To Love a Horseguard (11 page)

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Dimitry paused outside the dining room doors the next morning.

“I told Dimitry you w
ould love the ballet,” Victor boasted.

“I truly did love it! The dancers were so graceful and beautiful,” the princess replied.

“None were as beautiful as you in that gown last evening.”

“How does
a man with such a honeyed tongue remain unfettered by the chains of matrimony?”

  Dimitry
opened the door and strolled in. “Victor has certainly had his share of pretty faces,” he grumbled. The twinge of jealousy at their easy banter annoyed him. What did he care if his cousin chose to ply her with his considerable charm? It was clear the princess missed his company at the ballet. He gave his cousin a curt nod. “You must have more pressing matters in the morning rather than inviting yourself to breakfast.”

  His cousin shrugged and picked up his fork. “I just thought
you might need my counsel this morning.” He winked at the princess. “I fear, my lady, you have kept Dimitry out too late last evening. He is extra disagreeable this morning.”

  Dimitry glowered at him. “I am not disagreeable. Is it too much to
ask to enjoy my breakfast and morning paper without interruption?”

  Victor continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I think he needs m
ore strenuous entertainment to improve his mood, such as the ball tomorrow evening perhaps.”

  Dimitry snorted. “A ball
, strenuous or entertaining? You, my dear cousin, must have a ball confused with the English sport of fencing.”

  Victor jumped from his chair much to the astonishment of the servant pouring his coffee. Using his butter knife he st
ruck a convincing fencing pose. “Ah, but fencers do dance so divinely.” He thrust and feigned at the hapless servant. “Since I happen to know Dimitry is a very good fencer it also stands to reason he would be an equally talented dancer. I, of course, am superior to him in both, but alas, we cannot all be good at everything now can we?”

  Rose laughed so hard she dropped her f
ork. The hapless servant replaced it with another and scurried from the room. Dimitry tried to hide his smile behind his napkin. It seemed he was not as immune to his cousin’s carefree nature as he wanted to be. He stifled his laughter as Victor bowed, gave them a boyish grin and turned his attention back to his breakfast. The room was silent for a few moments except for the clinking of silverware.

  “Well?”

  Dimitry glanced up at him across the table. “Well what?”

  “Are you going to ask her?” Victor asked, shifting his gaze to the princess.

  “Ask her what?”

  “Ask her to the ball of course,” Victor replied, suddenly paying very close attention to his plate of scrambled eggs.

  Dimitry stared at him for a moment and then cleared his throat, spearing
a sausage link savagely with his fork, deciding not to answer the question.

  “Well?”

  Dimitry dropped his fork, still impaled in the sausage, to his plate with a clatter. It didn't appear Victor was going to drop the subject. He glared at his cousin. “If you want to go so badly then why do you not ask her?” he growled in Russian.

  Victor dropped his fork his fork and glared back at him. “Maybe I will, if you're too stubborn to.”

  “You do that then.”

  “I just might.”

“Good. Now maybe I can eat my meal in peace,” Dimitry grunted.

  “Fine.”

  “That is it! I do not understand your language, but I know when I am being talked about. And I do resent being discussed as if I am not even here,” Rose snapped, throwing down her napkin. Both men stared at her in silence as she marched from the room, her back ramrod straight.

  Victor shook his head. “Now see what you did.”

  “Me? You started it,” Dimitry defended himself.

  “I would not have started anything if you just got up the nerve to ask her.”

“Maybe I did not want to ask her. Did you ever think of that? She is my prisoner until we get this whole mess sorted out.”

  “She is not a prisoner. She is a lovely young woman who unwittingly got caught in the middle of our problem.”

  Dimitry rolled his eyes. “Since you are so sure of that, stop making calf eyes at her and take her to the ball yourself.” 

  “I am not mak
ing calf eyes at her.”

“Yes, you are.”

  Victor pointed his fork at Dimitry. “I am simply being polite, something you seemed to have forgotten how to do.”

“I do not have to be polite to a prisoner,” Dimitry pointed out. “An
d I do not need you telling me what to do. I certainly do not need some spoiled, engaged English princess turning my life upside down with her hazel eyes and pretty face!”

  Victor froze and stared at him. “Oh, I see what is going on here.”

  “What?” Dimitry snapped.

  “You are afraid of falling in love with her.”

  The idea hit Dimitry like a sack of wheat. He stared at his cousin, his lips trying to form the words to refute the idea.
I am not falling for the woman...am I? She is a spy and a prisoner.

  Victor left the room an
d Dimitry sat there. He was behaving like a cad. Victor was right. The girl was not here of her own will if her maid was to be believed. He pushed back his chair. A ride was just what he needed to clear his head.

Chapter
Twelve

Rose ran upstairs to her room.
How dare the men sit there and discuss me. Do they have no manners?
She brushed past a startled maid and entered her chamber. Pacing back and forth she tried to calm her temper. Dimitry was rude, arrogant and so unpredictable. One minute he was interrogating her and the next he was acting as if he was courting her. Now it seemed he disliked her immensely. She wanted to go home.
Wherever home is…

Her head began to throb. With a sigh she picked up the book Di
mitry had given her. Maybe her headache would go away if she found a quiet spot in the garden to read. She headed back down the stairs, and out across the veranda. Following the first path, she came to a small wooden bench at the side of the house by the stable. It was quiet and shady, so she sat and opened the book. Her headache eased as she relaxed and read through each page. Soon she was engrossed in the first chapter on Russian woodland creatures.

