To Love a Horseguard (10 page)

“The term is halfpenny.
Of all the gall, I am supposed to be thankful?” Arms akimbo she scowled at him. “You are the one who ran into my horse in the first place.”

He dropped his gaze. “Well, even if you made it down the hill in one piece, Sergi would have caught up with you eventually.”

Rose fumed. “What difference should it make to me if I am his prisoner or yours?”

Anger glittered in his eyes. “You are not my prisoner.”

“You could have fooled me.” Rose put a hand to her head and exhaled as it began to throb.

Dimitry slumped into the chair across from her and sighed. “I did not come up here to fight with you.”

“Oh really.” She crossed her arms and glared at him. “Why did you come up here then?”

Dimitry crossed his arms as if in imitation, and glared back at
her. “I came to ask you if you would care to go to the ballet with me this evening.”

Stunned she stared at him. “Oh.”

He ran his hand through his hair. “I have no notion why, but every time I am around you I display an appalling lack of manners.”

Rose didn’t know what to say, so she remained silent and stared into the fire.

“So, will you go with me? That is unless of course you are not well enough…”

Rose plucked at an imaginary piece of lint on her skirt. “I would like that.”

“Good.”

There was silence for a moment. She stole a peek at him fr
om the corner of her eye. It appeared he was every bit as uncomfortable as she, twiddling his thumbs and staring around the room.

He cleared his throat and stood. “I took the liberty of picking you up a dress for the event. It seems one of the more fashionable ladies commissioned a new theater dress to wear and then left on an impromptu tour of Italy. I hope it fits. If not, I am sure Anya can take it in for you.”

She gave him a tentative smile. “I am sure it will be fine, thank you.”

He nodded. “Good. I will be waiting for you downstairs at eight o’clock.” He bowed and hurried out as if he was afraid she would change her mind.

Rose smiled to herself and slid her forgotten memo into her dress pocket. The ballet? He acted as if she was a leper one moment and a friend the next.

Anya bustled in her eyes dancing with excitement. “Look what just arrived for you!” She held up a large flat box.

Rose stood and crossed to the bed where the housekeeper deposited the package. She lifted off the lid and looked inside. Nestled amongst the tissue paper was a dress of royal blue velvet. Lifting it carefully out of the box she held it up in front of her and turned to look in the mirror. The subtle V shaped neckline was studded with tiny glittering diamonds. Puffed sleeves gave way at the elbows to sheer strips of pale blue fabric that floated down past the wrists. The bust of the dress tapered into a point at the waist to join a full, but simple skirt trimmed with more tiny diamonds.

“Oh!” Rose murmured. “It is beautiful.”

“Look.” Anya held up a pair of matching blue slippers also with tiny diamonds sewn onto the toes. “There are undergarments too. We must hurry if you are to be ready on time.”

Dinah was summoned, and the two servants helped Rose bathe. On
ce she was dried and corseted, she sat down wrapped in a morning robe at the dressing table. The three women frowned at her reflection in the mirror as Anya and Dinah fussed with her hair.

“Let’s start by taking off that ba
ndage,” Anya decided. She unwound the white dressing revealing the long raw cut underneath.

“Maybe I should not go to the ballet tonight.” Rose sighed, looking at the ugly
scab. The housekeeper pulled a few wisps of hair down along Rose’s hairline to hide it. “I think if we cut the hair shorter in the front, maybe we can pulled it forward and curl it around your face.” She opened the dressing table drawer and rummaged around inside. “I think there is a pretty ribbon in here that matches the sleeves to the dress. We can wind it along just under the curls to cover up the rest of the cut.” With a triumphant grin she held up a blue ribbon.

Rose gave her a doubtful look
.

Anya
patted her shoulder. “It will be dark in the private box so no one will be able to see you well anyway.” She picked up the scissors, made the necessary cuts and carefully curled the ends with the tongs. Once she was finished and had the ribbon wound through the hair, she stood back to admire her handiwork. “There. See? One can hardly see the cut now.”

“You are wonderful Anya.” Rose gave the housekeeper a grateful hug and went to put on her dress.

The housekeeper blushed, clearly affected by the unexpected hug. “Nonsense, I’ll leave Dinah to help you finish dressing.” She gathered up the discarded clothing from the floor and hurried from the room.

At exactly eight o’clock, Rose desce
nded the curved staircase one step at a time, afraid her carefully arranged hair would fall apart. Her hands shook when she spied Dimitry at the bottom talking to Victor. When she was half a dozen steps from them Victor caught sight of her over Dimitry’s head and smiled. Dimitry turned. She hesitated as his eyes darkened. He gave her an approving smile and she held his gaze as she took the last few steps.

“You take our breath away with your beauty.” Victor bowed low and kissed her hand. His eyes twinkled when he straightened. “Does she not, Dimitry?”

Rose’s face warmed at the compliment.

Dimitry
cleared his throat and held out a white fur cloak. “Here, put this on.”

A little disappointed, she turned and allowed him to slip the warm cloak over he
r shoulders. When he was done she pivoted and fumbled with the ties on the cloak to avoid his gaze. What did she care if he didn't think her attractive? She was, after all, supposedly engaged to another man; a man she could not even remember, but surely must love, or at the very least feel some kind of affection.

“Well, I had better get going.” Victor winked at her. “I have a
lovely evening planned with a stack of unread reports.”

Rose giggled as he bowed and held the door open for them. D
imitry offered her his arm and escorted her to the waiting coach-and-four. Once seated inside they rode the short distance to the theater in awkward silence. Rose began to doubt her decision to attend the ballet. Maybe she should have stayed behind at the palace. It was too soon to go out after her accident. She glanced up at Dimitry who was staring out the window. He certainly did not look like he wanted to be here. She opened her mouth to say she did not feel well and suggest they return to the place instead, when they pulled up in front of the theater.

