Unconquered (34 page)

The coach turned off the main avenue, and took several turns down side streets, finally passing through the open iron gate of a large four-storied brick house on the Neva River. Sasha stopped short of the gates, and watched as the carriage drew to a stop. The beautiful lady in the shimmering gold gown was handed from the coach and escorted up the steps and into the embassy.

Sasha watched as the vehicle moved around to the stableyard. Following it, he slipped onto the embassy grounds. “Hey, you!” the ambassador’s coachman called to him.

“Good evening,” replied Sasha in his best English. The only child of the late Princess Cherkessky’s favorite maid, he had been educated with his master, the prince, and spoke several languages fluently. It was unusual treatment for even a privileged serf, but it had amused the princess to educate Sasha and the boy had acted as a spur to her son, who found the peasant boy as intelligent as he himself. Sasha’s presence encouraged
Prince Alexei to excel at his studies, for it was unthinkable that a mere serf might outdo him.

The coachman eyed Sasha suspiciously. “What do you want?” he demanded rudely. How he hated duty in Russia, but the ambassador paid extra for it.

Sasha smiled up at the burly servant. How he hated these arrogant foreigners. “The pretty lady you just brought here, who is she?” he asked politely.

“Who wants to know?”

“My master, the Prince.” Sasha flipped a silver coin upwards. The coachman deftly caught it. In five minutes, Sasha had all the information the coachman possessed.

“Thanks, friend,” he said, and walked briskly away from the embassy. Knowing St. Petersburg like the back of his hand, he took several shortcuts in order to reach the Cherkessky palace as quickly as possible. He entered the building through a side door, and hurried upstairs to his master’s private apartments, where he found the prince on his bed dallying with his current mistress. Sasha didn’t particularly care for the woman, a foreigner, but then he was always jealous of the prince’s other lovers, male or female. This one was a particularly irritating bitch, a straw blonde with strange yellow amber eyes. She was wearing a diaphanous negligee, which, thought Sasha sourly, she might as well not have had on at all. The woman lounged against the prince, a smug smile on her lips.

“Well?” demanded Prince Cherkessky. “What have you found out for me?”

“Virtually nothing, Highness. The ambassador’s coachman could tell me only the lady’s name. He knew nothing more. He was told to fetch her from her yacht, and bring her to the embassy.”

The prince’s mistress sat up. “Are you considering replacing me, Alexei?” she said sharply.

“I wasn’t, my dear,” came the smooth reply, “but if you use that tone of voice with me again, I shall.”

The woman’s face reflected instant distress, and she wove her plump, white arms about his neck, pouting, “Oh, Alexei, I love you! The thought of losing you drives me to behave indiscreetly.”

“Give me credit for being a gentleman, my dear. When I tire of you, I shall have the manners to tell you so.”

“Then tell me why you have Sasha following women in the streets.”

The prince smiled a wolfish smile, his even white teeth bright in his tanned face. He was an attractive man with an elegant figure, broad shoulders and chest, rapier-slim waist and hips, long legs. His straight black hair was cut short. His eyes were also dark and as expressionless as black agate marbles. His nose was classically flawless, his mouth thin, a trifle cruel. He unwound his mistress from his neck, and said, “There is no reason why you should not know, my dear. When Sasha was at Bimberg’s Emporium today purchasing those scented kid gloves you set your greedy little heart on, he saw a woman of incredible beauty, the woman I have been seeking for several years now. I have seen the woman. She is just what I want!”

“Want, Alexei?”

“For the farm, my dear. I have long sought the perfect mate for one of my prize studs, Lucas. Lucas throws daughters, unlike his brother, Paulus, who throws sons. I have found Paulus several perfect mates over the past five years, and they have produced eighteen sons already—blond, beautiful little boys who will eventually sell for a fortune in the bazaars of the Mid and Far East. Although Lucas himself has several mates there are no women who look like him, and I have long wanted a woman with his coloring. I want to get a clutch of silver-blond daughters. The Turks will pay a fortune for such little girls, and I can sell them as young as five years old.”

He looked back at Sasha. “Who is the woman?”

“All I could learn was her name, Gracious Highness. She is Lady Miranda Dunham.”

“
What?!
” The prince’s paramour sat up. “What did you say her name was?”

