Seized by Love (20 page)

"Please put your feet
up on the settee and I'll ring for a cool compress. My wife will be delighted
to hear the news. She had quite despaired of Nikki ever finding anyone
suitable. You'll meet her later. She's traveling more slowly, having insisted
on bringing several servants and eighty pieces of luggage. Perhaps you would be
more comfortable in bed?" he soothingly suggested as he noticed the
unnerved appearance of the young woman.

"Yes, I should, I'm
sure."

"Allow me, my
dear." Prince Mikhail gallantly offered his arm and escorted Alisa up the
stairway to her bedchamber.

Returning down the marble
staircase, the Prince crisply informed the butler that he wished to see his son
immedi-ately when he set foot in the palace.

"I'll be in the
library. Bring me a light lunch and a bottle of brandy."

"Very good, my Prince.
May I say in behalf of myself and the staff, it's a pleasure to see you once
again in residence." The old butler beamed happily, having served the old
Prince since before his marriage.

"You'll be seeing a
great deal of us in the near future. It seems I must take a hand in my son's
affairs." Prince Mikhail grinned familiarly at Sergei.

"We do what we can—eh,
Monsieur?" Sergei responded, and winked.

Upon arriving home at his
usual hour, Nikki was astonished to receive the sharp message from his father.
Questioning Sergei accomplished little except to warn Nikki that his father had
met Alisa. Nikki entered the library slightly annoyed at the peremptory order.

His father was seated
behind the polished expanse of an Andre-Charles Boulle desk veneered in
marquetry of tor-toiseshell, natural colored woods, engraved pewter, brass, and
ivory.

Father's eyes met son's.
Both were cool and aloof, except the father's held a touch of disdain as well.

With a resigned sigh and a
casual gesture of his hand, Prince Mikhail offered a chair to Nikki.

Nikki ignored the courtesy
and obstinately remained standing, leaning negligently against the Palladian
window jamb, looking rebellious, angered at the curt summons from his father,
resentful at being made to feel like a young cub about to be upbraided for some
defiance of parental authority. However, because of the deep respect in which
he held his father, Nikki was attempting to suppress his normally ungovernable
temper. He set his teeth.

Silently, with maddening
deliberation, Prince Mikhail regarded the tall, broad-shouldered, impeccably
dressed figure of his only child. Under this scrutiny Nikki's eyes lifted, met
his father's, and held for an instant before a lazy flicker turned his
expression suddenly remote, but not before his father noted the sullen
stubbornness and the barely concealed anger.

"To what do I owe this
unexpected visit? It's been three years since you were last in the city."

Nikki didn't really expect
an answer to this flippancy, and he wasn't disappointed. With the exception of
one ironically raised eyebrow, Prince Mikhail ignored the remark, his attention
more significantly engaged in adjusting the ruffle on his shirt cuff. The
ruffle suitably disposed, he once more lifted his eyes.

Prince Mikhail Kuzan
enunciated evenly, the words clear and precise in the hushed stillness of the
vast library.

"I have indulged you
in every way, have I not, Nikki?"

"Yes, Father,"
Nikki responded shortly, watching his father warily.

"Have I ever said you
nay, or gainsaid you in any of your desires?"

"No, Father." The
words rapped out, sharp and decisive.

"I have overlooked all
your numerous peccadilloes and reckless escapades these many years past, never
interfered except to intercede when extenuating circumstances of
your—ah—affairs have occasioned the need of a mollifying or palliating
presence."

Nikki stiffened at the
reproach.

"I believe I have
rather adequately conducted my own affairs, if you please," he replied
curtly. "I don't recollect having had any need for your assistance."

