A Sister's Quest (15 page)

He looked at her, a stiff grin on his face. “You knew you would see him eventually. You might as well see him at this reception and put it behind you.” He chuckled, but the sound was as false as his smile. “Mayhap you will find he truly is your Prince Charming.”

Michelle lowered her eyes from his. She did not want to talk about Prince Bartholomew when she wanted to tell Alexei how she longed for him to tug her back to him and kiss her until her knees were weak. All she said was, “Thank you, Alexei, for persuading Rusak to listen.”

His tight smile eased as he nodded. “You are welcome.
Liebchen
?”

“Yes?” She paused in the doorway. Would he speak now of what was in her heart?
Du lieber Gott
, when had Alexei inveigled his way into her heart? She must be out of her mind.

“I hope you prove me wrong about this teacher and Rusak.”

“
We
shall.” She made the words a vow. “We shall.”

“Nervous?” asked Alexei as he handed his hat to a servant.

Michelle smiled wryly. “What an absurd question! The last time I called here, I insulted the prince by not recognizing him.”

“True.” Alexei gave her a lopsided grin.

“I shall be glad when this evening is over. Mayhap I can avoid him.”

“Tonight is formal,
Liebchen
, so you shall meet Prince Charming in the reception line.”

Her cheeks lost all color. Although she had known she must face this embarrassment, she had not expected it would be so public. She straightened her shoulders and let Alexei draw her hand into his arm. As they walked through the door to the grand parlor, she sensed the eyes of the many guests. They all were aimed at her. Heads bent toward each other as she passed.

Self-consciously, she looked down at her gown, hoping to find something amiss. Then she could blame the stares on that. Her lacy glove smoothed her skirt, which was decorated with a trellis of white flowers. The narrow bodice clinging to her breasts was not too deep, for ruffles edged it. She was dressed perfectly, so she could not blame their stares on anything save her own thoughtless actions last time.

Alexei's hand covered her quivering one. Looking up, she met his surprisingly sympathetic smile. She had thought he would be crowing about her mistake. Had she misread him again? She had been so certain he would kiss her at the apartment, but she had been wrong about that, too.

“Shall we?” he asked with the slightest motion of his head toward where a footman in fancy blue-and-gold livery stood to their right.

She nodded. Fearful of speaking, she hoped this would be over quickly so she could fade into the background once more. How had a friendly conversation escalated into this?

“Count Alexei Vatutin, Fraulein Michelle D'Orage,” announced the footman.

Michelle waited for Alexei to step ahead of her, as he should as her employer. She sensed rather than heard the sharp intake of breath as she faced Prince Bartholomew. Hearing Alexei greet him politely, she wished words would form in her head.

“Your Highness,” she said as she dropped into the deep curtsy she had learned during etiquette classes at St. Bernard's.

With a jovial laugh, Prince Bartholomew took her hand and drew her to her feet. “Now, Michelle, you were not at all like this last time we met.”

“I must apologize, Your Highness. I did not know—”

“I know you did not know to whom you were speaking, and I liked it that way. You were pleasant because you liked Bartholomew, not because you felt obligated to be kind to the heir of Coxe-Saxony-Colburg.”

Heir
? She looked at Alexei, but he appeared not to notice as he talked with the dowager. She knew he had seen it because he missed little. Why had he failed to mention something as important as the fact that Prince Bartholomew would be the next ruler of his small state? Alexei must have a reason, but she could not guess what it might be.

When she did not answer, Prince Bartholomew asked, “Will you grant me the boon of still calling me Bartholomew while I call you Michelle?”

“If you wish, Your—Bartholomew,” she corrected herself when his smile dimmed.

“Not if I wish it alone, for you must find this comfortable as well.”

Although she was aware that every word she said was being listened to by Alexei and all the others who were unabashedly eavesdropping, she said, “To be honest, I find everything uncomfortable about this. You are the first prince beyond those in a storybook that I have ever met.”

“You are so amusing.” He captured her gloved hands and pressed them to his lips. “May we talk later?”