“Lady Miranda Dunham.”

“Silver-blond, skinny, green-blue eyes?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know this woman?” the prince demanded eagerly.

“Yes, I know the bitch,” replied Gillian Abbott venomously. “Thanks to her I can never go home to England. I must wander
the earth, an exile, dependent on bastards like you, Alexei. Yes, I know Miranda Dunham!”

Sasha watched as the prince put an arm around the woman. “Tell me,
douceka
,” he murmured against her ear, his elegant hand creeping up to fondle one of Gillian’s pendulous breasts. “Tell me.”

But Gillian was not quite the gullible fool the prince believed. If she told him the whole truth he might be deterred from his purpose, and she would lose her chance for revenge. “Miranda Dunham,” she murmured, “is an unimportant little American with no connections at all.”

“Unimportant? She travels on her own yacht and has a title, my dear.”

“Alexei, you don’t understand! She is an
American.
”

“Married to an English title.”

“No! No! She was the daughter of Thomas Dunham, an American whose holdings were originally a royal grant. The family always kept its English ties, and are entitled to use their title in England. When Miranda Dunham’s father died, the title and estate were inherited by a cousin, Jared Dunham. Miss Dunham’s sister was shortly to marry and did. Their mother remarried. But unfortunately, Jared had been appointed his cousin’s guardian. She tried to force him into marriage, but of course he would not be coerced so she became his mistress instead, and she has been utterly impossible ever since.” Gillian congratulated herself on her quick thinking.

“Dare I ask how you know all this, Gillian?”

“I will not be coy with you, Alexei. I, too, was Jared Dunham’s mistress at one time. The little chit replaced me in his bed. Jared is a ruthless man. Nevertheless I owe him a favor, for it was he who warned me I was to be arrested as a spy after Abbott’s death. What greater favor can I do Jared Dunham than to help in the removal of this annoyance? If you want the girl for your slave-breeding farm in the Crimea, then take her. Lord Dunham will be mightily relieved if she disappears from his life. She has no right to use the title, Alexei. It is mere pretension on her part. As to the yacht, I imagine Lord Dunham allowed her to use it in order to get her out of his hair for a time. If she does not return he will not miss her, I assure you. And neither will anyone else.”

“Not her mother or her sister, my dear? Surely they will raise a cry over her disappearance.”

“They are both in America,” Gillian lied smoothly.

The prince considered the situation thoughtfully.

“Do it tonight, Alexei! Who knows how long she will be in Petersburg,” encouraged Gillian urgently. “Think how long you have sought a light-eyed silver blonde for your prize stud. The brats she spawns can make you a fortune!”

Sasha looked closely at his master’s woman. He didn’t like the eager tone in her voice, and her gaze was too bright. He couldn’t help but wonder if she was telling the truth and he seriously suspected she wasn’t. “My lord Prince,” he said quietly in Russian, a language Gillian Abbott didn’t understand, “I am not sure
she
is telling the truth. I know how very much you want the woman, but remember that the Tzar has warned you that if there is one more scandal over the farm, you’ll be exiled to your estates.”

The prince looked up, then patted the bed. “Come and sit, Sasha,” he said. “Tell me your thought on this, my love. You have always sought only my best interests. You are the only person in the world I trust completely.”

Sasha smiled, relieved, and sprawled himself on the bed next to his master. Propping himself up on his elbow, he continued, “Your mistress seeks revenge.”

“She has made no secret of it,” replied the prince.

“It is more than that, Highness. Her story is too pat. I do not believe a rich man would allow his mistress the use of his yacht when he is not with her. Now a wife might take her husband’s yacht, but never a mistress.”

“What husband in his right mind would allow such a beautiful wife to travel without him? Unescorted? Unchaperoned?”

“There are always extenuating circumstances, my Prince.”

“I am sure you are right, dear Sasha, but I mean to have the woman, and there will be no scandal. I have the perfect plan. Listen, and tell me what you think. We will snatch the American woman, and of course her servants aboard the yacht will go to the police when she does not return. You, dearest Sasha, will escort her to the farm and oversee her breeding to Lucas. I want you to stay until she is safely delivered of her first child. You
need have no fears that anyone will find her, for Lady Miranda Dunham will be assumed dead. The body of a blond woman,” and here the prince leaned over and kissed Gillian lightly, “will be found floating in the Neva. She will be wearing Lady Dunham’s clothes and some of her jewelry. After several days in the river it will be hard to tell who she really is, but the clothes and jewelry will lead them to think it is Lady Dunham. Well, Sasha, am I not clever?”

