whatever business you may have.”

Konstantin blinked. “The man is actually here? In the theatre?”

“Yes, sir. He is always here during performances.”

Thank God. “Can I see him?”

“If you have no appointment, it is best you arrange for one.” He grabbed a ledger. After scanning its pages, he dipped a quill into ink. “He is available in two weeks. May 15
th
. Thursday.”

“Two weeks? No. I need to see him now.”

The man sighed and lowered the quill. “Please try to understand that with him being the owner of the theatre, his lordship is incredibly occupied.”

Owner of the theatre? Holy— Owning a theatre was ludicrously expensive. Apparently, Cecilia
had
married well. Though she somehow failed to mention her son
owned
the theatre.

“His mother needs to see him at once. Might I speak to him?”

The man put away the quill. “From my understanding, Lady Stone is not due to arrive for another week.” He didn’t sound in the least bit interested in helping.

Konstantin leaned toward him, resting an elbow on the edge of the counter and tried to keep his voice civil. “You may want to inform Lord Stone that his mother has arrived
ahead
of schedule thanks to me.”

The man lifted his round chin. “And who are you, sir?”

Konstantin sighed. He probably shouldn’t attach ‘lover’ to any of this. “I am an acquaintance. And I am asking that you cooperate. Or when I do find Lord Stone, I will send him straight to you so you might explain to the man why his mother was never given any assistance.”

The balding man leaned forward and looked past him. “There is no need for that, sir. I was simply asked not to disturb Lord Stone tonight. He is incredibly busy tending to theatre matters. But seeing this concerns his mother, I will direct you to where he is.” He hesitated and added, “I will do so right now.”

Konstantin patted the counter. “Thank you, sir.”

“I am always at the service of Lord Stone’s family. Please wait where you are. I will be out shortly.” The man slid the glass window shut and latched it. Organizing a few more papers, he left the small room through a back door and eventually re-appeared around a far corner. The balding man wagged a hand, signaling Konstantin to follow.

Konstantin followed the balding man down a narrow side corridor that led into a hidden small foyer with black and white marble tiles. Elegant, round alcoves displayed a series of bronze and white statuettes propped on Roman-like columns.

He paused in the middle of the foyer.

Female voices echoed in the distance as his gaze followed the decorative black iron railing and stairs that trailed alongside one wall, squared up toward another and disappeared altogether upstairs.

The man went up. “This way, sir.”

Konstantin mounted the stairs. Once on the second floor, various female voices lilted from down the hall. Laughter and the clanging of cymbals in another part of the theatre filled the air.

“Lord Stone is inside.” The man gestured toward the direction of an open door. “I will be downstairs should you need anything else.”

“Thank you.” Konstantin quickly strode through the tall doorway and into a small, dignified drawing room with arched ceilings that displayed lace and ribbon plasterwork, gilded accents, and powder blue walls. Though the room wasn’t well-lit, everything was still visible enough to hold a sense of coziness that was reflected in the burning hearth and the glow of gilded sconces lining the powder blue walls.

He paused at finding a group of eight scantily clad women in silk robes gathered around a good-looking dark-haired gentleman in black formal evening attire. The young gentleman lounged on a red velvet chaise with a lit Havana cigar between straight white teeth and held a glass of port in one hand, whilst his other hand rested comfortably on the derriere of a busty brunette who was clearly
not
Miss Katerinochkin.

So much for the boy being shy.

The eight women gathered around him seemed intimately comfortable with Lord Stone as they blithely chatted to him in broken English and leaned in closer, some of them allowing their bare white shoulders to purposefully peer through their barely affixed robes. One of the women was sliding a slow hand up Lord Stone’s thigh, while another played with the flap of his trousers.

If that had been his son, lounging like some sheik in a harem, treating women as if they were all pieces of candied ginger to be chewed and spit out, he’d be caning the boy’s ass until there was nothing left to cane. As his father used to always say, one woman at a time.

Konstantin stalked toward them and sat in an empty plush chair across from them. He yanked his wool cap back onto his head to free his hands and cleared his throat to ensure they knew he was in the room.

Lord Stone and his gaggle of females paused and turned their attention, one by one, in Konstantin’s direction. Lord Stone handed off his port to one of the women and scrambled up, re-buttoning his trousers. “You had better have a good reason for being here,” he tossed out in Russian. “Who let you in?”

Konstantin lifted a curt hand in return greeting and dryly said in schoolroom English, “I hate to interrupt what appears to be
very
serious theatre business, Lord Stone, but I am asking that you evacuate all of these women before your mother sees the sort of son she raised.”

Lord Stone jumped up onto polished booted feet, removing the lit cigar from his lips. His dark eyes, that matched Cecilia’s right down to the color, darted toward the open doorway. “My mother is here? At the theatre?”

Konstantin rose and straightened to his full height that, to his surprise, matched the boy’s own. “Yes. Shall I call her in?”

Lord Stone winced and dashed out the smoldering cigar into a nearby crystal ash pan, his dark tonic hair falling from its swept back hold and into his eyes. “No, no. Don’t. She would cane me if she saw any of this. I will go to her.” He waved off all eight women and said in harried Russian, “Put some clothes on! My mother is here!”

The women giggled and one by one, disappeared with the flap of silk robes out into the corridor and from sight.

