Falling Stars

by Anita Mills

  “Deuced lucky, then.” Bell took a gulp from the container, then passed it. “I pulled her to what I thought was safety, and damme if we weren’t set upon by cut-purses. Kate kicked one of ’em, and I blinded another, then we ran.”

  “You’re certain she wasn’t hurt?”

  “I told you—she’s all right. Her feet may be sore and her dignity wounded, but I got her home. Not that your mother was particularly pleased by the sight of me,” Bell admitted cheerfully.

  “How’d they get your coat?”

  “I’m afraid circumstances demanded I loan it to your sister. Someone nearly pulled her dress off her.”

  “Egad.” Harry drank deeply, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Where’s Volsky?”

  “He just set me down.”

  For a moment, Winstead was pensive, then he sighed again. “It’d kill Kate if he cried off. Only offer she’s had, you know. I’m dashed glad he didn’t make an issue of this.”

  “It didn’t seem to bother him—deuced calm, in fact. Thing is, I wondered why he wasn’t looking for her himself.”

  “He’s not familiar with London.”

  “No, I suppose not.” Bell retrieved the flask and drank again. “What do you think of him?”

  “I think Kate’s damned fortunate. Why?”

  Bell shrugged. “I don’t know. Russia’s a long way from England,” he murmured noncommittally.

  “I know.” The carriage lamps betrayed Harry Winstead’s twisted smile. “Is that why you are going, my friend?”

  “I’m going because I didn’t like India,” Bell answered simply.

  “Petticoat trouble?”

  “Got to play least in sight for a while.” He met Harry’s gaze, then looked away. “Fanny’s told Hopewell I got her with child. She wants me to kill him for her.”

  A low whistle escaped Winstead, then he sobered. “You cannot afford this. You’ll be cut everywhere if Hopewell makes a dust over it.”

  “Devil of it is, it’s not true.”

  “Nobody will ever believe that.”

  Bell held up his nearly empty flask and smiled grimly. “To Russia, Harry. When I am come back, he’ll know she lied.”

  A watchman passed them, calling out, “Two of the clock! Two of the clock!”

  “You going home?” Harry murmured.

  “Without a coat, I can scarce go anywhere else. You?”

  “Got a prime article waiting for me, if she’s not gone to bed. Want to set me down in York Place?”

  “Might as well. Do I know her?”

  “No, and you’re not coming in with me—there are some things I don’t share.”

  The carriage traversed the mostly deserted London streets, its wheels rattling on the paving stones. Inside, there was relative silence. Finally, when they were nearly there, Harry exhaled heavily. “Look, I know you and Kate do not deal well together, but—”

  “But you want me to look in on her,” Bell finished for him. “I don’t think so. For one thing, how’s it to look to Volsky? And for another, she wouldn’t welcome me.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Actually, she’s quite plain on that head.”

  “I’m not asking you to play nursemaid to her—just write once in awhile to let me know how she goes on.” Before Bell could argue with him, Harry explained, “Oh, she’ll write home, but she’s not one to complain much.”

  “I doubt I shall even see her, once we are there.”

  “But if you do.”

  It was a small favor for a good friend. “All right, if I see her, I’ll let you hear of it.”

  On his way back from York Place, Bell felt almost out of charity with Kate Winstead. The night was still young, and he had no wish to go home. He ought to have kept the damned coat and gone to White’s. He passed Amy Wilson’s house and thought of her sister Harriette, wondering how she fared with her sugar merchant. It didn’t matter. When she came on the market again, he would be in Russia.

  Idly, he recalled the admiring looks cast his way by another Fashionable Impure, the one everyone called Venus Reclining. He drained the flask, then tossed it onto the opposite seat. Knocking on the ceiling to gain his driver’s attention, he called out, “Somers Town!” As the carriage swung into the turn, he leaned back. If no one else was there, he was inclined to do a bit of reclining with the fair Venus. Hell, he was already half-undressed. Besides, he was certain of a welcome.

  Kate could not sleep. She lay abed, trying not to cry, telling herself she was but foolish. Still, she could not help feeling terribly hurt and disappointed. Finally, she rose and went to the window. Below, a damp fog from the river lay like a blanket, mingling with the smoke from the lamps, obscuring much of the street.

  At least he’d not repudiated her. She shivered and rubbed her bare arms, not from the cold, but rather from an excess of nerves. Lexy loved her. Lexy loved her, she reassured herself. He must, for why else would he have offered for her? Why else would he have given her his mother’s magnificent diamond and ruby betrothal ring?

  “Is everything all right, Ekaterina?” Galena asked from the darkness.

  “Yes, of course.” But even as she said it, Katherine could not quite keep the tremor out of her voice. “I am all right.”

  “Oh, ma pauvre petite,” the woman murmured soothingly, coming up behind her. “It is Lexy, is it not?”

  “Why—why would you think it, madame?”

  “Because he told me earlier, but I did not wish to ruin your triumph for you. If he waited until you were at home, the fault is mine, Ekaterina. I told him to tell you in private when he gave you the ring.”

  “But surely he could discover time for me!” The words burst out before she could control them. “The notice will be in the Gazette! How is it to look if I am to go about unescorted?”

  “Shhhh—you are overset merely. You have but to hold out your hand for everyone to know how much you mean to him,” Galena reminded her.

  Katherine swallowed hard. “But I wanted—”

  “You wanted everyone to know, and they will. I understand. They will say there is no one in all of England with such a ruby, I promise you.”