The large three-story building was flanked by giant marble
pillars. Each one connected to fanciful stone arches that flowed into the domed roof. Lanterns glowed all along the steps up to the massive double doors. An attendant rushed forward to open the carriage door and place a small step stool to aid in their descent from the carriage.

Dimitry stepped
from the carriage and held out his hand to her. When she hesitated he whispered, “There is not another woman here tonight who wouldn't envy your beauty.” Rose’s heart leaped. With her little hand cradled securely in his larger one she stepped down from the carriage. Taking his offered arm she allowed him to lead her up the steps into the theater.

He leaned his head close to her, his breath tickling her ear. “Everyone is already seated. I thought we would arrive ‘fashionably’ late to avoid all the attention. Anya told me you were feeling a little self-conscious about your head wound.” He smiled do
wn at her as she clung to his arm.

She glanced at him, pleasantly surprised by h
is thoughtfulness. “Thank you, oh dear, I have no idea how to address you.”

“Please call me Dimitry. I am a prince in title only. In Russia t
here are many princes, most of us have little claim to royalty beyond a few distant lines.” He smiled, and for the first time since she met him, it reflected in his eyes.

A couple of well-dressed nobles spoke to Dimitry as they crossed the almost deserted foyer and cast curious glances her way. Dimitry returned their greetings and continued on up a long staircase. When they reached the third and final level, they walked down a large balcony flanked on one side by red velvet draped arches. Halfway down the corridor he paused as an attendant parted the drapes in between one set of arches, exposing a dark, cozy alcove. Inside were two comfortable looking chairs with a small table in between
overlooking the railing of the balcony. Dimitry ushered her inside, took her cloak and handed it to the man; then seated her at the table as the drapes were dropped back in place.

Looking over the railing she realized they were on a small p
rivate balcony high above, and directly across from the stage. She could see the floor of the theater crowded with lesser nobles waiting for the performance to begin. The orchestra pit was set in front and below the stage itself. The instruments warming up were barely detectable over the noise of the crowd. Leaning out over the railing she could see three levels of private boxes, most filled with members of the aristocracy.

Dimitry sat in the chair on the other side of the table and signa
led for a bottle of wine to be poured. He handed her a glass without speaking, and sat back as the lamps were dimmed and the orchestra began to play the overture. Rose was delighted when the curtains opened and costumed dancers moved onto the stage. They moved on their toes with astonishing grace in time to the music. She was soon lost in the performance, mesmerized by their movements.

Dimitry leaned over and whispered in her ear
. “They tell the story of a princess who is turned into a swan by an evil sorcerer. The princess is taken in and cared for by the Leshii or woodland sprites.

Only a kiss from the prince who is her true love can set her free.”

Rose nodded so entranced she couldn’t take her eyes off the stage.

Chapter Eleven

Dimitry leaned back and watched her childish delight instead of the performance. Even in the shadows she was lovely. When her eyes widened and she worried her lower lip at an especially tense scene he couldn’t help but smile. Watching her, take in the ballet, was more moving than any performance he had ever seen. He finished his glass of wine and poured another, noticing hers remained full, clutched forgotten in her hand. He couldn’t imagine one who wore their emotions so freely could be a spy. When the performance was over and the lamps were turned back up, Dimitry noted tears on her cheeks. He handed her his handkerchief.

She blushed,
but took it and dabbed at her eyes. “That was so wonderful. I have never seen anything like it. Thank you, for bringing me.”

“It was my pleasure, P
rincess. I am glad you enjoyed it.” He stood and offered her his arm.

“I do not believe we have anything back home in England like it.”

“Not even the opera?” Dimitry teased.

Rose giggled. “I hate the opera!”

Dimitry gave her a strange look. “Me too. We had better go. I asked the theater staff to hold everyone in the lobby while we slip out the side door. If we wait too long we will have a ton of gentry vying for my attention.”

He slipped the
cloak around her shoulders, his fingers brushing the back of her neck. The sudden urge to kiss her full lips in the shadows of the balcony was overwhelming but he stifled it. His hands shook slightly and he dropped them to his sides, afraid she would see how her presence affected him.
How does she affect me like this? Do all women have the ability to bewitch a man? Perhaps my attraction to the woman is because she is English, therefore foreign and mysterious.

Shaking the thought from his mind he
led her down the steps and helped her into the waiting carriage. Once they were seated, he tapped on the roof to signal the coachman to depart. He settled back and regarded the princess in silence as she looked out the window of the carriage. She seemed once again subdued and nervous. It was clear she enjoyed the ballet, so why was she quiet now? Was she plotting and scheming? “Does your head hurt much?”

She glanced at him.
“A little.”

  “I thought it might be too soon for you to be out and about. You must be tired.”

  She looked down at her hands and plucked at an imaginary thread with her fingers. “Yes, I am tired, but I did love the ballet.”

All too soon they arrived at his home. He hopped from the carriage and took her hand to help her down.

  Victor met them on the steps “How was the ballet?”

  Rose brightened
. “Oh, it was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen! I wish you would have come.”

  A
twinge of jealousy as Victor offered the lady his arm made Dimitry grit his teeth. They walked up the steps into the house chatting like old friends, completely forgetting his presence. Jamming his hands into his pockets he followed them.  He spent his whole evening with the woman and she had hardly said a word to him. He glared at Victor’s back as his cousin escorted the princess up the stairs to her bedchamber. She giggled at something Victor said as the two reached the top and disappeared without looking back. Dimitry stomped off down the hall to his study.