Lord Stone smoothed his silk cravat with a bare hand, a ruby and gold ring glinting from his finger and paused. Slowly rounding Konstantin, he scanned Konstantin’s appearance from boot to wool cap. “Are you the driver? How much do I owe you?”

Konstantin almost punched the youth out. “No. I am not the driver. I am merely an acquaintance of hers.” Konstantin widened his stance. “Your mother is exhausted and is currently asleep in the stagecoach outside. I thought you should know that she was drugged by her travelling companion and then robbed of her money and trunks and left witless on a random coach without any travelling papers.”

Lord Stone’s face paled. “Jesus Christ. Is she all right?” he demanded.

“No harm came to her.”

A shaky breath escaped the youth. “Where is she?”

Konstantin shifted his jaw. “Before I tell you where she is, might I ask how things are progressing between you and Miss Katerinochkin? Does she know anything about these women whose derrieres you openly pat? Or do you plan on telling her
after
the wedding?”

Lord Stone’s features tightened. “There is no wedding. I called it off.”

“I am very sorry to hear it. It appears your mother left behind all of your sisters and travelled a long way for nothing.”

Lord Stone’s dark brows flickered. “Who are you?”

Konstantin inclined his head. “Mister Levin.”

“No. Who are you to my mother?”

Maybe he
should
have pretended to be the driver. “A friend,” he managed.

“That sounds incredibly ambiguous, Mr. Levin.” Lord Stone veered in close. “How did you know about my engagement? Or that I have sisters? Knowing such private details about my family insinuates there is an intimacy between you and my mother. Am I wrong in assuming that?”

Konstantin said nothing. This was Cecilia’s son. What was he supposed to say? That he seduced his mother?

Lord Stone flexed his hands. “London isn’t Russia, Mr. Levin. In London, women are
ostracized for life
for associating with the wrong men. And whilst I do not mean to judge you based on what I see, if any disreputable rumors surfaced regarding my mother, every single one of my sisters, who have yet to debut, would be turned away from every respectable match and every respectable home in London. You would be destroying their lives. Are you aware of that?”

Konstantin’s throat worked mutely. He hadn’t really thought about Cecilia’s daughters or how this would affect them. Of course Cecilia would choose her daughters over him. It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do. And the pompous ass that he was, he had wanted her to fight for him. Jesus.

It was time to bury this. He owed Cecilia that much. “You mistake our association, sir. I helped your mother get into Saint Petersburg. Nothing more. She was stranded, after being robbed and had no money or a way of finding you because the letter with your address was taken along with everything else. I helped her find you.”

Lord Stone’s features stilled. “Is she safe? That is all I want to know.”

“Yes,” Konstantin said in strained tone. “Your mother is safe.”

“She had better be, Mr. Levin. For your sake, she had better be.”

He liked that the boy was protective of his mother. It reminded him a lot of himself. When he still had his mother. Konstantin swallowed. He missed his hard-eyed mama. He missed being able to sit down at her linen-covered table in that sunlit room of hers decorated with dried flowers where every known criminal always gathered for her food. He missed how she would slap his hands to keep him from eating her almond cake before it could be properly served and then give him the biggest slice out of all the guests to make up for the slaps. He missed watching her arrange every tea cup on every plate, as if needing them to be perfectly aligned before he or any man could raise it to their lips. That was shortly before she suffered from an illness no doctor could cure. Tough as she was, she had smiled up at him through her pain and sweat to the end.

He couldn’t help but wonder what she would say about him falling for an older aristocratic woman with four children. She always said things the way they needed to be said. She would have probably shaken her greying head and fussed the way she always did, ‘
You are too much like your father. Midnight is an illusion. It isn’t real.
’

Lord Stone turned and strode over to a small writing desk. Pulling out a leather pocketbook, he strode back and unfolded it. He tugged out all of the crisp bank notes and held them out. “A thousand rubles, sir. For assisting my mother. She means the world to me.”

Konstantin pushed away that hand with the bank notes. “Put that away. I have no need for it.”

Lord Stone held it back toward him. “Take it. I have no doubt my mother would wish to show you her appreciation.”

Konstantin shook his head, trying to remain calm at the mention of Cecilia. “No. I have to go.”

Lord Stone lowered his hand, searching his face. “Do you need a place to stay?”

He was not spending another night or another breath anywhere near Cecilia. Or he’d never get out. “No. Thank you. I have a place to stay. I used to live in Saint Petersburg and know countless people.” None of them worked legally but they were good men. He only ever associated with the good ones.

“Are you certain?”

God. The boy looked so much like Cecilia and had her dark, soulful eyes. “Quite.”

Lord Stone shoved his money back into the pocketbook.

Konstantin hooked his thumbs on his coat pockets. “I should go. I am off to London.” He nodded, strode toward the door and then called out over his shoulder, “Are you coming? Your mother is in the coach outside.”

Lord Stone jogged after him and in between their quick strides down the corridor kept glancing toward him. “So you live in London?”

“No. I am moving there for a small while until I decide what to do next.”

“And where will you be living whilst there?”

What the hell was this? “Why do you want to know?”

“Because I may have to hunt you down if I discover you’re lying to me about anything.”

“Is that a threat?”

“I want an address, Mr. Levin. I don’t trust you. It’s as simple as that.”

“Thirty-two Belgrave Square. Visit anytime.”