To Love a Horseguard (18 page)

Giving him a p
uzzled look she took the paper, unrolled it and scanned its contents. When she realized the significance of the documents she gasped in astonishment. “You have turned the old theater into an orphanage?”

He smiled. “Not yet, we will start the actual work next week. Hopefully it will be finished by winter.”

Rose smiled at him, and held out the blueprints.

He hesitated, and then reached for the papers. Instead
of taking them, he took her hand, pulling her to him and wrapping a strong arm around her waist. “Do not leave,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

“Dimitry,” Rose whimpered. “I have to go.”

His eyes darkened. With a groan he lowered his lips to hers. She sighed, and leaned against him as he captured her lips in a kiss that was neither soft or brutal, but passionate and desperate. Her toes curled and her arms wrapped around his neck in response. He moaned, pulling her tighter against him. Her head swam, and before she knew it he closed the door and lowered her to the bed.

“Stay with me, flower.” He kissed her again.

Her breath caught in her throat.
God, I love him.
When his kiss grew desperate, she returned his ardor. When they finally pulled apart their breath came in ragged passion filled gasps. “Make love to me,” she whispered. “Then you will always be with me.”

He resumed kissing her. Almost frantic, they pulled at each other’s clothing until they were naked on the bed.

Dimitry pulled back, his gaze roaming her flushed flesh. “Oh, you are beautiful.”

Rose gasped as he lowered his lips to
her breast and kissed her there.

After a moment he sighed and sat up.
“This is wrong. If I take your maidenhead I will be dishonoring you, and the vows I took as the head of the tsar’s army, and I would leave you soiled for your fiancé.” He hung his head, his grief hurting her more than the idea of having to leave him.

He is right, we canno
t do this.
Even though she knew he was right, her heart cried with the need to love him, just once. Tears coursed down her cheeks unheeded and she snatched up her nightdress. “Just go. It breaks my heart to say goodbye.”

He stood, and shuffled to the door. After one last anguished look, he opened it and walked out.

She slipped back into her nightdress and wandered to the window. The lights of St. Petersburg twinkled against the darkness. Now, more than ever, she experienced the pain of being alone.

She was still standing there early the next morning when Anya entered the room carrying a breakfast tray. “You’re awake I see. I brought breakfast up to you. The men have already left for the docks.”

Rose nodded without turning around, as the housekeeper set the tray on the bedside table and poured a cup of tea.

“Your bed hasn't been slept in.”

With a sigh she turned from the window. “I was too warm last night,” she explained, without looking the housekeeper in the eye.

Anya handed her a dressing gown. “Seems to me Dimitry offered the same explanation when I noticed his bed was not slept in.”

Rose didn't know what to say, so she remained silent and sat at the small table.

Anya passed her a napkin and placed a platter of food in front of her. She smiled. “If I were your brother, I would go back to England and tell everyone he never found you.”

Fresh tears pricked Rose's eyes. “Thank you, Anya.”

When she finished eating she dressed and went downstairs. A coach was waiting for her at the front steps. Anya introduced her to a young Russian girl who was to accompany her to England as her makeshift maid and companion.

“I will miss you.” Anya gave her a hug and kissed her cheek. “Godspeed on your journey.”

Rose fought back her tears as she climbed into the waiting coach
. The door shut behind her and she waved out of the window as the coach pulled away. Anya stood on the steps and waved back. When she arrived at the shipyard, John hurried across the dock to help her from the carriage. They crossed the dock to the gangplank where Victor stood.

He took her hand
and placed a kiss on the back of it. “I will miss you, Lady Rose.”

Rose gave him a weak smile. “I shall miss you too, Victor.”

John shook Victor's hand.  “If you ever come to London you are most welcome to stay with me at Wellington House.” 

“Where is Dimitry?” She scanned the deck but to her disappointment she didn't see the prince. 

Victor looked down at his boots. “I am sorry Rose; he was detained on an important matter by the tsar.” 

Nodding she took John’s arm. They walked up the gangplank onto the ship. Rose stood at the rail as the
ramp was pulled away. Victor waved as the ship slid from the dock and she returned his wave. Within the hour the dock was a small sliver of brown against the green of the shore. She clutched the railing as a light breeze sprang up and blew the tears from her cheeks. Dimitry had not even come to say goodbye. Perhaps he thought it was better this way.

“Rose?”

She turned away as her brother approached so he would not see her cry.

“You should go below.”

With a stiff nod, she wandered down to the room she would occupy for the long journey home and threw herself face down on the bed. Without caring who heard, she sobbed.
It is so unfair. I love Dimitry, not the marquis.

Chapter Twenty-One

Dimitry paced the anti-chamber waiting for the summons from the tsar. Finally, the door opened and a footman waved him in. He marched to the tsar’s throne and bowed. The tsar took his time acknowledging him. Only after the footman poured him some wine did he incline his head to Dimitry to rise.

“Well, Prince Peterlovsky, what have you to report?”

“I have nothing new to report, Your Excellency.”

“Then why are you here?” The tsar scowled
clearly annoyed Dimitry would presume to take up his valuable time.

“I have come to ask for your
counsel on a personal matter, Your Excellency.”

“What matter is this?”

Dimitry shuffled his feet. “It is a matter of the heart.”

The tsar set down his glass and smiled. “I see. This matter is such that my counsel is the only acceptable one?”

“It is a matter of an international nature, and something I believe is in your means to rectify, if you so please to.”