"You will allow me to
point out your error, my boy. An example. Perhaps you recall the dark-haired
child born to Countess Souvanieff last fall. Since she and her husband are both
exceedingly fair and their other three children towheaded and blue-eyed, the
conspicuous coloring of the last boy child did not go unremarked. Furthermore,
if you remember, your pursuit of that fair lady was not in any way discreet.
With your usual bland blindness to reason and prudence, your coach and lackeys
were left waiting outside her door until dawn, time without number. That Adelaide
blue brougham ornamented with silver, which you bought from the Duke of
Devonshire after his state visit here, is one of a kind and elicits
considerable attention, while your red and blue sledge is equally conspicuous
with the golden bells and gilded, tasseled harness you affect.

"Even though I'm
rarely in town, my sources of gossip are speedy and reliable. I expected,
daily, to hear of yet another duel, and you know how those last few contests of
honor (although how the term
honor
comes into a fight over some
woman's favors, I fail to discern) terrified your mother. I
do not
like to see your mother disturbed and unhappy," Prince Mikhail intoned
ominously.

After a deliberate pause,
he continued softly. "Since Count Souvanieff was out of the country so
often, it's conceivable that he was ignorant of his wife's affair, or perhaps
your notorious reputation as a duelist may have dictated his caution. In any
event, Count Souvanieff is not altogether a fool and was outraged at being
cuckolded. Since you have a string of women constantly in your wake, he thought
it ungenerous of you to turn your eye appreciatively on
his
wife. In
this instance you incurred the indignant displeasure of a minister not without
influence and power. You were remarkably close to being summarily cashiered out
of the Chevaliers Gardes for that unheeding disregard for appearances."

The old Prince heaved a
small sigh.

"Fortunately my wealth
and position bear some little consequence as well, and even while infrequently
in town, my substantial connections prevail undiminished. In deference to our
old and close friendship, the Emperor was persuaded there was no conclusive
proof the child was yours."

"It appears
your—er—connections are to be commended. I owe you my belated thanks,"
Nikki's equable voice drawled as he gave a stiff bow in his father's direction.

Prince Mikhail met his
insolent glance squarely.

"Quite so. Now, enough
of this sparring. What do you intend to do with Alisa?"

"Do? What am I
expected to do?" Nikki inquired sardonically. "I'm well satisfied
with the relationship. I find Alisa delightful and charming in spite of being
overeducated for a woman. As you know, I have never been overly fond of clever
women."

"That
fact has always
been fairly obvious," his father replied dryly. "I am informed that
Alisa is carrying your child."

"My compliments, sir,
on the efficacy of your sources. I was informed but yesterday myself of the
impending blessed event. May I make so bold as to inquire whether you've
discovered if it's to be a boy or a girl?"

"Very amusing, I'm
sure," said the old Prince with a slight lift of the brows. Prince Mikhail
went on gelidly, his gray eyes snapping with contained fury at Nikki's impudent
disrespect. "Is the child yours?"

"Apparently."

"How can you be sure?"

"I've no reason to
doubt her word. Rest assured, she shall be well taken care of," Nikki
continued, icily polite. "I'll buy her a house and set up a suitable
establishment in which to rear a child of mine. Alisa and her two children will
have every comfort. As her protector, I can offer her a safe, secure, and
luxurious refuge."

"Is a protector
enough?" his father gently inquired, frustration smoldering beneath the
quiet rebuke.

"Surely I'm not to
consider a mesalliance?" Nikki protested righteously.

"Remember, my boy,
your mother is a Tzigane," the low voice dangerously reminded him.

"Forgive me,
sir," Nikki hastily apologized, an embarrassed flush coloring his neck.
"Of course, I didn't mean Mother. You know she's very dear to me."

"If you will recall, my
pompous young cub, before your haughty airs carry you too far, our princely
title is due to our ancestor Platon's prowess in Catherine the Great's
bedchamber. When our noble family dispatched their fine young scion, then a
mere count, to court in hope of ad-vancing the family interests, don't think
for a minute they weren't reasonably certain his strapping good looks would
attract the insatiable eye of the Empress. The Kuzan family acquired numerous
properties and additional titles thanks to the good offices and vigorous
stamina of young Platon. And no doubt, if we were to search far enough back in
our 'illustrious' family tree, we would discover the first 'noble' Kuzan was
probably nothing more than a highly successful brigand on the caravan route
east.

