To Love a Horseguard (17 page)

Dimitry dismounted and stalked to the group, his anger causing his hand to shake on the handle of his pistol. He scanned the bunch, not finding Sergi among them. “Where is he?”

A guard motioned with his pistol to a tent behind him. “Sergi's in there.”

A shout rang through the air. Dimitry ran in the direction of the tent. A guard stumbled from the enclosure, blood staining his uniform an even darker shade of red.

He grabbed for the man just before he collapsed in the dirt. “What happened?”

The guard grimaced in pain. “Sergi overpowered me and slipped out the back of the tent.”

“Damn!” Dimitry turned the care of the man over to another guard, and sprinted for his horse as the clatter of hooves behind the tent alerted him to Sergi's flight. He leaped aboard his mount and kicked it into a gallop. A glance over his shoulder proved Victor and John were close on his heels. Careening around the corner of the tent he caught sight of Sergi. The man was bent low over his horse's back, flaying the animal unmercifully with the ends of his reins.

“Sergi, Stop!”

Sergi glanced over his shoulder and then returned his gaze to the ground ahead.

Dimitry urged his horse over the uneven ground, but his tired mount wasn't gaining on the fresher one. He drew his gun from his holster and aimed for Sergi's mount. It pained him to see the animal shot, but he had to stop the man any way he could. He fired. The horse faltered, and dropped out from under the fleeing Cossack rebel. The man tumbled and rolled
, but to Dimitry's astonishment, his half-brother regained his feet and sprinted into the brush. Dimitry urged his horse into the bushes until the undergrowth got too thick and tangled to go any farther. He leaped from his mount as Victor and John caught up. “We have to go on foot from here.”

They nodded and dismounted, following him through the b
rush. Dimitry strained to hear. Somewhere ahead something crashed through the bushes. He followed the noise, freezing in place at a low growl coming from the brush ahead and to the right. A startled cry rent the air, followed by the snarl of a tiger. Dimitry waved to warn the two behind and crept forward. Sergi's agonized screams caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end. He pushed through the last bramble and stopped short at the horrifying scene that met his eyes. A large tiger crouched over Sergi, the man's lifeless body pinned beneath him. Dimitry raised his pistol, recognizing the animal as Ivan, and unloaded it into the big cat. Ivan toppled over with one last snarl and lay twitching on the ground. Dimitry walked to Sergi and knelt down. The man's lifeless eyes stared back at him. He reached out and closed them.

He hung his head as Victor placed a hand on his shoulder. “You cannot blame yourself for what happened, Dimitry. Sergi chose his fate when he decided to go against the tsar.”

“I know.” Dimitry stood. “But he was my half-brother, and for that I will grieve. Brother should not kill brother.” He looked up as a trio of guards pushed their way into the thicket. His voice caught in his throat. “Take him back to the city.” With sorrow he hadn't known he was capable of, he trudged back to his horse.

Chapter Twenty

Rose sat by the empty tiger’s cage, taking in the afternoon sun three days after her rescue, focused on the birds as they flew from branch to branch in the tree across from her.

“There you are.”

She looked up as John strolled down the path. “John!”

With a bright smile he sat
down beside her on the bench, gave her a hug and placed a tender kiss on her forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she admitted. “Where have you been?”

“I was with Dimitry and Victor touring the city. We found Sergi.”

Rose shivered.

“He will not hurt you ever again, Rose. Sergi is dead.”

“You killed him?” Rose asked solemnly. 

“No. He was killed by the tiger, Ivan. Dimitry shot his horse out from under him when we tried to capture him. Sergi fled on foot through the brush and was ambushed by the animal. By the time we got to him there was nothing we could do.”

Rose shuddered at the thought. “I should be glad Sergi is dead, but somehow it does not seem right to die in such a manner.”

John nodded in understanding. He patted her hand. “We have been invited to a celebration at the tsar’s palace tonight. Tomorrow we will leave for England.”

She shook her head, “I have no wish to return home.”

John frowned. “Why not?”

“I…” She looked down at her hands. “I do not care to marry the marquis.”

“There is nothing you can do about that Rose. The bans were read.”

“The marquis has made no declarations of love to me and I am sure there is no love in my heart for him,” Rose protested. “Besides, he did not even come to rescue me when I was kidnapped.”

He shook his head. “We seldom marry for love Rose, you know that. I do think it was an appalling lack of manners on his part he did not come to Russia with me, but he did not have permission from the Emperor to declare war on the tsar. You do understand it was a purely political decision, right?”

Rose nodded but could not help the bitterness she harbored toward her fiancée.
“I suppose so.”

John studied her for a moment. “Is there another reason you are reluctant to go home, Rose?”

Rose bit her lip. “Yes.”

He took her hand in his. “Is it Dimitry?”

She nodded, and turned a tearful gaze on her brother. “I love him, John.”

“I thought as much.”

“What do you mean?”

“A person would have to be blind to not see how you two look at each other.” He gave her a small smile.

Rose looked down at her hands. “I am sorry, John, I never meant for it to happen. Dimitry does not love me anyway.”

“No one means to fall in love Rose, and sometimes if you are luc
ky it just happens.” He sighed. “What makes you think Dimitry has no feelings for you?”

“He told me
.”

“He told you that?”

“He said he is in love with another, and is just waiting to ask her to marry him until he has made a bigger fortune.” Tears blurred her vision despite her attempt to stop them.

“I see. I wish I could spare you the heartbreak, Rose. If I could change things I would. I think you are mistaken about Dimitry, though.”

“How so?”

