Bound by Love (34 page)

“Who else would be so anxious to keep him quiet?” he demanded. “And do not imply the Countess Karkoff or Alexander Pavlovich. They would never be so indiscreet.”

“No, it was Tipova.”

“Tipova?”

“Dimitri Tipova. The Beggar Czar.” Boris flashed a hard smile. “Although you would have your tongue cut out if you called him that to his face.”

“A criminal?”

“He is far more dangerous than a mere criminal. There is nothing that occurs among the streets of St. Petersburg that he does not control. Alexander Pavlovich might be the Emperor of the nobles, but Tipova is the ruler of the peasants.”

Stefan was not particularly shocked. Even in London a nobleman understood that once he left the comforting confines of Mayfair he was at the mercy of the local thugs.

“What makes you suspect the Beggar Czar?”

Boris hesitated, almost as if he regretted sharing his
thoughts. Stefan frowned. Did the servant have something to hide?

At last, Boris tugged the horses to a halt before a small park and turned on the seat to meet Stefan’s curious gaze.

“Babevich’s hand was chopped off.”

Stefan shuddered. “Yes, I had noticed, although I am doing my best to put it from my mind.”

“That is Tipova’s means of allowing others to know that he was responsible for the killing.”

“Good God, he desires people to know he is a savage?”

“Of course. Such a man does not rule by laws or charity to others. His only weapon is fear and he wields it without mercy.”

Stefan found himself intrigued by his companion’s matter-of-fact acceptance of Tipova’s brutal habits. Not many men could stomach the business of chopping off limbs.

“How do you even know of this man?”

Boris shrugged. “I have not always been employed by your brother.”

Realization took a moment to hit. “You were a criminal?”

“Nothing more shocking than pinching a few wallets, but I most certainly would have gone down that path if not for a young man who caught me in a bumbling effort to steal a gentleman’s walking stick,” Boris admitted.

“Tipova?”

“The same.”

“What did he do?”

“He hauled me to a public execution and told me I would be next if he ever caught me on the streets again.” The moonlight revealed his wry grimace. “Then he hauled me back to my mother who near beat me to death.”

Stefan sudden comprehended Boris’s refusal to condemn Tipova as a ruthless bastard. For whatever reason the man had shown enough compassion for a young boy to keep him from becoming yet another of the thieves that choked the poorer quarters of the city.

Of course, there were those who would consider his employment with Lord Summerville not much better than being a common criminal. God only knew how many laws his brother had encouraged him to break.

“How old were you?”

“Ten.”

“What of Tipova?”

“Barely shaving.”

Stefan lifted his brows. “And he was already cutting off hands?”

“A precocious youth with ambition.”

“A bit more than precocious,” Stefan muttered. “I thought nothing could be more dangerous than Russian politics.”

“A wise man avoids those who lust for power, whether rich or poor.”

Two drunken noblemen stumbled through the park, abruptly reminding Stefan that the hour was growing late.

“I am willing to accept that Tipova is responsible for Babevich’s murder, but what is their connection?”

“Most likely he owed Tipova money. Or was foolish enough to offer Tipova some sort of insult.”

Stefan glared into the dark. Each time he thought he was a step closer to capturing Sir Charles he discovered his hopes thwarted.

“Damn. You found nothing in the house that might reveal where Sir Charles is hidden?”

“No.”

“So, a dead end.” His chuckle lacked any hint of humor. “Quite literally.”

Boris shook the reins, sending the horses into motion.

“Sir Charles is not a gentleman capable of discretion. If he is in St. Petersburg then he will soon reveal his presence.”

“Until then, Leonida remains in danger.”

A
FTER ABANDONING
S
TEFAN
on the terrace, Leonida desired nothing more than to collect Sophy and return home.
She did not enjoy such gatherings under the best of circumstances. Now it seemed like little more than torture.

Thankfully, she possessed far too much pride to give in to the cowardly impulse and, pasting a brilliant smile on her lips, she returned to the crush of guests, determined that no one, especially not Stefan, would suspect her heart was breaking.

Why should she offer him the satisfaction of knowing he had wounded her? He considered her nothing more than a temporary mistress he would soon toss aside.

She kept the thought uppermost in her mind as she danced with one eager gentleman after another. But as the evening wore on and Stefan remained conspicuously absent, her anger began to shift to confusion.