“Beloved Prince, I stand in awe of your subtle mind.”

“Go back to the English coachman. He will have learned more by now that can aid us in capturing our quarry.”

Sasha caught the prince’s hand and kissed it. “I am overjoyed to obey you, my master,” he said, rising from the bed and leaving the room quickly.

“What was all that gibberish you were gobbling with your toady,” asked Gillian in her flawless French.

“Sasha doubts your veracity, my dear,” replied the prince.

“The little worm is merely jealous,” snapped Gillian. “Surely you don’t believe him, Alexei?”

“I have reassured him, my dear,” murmured Prince Cherkessky silkenly. “Now, kiss me.”

At the British Embassy, Miranda was forced to play a waiting game. She arrived to find herself only one of many guests at a large dinner party where it was totally impossible to talk to the ambassador. Her dinner partner, however, was the ambassador’s secretary, who assured her that the ambassador would grant her a private interview on the following day to discuss her husband.

“Only tell me,” begged Miranda, “that he is alive.”

“Good Lord, yes!” ejaculated the secretary. “Heavens, m’lady, were you in doubt?”

Miranda fought to keep her voice low. “Lord Palmerston would tell me
nothing.
”

“That damned idiot,” muttered the ambassador’s secretary, realizing what Lady Dunham had been going through for months. “Your pardon, m’lady,” he added hastily.

“I have called Lord Palmerston far worse, Mr. Morgan,” said Miranda, a twinkle in her eyes, and the secretary laughed.

Outside in the mauve Russian twilight, Sasha had returned to engage the ambassador’s coachman in conversation.

“You back?” demanded the Englishman.

Sasha grinned engagingly. “My master gave me a beating for finding out so little about the lovely golden lady. He sent me back to learn more, or he says I can expect another beating.”

The coachman nodded sympathetically. “Aye, they’re all alike, these rich toffs. They wants what they wants, and don’t take no for an answer like the rest of us has to. Well, lad, as it happens I do know more about the lady now. Heard it in the kitchen while I was eating me dinner. She’s come to get her husband, who’s been here in St. Petersburg on business. The ambassador’s a friend of his, so he asked her to dinner. Lord Dunham, however, didn’t know his wife was coming so he left the city a week ago for England. I’ll bring her back here tomorrow afternoon for tea so the ambassador can tell her.”

“Well, now that ought to satisfy my master,” said Sasha. He dug into his pocket and produced another silver coin. “Thanks, my friend,” he said, pressing the coin into the coachman’s hand. Then he sauntered off.

Miranda had been extremely annoyed to find that she must wait for her news of Jared, but at least she now knew he was safe. There had been dancing after the dinner, and she did not find herself shy of partners. Most were members of the diplomatic community, paunchy, overstuffed gentlemen made bold and mellow by the ambassador’s good wines. One man, however, stood out. He was Prince Mirza Eddin Khan, the son of a Turkish princess and a Georgian prince. The prince was an unofficial representative to the Russian court from the Ottoman court, and as far as Miranda was concerned he was the only interesting man in the room that night.

The prince was extremely attractive, standing several inches over six feet. His wavy hair and the thick straight brush mustache above his sensual lips were a lustrous dark brown, his eyes a deep blue, his skin a warm peach tone. Being Moslem, he did not dance, and when Miranda had refused several gentlemen in an effort to catch her breath, he came to stand next to her. “You are far too pretty to frown so,” he remarked in an amused voice. “I have been led to believe that frowns lead to severe wrinkling.”

She turned her face up to him, and at the sight of her marvelous sea-green eyes he felt his breath catch in his throat. “I am not a piece of fluff, Your Highness, but rather a blunt and
outspoken American. I would not offend you, but please do not prattle to me like the other gentlemen. I suspect you are far more intelligent than that.”

“I stand corrected, m’lady. If it is plain truth you prefer, then let me tell you that I think you are one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen.”