Authors: Johanna Lindsey
A
nastasia fretted at the delay. It seemed as if their coach had been stuck on this busy corner for a half-hour, waiting for an opening in the heavy congestion on Regent Street so that they could cross over and continue on their way. Their uncle’s townhouse was only a few blocks away. She could have got there quicker if she had walked.
“I hate this city,” Anastasia complained. “The streets are so narrow and always so crowded compared to St. Petersburg. And no one ever hurries here.”
Dimitri said nothing, not even reminding her that this was where she said she wanted to stay. He simply sat staring out the window. What did she expect? He had hardly said two words to her during the entire journey to London. But then he had said more than enough before they left the Duke’s country estate.
Anastasia shivered, remembering his rage. He hadn’t beat her. She almost wished he had. His anger had been just as nerve-racking.
After he had ranted and called her every kind of a senseless fool, he had said scathingly, “What you do in bed, and whose bed you do it in, is not my concern. I have allowed you the same freedom that I enjoy myself. But that is not why I’m here, is it, Nastya? I am here because you had the temerity to scorn
Grandmere’s
wishes.”
“But it was unreasonable for her to send me home for such a minor thing.”
“Quiet! What is minor to you is not minor to these English. This is not Russia!”
“No, in Russia Aunt Sonya monitors my every move. I have no freedom there.”
“Then I will do well to put you in the care of a husband, who will perhaps be more lenient.”
“Dimitri, no!”
The matter was not open to discussion. He had made his decision. And even that was not the blow she had been anticipating in retaliation for the inconvenience she had caused him. It came just before he turned to leave her.
“You had better hope to God that my plans have not been ruined by this unnecessary trip, Nastya,” he told her brutally. “If they are, you can be sure the husband I find for you will not be to your liking.”
And then he had been most congenial for the four days he had stayed to visit with the Duchess. But Anastasia could not forget the threat hanging over her future. It was too much to hope that he hadn’t meant it, that it had been said only in anger. A husband wasn’t too bad if he allowed her freedom and ignored her indiscretions. And at least she would be out from under Sonya’s rigidity. But a man who would demand fidelity, who would cruelly enforce his wishes on her, set his servants to spy on her, beat her if she defied him, that was another thing entirely, and that was exactly what her brother was threatening her with.
She had never suffered his wrath before. She had seen it fall on others, but with her he had always been indulgent and loving. It only
showed how mightily she had displeased him in this instance. She had known he would be furious. She had known she had gone too far in disobeying the Duchess. And Dimitri’s cold silence since they had left the country was proof that he had not forgiven her.
They shared the coach alone, which only made the silence that much more unbearable. The dozen servants that he traveled with were in coaches behind them as well as those she had brought to England. There were also eight Cossack outriders who always accompanied the Prince when he left Russia, a necessity, she supposed, considering Dimitri’s wealth. They were a curiosity to the English, these savage-looking warriors with their flowing mustachios and Russian uniforms, fur hats, and numerous weapons. They never failed to attract attention to the Prince’s entourage, but they aptly discouraged anyone from bothering him.
Oh, she wished the coach would move. If she had to go home, she wanted to get it over.
“Can’t you have your men open a path for us, Mitya?” she asked finally. “So much inconvenience, just to cross a stupid intersection.”
“There is no hurry.” He didn’t look at her as he answered. “We do not sail until tomorrow, and we do not leave the townhouse this evening. There will be no scandals here in London to greet the Tzar when he visits the English Queen this summer.”
She fumed at the warning, meant entirely for her. It was the first she had heard that Tzar Nicholas was coming to England. And she had in
deed thought to go out tonight, possibly her last night of freedom for a long time to come.
“But Mitya, this coach is stifling. We’ve been sitting here—”
“Not even five minutes.” He cut her off tersely. “Do stop complaining.”
She glared at him, then was amazed to hear him suddenly chuckle. But he was still staring at something out the window, so she wasn’t offended, just furious.
“I’m glad to see you’re enjoying this boring ride,” she quipped sarcastically. But when she got no response, she snapped, “Well, what is so amusing?”
