A Sister's Quest (11 page)

“You, hide something?” He snorted. “Impossible,
Liebchen
. Every thought you have is visible on your face. Such as right now. You are pretending to be angry, but you are excited to be replacing your bleak frocks.”

That he could judge her feelings so accurately bothered Michelle, for it left her bare before him. Then she scowled. If he was able to guess what she was thinking, he should be more considerate instead of infuriating her at every opportunity.

He went into the parlor and plucked her cloak off the hook. With a flourish, he settled it over her shoulders. When she reached to hook it, he said, “Allow me, my dearest love.” He silenced her retort when he continued, “Don't you understand that it must be different from this point forward?”

“Is it? You will be insufferable, and I shall be your long-suffering mistress.”

He finished securing the small buttons on her cape. Instead of stepping away, he slid his hands along her shoulders and down her arms in a languid motion. “It shall be very, very different. You must grant me certain liberties I know you find offensive.”

“Yes,” she whispered, “offensive.” She stared up at him, lost in the emerald seas of his eyes. Brown specks within them fascinated her as his arms slid beneath her cloak to encircle her waist.

“You must be willing to let me hold you.”

“I know.”

His hand swept up along her back, bringing her to him. “If the occasion arises, you must not appear disgusted by my kiss.”

“I won't,” she said softly.

His grin returned. “I did not think you would.”

“You arrogant, contemptible—”

He laughed as she walked away from him. She could not let him discover how hurt she was that he was playing with her emotions again. Her hand was grasped by his. He placed it gently on his arm and winked.

“I should hate you!” Michelle said, unable to keep from smiling.

“More than you do?”

“I thought you said you could tell what I was feeling!”

He opened the door and led her out, then turned to lock it. Unable to see his face, she was unsure if he was teasing or serious when he said, “I can.”

“But I don't really hate you.”

He faced her. Although he did not touch her, a warmth oozed from her center as he smiled. “But you would like to hate me, wouldn't you?”

Standing on the landing, she said over the clatter of traffic in the street below, “Alexei, I honestly don't know what to think anymore.”

“I do.”

“You do?” Her eyes narrowed when she saw that twinkle in his. What mischief was he about to spring on her now?

“I think Rusak will be outraged if he has to wait out in the cold much longer.” Holding out his arm, he asked, “
Liebchen
?”

She put her fingers on it. As he led her down the stairs, she wondered what awaited them in Vienna. Whatever it was, if Alexei was involved, it would not be boring.

A tinny bell rang as Michelle hurried into the small shop. She was glad to be out of the piercing wind that was whipping the snow down Griechengasse. As she shook snow from her cloak, she asked, “Why won't Rusak come inside?”

Alexei chuckled as he took off his beaver hat and brushed snow off it. “Rusak in a
couturière's
shop? He would rather face the French again.” In a whisper, he added, “Besides, we must keep up appearances. Don't forget he is our coachman.”

“
Grüss Gott!
” called a rumbling, female voice.

Michelle tried to find a smile for the woman who was as round as the rich sound of her voice.

“Frau Lepper?” asked Alexei.

“Yes,” she said, bobbing her head so enthusiastically that her double chins jiggled. “You must be Count Vatutin.”

He gave her his most charming smile. “I appreciate you seeing us on such short notice.”

“My pleasure, my lord. I am happy to make a wardrobe for your
dear
friend.”

Michelle noted Frau Lepper's slight emphasis. This was only the first of the embarrassing situations she would find herself in during their stay in Vienna. From this point forward, she would be an extension of Alexei, for her identity came solely from their relationship.

He drew her forward. “Frau Lepper, my
dear
friend. Fraulein Michelle D'Orage. I think you shall find her more than easy to work with.”

As Frau Lepper clucked another greeting, Michelle flashed Alexei a furious glance. It was horrible enough that the modiste used the term
dear friend
. His repetition added to her discomfort.

“Come here, Fraulein,” ordered the seamstress. “Turn.” She shook her head. “What a shame.”

