Bound by Love (29 page)

“You want me at your mercy?”

“A charming notion, but at the moment I will be satisfied with the knowledge you will not be able to scurry back to your home and slam the door in my face. Do we have a deal?”

Her eyes flashed with fury. “Damn you.”

“I shall assume that means yes.”

H
ERRICK ALLOWED THE UNIFORMED
servant to lead him through the maze of rooms, swallowing a sigh as he halted before the chamber that had once been Emperor Peter’s private study.

He had briefly hoped that Alexander Pavlovich had requested his presence to fend off some bothersome diplomat who was plaguing him with demands. It was not an uncommon occurrence.

But if they were meeting in this room, then it meant that what he had to say was private rather than state business.

And he could already guess just what was upon the Czar’s mind.

Briefly considering the pleasant notion of continuing on to the side door that led to the gardens, Herrick squared his shoulders and stepped into the study. There was no purpose in putting off the inevitable.

Closing the door behind him, Herrick allowed his gaze to roam over the shadowed chamber. It was one of his favorite rooms in the entire palace. Unlike most of the public rooms, there was no gilt or jewels or glittering chandeliers. Instead there was a somber beauty in the carved oak paneling and exquisite parquet floor. The furnishings were equally simple with a heavy writing desk and shelves that contained a collection of leather-bound books. In a place of honor was Emperor Peter’s large globe set in a wooden stand that spoke of his expertise in navigation.

The only splash of color was the three large portraits
hung on the paneling. The largest, of course, was of Peter in shining armor and the second of Czarina Catherine on horseback. The third was of Alexander Pavlovich attired in his military regalia.

His gaze at last landed on the Czar, who was standing beneath his own portrait, a wistful smile on his still handsome countenance.

A tall, imposing figure attired in an elegant blue coat that precisely matched his shrewd eyes and black pantaloons, Alexander Pavlovich’s golden curls had begun to recede, but he retained the charm that had been his most potent asset over the years.

“Herrick.”

“Sire.” Herrick performed a bow. “You wished to speak with me?”

“Yes.” The Emperor waved a hand toward the desk. “Brandy?”

“No, I thank you.”

The Emperor turned to regard his portrait as Herrick crossed to stand at his side.

“You have served me faithfully a number of years,
mon ami
.”

Herrick chuckled as he studied the portrait. It had been painted shortly after the victory over Napoleon Bonaparte. A time that had been filled with glory and national pride.

“Indeed. It is almost impossible to recall the young, idealistic men we used to be.”

“Too idealistic,” the Emperor said on a sigh. “Had I known the burdens of wearing such a heavy crown, I would have allowed the Corsican Monster to keep Moscow.”

Herrick grunted in disgust. Napoleon might have been a military genius, but his overweening pride and belief his grand army was indestructible had made his defeat as certain as Russia’s glorious victory.

“The fool could not even hold on to Paris in the end,”
he retorted. “And surely you would not condemn us to the rule of the fat Bourbon King?”

The Czar’s gaze instinctively shifted to the imposing portrait of Catherine.

“No, Grandmother would have cursed me from her grave. She was determined to have me upon the throne.”

“A wise choice.”

“Was it?”

“I never had a doubt.”

Alexander Pavlovich turned to regard Herrick with shadowed eyes. “We should all be so fortunate to share your confidence. I am plagued with constant doubt.”

Herrick was careful to keep his expression unreadable. The Emperor’s fits of melancholy were becoming increasingly worrisome. Unfortunately he could battle against traitors and secret societies and even assassins, but he had no weapon to keep Alexander Pavlovich safe from his own fears.

“Is there something particular upon your mind?” he asked gently.

With an effort the Emperor shrugged off his dark mood, the blue eyes sharpening with the force of his shrewd mind.

“Yes, Herrick, there is.”

“How may I serve you?”

Moving to the desk, Alexander Pavlovich poured a glass of brandy. “You may inform me what game the Countess Karkoff is playing.”

“Game?”

“Nadia has many talents, but the ability to deceive me is not among them. I have known she was troubled since my return to St. Petersburg. I did not press her because I assumed she would be comforted by Leonida’s return, but matters have only become worse.” Alexander Pavlovich leaned against the desk as he sipped the brandy. “Now she refuses to even leave her bed.”

Herrick shrugged, silently cursing Nadia for forcing him into the discomfiting encounter.

“You did say she sent word she was ill.”

“If she was truly ill then she would not have declined the offer of my personal physician, nor would she have pleaded that I not visit until she is fully recovered. Nadia adores having others fuss over her.”

“True enough.”

“My first thought, I will admit, was a suspicion that Nadia had taken a lover.”

Herrick’s brows rose in genuine astonishment. “Nadia has been ever faithful, Sire.”

Seemingly reassured, Alexander Pavlovich studied Herrick with a steady gaze.

“Something is preying upon her. I want to know what it is.”

“Then should you not be having this conversation with the Countess?”

“Not if I wish to discover the truth.”

Herrick’s lips twitched. The Countess had never been famed for her honesty if a lie would suit her better.

“You wish me to question her?”

“Herrick, you are not foolish enough to pretend that you are not fully in Nadia’s confidence,” the Emperor warned softly. “She has always depended upon you when she is in trouble. And, of course, there is nothing that occurs in St. Petersburg that does not reach your ears.”

Herrick grimaced, knowing he was cornered. The Emperor was not stupid, despite his habit of ignoring troubles he preferred to leave in the hands of others. When he demanded answers, he expected to get them.

“Do you trust me, Alexander?” he asked.

“With my life,” the Czar admitted without hesitation.

“Then I think it best that you accept that it is in your interest not to know the precise details of Nadia’s difficulties.”

