by May Burnett
“Spies are hung,” Tennant said, “but no, there is no danger of that, Mrs. Smithson. Lord Rackington is not so foolhardy to risk such a fate, and I fully expect to see my employer back in England before Christmas.”
“Good. I am looking forward to meeting him, and I shall not hesitate to give him my opinion of men who leave a woman in delicate condition alone so soon after their wedding.”
“I beg you will not do so, ma’am,” Tennant said in alarm, though in Amanda’s opinion, Lucian would easily deal with Mattie. “The earl’s mission is important to the war effort. As the widow of a soldier fallen in action, you of all people will understand that duty comes before family at times of national emergency.”
Amanda sympathised with the flash of bitterness that crossed her cousin’s face.
“I was unaware that your husband’s absence was due to such an important mission,” Mattie said to Amanda. “Somehow I never thought of him in such a context.” Amanda could easily imagine how she had thought of him: as a rake who had debauched and then abandoned his young wife.
“I cannot tell you anything about the earl’s current mission except that it is, indeed, important, and that Lord Rackington was requested to undertake it as the most qualified person,” Tennant earnestly assured Mattie. “In the past, he has already distinguished himself on several similar occasions, at great personal risk and expense. He was even offered an elevation of the earldom to a marquisate at one point but declined the honour, presumably because, at the time, he was without issue. I wonder if he will feel the same once he is a father,” he added with a covert look at Amanda’s bulging stomach.
“An earldom is quite enough,” Amanda said firmly.
“I had no idea.” Mattie was shaking her head. “No wonder you bear your solitude with such exemplary composure, Amanda. I admire your devotion to duty.”
Amanda shrugged. “It’s not like I have a choice, just as you could not keep Luke away from battle.”
“Not so—it was Lady Rackington who urged the earl to undertake the mission when he was about to refuse for her sake,” Tennant told Mattie. “Disregard her modesty; her devotion to the country in these perilous times is just as admirable as you surmise.”
Amanda strove not to look guilty. At the time, she had not particularly cared if Lucian was gone, had even welcomed the prospect of a lengthy separation. The offer of the mission had come à propos, from her point of view, when she’d felt unsettled in her new circumstances. By removing a major source of potential conflict, she had been trying to secure a time of peace and quiet until the horrid pregnancy was done with. It had been selfish and immature of her, and Lucian must have realised it. How would she feel if he encouraged her to go away for several months? Hurt and rejected. It was hardly a promising beginning to their marriage, but she’d try to do better if she was given the chance.
“Has the earl ever mentioned his sister to you?” she asked the secretary. “We, or rather Mattie, are refurbishing her former suite.”
“No.” Tennant drank a little wine as he considered. “I was aware that there must have been a sister, because the portrait of the last Lady Rackington in the earl’s London study shows her with a small girl at her knee. I always assumed that child had died in infancy of some ailment.”
“Her name was Lady Amaryllis,” Mattie said, “and she was sixteen when she died by drowning in the horse pond right here at Racking. A very sad end to what should have been a long, happy life. She must have been the girl in the rose bower here in the gallery, the one with powdered hair, by Gainsborough.”
“I have inventoried that picture and admired it more than once, but had no idea it depicted my lord’s sister.”
“Is it normal, in your opinion, that he never speaks of her?” Mattie asked Tennant. “Do you suppose he still feels sad at losing his only sibling when he was only fourteen?”
“My employer is not sentimental,” Tennant said drily, “and at fourteen, he was at Eton. No doubt he regretted the tragedy, but if it has permanently embittered him, I have never noticed the slightest sign. Few boys are very close to their older sisters.”
“You don’t suppose,” Mattie speculated, “that they were swimming there together on some dare, during vacations, and he still harbours guilt that he did not notice her going under?”
“Mattie!” Amanda exclaimed. “We have not the slightest reason to suspect anything of the kind.” Really, she had to do something about Mattie’s tendency to always think the worst of Lucian.
“That is a most unlikely theory, ma’am,” Tennant said. “Take it from me, a boy of fourteen might go swimming at night with other boys, but never with his sixteen-year-old sister. And a young lady that age would not want to share her pastimes with a pesky younger brother. They tend to stand very much upon their new-found dignity.”
“No doubt, but you must admit it is strange that Lady Amaryllis’s rooms were left untouched, with all her belongings, for twenty-four years. A whole generation,” Mattie said. “That circumstance simply invites speculation and conjecture.”
“Yes, as I mentioned, I am having the rooms cleared and refurbished,” Amanda added. “There were some jewels and trinkets in a box, nothing too valuable, that I told the butler to hand to you for safekeeping.”
“I’ll simply shut them away until you ask for them again, my lady. If the rooms really were not cleared in all that time, it shows how the lack of a mistress affects even a well-run household. The earl is not very fond of Racking and has never bothered with more than routine repairs. He does not entertain here—or did not before his marriage. Now it will be up to you, my lady.”