“Of course.” When she saw him glance at Alexei, she faltered. She could not forget that she had promised Alexei to portray his mistress. “I believe we can find some time to speak this evening.”

“I believe you are right.”

Alexei's fingers cupped her elbow. She saw fury flicker through Bartholomew's eyes when he looked at Alexei. She bit her lip to keep from laughing. How much more absurd could this get?

Michelle walked past the people who stared at her openly. She had never felt so much like a leper. When a glass was pressed into her fingers, she raised it to her lips. Instead of wine, brandy cut through her.

“You did fine,” Alexei said quietly.

“I wish I was back at St. Bernard's.”

“And miss all this fun?” He smiled. “And me?”

“Don't jest with me now, Alexei, please.”

He put his fingers over hers on her glass. When she looked at him over it, his face was serious. “
Liebchen
, I wanted only to make you realize that you have done nothing wrong by being kind. Amidst this world where one word can have a dozen meanings, you are a welcome change. No wonder Prince Charming delighted in how you treated him.”

“But he is a
prince!
”

“True. He bears the title of prince and is the heir of Coxe-Saxony-Colburg, but he is only a man. Like every other man you know.”

“No, not like every other man I know.”

“What makes him so different?”

At Alexei's abruptly sharp tone, Michelle drew her hand from beneath his. How could she explain her unthinking words without revealing the truth hidden in her heart? She had not intended her words as a compliment to Bartholomew. Rather, her words spoke of how unlike other men Alexei was, but he would not want to hear how her heart ached for the moment when his arms were around her as his lips found hers.

“I have never met a man who has only one name,” she returned with contrived sauciness.

When he regarded her with disgust, she lowered her eyes. He made her feel like a fool. And why not? She was. Any woman who lost her heart to Alexei Vatutin was a fool. He was a man of the wind, going where chance took him.

When Alexei excused himself to speak to an acquaintance, she sighed. She was making a muddle of the whole of this.

“So sad?”

She met Bartholomew's smile. His eyes were innocuous compared to Alexei's. She could not imagine him being involved with the subterfuge Alexei loved. If she had a hint of wit about her, she would forget Alexei, who wanted only to use her to further his ends, and welcome Bartholomew's friendship.

“I am not sad.” Her smile became sincere as she added, “Not any longer.”

“Or frightened?”

“Frightened? Of what?”

“Of
whom
.”

Michelle's eyes widened when Bartholomew glanced in Alexei's direction and back. Was she frightened of Alexei? Of course not … save for his effect on her hapless heart. She could not tell Bartholomew that.

“Only a leather-head would be unafraid among the vagaries of power here in Vienna,” she replied.

“You are as intelligent as you are lovely, Michelle.” Bartholomew took her hand between his. Again she was aware of the eyes following every motion they made, but she could ignore them all, except for the green fire from Alexei's gaze.

As Bartholomew lured her into conversation, Michelle relaxed. Nothing could make her forget her yearning for Alexei, but Bartholomew's gentleness might help.

Her smile faltered when Bartholomew asked, “Would it be possible to call on you to ask you to join me for a soiree tomorrow evening, Michelle?”

“Call on
me
?”

He smiled. “Don't act awed of me. Please. Last time we met, I was simply your friend Bartholomew. Can't it be the same this time?”

“I am trying.”

“So may I call on you?”

“I …” She glanced toward where Alexei was talking to several people she did not know. His gaze met hers without emotion. She could not imagine what he would think of Bartholomew's request.

“Ah, your
friend
Count Vatutin,” mumbled Bartholomew. “Therein lies the problem.”

Her attempt to smile was a dismal failure. “Mayhap under the circumstances—”

“Curse the circumstances!” When she gasped, Bartholomew added in a more tranquil tone, “If your employer does not mind, would you accompany me tomorrow evening? Just a gathering of a few friends. I think they would be as charmed by you as I am.”

“Bartholomew, that is impossible. Alexei depends on me to translate for him, and he may have plans for tomorrow evening.”

