When We Meet Again (6 page)

"Nor will I, cousin. I have no intention of becoming a hermit. I am simply not yet ready for the trivialities of society. Therefore, I have no need of a hostess."

"Alexei," Valentina began, but Alexei held up a hand to stop her.

"However," he continued, "you are family and may join us." Concern pulled Roman's brows together. "Perhaps it would be prudent—"

"You can't mean that, Your Highness." Shocked colored Dimitri's voice. "It would be like inviting a viper into our midst."

Valentina snorted. "A viper? Surely you can do better than that, Captain."

Dimitri ignored her. "She has spent her entire life trying to seize power and destroy you and your family. She has buried two husbands and no doubt put them in their graves herself. She is not to be trusted." Alexei grinned. "I have no intention of trusting her."

"I certainly wouldn't if I were you." Valentina murmured. Dimitri frowned. "You do not?"

"Not at all. In fact. I think she needs to be watched closely."

"Oh. I do." Valentina nodded firmly. "I do indeed." She shrugged. "In truth, cousin. I have done nothing to earn your trust. Until you are confident of my motives it is only wise to be cautious. I would be extraordinarily careful in your place."

Roman nodded. "Caution is certainly wise. Your Highness."

"Excellent." Dimitri nodded with satisfaction. "I should hate to think you would be taken in by a few contrite phrases of apology."

"Then allow me to put your concern to rest." Alexei said smoothly. "I think Valentina should be watched every moment she resides with us. Night and day—"

"I could not agree more." Enthusiastic approval sounded in Dimitri's voice. Alexei bit back a grin. "I furthermore think she should be watched only by someone who has my absolute trust."

"Absolutely." Dimitri nodded.

Roman grinned.

"Someone I would trust with my very life." Alexei continued.

"With your life, Your Highness." Dimitri said firmly. "No one less will do."

"And that, old friend." Alexei paused for emphasis, "would be you."

"Of course. Your Highness, who else—" Abruptly Dimitri realized what he was agreeing to. "Me?"

"Him? The ever-sanctimonious, too perfect. Captain Holier-than-thou?" Valentina huffed. "I would prefer to be tossed in a dungeon and left to share my days with vermin rather than be under his eye. I despise him."

Dimitri folded his arms over his chest and scowled. "And I detest her."

"I am not suggesting a match between the two of you." Alexei wanted to laugh aloud but forced a stern note to his voice. It was really most amusing. Both Dimitri and Valentina looked stricken. It could not be helped, of course. Even if he still had an entire army at his disposal. Dimitri would be his choice for this particular assignment.

"Valentina." Alexei met his cousin's gaze with a hard, level look. "This is a condition of your joining us. It is not negotiable." He turned to Dimitri. "The circumstances we find ourselves in dictate this choice. Captain. There is no other. However, even if I had all the resources of Avalonia still at my disposal, there is no one I trust more than you." Alexei smiled a wry sort of smile. "And no one I trust less than she." Dimitri's gaze locked with Alexei's for a moment, then he heaved a resigned sigh and nodded a bow. "As you wish. Your Highness."

Alexei chuckled and leaned closer to his friend. "At the very least, the princess will give you a way to occupy your time other than by expanding your intellectual horizons." Dimitri smiled in a rather pathetic manner. "That is something at any rate."

"If the two of you are quite finished. I should very much like to be shown to my rooms." Valentina smiled in an overly sweet manner. "I find all this groveling to be rather fatiguing." Dimitri cast Alexei a pleading glance. "Day and night?"

Alexei grinned.

"You may take pleasure in the knowledge that I am no more pleased about this than you are. I do, however, acknowledge it as the, oh. penance I must do to gain my cousin's trust. We shall simply have to make the best of it." Valentina started toward the door. "I assume the servant who showed me in can show me to my quarters. Captain, my bags are in the foyer. Come along."