“Please, speak plainly.” He waved Dimitry to the seat beside him.

Dimitry sat in the chair. “I suppose to put it rather bluntly; I am in love with a lady.”

“Does this lady return your love?”

“I have reason to believe so. The problem however, is that she is engaged to another and is powerless to break the agreement.”

“Who is this lady and to whom is she attached?”

Dimitry ran a hand through his hair. “The lady in question is the same Lady Rose whom I rescued from Sergi. She is engaged to a French marquis.”

The tsar’s face tightened with disapproval. “Prince Peterlovsky, you should know better than to come seeking approval to start a war with the French.”

“That was not my intent. I thought perhaps there might be a way around the situation. Perhaps you could speak with the English king and ask him to reconsider his approval of the lady’s engagement.”

“Why should I do this thing for you?”

“I have been a faithful servant to you, Your Excellency. If not for me, do it for the lady who was courageous in a very difficult situation.”

The tsar shook his head. “You ask for what I cannot do. To ask another king to change his mind would be saying I have no respect for his rule. If there is no respect between our countries it is only a matter of time before we are engaged in war. Our country has had too much war these last few years.”

“I understand, but—”

“You dare question my wisdom, when you came to me seeking it?” the tsar roared.

“No, Your Excellency, please accept my apology.” Dimitry’s hopes faded. “I am heart sore and did not mean any disrespect.”

The tsar cast him a sympathetic look. “It pains me to see your heart torn young prince, but you will recover and find another who makes your heart beat fast and your palms sweat. Until then you must put this woman from your mind.”

“Yes, Your Excellency. Please forgive me for taking up your valuable time.” Dimitry stood to leave.

“I am honored you came to me. Perhaps next time I can give you the answer you seek.”

Dimitry bowed and made his way from the palace. He mounted his horse and galloped to the docks. The tsar had kept him waiting longer than he expected. People scattered as he clattered down the cobblestone streets. When he reached the docks he pulled his horse up. The English ships were gone. He was too late. Rose was gone. He would never see her again
. I never said goodbye.

“Dimitry!”

He spun his horse around.

Victor stood on the dock. “She has already gone.”

Dimitry nodded. “The tsar turned down my request.”

“
I am sorry.”

Dimitry
waited for his cousin to mount his horse. The two of them rode into St. Petersburg. When they arrived at Dimitry's palace they tossed their reins to a footman and headed for the study.

Dimitry opened the cabinet and pulled out a couple of full bottles of vodka and two glasses. He set them down on the desk, filled the glasses and proceeded to drink himself into a drunken stupor to dull his pain. They drank in understanding silence for almost an hour, until the liquor began to loosen Dimitry's tongue. “I am stuck between three countries, Victor.”

“I know.”

He stared at the liquid in his glass
, his heart burdened under a ton of emotional weight. “I love her, cousin.”

“I know.”

“What am I going to do?”

Victor shook his head. “That I do not know.”

Dimitry sighed. “I loved her from the moment I first saw her. Do you know what that is like?”

“I cannot say that I do.”

“I want her back.”

Victor leaned across the desk and looked him in the eye. “You have to fight for her.”

“How do I fight three rulers? I am but one man.”

“I have no clue. All I know is there has to be a way. You cannot give up.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

“You have been home for over a week, Rose, and yet you have not been out once. The marquis calls for you every afternoon and you still refuse him,” the Dowager Duchess of Ainsbury scolded.

“I am not ready to see anyone yet, grandmother,” Rose ground out between clenched teeth, continuing to stare out the window at the rain coursing down the pane of glass.

“There is to be a celebratory ball at the Kensington's this evening and I insist that you come.”

Rose sighed. “I have no desire to go.”

“Nonsense! You have moped around here long enough,” the dowager snapped. “You will be ready at eight o’clock sharp. I will send a note around to the marquis to pick us up.”

“Grandmother, please—”

“I will not hear another word about it, Rose!”

She turned from the window and shot her grandmother an annoyed look. The dowager ignored her as she sipped her tea.
Knowing arguing was futile, Rose stalked from the room and up the stairs to get ready for the evening.

When she marched
back down the stairs at eight o’clock, the marquis was waiting for her. He kissed her hand, and then straightened with a tight smile. “Lady Rose, it is lovely to see you well enough to attend the ball tonight.”

She pasted a smile on her face. “I have my doubts I am ready for an evening out, but grandmother insisted.”

“The dowager was quite right to insist; after all you cannot hide out here until our wedding. There are so many more plans to make.”

Rose ignored his comment as her grandmother joined them. The marquis handed them their wraps and they hurried to the waiting ca
rriage, where she stared out the window as the dowager and the marquis chatted. She wished she could have pleaded a headache rather than attend the ball tonight, but she was reasonably sure her grandmother would see through her ruse. She didn't feel like dancing and making merry when she was miserable.
At least the rain stopped. After I make an appearance at the ball I can slip out into the garden and while away the time until grandmother is ready to leave.

The carriage drew
up to the steps of the mansion and Rose allowed the marquis to help her down. He gave her his arm and led her up the steps into the townhouse. They paused on the threshold of the ballroom as they were announced. The room quieted as her name was called and everyone turned to look at her. If Rose could have disappeared into thin air, she would have. It seemed all of London had heard about her kidnapping. Holding her head high she forced her feet to move. The crowd parted and whispered as the marquis escorted her to a chair at the end of the ballroom.