Why would he exit the palace without taking his leave?

Was he too angry to even speak with her? Or had he at last accepted that she would never be content with what he was willing to offer and decided to wash his hands of her?

The very thought sent a crippling pain through her heart.

Mon Dieu
. What had she done?

Slipping to the edge of the crowd, Leonida began making her way to the far doors. She had endured enough. She could not continue with her charade any longer.

“Leonida.”

Intent on her escape, it took a moment for Leonida to realize that the crowd had abruptly parted to reveal the Emperor.

Her startled gaze skimmed over Alexander Pavlovich’s elegant uniform and the Cross of St. George that glittered with magnificent glory before returning to meet his angelic smile.

“Sire,” she murmured, sinking into a deep curtsy.

Waiting for her to straighten, the Emperor held out his arm.

“Will you join me?”

“Of course.” Acutely aware of the avid gazes that watched their slow progress across the room, Leonida cast a covert glance at her father’s profile. It was not often that
her father sought her out in such a public setting. “It is a lovely gathering,” she at last murmured.

Alexander Pavlovich regarded his guests with a jaundiced smile. “Vultures. They smile and fawn, while plotting to steal my crown. There is not one of them I trust.” He turned back to meet her startled gaze. “Except for you,
ma petite
.”

“I am always your loyal servant.”

“You have such a good heart.” He patted the hand she had rested on his arm. “I wonder if Huntley is worthy of it?”

Leonida stumbled, then caught herself. Why should she be surprised? Alexander Pavlovich might appear oblivious to the world about him, but there was very little that he missed.

And while Stefan had not caused a blatant scene, he had not been exactly subtle in his unwavering attention.

“It does not matter if he is or not,” she admitted, her voice carefully devoid of emotion. “He has no interest in my heart.”

“Do you desire me to rid St. Petersburg of his presence?”

It was what she should desire. Instead her heart plummeted to the pit of her stomach.

“There is no need. Soon enough he will feel compelled to return to England.”

Alexander Pavlovich heaved a wistful sigh. “I have forgotten what it is to be so young and naive.”

Leonida’s lips twisted as she recalled the past weeks. What would the Emperor say if she revealed the adventures she had endured since leaving St. Petersburg?

“I am not so naive as others assume.”

With a smooth motion, the Emperor led her into a small alcove, turning her to study her face with a curious expression.

“I have seen how the Duke watches you. He is bewitched.”

“A passing infatuation.”

“And what of you?”

A ridiculous blush stained her cheeks. “Me?”

“Do you love him?” the Emperor asked gently.

“I…” The lie faded on her lips. The steady blue gaze demanded the truth. “Yes.” She heaved a deep sigh. “I am such a fool.”

“There is nothing foolish in loving another. Only in the decisions you make for that love.”

Leonida frowned. It was unlike the Emperor to speak to her with such intimacy. So why now?

Had Herrick revealed more than he should have?

“Do you intend to warn me against the Duke?”

Rather than answer the question, he tugged her deeper into the alcove, motioning toward the ivory-and-gold-striped settee.

“Have a seat. We can be private here.”

Leonida perched on the edge of the cushion, holding herself stiff as the Czar joined her on the settee. They were mere paces from the ballroom, but the clamor had receded to a near bearable din.

“I sense I am to receive a lecture.”

“No lecture, only the natural concerns of a father.” He smiled faintly as she jerked in surprise at his claim of parentage. It was a thing acknowledged, but never spoken out loud. “I have no desire to see you unhappy.”

Bemused, she considered her words with care. Alexander Pavlovich might be speaking to her as a father, but he was still the Emperor of all Russia. If he concluded that the Duke of Huntley had hurt or insulted her, he might very well feel compelled to seek justice.

That was the last thing she desired.

“Do not fear.” She managed a faint smile. “I am not the sort of female to sit around pining for what she cannot have.”

He reached to take her hand. “I am more concerned that you will allow your emotions to urge you into an affair you will only regret.”

“Sire…”

“Please allow me to finish,
ma petite,
” he interrupted her
mortified stammering. “I have no intention of prying into your privacy, but I desire you to carefully consider your future.”

“My future?”

“You might have inherited your mother’s beauty and her undoubted charm, but you have little in common with her.”