"I'm not carrying your bags." Dimitri said indignantly, but followed her out the door nonetheless. Their voices lingered in the hall. Valentina said something Alexei didn't quite catch. Probably for the best.

"Or I shall be forced to throttle you with my bare hands." Dimitri responded.

"Oh. Captain, would you?" Valentina's laugh rang in the hall. Alexei and Roman traded grins.

Roman shook his head. "That shall certainly provide some needed amusement. Do you think she is sincere?"

"I do not know, but we shall see. She has little to gain, as I have little left to lose." Alexei sank down into the nearest chair. "Roman?"

"Yes, Your Highness?"

"Does our frugality extend to the purchase and consumption of spirits?"

"It would seem to me that is a necessary expenditure," Roman said solemnly. "However, I believe a well-stocked cabinet comes with the house."

"Good." Alexei breathed a weary sigh. "As it seems rather necessary at the moment."

Roman crossed the room to a decanter of brandy and glasses conveniently placed by Graham on a table near the fireplace. It struck Alexei, not for the first time, that not so long ago there would have been half a dozen footmen in any room he inhabited, ready to do such mundane tasks as pour brandy at a moment's notice. While the house was considered fully staffed, it simply was not a royal palace. Roman poured two glasses and handed Alexei one. "It has been an interesting day thus far, Your Highness."

"Interesting? Hah." Alexei took a long drink of the brandy. "I have no money, and my traitorous cousin has come to live with me. I can scarcely wait to see what tomorrow will hold." The familiar noise of a throat being cleared sounded from the doorway.

"Or possibly yet today," Alexei muttered.

"It is said many events happen in threes," Roman observed mildly.

"Begging your pardon, Your Highness." Graham cleared his throat once more, stepped farther into the room, and snapped the door closed behind him.

"More callers, Graham?" Alexei said with a resigned smile.

"Ladies?" Roman chuckled. "With baggage no doubt."

"Indeed, sir. Quite a bit of baggage, as well as a fair number of servants." Alexei raised a brow. "Avalonian exiles perhaps?"

"I don't believe so, Your Highness." Graham's brow furrowed slightly. Alexei stared. For the first time since their arrival, and he suspected one of the few times ever, the butler seemed distinctly nonplused.

"These ladies are most definitely English and," the butler paused then straightened his shoulders, "they maintain, well, that is—"

Alexei's jaw clenched with impatience. "Yes?"

"The ladies say this is their house." Unease shaded the butler's face. "And they have come to claim it."

Three

If I ever see His Highness again, I shall pretend not to know him. I shall be cool and collected andserene. And I absolutely shall not let him so much as suspect that he owns my heart.

Miss Pamela Effington

"I daresay. I am at a loss." Aunt Millicent gazed around the foyer as if she had never seen such a grand entry before. "This is all very odd."

Pamela and Clarissa exchanged worried looks. It was exceedingly curious for Aunt Millicent to be at a loss about anything, but from the moment the three women had stepped foot on British soil a subtle change had come over their confident aunt. Aunt Millicent had. well, softened was the only word for it. Pamela wondered if permanent wasn't the only difficulty her usually self-assured aunt had with returning to London.

A butler had shown them in, then left them standing in a manner that would be considered quite rude—and indeed unforgivable—were it not for the stunned look on his face at their announcement that they were the new owners of the house.

Although the servant was well aware of the demise of his late mistress, even if she had rarely resided in this particular house, he was not merely taken aback, he looked as if he had just been hit. Pamela had the distinct impression uncertainty of any kind was an unfamiliar state for him, and he had no idea how to proceed. He had murmured something confusing about awkward situations and leases and financial obligations, then begged their patience, indicated he would return, and fled the foyer.

"One of us should probably do something," Clarissa murmured although she showed no signs of doing anything whatsoever. Of course, Clarissa had always been rather too reserved, or too polite, to take matters into her own hands. Exactly as her cousin had once been.

Well, those days had passed.