Amanda preferred not to think about entertaining at all before she had delivered her child and regained her normal energy. Also, house parties in the country were notorious for all kinds of promiscuity. If Lucian wanted to carry on with other women, she preferred that it not happen there. “We can think of entertaining after the earl’s return, and London would be the best place for it.”
Tennant gave her a small bow. “Certainly the capital is more convenient for one’s guests, but the countryside also has its charms.”
“How did the previous earl and countess die? Do you know?” Amanda asked.
“It was before my time, and I have never asked, my lady. Now that you point it out, the Earl is unusually reticent about his family. Not so surprising, perhaps, since he is the last survivor, apart from his great-aunt and some distant cousins on his mother’s side. I can only suppose that it is a subject he prefers to keep private.”
“Still, as his countess, I should be in possession of the basic facts,” Amanda insisted. “I’ll ask him about his family when he returns, but some things are surely public knowledge. The servants here know more about the family history than I do.”
“I see where that is unsatisfactory, my lady. I shall make it my business to find out what I can and report to you by tomorrow, before my departure.”
“Thank you.”
After lunch, Mr. Tennant begged for her permission to return to his duties, and the cousins partook of tea and little almond cakes in Amanda’s sitting room.
“Tennant is a fine, strapping young man,” Amanda said casually. “With very fine, muscular legs. Don’t you agree?”
“Remember that you are a married lady. You should not even notice such details,” Mattie retorted. “If I did not know you were only trying to provoke me, I’d be worried. But I claim first rights on him. You know what I like best?”
“What?”
“That he is not a soldier, that he chose a useful profession that keeps him safe at home.”
“I suppose that is understandable, after losing Luke as you did,” Amanda said soberly, pouring another cup.
“We loved each other, but Luke loved the army more. Even after his last home leave—of course, we did not realise then that it was the last—he was eager to get back to battle. Since his early childhood, it was all he wanted.”
“I see. At least Sigurd
does not show signs of army-madness so far.”
“He is only four. If he ever does, I’ll do my best to steer him in some other direction, but boys can be so stubborn. I fervently hope that by the time he’ll be old enough to buy a commission, this war will be over. It cannot go on forever, even if it feels like that sometimes.”
“You won’t have to worry about it for the next decade at least,” Amanda said. “As for Mr. Tennant, I have no designs upon him, but I am not certain he returns your interest. He is very guarded.”
“Indeed, but he can hardly flirt with me in your presence, can he? It would be unseemly, and he is so very correct. Amazing, really, for with a master like Lord Rackington he must have seen things we can hardly imagine.”
Amanda frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Just that it would be surprising if he’s easily shocked. If I can, I mean to seduce him and enjoy a torrid affair. You don’t mind, do you?”
“There is no reason why I should, except that I’m surprised to hear you are looking for something so impermanent.”
“He’s not likely to offer marriage, Amanda. I am poor and no more than passably pretty, nearly thirty, and have a child. He could easily find some well-dowered young lady and go into business for himself. But in the meantime, why should he not share some pleasure with me?”
It was an eminently realistic and pragmatic outlook, such as Lady Evencourt might have espoused. Amanda sighed. “You have no moral qualms?”
“No, why should I? My husband is dead and gone, the mourning period is over, and my bed is cold. As long as I’m careful not to get with child, this hurts nobody and society does not frown on it, you know, if a widow is discreet. It is only the young unmarried girls who have to be so careful. As long as you, my employer, turn a blind eye . . .”
“Good luck,” Amanda said. “My mother would be shocked, but I am trying to become less rigid in my notions.”
“You’d better, or you’ll faint three times daily when your husband returns.”
Amanda bit down harder than she had intended on her almond biscuit. If Mattie did not stop her carping against Lucian, she might yet put her foot down and prevent that hoped-for affair. Her cousin was a hypocrite, condemning Lucian while she, herself, was prepared to take her pleasure where she found it, like a female lothario without any shame.
Talking of hypocrites . . .
“Mattie, do you know, by any chance, what a copper spider looks like and how to find one?”
Chapter 17
While he was kept waiting upon the czar and the minister for war, Lucian cultivated his contacts among the Russian army and nobility. He needed to gauge the various factions’ relative influence and evaluate their morale and chances against Napoleon, the military genius of their generation.
As expected, he found strong crosscurrents, only thinly covered by the joint urgency of defending the country. The minister of war, Barclay de Tolly, enjoyed Alexander’s confidence and sounded able enough, but he was widely resented for being a foreigner. No wonder; in England, such an appointment would be unthinkable, as it implied that none of the native-born generals were good enough. Many Russian officers Lucian met considered it a personal insult, an unacceptable slight on their ability and dedication.
The meeting with General Karatis had gone well enough. Lucian had handed over his information, and there had been distinct interest in the general’s eyes when Lucian had detailed the weapons that might be supplied if their governments came to a satisfactory agreement. He had also done some preliminary work on high officials of the Foreign Ministry, at balls and dinner parties. Barring some last-minute hitch when he got the czar’s ear, they were ready to receive another ambassador from the Crown. Lucian had immediately sent an interim report so that the Foreign Office could start sounding out qualified candidates without delay.