“Very little,” she said dryly.

“Understandable, of course,” he said, his expression pensive. “Nadia’s childhood was filled with such bleak loneliness that she was bound to crave the excitement and affection denied her.”

Leonida grimaced. How often over the years had she rued her mother’s insatiable need to shock society? Even at times hiding in the shadows when Nadia was behaving at her most outrageous.

Only now did she realize that Nadia’s brittle
joie de vivre
was her means of denying her grim past.

“She never spoke of her childhood until…” Leonida caught herself before revealing her mother’s latest troubles. “Lately. It does explain her love for attention.”

Alexander Pavlovich’s expression softened. “Ah yes, she does keep society from becoming miserably dull. It is her disdain for convention that has forever fascinated me, and the reason our relations have continued throughout the years.”

“Mother is quite devoted to you.”

“Yes, I believe she has been content with what I could offer her,” he said, a glimmer of regret in his eyes. They both knew that while Nadia could claim a portion of his heart, Alexander Pavlovich had never been a faithful lover. “You, however, have quite different needs than Nadia. You would never be satisfied with a man who could provide nothing more than a fine home and an enviable position in society.”

She lowered her gaze to study his strong fingers covering her hand, her heart suddenly heavy. He was right, of course. There might be a part of her that was willing to sac
rifice whatever necessary to keep Stefan in her life, but something inside her would wither and die.

“No.”

He gently squeezed her fingers. “There is a gentleman waiting for you who will love you with his entire heart. Do not settle for less.”

“Thank you,” she said softly.

A shadow fell across the entrance and they turned to watch a uniformed servant enter the alcove and perform a deep bow.

“Ah.” With a weary sigh, the Emperor lifted her fingers to his lips. “Duty once again rears its ugly head. Take care of yourself,
ma petite
.”

Leonida rose to her feet, straightening her shoulders.

Yes.

If she did not care for herself, then who would?

S
TEFAN WOKE LATE
after a restless night. In truth, it was a wonder he had managed to sleep at all. Stumbling across dead bodies was not precisely the best means of ensuring sweet dreams.

And it had not helped that when he had at last returned to the palace it was to discover Leonida had already left.

Dammit. How much longer must they play this frustrating game?

If she were beneath his roof then she could no longer hide from him. Which was the precise reason he needed to find the means of convincing her to return to England.

The sooner the better.

A hot bath helped to ease the knots of frustration, but he was still plagued by a strange sense of foreboding as he attired himself in a copper jacket and ivory waistcoat that he matched with brown breeches and glossy Hessians. In the intricate folds of his cravat he placed an emerald stickpin that was his only ornament beyond his heavy signet ring.

Leaving his chambers, Stefan made his way through the large house to discover Vanya in her private breakfast room decorated with green damask silk wall panels and pretty Chinese vases.

The older woman was seated at a small table, appearing remarkably pretty in a morning gown of Berlin silk with drop pearl earrings.

“Good morning, Stefan.” She waved a hand toward the
sideboard that held a set of silver trays. “Will you join me for breakfast?”

“I would be delighted.”

His stomach growled as he moved to fill his plate with freshly baked ham and coddled eggs before joining his hostess at the table.

Sipping her tea, Vanya studied him over the rim of her cup. “You look pale. Did you not sleep well?”

Stefan grimaced. “It was a…difficult evening.”

“I trust you were not foolish enough to quarrel with Alexander Pavlovich?”

“I have thus far avoided that particular fate, although I cannot say the same for some others.”

Her lips quirked as she watched him polish off his ham. “I presume you speak of Leonida?”

“I shall never understand women.”

“You are not intended to.” Vanya batted her lashes. “It would remove our irresistible cloak of mystery.”

Stefan poured a cup of the coffee, not at all amused. “Then how is a man to know what the devil a female wants?”

“It is not a matter of a man knowing what a woman wants, but whether he is prepared to offer what she
needs
.”

He frowned, attempting to ignore the tiny whisper of disquiet that pricked his heart. What Leonida needed was him. Nothing else.

“You speak in riddles.”

“Or you simply choose not to understand.”