"Indeed one of us should." Pamela nodded firmly and considered exactly what that something should be. She glanced at the door on the far side of the foyer where the butler had vanished. He had obviously gone to speak with someone. "And the place to start might well be with whoever is in that room." She started toward the door.

"Is that wise?" Clarissa trailed behind her. "Perhaps we should wait here."

"Or leave," Aunt Millicent added brightly. "Florence is lovely at this time of year." Pamela cast her a reassuring smile but did not slow her step. "As is London." She reached the door, pulled a deep breath, and braced herself for whatever might be in that room.

"I really think we should wait to be announced," Clarissa said under her breath.

"To whom?" Pamela shook her head. "It seems to me there should be no one here at all to whom to be announced. Yet this house does not have an unoccupied air."

"Mr. Corby did say it was kept staffed and well maintained," Aunt Millicent offered.

"Still, there is a distinct difference between maintained and lived in. No, there is something decidedly odd here, and we should waste no further time in getting to the bottom of it." Resolve rang in Pamela's voice.

"This is our house, soon to be our home, and the beginning of entirely new chapters in our lives. I have no intention of starting this very first page with indecision and hesitation. It is time, dear ladies, to claim what belongs to us."

A groan sounded from one woman, and a sigh came from the other. Pamela had no idea which came from whom and didn't care. The very act of decision, of seizing the moment with both hands, filled her with the most invigorating sense of strength and power. The oddest thought struck her that this feeling was probably familiar to everyone else in her family. Indeed, this might well be her birthright. She grasped the door handle.

"Wait," Aunt Millicent said.

Pamela glanced at her.

"I have something of a confession to make." Aunt Millicent wrung her hands together. Pamela frowned. "Now?"

"I would prefer never to now, however..." Her aunt drew a deep breath. "I daresay the two of you are too young to remember this, but after my husband died I became quite close to a certain gentleman—"

"How close?" Pamela asked.

Clarissa raised a brow. "How soon?"

"Nearly two years." Aunt Millicent fixed Clarissa with a firm stare. "A perfectly proper amount of time. I was more aware, or rather more concerned, about such insignificant things as propriety then." She turned to Pamela. "We were, well, betrothed."

Pamela widened her eyes in surprise. "To be married you mean?"

"Yes, well, betrothed does often mean to be married," Aunt Millicent said sharply, then paused and blew a resigned breath. "Although not necessarily in this case." Pamela and Clarissa traded dances, but neither said a word.

"It was that annoying question of permanence, you see." Aunt Millicent's brows pulled together. "I simply couldn't promise permanence, for the rest of my days, until death and all that. I had promised it once, and it wasn't at all permanent as Charles had the nerve to die altogether too young. I found I couldn't do it again, so I left London."

Clarissa nodded sympathetically. "On your travels."

"Exactly." Aunt Millicent cast her niece a grateful smile. The faintest memory of whispered gossip nipped at the back of Pamela's mind. "When, exactly, did you leave?"

"Before we were to marry." Aunt Millicent's smile was entirely too innocent. Pamela narrowed her gaze. "How much before?"

Aunt Millicent glanced away as if she were idly looking for something or rather looking at anything but Pamela. Her voice was deceptively casual. "Moments, I should think."

Clarissa gasped. "Moments?"

Aunt Millicent refused to meet her nieces' eyes. "He might well have been awaiting my arrival at, oh, what is the place I'm thinking of?"

Pamela held her breath. "Church?"

"Excellent, my dear." Aunt Millicent smiled weakly. "He was waiting at the church to be wed when I decided I would rather travel than marry. It wasn't at all polite of me, and I did send him a very nice note of explanation; actually, I sent it to my sister, but still and all..." Her gaze slipped to the door. Pamela stared. "Surely you don't think this spurned suitor of yours is here?"

"No, of course not," Aunt Millicent murmured. "Although stranger things have certainly happened in this world." She pulled her gaze from the door and met Pamela's. "I simply thought you should know everything before we did anything that was irrevocable."