“A shame?” asked Alexei, sitting on a chair by the window.

Frau Lepper glanced at him. “I mean no insult to her, my lord, but such a lovely woman should not be dressed so. Are you in mourning, Fraulein?”

“No,” she answered uneasily.

“Then you should never wear black. With your dark hair and pale skin, you should wear soft colors.”

Alexei said, “We leave those decisions in your competent hands, Frau Lepper.”

“What exactly do you wish to order?”

Although the seamstress had spoken to Michelle, Alexei answered, “Everything from the skin out. She will need dresses for calls and for at-homes and for evening, along with all the accessories to go with them. Do not forget the lacy unmentionables that ladies love to wear.” His smile became lascivious. “And men love to have them wear.”

“Alexei!” Michelle gasped before she could halt herself.

“Let me spoil you as you spoil me,
Liebchen
.” He clasped her hand and brought it to his lips.

Alexei watched both women. Michelle's flushed face was perfect for her role as his newly acquired mistress. Frau Lepper's smile became more calculating. She must be trying to figure how far his generosity extended. As he released Michelle's hand, the modiste hurried her into a measuring room.

Leaning back in the uncomfortable chair, he peered through the window. It had been almost a decade since his first visit to Vienna. He sighed. That debacle he did not want to remember. Although it hardly seemed possible now, he had been nearly as naïve as Michelle. So simple the answers had seemed. So clear-cut the line between right and wrong. No longer. He nearly had destroyed all that he worked for, but he had been saved by Sophie D'Orage.

He looked at the curtain, which undulated with the movement beyond it. He could not have imagined then that he would return to Vienna with Sophie's daughter.

Resting his hands on his knees, he stared at the floor, which was littered with thread. Finding Michelle and bringing her with him might have been the wrong way to repay Sophie. He wished he could have left Michelle in her cloistered school. He had not had that choice. Those who had lost power sought the daughter of the woman who had worked for their downfall. His fingers tightened on his knee. They could have twisted Michelle into believing their lies too easily.

Or could they have? As sharp-witted as her mother, Michelle resembled what Sophie must have been before her profession hardened her. Michelle was the woman he wished Sophie had been. A woman he could have loved.

“Don't be stupid!” he said in a growl under his breath. He had no need for any woman who did not sleep by his side. He might have seduced pretty Michelle, for she was clearly eager for his caresses, but the debt he owed her mother stood in the way. Sophie had not saved his life so he could ruin her daughter's.

He stood when the curtain was pushed aside.

Frau Lepper bustled out, bubbling with enthusiasm. “I have several patterns that interest your dear friend.”

He nodded absently in response to the modiste's questions as Michelle emerged. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation. Satisfaction flowed over him, surprising him. This visit to Frau Lepper's shop had been meant to be nothing more than a part of his scheme to complete his work quickly and efficiently. Yet his gaze was drawn again and again to Michelle's joyous smile.

When she glanced at him, he kept his thoughts hidden. He must not allow her to gauge them as he did hers. Looking past her to where the seamstress's assistant had found another girl to help her carry the armfuls of samples, he pointed. “That one,” he said in an arrogant tone. “The gold one. It would be the perfect foil for your dark hair,
Liebchen
.”

“Alexei, it is so garish,” Michelle replied.

He grasped her shoulders and turned her so only she could see his face. “The gold would look lovely on you, my love.” He stroked her cheek, but she shook her head vigorously. “Michelle,” he warned in a taut voice.

Michelle almost told Alexei the truth. It was not the gown that bothered her. It was her breath-stealing reaction to his touch. How he would roar with laughter if he learned how his simple caress sent a storm of pleasure along her! Her yearning for him nearly ripped every thought from her head.

“Michelle?”

Forcing a smile, she said as if she were his dutiful, adoring mistress, “Of course, Alexei, if you wish, I shall try the gold dress on. It looks large.”

“It can be pinned,” Frau Lepper chimed in. “This way, Fraulein.” Her smile showed she had been listening closely.