While he had not completely wasted his time, the hours were hanging heavily on his hands, and he cursed Alexander for being absent at this crucial time. Of course, it was arrogant to expect that the ruler of a gigantic country should be available for his convenience, but Lucian could not help wishing that the whole business was wrapped up, as it might have been under better conditions, and he on his way to England before winter made the journey more miserable, if not impossible. The Baltic Sea, smooth and relatively safe in warmer seasons, had been known to freeze all over in some years.
That evening he had dined with Major Kendorov and a group of guard officers, drawn from the highest aristocracy. About half of them went on to a ball given by Countess Antonovskaya, an old but spry lady of hospitable tastes, which she often indulged in her huge, opulent town house. She smiled at Lucian as he kissed her hand in greeting.
“Ah, still in Russia, mon ami? When we don’t even have diplomatic relations with your country?” Though married to a Russian for decades, the countess herself had been born in Poland, and her French still bore the faint trace of a German accent.
She probably knew all about his mission, but Lucian smiled noncommittally. “That has nothing to say to the matter, dear Marion. You know me, I am welcome anywhere as a citizen of the world.”
“Good luck, Lucian.” She gave him a wink before turning to the next guest.
It would be churlish not to dance at a ball, so he approached a cluster of elegant ladies and gentlemen. One of the latter was an acquaintance and introduced him. Presently, he found himself leading Baroness von Traisen into the dance. Her husband, he gathered, was connected to the Austrian Embassy.
They flirted a little, but both knew it would not lead to anything more. The baroness was in her early thirties by his guess, a tall brunette and a highly accomplished dancer.
When he led her back to her group, some others had joined it, and new introductions became necessary. Kendorov had drifted off, probably to the card tables. He was a passionate gamester and, with rare exceptions, very lucky.
The prettiest lady among the new arrivals smiled at Lucian with enticing dimples in both cheeks. Mme Riljatskaya could not be older than twenty-five, but had been introduced as a widow. Well, that happened all too often in wartime. Since she was out of mourning, her bereavement must lie at least a year back, and if Lucian was any judge, she had already begun to look about her for a replacement, or at least someone to amuse her.
As Lucian led her towards a quadrille, she touched him on the calf, as if accidentally, and looked up at him from under her long, dark lashes. Signals he understood perfectly well from so many years of practice. They took their places without speaking.
While he performed the various turns and movements called out by the master of ceremonies, Lucian studied the young widow. Normally, she would have greatly appealed to him, and he would already be planning to make her his mistress for the rest of his stay in St. Petersburg. She had delicious curves, both above and below a slim waist. The thick, mahogany hair was gleaming with health, and her features were almost classical, though the teeth were not perfectly regular. Her dark brown eyes were warm and lively.
In the throes of passion, what did it matter if one of her front teeth slightly crowded another? She was a highly attractive woman who wanted him. Why was he so uncharacteristically reluctant to take advantage of what she offered? It had been months since he had last assuaged his desires. Every expert agreed it was unhealthy not to relieve manly passions for that long.
Yet somehow, in the teeth of so many years of casual debauchery, it felt subtly wrong. True, he had never been a married man before, but most of his bed partners had been bored or adventurous wives.
No need to decide at the moment. He finished the dance, chatted with the widow, and accompanied her to the magnificent buffet. Having dined already, he did not partake himself, but put together a selection of exquisite titbits for his companion. She was not overly talkative, another attractive trait. His wandering gaze lingered on those red lips, subtly coloured, if he was not mistaken. Amanda’s lips were not quite as dark as these, but they had no need of art
ifice.
Was there no time when he could forget the girl? He had not pretended that he planned to be faithful—a nearly unknown concept—she could not expect it, especially under the circumstances, when he had never yet enjoyed her own youthful body, and never might if she said no or died in childbed. He had provided Amanda with a name that the world assumed to be honourable, security and comfort. He owed her nothing more.
He met the widow’s eyes; her lips curved in a slightly ironic smile. Dammit, he could not allow himself to be emasculated by a mere memory. His hesitation might be the first sign of old age, and if so, he owed it to himself to combat it by vigorous action. While he still could.
“Your eyes are lovely, Madame,” he said. In a low voice he added, “It makes a man wonder if everything he cannot see is equally perfect—but pardon me if I am too forward in my admiration.”
She played with the pearls above her lovely bosom. Her smile turned languorous. “I am not easily offended, Lord Rackington, and I have heard of your—um—prowess, from some of my best friends.”
“I see. I hope I can live up to their descriptions.”
“Oh, I have no doubt of that at all.” She let her gaze roam over his body with open approval. “I have come with friends tonight, whom I cannot abandon, but perhaps you would like to come for supper tomorrow? Just a small intimate occasion?”
He did not pretend to misunderstand. “It would be my great pleasure, Madame.” With a widow, he would not even need to be overly discreet—no husband for whom any illusion needed to be maintained. And though she would not know that he was married, since he had not mentioned the fact to anyone here in Russia, her forward behaviour indicated she was looking for dalliance only.
