Authors: Susan Johnson
The far more experienced old Prince had a knowledge culled from an acute and cynical perception of the world and human foibles during sixty-eight years of keenly observing the machinations of society. He knew that he would have his way and
that was that
.
Nikki left the house in a high pitch of anger and spent the rest of the day at the Yacht Club rather moodily gambling.
Earlier that afternoon Prince Mikhail’s wife had arrived
and, after seeing to her unpacking, had waited in the east drawing room for Alisa to present herself. Prince Mikhail had alerted his wife that this was not Nikki’s usual choice of paramour, and thus she was prepared to like and accept Alisa before even meeting her.
The ladies spent a delightful hour together—talking of their homelands, exclaiming over Alisa’s forthcoming child. When Alisa begged to be excused to rest for dinner, Princess Kaisa-leena went in search of her husband to tell him she, too, approved of Nikki’s choice.
That evening Prince Mikhail entertained both his wife and Alisa at dinner and explained to them that Nikki would join them for the Golchoffs’ party. Prince Mikhail received a note just as they were finishing the meal.
I have been unavoidably detained. Please accept my apologies. I shall join you at the Golchoffs’. N
.
The note was a direct challenge. Nikki’s father smiled faintly. The boy had spirit—that he had known for years and was not naïve enough to anticipate a compliant, dutiful son. Nevertheless, he could afford to play a waiting game for the moment. One must not press one’s authority with foolhardy zeal. No doubt Nikki’s regard for his parents, or at least his consideration for Alisa, would overcome this initial resistance. Prince Mikhail felt sure Nikki would appear later in the evening.
“Nikki is detained and will join us later,” he noncommittally explained. “Ladies, allow me the pleasure of escorting two such charming beauties. We have time for a hand of cards before we leave.”
At ten-thirty the trio walked out of the drawing room into the hall and through the double doors swept instantly open by two footmen in Kuzan liveries. The tall, stately Prince in black evening dress, its severity relieved solely by the prestigious Order of St. Andrew suspended from its pale blue ribbon, was flanked on either side by a slender woman,
each beautifully garbed in rustling silk, their dainty stature further enhanced by the majestic size of their escort.
The small “intimate” birthday celebration consisted of a crush of three hundred guests. Alisa, presented as a relative of the Prince, was accepted graciously by their host and hostess, ever ready to accommodate any of the whims of Prince Mikhail.
Gossip had, of course, preceded Alisa’s introduction into the restricted exclusivity of the crème of Russian society, and some disapproving glances were cast at the exquisite red-haired beauty, but no one dared cross swords with Prince Kuzan or his equally arrogant son. Their credit guaranteed every door would open to their protégé, and she was now surrounded by a veritable, if spurious, fog of respectability.
“A formidable assemblage of support, I’d say,” one guest sniffed. “Prince Mikhail hasn’t breathed the city air these three years past.”
As Alisa was being introduced to one rather erect, forbidding matron arrayed brilliantly, if not garishly, in purple silk and plumes, she had a taste of the old Prince’s commanding power. When the intimidating purple-clad female cast a baleful eye on this “cousin” and offered a frigid greeting, Prince Mikhail said very suavely, “I do not in the least understand, Anna Feodorovna, how you can afford to stand there, risking my displeasure with your censorious expression when you know as well as I do that not so much as one arshin of the seventy-thousand tons of steel rails just ordered from the Creuzot works will be laid in the area of your husband’s wheat fields without the approval of the Minister of the Interior, who is a very old and dear friend of mine. Now, curtsey prettily and bid a pleasant evening to our cousin.” He smiled thinly.
The grande dame acceded to his wishes. Alisa received a rather strained good evening.
“You are excused, Anna,” Prince Mikhail murmured. As the woman’s stiff back receded, the old Prince observed. “Damn hen-witted female. She was never a woman of intuition—eh, Kaisa-leena?” He peered down at his petite, dark-haired wife and grinned widely.
“I think you have enlightened her somewhat, Misha.” She smiled back at him.
“Come now, Alisa, who else haven’t you met?” And then abruptly changing his mind he grumbled, “Bah! I’m not going to introduce you to any more old hags. Let’s see who we have here otherwise,” he murmured, surveying the room.