“This wench fending off an admirer. She’s a fierce little thing.”
Dimitri was intrigued, but he wasn’t sure why. She had a pleasing enough figure, but unremarkable. Full breasts pushing against a too-tight bodice, a small waist, rather narrow hips, all encased in an unbecoming black dress. He saw her face for only the briefest moment, and that at some distance, for she was on the opposite corner across the street. No beauty, but a certain character, huge eyes in a small face, a determined little chin.
If not for that swinging reticule, he would never have noticed her. She was not the type of woman who usually caught his interest. She was too petite, almost childlike, except for those thrusting breasts. But she amused him. Such haughty indignation in such a little package. And when was the last time a woman had actually amused him?
Sheer impulse had him call Vladimir to the window. His man of all jobs, indispensable to him, Vladimir saw to Dimitri’s comfort in all things. He didn’t ask questions, he didn’t pass judgment. He obeyed to the letter any and all requests.
A few words to the trusted servant, and Vladimir was off. A few moments later, and the coach was again moving.
“I don’t believe it,” Anastasia said from the opposite side of the coach, well aware of what he had just done. “Procuring whores right off the street now? She must have been exceptionally pretty.”
Dimitri ignored her sardonic tone. “Not particularly. Let us say my vanity was piqued. I like to succeed where others have failed.”
“But from the street, Mitya? She could be diseased or worse.”
“You would like that, wouldn’t you, my dear?” he replied drily.
“At the moment, yes.”
Her rancor got her only a bland smile.
Across the street, Vladimir was met with the difficulty of securing a carriage and at the same time keeping an eye on the little figure in black moving steadily up Regent Street. There were no carriages in the vicinity to hire, his English was not so good, and his French not well understood. But money solved most problems and this one as well. After several tries he was able to induce the driver of a small, enclosed private carriage to desert his post, where he was waiting for his employer. What amounted to nearly a year in wages was well worth the risk to his job.
Now to catch up with the woman. Clearly the carriage could not overtake her on such a crowded street. The driver was told to follow behind Vladimir as quickly as he was able. The driver just shook his head at the eccentricities of the wealthy, which he assumed the bloke to be, to hire a carriage and then not make use of it. But with so much money in his pocket, who was he to disagree?
Vladimir caught up with the woman near the end of the street, but only because she had stopped, and for no apparent reason. She just stood in the middle of the walk, staring straight ahead.
“
Mademoiselle?
”
“
Oui?
” she said in some distraction, barely glancing up at him.
Excellent. She spoke French. Most of the English peasants did not, and he had been afraid he would have difficulty communicating with this one.
“Attend me, please, miss. My master, Prince Alexandrov, would like to hire your services for the evening.”
The mention of Dimitri’s title was usually all that was required to conclude transactions such as this. Therefore Vladimir was surprised when all he got was a look of annoyance from the woman. And seeing her face clearly now surprised him further. She was not at all to Dimitri’s taste. What could the Prince be thinking of, to want this little wren in his bed tonight?
Katherine was indeed annoyed to be bothered again, and for employment this time, a party or gathering, no doubt, that required extra servants. But to hire them right off the street? She had
never heard of such a thing. But the fellow was a foreigner, so she had to make allowances.
Nor did she dismiss him out of hand, as she had that other fellow. She had realized her mistake there. She was disguised as a servant. She needed to at least try to act the part. By not doing so earlier, she had come close to creating a disturbance with her thoughtless attack on that other man. Causing a scene in which she might be recognized by one of her acquaintances was out of the question, yet she had foolishly nearly done so before.
One thing Katherine would never allow was scandal attached to her name. She prided herself on the most impeccable behavior, far above reproach. So what was she doing here? She could only blame that nasty headache for fogging her thinking. Clear-headed, she would have come up with a better plan than to masquerade as a servant.