“That is not what I asked. Would you go?”

“The point is moot.”

“Is it?” Raising his voice, he called, “Count Vatutin, would you join us, please?”

Michelle wished she could disappear as Bartholomew's question drew everyone's attention once more. How had she gotten mixed up in this bumble-bath? And, more important, how would she extricate herself without insulting Bartholomew?

“Yes, Your Highness?” Alexei asked without looking at her.

“I would that the three of us speak together privately,” announced Bartholomew with the pomposity he never used when speaking to her. His command carried throughout the large room.

Michelle stared in disbelief when the servants escorted the other guests out. Bartholomew wielded his power with the ease of one accustomed to it from birth. Within minutes, they were alone.

“Count Vatutin,” Bartholomew said as soon as the doors were pulled closed by a silent servant, “I have asked Fraulein D'Orage to accompany me to a small gathering tomorrow evening.”

“Do you want to go,
Liebchen
?” Alexei asked.

She saw Bartholomew's lips narrow when Alexei spoke the endearment. Dampening her own lips, she asked, “Do you want me to go?”

His smile was as cold as the snow-laden wind. “You are free,
Liebchen
. A woman held against her will becomes unappealing. If you wish to go with Prince Bartholomew to this
tête-à-tête
, I see no reason why I should gainsay you.” He laced his fingers through hers and drew her closer.

She knew she should say something, but all words vanished when she gazed up into his eyes.
Tell him that you want to keep me close
. Could she will him to speak the words that clamored in her heart?
Tell him that you are just jesting, that I mean more to you than just an employee
.

“After all,” Alexei said, “Prince Bartholomew wishes only your company among his other guests. What we share needs no one else.”

A heated blush fanned across her face as his gaze held her imprisoned in its emerald fire. She hated this farce. In an anguished whisper, she pleaded, “Don't, Alexei.”

As if he had not heard her, he said, “As I said, Your Highness, she is free to do as she wishes during the evenings when I do not need her to interpret for me. You understand, of course, that
all
her nights are mine.”

“I understand perfectly, Count Vatutin,” Bartholomew replied in a tone as taut as his lips. “Now that we understand each other, tell me what you Russians think of this new plan proposed by Talleyrand and the French delegation.”

Michelle listened in disbelief. They understood each other? Mayhap, but she did not understand either of them, and she suspected she never would as long as she was a pawn between them. Neither Alexei nor Bartholomew would accept the other as a part of her life for long. She did not want to think about what would happen then.

Chapter Ten

Michelle knocked on Alexei's door—the one from the hallway, for she pretended there was no door connecting their rooms. Even so, she had no privacy in her rooms. She always changed behind a dressing screen and glanced over her shoulder to make sure Alexei had not entered her room.

When she received no answer, she opened the door. She thought Alexei would be here, because he had told her to let him know when she and Rusak left for the appointment with Herr Professor Waldstein.

“Alexei?” she called.

He did not answer, but she saw him bent over his desk, scribbling fiercely. She entered the room, staying close to the door. In spite of herself, she stared at the huge bed. Why had her dreams for the past two nights been of being there with him?

She was crazy! She was certain of that. For the past two evenings, Bartholomew had escorted her about Vienna. They had laughed together, and he had delighted in sharing gossip with her about those they met. Yet, in her dreams, she was always with Alexei, who was making it clear during their waking hours that he been sincere when he told her their relationship should be only business.

He stood and faced her, the brilliant blue stripes of his waistcoat glowing in the sunlight. “What are you doing here?”

She dragged her gaze up from his waistcoat to the open collar of his shirt, which displayed taut skin across his muscular chest and then up to his face. A rage unlike any she had ever seen tightened on his mouth. She took a step backward. “You asked—”

“Why didn't you knock?”

“I did!” She squared her shoulders and gave him a scowl as icy as his own. She was grateful for this anger, which kept her from staring at his honed muscles. “A courtesy you never offer me, because you walk into my room whenever you wish.”