He pushed aside his plate, his hunger suddenly vanished. Why did women always have to complicate matters? Leonida enjoyed his home, she desired him, and when she forgot to treat him as the enemy, she took pleasure in his company. It was only because of her mother that she was so reluctant to become his mistress.

“It is too early for me to follow your confusing logic, Vanya.”

“You are truly as difficult as your brother.” Vanya shook
her head. “Just consider what Edmond’s life would have been like had he been foolish enough to allow Brianna to slip away.”

His gaze lowered to study his fingers, which tightly gripped the coffee cup. Losing Brianna would quite likely have destroyed his brother. But Edmond had been in a position to tumble madly into love. Stefan would never have such a luxury.

“I am not Edmond. Besides, you are hardly in a position to throw stones.” He lifted his head to glower at his companion. He did not spend a great deal of time in Russia, but he was well aware that Vanya had enjoyed a long-term affair with Mr. Richard Monroe. “How long have you refused to make an honest gentleman of Monroe?”

“Too long,” Vanya promptly admitted, a soft smile curving her lips. “Which is why we are to be married next summer.”

“You are to be wed?”

She chuckled at Stefan’s blatant shock. “I had planned the wedding for Christmas, but I wish for Brianna to attend so I postponed the ceremony until she and the babe can travel.”

Stefan abruptly rose to his feet. The strange ache in his heart was not envy. It was…disbelief.

Why would Vanya wed after years of enjoying the perfect affair?

“This entire city has gone mad.”

Vanya shrugged, unperturbed by his sharp tone. “Perhaps.”

Stefan paced toward the window, absently noting the earlier rain had eased to a mere drizzle. Leonida would be pleased. She disliked the rain. For him, however, the gray clouds seemed to suit his mood.

He did not like the feeling that he was chasing after Leonida, constantly remaining one step behind.

What if she slipped away?

No. He would never allow it to happen. He would have her no matter what the cost.

The sound of the door opening at last had him spinning about to regard the young footman who entered the room with a small silver tray in his hand.

Vanya rose to her feet. “Yes, Anton?”

“A message has arrived for Lord Huntley.”

A tingle of excitement raced down his spine as he crossed the parquet floor. It had to be from Leonida. Who else would write to him in St. Petersburg?

Had she at last come to her senses?

“Thank you,” he murmured, plucking the folded parchment from the tray.

The servant backed from the room, leaving Stefan standing in the middle of the floor, his excitement fading as he recognized the writing scrawled across the paper.

“Is it from Leonida?” Vanya asked.

“No.” He broke the wax seal. “It is from Edmond.”

Vanya offered a small curtsy. “Then I will leave you to enjoy your letter in private.”

“Do not bother. Edmond can barely be forced to sit long enough to sharpen a quill. I will be shocked if he managed to scribble more than a few words.” Unfolding the parchment, Stefan discovered that his brother had actually managed a half page. Of course, deciphering the illegible writing took a considerable effort. Several moments passed before he abruptly crumpled the letter and tossed it aside. “Damn.”

Vanya hurried to his side, her face pale with concern. “Is it Brianna?”

“No, it is my steward,” he swiftly assured the older woman. “He was clearing the north field and a tree fell on him.”

Her concern remained although it was obvious she was relieved to know that Brianna was safe.

“Was he hurt?”

“Both legs were broken, but Edmond claims the doctor has assured him that Riddle will make a full recovery.”

“Thank God.”

“Yes, he was very fortunate.” Stefan was deeply relieved that the injuries had not been worse. Riddle had been his steward since the death of his father and his dedication to Stefan had ensured that Meadowland had thrived beneath his care. He would be impossible to replace, both as his steward and one of his dearest friends. “Still, he will be laid up for several weeks, if not months.”

“Can I be of assistance?” Vanya broke into his thoughts.

“I fear not.” He squared his shoulders. “I must return to Meadowland.”

“Of course. Do you wish a carriage?”

Stefan shook his head. “No, I must travel by ship, it will be far quicker. I will send Boris to the docks to check the schedules.”

“How soon do you intend to leave?”

Duty demanded that he leave immediately. Without Riddle there was no one to oversee the tenants or take charge of the inevitable problems that plagued such a large estate. Edmond could not be expected to devote every day to Meadowland when he had his own estate and family to care for.

His jaws clenched. Duty be damned.

He would return to Meadowland. But not until he had Leonida on the ship with him.