John gave her a crooked smile. “Rose, darling, when a man scours the country in the middle of the night until he finds you and then carries you all the way home in his arms, I am pretty sure he loves you.”

Was her brother right? Did Dimitry love her? Rose sighed. What difference did it make? After all she was still engaged to the marquis. Her engagement was an agreement made between two countries—two kings. It couldn't be broken. “It does not matter, John. Even if Dimitry returns my love I am still engaged to the marquis.”

Joh
n squeezed her hand with a sorrowful look. “I am sorry, Rose. You are right and I see no way of breaking that betrothal without causing a political nightmare. Things are already strained to near political disaster what with Beth eloping.”

  Rose nodded, and allowed a single tear to slip down her cheek unheeded. “I had better get ready for tonight.” She stood, and hurried back to her room.

Anya came to help her dress.

“Where is Dinah?” Rose asked.

The housekeeper straightened the deep green silk skirt of Rose’s gown. “No one knows. She disappeared in the excitement when your brother arrived. I love this color on you.”

Rose studied her ref
lection in the mirror with a critical eye. Her chestnut hair was piled atop of her head, with delicate ringlets pulled loose to frame her face and cover up her scrapes and bruises. The tawny hazel of her eyes contrasted with the paleness of her face. Self–conscious, she pulled at the long sleeves on the gown to cover the bruises still visible on her wrists.

* * * *

Clutching her reticule to calm her shaking hands, Rose entered the tsar’s palace. All eyes focused on them as they were announced. John must have sensed her nervousness because he smiled and offered his arm. People whispered as they followed Dimitry down the aisle to the throne where the tsar of Russia sat.

John bowed and Rose curtsied. The tsar stood and took her hand in his as she rose. “My dear Miss Wellington,” he said in perfe
ct English. “It is high time Prince Petelovsky introduced you to me. I can see why he was so anxious to keep you to himself. Your beauty and grace are a pleasure to behold.”

“Thank you, Your E
xcellency.”

“Come.” The tsar guided her to an empty seat next to his throne. “I must hear about your amazing bravery in the clutches of that evil Cossack rebel. I am told you have quite the
‘pluck,’ as you British say.”

Rose sat beside the tsar, and for the next hour she answered his questions regarding her captures and escapes from Sergi.

The tsar leaned forward intent on her every word. When she finished her tale he beamed. “You are a brave young woman.”

“Excuse me.” Dimitry bowed to the tsar. “I was hoping Miss Wellington would honor me with a dance.”

“By all means, but please do not keep her to yourself for too long.” The tsar kissed her hand. “I shall count the minutes until your return, my dear.”

Rose
disengaged her hand from the tsar’s and placed it in Dimitry’s. He led her to the dance floor where they moved in unison to the sweet strains of a waltz.

“You have charmed the tsar.”

“He is very gracious, and easily entertained.” His warm hand on the small of her back made her heart pound. She tried to concentrate on the intricate dance steps, but she was only too aware of his muscles sliding beneath his dress coat where her hand rested. He smelled of brandy and soap. Rose swallowed. When she looked up her breath caught in her throat.
He is so handsome.
The intense look in his blue eyes made her miss a step.

He carried on
as if she had never faltered. “I have not had a chance to talk to you since we rescued you from the cave.”

“John told me about Sergi.”

Dimitry inclined his head. “He paid for what he did to you.”

Rose looked past him to where John was dancing with a very pretty Russian lady. “John says we are to leave for home tomorrow.”

“I tried to talk him into staying longer. He has invited me to come to England to visit. I am interested in learning more about English factories. I think it would benefit my country to employ the same manufacturing system.”

She nodded.

“I also wanted to come see you.”

Rose peered at him through her lashes
. “Dimitry, please...”

“Rose, I must tell you how I feel before you go.”

She shook her head, her heart filled with anguish. “Please, it is hard enough to go back to England knowing that I love you. If I must bear marriage to the marquis do not tell me you love someone else. I cannot bear the thought of you with another.” 

He cupped her chin in his hand and looked in her
eyes, his anguish matching hers. “There is no other woman, Rose; I thought you were in love with Victor. Victor is the one who loves another. I love you.”

“You do?” 

“I love you with all my heart, flower. What am I to do, just sit here and watch you sail from my life?”

“There is no other choice.” Tears began to flow down her cheeks. “Please Dimitry, tell me you are glad to see me go, for I cannot bear to hear otherwise,” she cried, wrenching from his grasp and fleeing through the open terrace doors. She paused in the shadows, and wiped her eyes with her handkerchief. It would not do to let everyone see her crying.

John stared at her when she returned to her seat. She knew he could tell she had been crying, and he probably guessed the cause of her tears. Turning away, she watched Dimitry with a breaking heart as he stopped to talk to a couple of gentlemen. Her dreams of someday falling in love were crushed by the cruel irony of the situation.

“You look tired,” John remarked. “Perhaps we should return to Dimitry’s palace.”

Rose nodded. John thanked the tsar for his hospitality, and then hurried to tell Dimitry they were ready to leave. They rode back to Dimitry’s palace in silence. When they arrived, Rose said a hasty goodnight and went to her room to nurse her broken heart alone.

It was well past midnight, and Rose stood at the window with her head pressed to the cool pane of glass. She should be sleeping, but she did not want to close her eyes. Morning would come all too soon as it was. A light knock sounded on the door. Before Rose could answer it, Dimitry entered.

“I saw your light.” He stood on the threshold and held out a large roll of paper. “I want to show you these before you leave.”

She forced her feet to cross the room to stand before him. “What are they?”

“The plans for the old theater, the tsar approved the renovations this afternoon.”