"Scrutinize any old
prominent family in Russia and you will find, at base, a mercenary, a powerful
warlord, a chieftain more shrewd or ruthless than his fellows. On such a base
as that, the rank and fortunes of the first families rest, so do not speak to me
of mesalliance.

"The honorable course
of action would be to marry Al-isa," his father admonished sternly.

"Honorable?"
Nikki laughed derisively. "I'm to mend the nonexistent honor of some petty
merchant's wife at the altar?" he sneered arrogantly. "Since when
have either you or I been unduly concerned with a fine sense of proprieties? I
find it ironic in the extreme that you should be trading little homilies with
me about propriety and honor. You know yourself, most of our recent,
illustrious progenitors were loose-living, self-indulgent wastrels whose chief
diversion was irregular relations with a variety of women of every class and
nationality. And with the scapegrace way you racketed around society for so
many years, as rumor asserts, you'll forgive me if
I
find your present
posture singularly out of character. In any case, it's out of the question,
since Alisa is already married," Nikki finished with an easy, smug smile.

"That insignificant
detail can be readily remedied," his father said curtly. "Money and
influence buy most anything, as you have no doubt noted," he continued
with unmistakable cynicism, "since you have had a stable of tarts both
highborn and low for your convenience these many years. And damn! I like the
chit!"

"Then it's a pity
you're already married"—Nikki smiled genially as he once again relaxed
comfortably against the window jamb and crossed his arms lazily across his
chest— "for
you
could do the honorable thing by Alisa since you
seem to revere her so highly. I am not the marrying kind, and if and when I do
reach the stage when I'm inclined to settle down and set up my nursery, rest
assured, I will select some suitably docile young girl just out of the
schoolroom who will be biddable and content to spend her time in the country,
raising my heirs. I certainly will not choose to ally myself with someone who
has shown on more than one occasion a most unsettling stubbornness of
character. I would be guilty of the greatest inane rashness, it seems to me, to
burden myself with a self-willed woman. Nevertheless, I do feel a certain
obligation to Alisa, since I figured rather largely in the loss of her former
life."

"This 'obligation'
does not extend to marriage, however," his father jibed.

"Hardly. If I were
obliged
to marry every female who bore my children, I would have been married long ago
to that lovely moujik girl you so considerately put in my way when I was
fourteen," Nikki serenely remarked.

"Enough!" Prince
Mikhail rose swiftly, hitting the desk with his fist as he thundered his command.
He stood regally upright, his tall, spare frame still vigorous at sixty-eight,
the strong aquiline features haughty, his cold gaze piercingly set on his
recalcitrant, insolent heir.

"I have reached a
decision!" the old Prince stated with a majestic unequivocality,
flagrantly disregarding all Nikki's protestations. "You
will
marry Alisa! She's not one of your brazen sluts to be used and cast aside. I've
waited long enough for a legitimate grandson to carry on the name. You are
thirty-three years old and so far have demonstrated a marked reluctance to
allow yourself to be persuaded to select a wife, although every tabby in town
has been on the scramble for you for her daughter.

"With the spirit of
folly in which you conduct your affairs, the odds for you living a long life
are exceedingly slim, and I want a grandson to inherit. You have, by some
fortuitous miracle, finally coupled yourself with a fine, young, well-bred
woman instead of the usual loose women you are wont to favor, and I have a
fancy to have Alisa as the mother of my grandson. Heaven knows what she sees in
you, but if she wants you, she shall have you!"

"Just like that?"
Nikki was no longer casually lazing against the window but standing rigidly
upright, his face pale with dismay. "You command me to marry Alisa?"
he asked, incredulous. Nikki's eyes narrowed as he tried to hold his growing
anger in check. "What if I refuse?" he inquired softly through
clenched teeth.