Many of the women watched this new beauty with undisguised, malicious envy, noting each detail of Alisa’s appearance, but they prudently held their tongues, while the men took full advantage of Alisa’s first essay into public free of Nikki’s jealous presence. Everyone did agree, though, this newest mistress was in Nikki’s usual style: beautiful, provocative, sensual. Alisa was immediately surrounded by a phalanx of charming, solicitous men, each attempting to flatter, praise, and please her. She danced endlessly, thoroughly relishing the party and the attention of admirers, although she quietly and regularly searched the crowd for a sign of Nikki. He’d not given her any explanation of his absence that afternoon.
Alisa was seated facing the door, looking delicately beautiful in a ball gown of two shades of lilac silk, patiently waiting for the six gallants who had rushed off to satisfy her request for a glass of champagne, when she saw the tall, unmistakable figure of Nikki. Unhurriedly he strolled across the vast expanse of the room, quite as if he were not four hours late to act as her escort. Alisa was unable to check a rising resentment at his bold impudence.
He seemed oblivious of the hundreds of eyes swiveling to regard the encounter between Nikolai Kuzan and the new
“cousin” with whom he was consorting, who now, with the imperious audacity only old Prince Kuzan was capable of, had been taken under the wing of the family. To have Nikki appear at a ball would have been a rarity enough to occasion their stares, but this gesture for the obvious sake of his newest inamorata was not to be missed, for Nikki Kuzan never did anything to oblige anyone.
No one believed for a minute that Alisa was a cousin, but in society one soon learned the necessity of never “noticing” in public. The Kuzans, as one of the oldest and most powerful families in Russia, predating the Romanovs by several centuries, were above the normal conventions; hadn’t the old Prince married a young Gypsy girl eighteen years his junior with total aplomb during the reign of Nicholas I, and forced society to accept her? And even if one would have liked to demur, one did not dare aggravate Prince Mikhail’s obstreperous temper which had been famous throughout Russia for fifty years.
Nikki’s languid stride slowly brought him face-to-face with Alisa, seated on a brocaded Louis XV settee. The brittle glitter of considerable drink shone from his golden eyes.
“You have deigned to make an appearance,” Alisa mockingly stated.
“As you see, Madame”—he bowed elaborately with his usual self-composed air that made her want to strike him—“I have a distinct feeling that not only my father, but these hundreds of curious, gaping people, will be supremely dismayed if I do not take a turn with you, so please,” he continued in a lazy drawl, “do me the honor.”
He reached out for her hand in a graceful gesture.
Alisa burned with annoyance and declined the obviously acid invitation. “I’m sorry … Major Khreptovich and Count Soltikoff and several others have gone off to bring me champagne and … will be back directly.” To her
vexation, she felt herself blushing under the intense scrutiny of his glittering, inebriated eyes.
Nikki in one swift movement grasped her hand in an iron grip and spat through tight lips, “They can wait my convenience.”
Pulled unceremoniously to her feet, she felt a muscular arm around her waist and her right hand clasped in a strong hold that offered no opportunity for further resistance. She was swept forcibly off onto the floor and, gliding into a waltz, found herself dancing with quite the most adept partner she had ever had. He danced superbly, as he did all things, but with his usual bored elegance.
After avoiding his eyes with deliberate coolness and concentrating instead on the third button of his collar, her silence was interrupted by Nikki remarking rather grimly, “
Well?
Mrs. Forseus? What are your plans?”
Alisa’s eyes rose in response to the icy tone and met his cool stare. She lifted her chin belligerently as the uncivil inquiry raised her fighting spirit. “What are
my
plans? What a monumentally censorious tone, Monsieur, as if the responsibility is exclusively mine. Without your damnable wager I should never have had the misfortune to make your acquaintance, and had you not so assiduously ‘wooed’ me once again in Petersburg, I would not now find myself in the unenviable position of carrying your child!”
“As I perceive, Madame, you would hardly be classified as an innocent after having lived with that perverted lecher Forseus, and don’t forget, my dear, that my attentions were rarely repulsive to you. Why, as recently as last night, your response was, shall we say—er—selfishly demanding?” he finished with silky malice, one eyebrow raised sardonically while a parody of a smile creased his lean cheek.