Behind the curtain, Michelle shed her dark gown with Frau Lepper's help. The young assistant lifted the gold silk over Michelle's head. It enlightened her skin. While the seamstress hooked up the back and put pins in place to make the dress fit, Michelle stared at her reflection.

Could that elegant woman in the glass be her? Her breasts were accented by the deep neckline. White lace at the high waistline matched the edging on sleeves dripping over her shoulders. When she moved, the gown whispered a song.

Frau Lepper smiled so broadly her bulbous cheeks threatened to split. “A bit long, but otherwise 'tis perfect, Fraulein. Perfect.”

Her assistant nodded in awed silence.

Michelle wanted to agree. The dress was perfect, and, in it, she felt perfect, too. Her eyes sparkled back at her as she wondered what Alexei would say when he saw her in it. Suddenly she could not wait to find out.

She pushed aside the curtain. He stood by the window with his back to her. Something was bothering him, for his back was rigid. Wanting to ask what was wrong, she remembered her role as his empty-headed mistress who was interested only in the luxuries he could provide her.

“Alexei? What do you think?” she asked.

What he said under his breath as he faced her she could not hear, but the glow of admiration in his green eyes was unmistakable. “Turn,” he commanded.

“It does not look so good in the back where it is pinned,” she replied with a laugh.

“Let me judge for myself.”

Obeying, she listened to the silk brushing the floor. The shimmering material seemed to possess a life of its own.

When she faced him again, he said, “No, I don't think so. It is not right for you,
Liebchen
.”

Her eyes widened. “Alexei, I—”

“I said no,
Liebchen
.”

She wanted to argue, but recalled how she must act. It galled her to be so meek. “As you wish.”

Shocked, Frau Lepper motioned for her assistant to help Michelle take off the wonderful gown. The young woman said nothing as she unhooked the dress. Hanging it carefully, she redid the many buttons along Michelle's black frock.

Michelle bit back her disappointment. For a few seconds she had been a princess. Pushing aside the curtain, she said quietly, “I am ready to leave when you are, Alexei.”

“Good.” He handed the modiste a card with their address on it. As he helped Michelle with her cloak, he stated, “Bring the things I ordered to us as soon as possible. You may fit Michelle at our apartment.”

“Of course, Count Vatutin. Good day, my lord.” A tinge of pity filled her voice as she added, “Good day, Fraulein D'Orage.”

“Michelle?”

At Alexei's question that was clearly a command, Michelle put her fingers on his arm. He led her out into the cold slap of the wind. She sighed. She would have been thrilled with what he bought her, if he had not suggested she try on the incredible dress. Even in her dreams she had never imagined herself in such a magnificent gown.

But she would from this point forward.

Alexei handed her into the coach and shouted
the
address of their next stop to Rusak, who was huddled under a blanket on the box. She did not pay attention, wishing they could go back to the apartment. In her private room, she might convince herself to forget the silly dream of wearing such a dress.

When the carriage started, Alexei's arm settled around her shoulders. He smiled broadly. “
Liebchen
, I knew you would be perfect in this charade. No one would have guessed that you were not truly disappointed to leave that dress behind.”

“I was,” she blurted. When his smile faded, she mumbled, “I mean, I—”

“You thought I would buy you a gown like
that
?”

“You were so insistent I try it. I have never seen a dress like it before.”

“That gown was not for you, Michelle.”

“Why not?” She shrugged off his arm. “Because I am just a language mistress in a girls' school?”

His eyes narrowed as he pulled her back to him again. “Because you looked so incredibly enticing that, if you appeared among the Beau Monde in it, you would create a sensation that even this blasé city would long remember. Some charming gentleman would woo you away with an offer you might find more economically favorable than the one I have made you.”

“How dare you!”

He caught her hand as it rose. “Now, now, Michelle,” he warned with a stiff laugh, “that was not meant to be an insult.”

“I shall not be any man's mistress. Not yours. Not anyone else's.”

“So you have no interest in love?”