The Emperor drained the last of his brandy and set aside the glass.

“Is she in danger?”

Herrick considered a long moment. “I do not believe so.”

“And what of Leonida?” the Czar pressed. “Is she involved?”

“Unfortunately.”

“That was why she traveled to England.”

“Yes.”

Alexander Pavlovich pushed from the desk, his emotions carefully concealed as he absently crossed toward the large globe.

“I find it beyond my ability to imagine what such a journey could accomplish.”

“Nothing more than a number of sleepless nights, I assure you,” Herrick said dryly.

The Emperor frowned. “It does not surprise me that Nadia would send her daughter on a reckless adventure, nor that Leonida would find it impossible to refuse her mother’s plea for assistance, but I am rather disappointed in you,
mon ami
.”

“I had no notion of the scheme until Leonida disappeared from St. Petersburg. I was…” Herrick chose his words with care. Alexander Pavlovich, after all, was devoted to Nadia despite her reckless nature. No doubt it was in part her impulsive, vivacious character that was so different from his own gravity that attracted him. “Not pleased. Thankfully she has been safely returned home.”

“Yes, she has returned.” The Emperor turned his head to snare Herrick’s gaze. “But not alone.”

“I presume you are referring to the Duke of Huntley?”

“Rather odd he would choose to visit St. Petersburg the precise moment that Leonida returns from England.”

“Not odd,” Herrick muttered. “Dangerous.”

“Should I be concerned?” Alexander Pavlovich demanded with a lift of his brows.

Herrick bit back the words that would have the Duke of Huntley hauled off by Imperial Guards. His personal annoyance at the man’s relentless pursuit of Leonida was hardly worth a war with England.

“There is no doubt that the man is obsessed with Leonida, but I do not believe he would intentionally harm her,” he grudgingly conceded. “Still, he does not appear to be thinking clearly at the moment.”

“And what of Leonida? Is she equally fascinated?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Why unfortunately? It would be a fine match.”

Herrick’s brows lowered at the Emperor’s unexpected approval. “Assuming the Duke is prepared to offer marriage, she would be expected to leave St. Petersburg and live in England. The Countess would be devastated.”

Alexander Pavlovich shrugged, his expression pensive. “Perhaps it is time for Leonida to seek her own happiness rather than constantly attempting to please others.”

“You would not object to her wedding an Englishman?”

The Emperor sighed. “Both Nadia and I have been far too selfish. I only wish Leonida to be given a man who will love her as she deserves.”

Herrick swallowed his words of protest, abruptly realizing that his possessive affection for Leonida was clouding his judgment.

He was so accustomed to having her depend upon him as she would a father that the thought of her turning to another man left a large hole in his heart. It was little wonder he had wanted to lodge a bullet in the Duke’s arse.

Rather ironic that it was her true father that had to point out just how wicked it would be to keep her from finding happiness with a man who could offer her the love and devotion she so desperately craved.

“St. Petersburg will be empty without her,” he said mournfully.

A small, perceptive smile curved the Emperor’s lips. “You know, Herrick, perhaps you should consider choosing a wife and producing children of you own. You would be a doting father.”

Herrick shuddered, heading for the brandy.

“God forbid.”

T
HE JOURNEY BACK TO
St. Petersburg had proven to be an agonizing test of endurance for Sir Charles.

Fleeing from the cottage, he had barely managed to stanch the blood pouring from his knife wound before falling unconscious. He had awakened in a squalid barn, so consumed with fever and pain that he was incapable of doing more than shivering on the dirt floor and cursing his weakness. Even worse, he had been plagued with nightmares of his childhood, at times crying in fear as he heard his mother’s voice whispering in his ear.

He had no clear notion of how much time had passed before his fever at last broke and Josef had once again loaded him into the carriage and continued the excruciating journey. He remained weak, but as the hours passed he turned his thoughts from his pain and instead concentrated on his plans for revenge.

By the time they reached St. Petersburg he had imagined killing Leonida Karkoff a hundred different times, a hundred different ways.

Each more satisfying than the last.

The burning fury gave him a measure of strength as they at last came to a halt. At least enough to haul himself out of the carriage and peer around his surroundings with a jaundiced gaze.

Clutching the door, he studied the shabby warehouse that appeared grim beneath the bright sunlight and the distant quay that had been battered by the sea.

This was a part of St. Petersburg that a gentleman of his breeding did not willingly visit.

For good reason.

“Where the devil have you brought me?” he rasped, glaring at Josef as the servant tied off the reins of the horse and joined him. “I told you to take me to my house.”

The scarred face twisted as Josef smiled with mocking amusement.

“I presumed that the fever had addled your wits. Unless
you truly desire me to deliver you into the hands of the Countess’s guards?” The servant shrugged. “They are no doubt waiting for you there.”

“Do not get above yourself,” Sir Charles snapped.

“Do you want me to keep you from the dungeons or not?”

Sir Charles cursed the wound that left him dependent on his servant. The feeling of vulnerability did nothing to improve his foul mood.

“I prefer the dungeons to falling into the hands of Dimitri Tipova,” he muttered.

Although his dealings with the leader of the underworld had been through the criminal’s various underlings, he had heard rumors that Tipova hid among the dredges of society.

“And do you not think Tipova has his men keeping watch on your house?” Josef demanded. “I doubt a man who is feared throughout St. Petersburg is stupid.”

He was right, damn him. Anyone searching for him was bound to keep guard on his home. Still, he had to find some means of retrieving the contents from the hidden drawer in his desk. Not only did it contain his forged passport that would be his only means of leaving Russia and what few funds he had left, but it held the various mementos he had collected from his victims over the years. Those were irreplaceable.