Alisa’s indignation rose at the ignominious truth of his statement, for she was mortified at the ready response
Nikki’s bold and passionate advances invariably drew from her. She always succumbed to his consummate skill and experience, her senses betrayed by the exquisite torture of his touch.
The creamy skin of her cheeks glowed rose at the direct cut, and she endeavored to pull away from his grasp and leave the floor. Dropping her hand from Nikki’s shoulder, she twisted her fingers from his grip. Undeterred, Nikki only tightened his hold on her slender waist and quickly regained her right hand, this time in a viselike grip so ruthless that tears of pain sprang into her eyes. He pressed her closely against his tall frame and calmly continued twirling expertly down the long ballroom, scarcely having missed a step in the smoothly flowing rhythm of the waltz.
“That’s better,” Nikki said approvingly. “Really, my love, aren’t we offering enough of a spectacle already without resorting to childish tantrums? For me to be on a ballroom floor should keep the matrons’ tongues wagging for quite some time. It must be some four or five years since I have graced a polite social function. Consider yourself quite the belle of the ball to have captured my attention in such an unusual public display of my regard.”
By this time the musicians were staring rather fixedly at the combatants with disastrous results to the tempo of the dance; half the waltzers were also quite obviously staring, while the other half were politely pretending they hadn’t observed Alisa’s flushed face, Nikki’s grim expression, and the tempestuous dialogue passing between Prince Kuzan and his newest paramour.
“Rest assured, Prince Kuzan,” Alisa said formally, “I do not solicit your public displays, or your private displays either.”
If Nikki chose to eschew his responsibility in a typically masculine fashion, she refused to plead or grovel for aid.
“Once it is discovered I have a husband living, my reputation
will be ruined, and an illegitimate child can hardly further damage a reputation already sunk below reproach. You can cease directing your tender and public attentions toward me, and I will with great pleasure rudely repulse you, in which case you will be absolved from any further tiresome dangling after me.”
“Nothing would suit me better, Madame,” he brutally said, “but curiosity impelled me to ascertain if perhaps your intentions were in the opposite direction. After a rather candid conversation with my father this afternoon, I wasn’t altogether certain of your earnest desires,” he added with suspicious emphasis.
Nikki’s irritation was further provoked as he uncomfortably recalled the confrontation with his father and the express command issued him.
Alisa gazed at the Prince, almost speechless with indignation. But she collected herself in a moment more determined to make her position clear.
“Do I understand, Monsieur,” she said in glacial tones, “that you envisioned me clinging to you? What monumental arrogance! I fear I must disappoint your expectations. Unfortunately, you see”—her soft whisper held a world of fury—“that is a dramatic tableau I find myself incapable of enacting even to save the child from some unknown fate. Recourse to you as some permanent but unwilling protector I find wholly repulsive!” She fixed her basilisk eyes on his.
Unexpectedly, this snappish diatribe resulted in a bright, boyish grin, a most engaging smile that was immediately followed by a deep, relaxed chuckle. Nikki’s formidable, glowering countenance was overcome by a benign amusement.
“What a lovely spitfire you can be, most engaging,” he murmured softly as he gazed into the seductive beauty of Alisa’s flushed face, her violet eyes glowing with anger, her breathing irregular from the violence of her emotions.
Feeling relieved, he said, “I should have known you weren’t behind the damnable fiat delivered by my father.”
Alisa’s eyes opened wide in astonishment as she stared incredulously into Nikki’s now-placid gaze.
“What fiat?” she demanded hastily.
“An unequivocal command to marry you.” He smiled lazily at her surprised face, her lips parted in wonder. “Now I can inform Father that his coercion is unnecessary since you’re as antagonistic to the union as I am,” he explained amiably.
“What an utterly preposterous notion in any event, since I am already married. His idea surely cannot signify.” Yet her heart was beating rapidly at the thought.
“On the contrary, my dear, Father is not one to be contradicted or nonplussed in any of his idiosyncrasies, as I discovered for the first time today,” he said tranquilly, his self-assurance restored.
“Well, in this instance he must. The idea is absurd.”
“Agreed!” Nikki unchivalrously replied.