The man was waiting for her answer. He must be an extremely well-paid servant, for his coat and pants were of a superior quality. He was tall, middle-aged, and not bad-looking, with brown hair and pale blue eyes. What would Lucy reply to him? The girl would probably flirt a little to make her refusal more palatable. Katherine couldn’t quite bring herself to do that.
With an eye on Elisabeth, who had crossed the street, but had gone no further, she said, “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t require an extra job.”
“If it’s a matter of money, the Prince is extremely generous.”
“I don’t need money.”
Vladimir began to worry. She had not been impressed by the Prince’s title. Nor did she seem even remotely interested in this honor being be
stowed on her. If she actually refused—no, impossible.
“Ten pounds,” he offered.
If he thought that would conclude the haggling, he was mistaken. Katherine stared at him incredulously. Was he mad to offer such a wage? Or didn’t he realize the going rate for servants here? The only other possibility was that he was desperate. And she realized uncomfortably that there probably wasn’t a maid in the whole of England who wouldn’t quit her job to accept this one night’s work at such a price. And yet she couldn’t accept. He would no doubt think
her
mad.
“I’m sorry—”
“Twenty pounds.”
“Absurd!” Katherine snapped, becoming wary of this fellow now. He
was
mad. “You can hire a whole legion of maids for less than that. Now excuse me.” She turned her back on him, praying he would go away.
Vladimir sighed. All this ridiculous haggling wasted on a mistake. A maid? She had utterly misunderstood.
“Miss, forgive me for not making myself clear at the start. My master does not require the services of a maid. He has seen you and wishes to share your company for the evening, for which you will be generously paid. If I need to be more explicit—”
“No!” Katherine faced him again, her cheeks hot. “I…ah, quite understand now.”
Good Lord, how had she got into this insane position? Her instinct was to slap his face. The insult was extreme. But Lucy wouldn’t be offended. Lucy would be thrilled.
“I am flattered, naturally, but not interested.”
“Thirty pounds.”
“No,” she snapped. “At any price. Now do go away—”
A man’s voice interrupted. “I made it, gov’ner, if you’re ready to ride now.”
Vladimir glanced behind him to see the carriage only steps away. “Good. You will drive us around this block. I will tell you when to stop.” And with that he put his hand over the woman’s mouth and dragged her into the carriage. “A runaway servant,” he explained to the gawking driver.
“Run away? Now see ’ere, gov’ner, if she don’t want to work for you, that’s ’er business, ain’t it? You can’t force—” Several more pound notes shoved into his hand changed the driver’s tune. “Whatever you say.”
Katherine’s scream had died abruptly in her throat. Had no one witnessed this abduction besides the carriage driver? But there was no call to halt. The man had moved so fast, had taken only seconds to push her into the carriage, that it was doubtful anyone had noticed.
Her face and chest were shoved down onto the seat immediately. As the carriage began to move, her bonnet was yanked off and a handkerchief whipped about her mouth and tied behind her head. A hard elbow in her back prevented her from resisting, and then her arms were pulled behind her and held tightly at the center of her back with enough pressure to keep her shoved down against the seat. Twisted sideways in this position, she could barely move her legs, but a leg was thrown over hers anyway to keep her still.
The man was strong enough to hold her arms with only one hand, which he changed after a moment, and she realized why when his coat was draped over her. The windows, of course. The carriage might be enclosed and dark inside, but if it stopped, anyone walking past could see in through the windows.
She had been right to be wary of the fellow. He really was crazy. Things like this just didn’t happen to Katherine St. John. But as soon as she told him who she really was, he would be forced to let her go. He would, wouldn’t he?
He leaned over her, his voice coming softly through the cloth of his coat. “I am sorry, little wren, but you left me no choice. The Prince’s orders must be obeyed. He did not consider that you might refuse his request. No woman has ever refused him before. The most beautiful women in Russia fight for this honor. You will see why when he comes to you. There is no man like Prince Dimitri.”
Katherine would have dearly loved to tell him what he could do with this honor. No man like his prince indeed! She didn’t care if he was the most handsome man alive, she would have none of him. To listen to this man, she should feel gratitude for being abducted. The very idea!