“As soon as I have completed my unfinished business.”

Barely aware he was moving, he had nearly reached the door when Vanya’s voice brought him to a halt.

“Stefan.”

He glanced impatiently over his shoulder. “Yes?”

“Leonida is not a village maid. You cannot compel her to leave her family.”

He smiled with grim determination. “You underestimate my powers of persuasion.”

“She does not want your persuasion.”

“She wants me. And she is damned well going to admit it.”

A
FTER A MORNING OF RELENTLESS
rain, the sun at last broke through the gray clouds and spilled its warmth over St. Petersburg.

It was a welcome change for Leonida as she pulled aside the curtain in the carriage and allowed the sunshine to pour through the small window. The mornings she spent at the local orphanage were always difficult. She did what she could to ease the suffering of the children, but it was never enough. Her only consolation was the continued hope that she could convince her father to provide the schooling the children so desperately needed.

The carriage rolled to a halt before her mother’s house and the door was pulled open by the ever-present Pyotr. She had stepped onto the still damp pavement when a movement in the rose garden at the side of the house caught her eye.

“Mon Dieu,”
she breathed, her gaze skimming over Stefan as he paced from one end of the garden to the other, his body tense with overt impatience.

“Do you wish to drive on?” Pyotr whispered in her ear. “He is bound to go away eventually.”

“That is what I tell myself, but he keeps returning.”

“Like a bad rash.”

A grudging smile touched her lips. “Exactly.”

“There is no need for you to meet with him. It would not trouble me to send the Duke on his merry way.”

Leonida briefly wished it could be so simple.

It was cowardly, but the thought of avoiding the inevitable confrontation with Stefan was tempting. Especially when she was not nearly as certain as she should be that she could remain firm in her decision to bring an end to their ridiculous affair.

She had devoted hours last night to pacing her room while she lectured herself on all the reasons she was a fool to continue her relationship with Stefan.

They were numerous. And sensible.

And necessary.

The only problem was that it was all well and good to decide that she could no longer risk being in Stefan’s company when she was alone and quite another to stand firm when he was near.

How often had she made the decision to put him out of her life only to allow herself to be cajoled and bullied and seduced into continuing their affair?

Aware of Pyotr’s worried gaze, Leonida tilted her chin and straightened the skirts of the sprigged muslin gown trimmed with white gauze that she had matched with an emerald-green sash.

“I appreciate your offer, Pyotr, but I am capable of dealing with his Grace,” she forced herself to say.

“Are you certain?”

No. Absolutely not.

She pasted a smile on her face. “Of course.”

Pyotr heaved a resigned sigh. “I will not be far.”

With a pat on his arm to reveal her appreciation for his concern, Leonida moved to the small gate and entered the rose garden.

Her heart gave its familiar leap as Stefan caught sight of her and prowled forward, his elegant features set in an expression of dark impatience.

“At last,” he growled as they both halted near the marble fountain, his hands clenched at his sides as if resisting the impulse to reach out and grab her. “Where have you been?”

Leonida met his glare with a cool composure. At least on the surface. Inside, her blood was racing and her stomach clenched with a bittersweet awareness.

He was just so annoyingly beautiful.

“Not that it is any of your concern, but I have been to the orphanage to ensure the boots I purchased were delivered to the children,” she snapped, stirring the coals of her anger in an effort to ignore the tingles of excitement that
refused to be dismissed. “It is shocking how merchants will attempt to cheat the children if I am not there to keep them honest.”

His lips tightened. “I suppose it is no use in pointing out the danger of visiting such a place?”

“None whatsoever.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

Her eyes narrowed as she belatedly noted the shadows beneath his magnificent eyes and the tension etched onto his elegant features. “Something is troubling you. What is it?”

He stiffened, as if caught off guard by her perception. Then his lips twisted with a reluctant amusement. “You know me so well.”

“Are you going to tell me what has happened?”

Stefan’s brooding gaze swept over her face, lingering a heart-stopping moment on her lips before returning to her wary eyes.

“Edmond sent word that my steward was injured in an accident.”

Leonida pressed a hand to her lips. Although she had only been at Meadowland for a short time, she had come to know and respect Stefan’s devoted servants. Especially the steward who always had a kind word when she crossed his path.