  “I was going to go for a ride and thought you might like to come.”

Rose looked up from her book as Dimitry approached on a gray horse leading a small chestnut mare with four white socks.

He gave her a slight smile. “There is this little mare here that never seems to get enough exercise
...”

She placed her book on the bench
beside her, and gazed with longing at the pretty horse.

Dimitry
offered her the mare’s reins. “I could show you a bit of St. Petersburg.”

The lure of a ride was much stronger tha
n her urge to avoid the grating man. Her book forgotten, she stood and took the reins from him, their fingertips brushing briefly. Besides, she reasoned, he seemed uncharacteristically humble at the moment. “I have no riding habit.”

He looked crestfallen, and reached out to take back the mare’s reins.

“If you help me, I am sure I can manage with my skirts,” she suggested, not wanting to forego a chance to ride on such a sunny spring afternoon. The man rewarded her with another small smile and stepped off his horse to help her mount.

She placed her foot into his clasped hands and he lifted her aboard. After helping arrange her skirts over her legs, he remounted his own horse. Her
mare followed his of its own accord down the garden path to the main gates.

He reined in when they came out onto the street and waited until she was abreast of him before continuing. “I thought that you might enjoy a ride through the new park.”

  Rose looked back over her shoulder as a group of ten soldiers fell into two orderly columns behind them. “Does your army need to exercise their horses too, or are you afraid I might escape?”

  Dimitry grinned.
“Occupational hazard, I have tried to convince them to stay behind on previous occasions, but unfortunately they do not take orders well.” He laughed. “Besides, you are mounted on the slowest horse in my stable.”

  Rose shrugged. She purposely ignored him as she began to relax and enjoy the feel of the horse under her. Finally, she was getting her first look at the city in the daylight. She wrinkled her nose as they came upon a sewer-filled gutter where dirty children rummaged in the muck. As they pass
ed, the children ran forward calling out in Russian, and holding out their upturned palms. Dimitry reached into his pockets and tossed a handful of small coins into the dirt in front of them. They immediately began to push and shove to gather the most coins.

Dimitry look
ed at her, his face a mask of guilt. “The old tsar failed to care for the people. The new tsar is trying to right these wrongs, but there are so many that need help. Sometimes I think he will never be able to right all the wrongs in our land.” He gestured behind them at the children now waving their meager handful of coins. “Those children back there are orphans from the last civil uprising.”

  “The sins of the last tsar must be a hard burden for your country to bear,” Rose sympathized.

She was starting to see a softer side to this man who so far had presented a hard and foreboding front. Did Dimitry have a heart after all? It seemed as if he liked children, and genuinely cared for the people of his country. Perhaps it was only her he didn't like. They passed a large construction site where men were setting huge polished white stones into a massive circle. “What is being built there?” Rose wondered out loud.

  Dimitry reined in his horse to watch the men work. “That is going to be the new theater.”

  Rose stopped her horse beside his. “What is wrong with the old one? I thought it was beautiful.”

  Dimitry shrugged. “Nothing, t
he nobility are never satisfied with what they have. They always want things bigger and better.”

  Rose was astonished. “Do you mean to tell me those poor
children back there are cold, hungry, and homeless, but all the privileged citizens in your country can think about is a new theater?”

  “You make it sound as if I am the cause of the children’s plight,” Dimitry complained.

  “You are.”

  He scowled at her. “I certainly did not tell the tsar to spend money on a theater.”

  “Maybe not, but have you told the tsar about the children’s plight? After all, you profess to be the second most powerful man in Russia. Surely you can plead their case to the tsar.”

 
Dimitry snorted. “I am in charge of the tsar’s army, not his secretary of social development.”

  Rose spun her horse to stand in front of Dimitry’s. “Are you too proud to speak on behalf of those less fortunate than you?”

“More fortunate you mean. Do you think being in charge of a whole army is a joy? An appointment such as mine means being at the tsar’s beck and call, it means giving up the life I had, one which I enjoyed, by the way. I did not ask to be in this position of power.”

  “Do you know how badly most women would want the power you so carelessly discar
d? You act as if your whole world came to an end when this appointment was given to you. Mayhap Sergi should take over Russia. I am sure he could appoint someone with stronger morals to help his fellow countrymen,” she spat. Rose urged her mount into a canter, and headed back to the palace. Why did the man infuriate her so?

“Princess!” D
imitry appeared beside her. Reaching out he snagged her horse’s reins and brought both animals to a halt. “Sergi would destroy what is left of this country. He is the reason those children have nothing. He insists on causing bloodshed. Are your feelings so great for your lover that you cannot see the damage he has done to the people he professes to love?”

  “Sergi, my lover? Is that what you think? He kidnapped me, drugged me and brought me to this God forsaken country to further his own agenda. I was nearly killed trying to escape him. I had no say, no power to prevent what happened to me. Is that so hard for you to believe?”

“I see what you want me to believe. You are a good actress, very good I will admit, but the time for games is up. I want to know what you know, now. I am tired of waiting for you to cease your game. Where is Sergi?” Dimitry demanded his face harsh and his eyes blazing with barely controlled fury.

  “I have no idea where your ‘precious’ Sergi is. I do not know
anything. I want to go home. I demand you take me to the docks so I might secure passage back to England.” Rose’s head began to pound. “But for this infernal headache, I would be able to answer all of your questions.”

  He fixed her with a stare so icy her breath caught in her ches
t. “Oh, but I am sure you can, Princess.”