  “And now he says that the czar demands his attendance until the wedding. Madame, I shall be marrying a stranger!”

  “Hush. You will be returning to London a married lady, Ekaterina. And we will be going to Russia to join him in the autumn.”

  “Is it because of tonight?” Katherine cried. “If so, I can assure him that I don’t even like Bellamy Townsend!”

  “He knows that Viscount Townsend saved your life, Ekaterina, and he is grateful for that. You must not think such things—I tell you Lexy is besotted! Look at your hand, Ekaterina—look at your hand! If he did not love you, he would have given you a mere bauble rather than that.”

  “And Claire—how she will go on about it,” Kate continued tearfully. “She will say he does not care for me at all!”

  “Pah. That one—she is a viper in the nest, little one. Tell her she will be fortunate if this Cosgrove gives her something even one-third the value of what you have.”

  “Hargrove—it is Hargrove.”

  “Does it matter who he is?” Galena put her arms about Katherine’s shoulders. “Come, let us sit down and decide what is to be done. Here—let me see your ring,” she coaxed. “Ah—how I remember it. Every woman in Moscow envied my mother for this, Ekaterina—every woman.”

  But Katherine was not easily appeased. “There is nothing to be done. Alexei has made it quite clear to me that he does not have the time to dance attendance on me before the wedding.”

  “He has his duty, Ekaterina.”

  “Everyone will say ‘there is Miss Winstead, but where is her betrothed?’ ”

  “And later they will say ‘there is Countess Volsky,’ ” Galena said softly. “The ruby her husband gives her can be seen across the room.”

  “Followed by ‘where is her husband?’ no doubt. Madame, I shall be
marrying a stranger!” Katherine cried again.

  “But a very kind one who wishes to love you,” Galena countered. “And how many English girls know their husbands? They have a few dances, the man offers the settlements, and it is done, n’est-ce pas’? Already you have possibly spent as much time with Alexei as many of your females have with their betrotheds.” Taking Katherine’s arm, she directed her to a chair. “Come, you are disappointed, and with every reason, daragaya. But you must not let this spoil your triumph. Only you will wed Alexei Volsky, Ekaterina—only you will be his countess. Only your children will carry his name.”

  Katherine sat reluctantly. Folding her hands in her lap, she did not look at Alexei’s sister. “You think me quite foolish, don’t you?” she said finally.

  “Of course I do not! Ekaterina, you are all Lexy and I could have hoped for!” Dropping to a seat nearby, Galena persisted, saying, “We shall be so very busy ourselves, little one. Even if Lexy should have time for us, we will have no time for him.”

  “I am not at all certain I can marry anyone on a week’s acquaintance, madame.”

  “Lena. What is this ‘madame,’ Ekaterina? We shall be sisters at Domnya.” The older woman sighed. “Will it help if I speak to the grand duchess? Alexander listens to his sister, and perhaps something can be arranged.” When Katherine did not answer, she sighed again. “Very well. I shall see that Lexy is made available for at least one event. A reception at the embassy for you, perhaps. Yes, for then Alexander must be there also.” Satisfied with the notion, she leaned to pat Katherine’s hand. “You must not be sad, little one, for you have Galena. And I will call on Alexander’s sister for you.”

  “I would not wish to cause Alexei any difficulty, madame—Lena, that is.”

  “Pah. It is nothing. I know not why Lexy did not think of it.” Galena squeezed Katherine’s hand, then released it. “Believe me, you have answered my prayers for my brother. Together we make him very happy, no?”

  “I hope so.”

  “Good. Now if you cannot sleep, we shall call your maid and require heated milk for you.”

  “Peg is asleep, I’m afraid.”

  “In Russia, it does not matter. We own everyone who lives at Domnya, and they will do whatever is asked.” Galena smiled encouragingly. “Did I tell you there will be seven thousand serfs there to do your bidding? You will be a powerful woman at Domnya.”

  “As if I cared for that,” Katherine responded low. “It is enough if Lexy loves me.”

  “Ekaterina, we shall both love you, and you will wish for nothing. Every jewel, every fur, every gown you covet, you shall have,” the Russian woman promised. “And when you come back to visit, the viper will envy you. Galena will stay home at Domnya with the children.”

  Somehow the thought of children had seemed but a distant possibility. And for all that she’d fallen head over heels for him, Alexei Volsky was still too much the stranger for such intimacy. Perhaps that was what worried her the most—she had only one week to become better acquainted with him. When she dared to look at Galena, Alexei’s sister shook her head.

  “That woman, she tells you nothing, does she?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “About what is expected. It is just as well, after all. The day you are married, you come to Lena—do you understand? I can tell you how to make Lexy happy.”

  “Mama—”

  “Pah—that woman! I think she does not know how to live, Ekaterina. That is why she watches your sister. The men, I think, they never came to her.”

  “Papa wed her.”

  “But were they happy?”

  “I don’t know—no, I don’t think so.”

  But even as she said it, Katherine could still remember that night she’d found Bell Townsend in the maze with Miss Beckwood. The night when her father admitted he was a disappointment to her mother. It was the only time he ever spoke of the unhappiness between them.

  “That woman, she could not make a man content. There is too much bitterness in her.”

  “You are very observant, Lena.”

  “I do not observe, Ekaterina—I know. Just like I know you are the right wife for Lexy.” Galena stood. “And if we do not get back into bed and go to sleep, everyone will wonder what he admires in you. Come, for today we shop, and then I go to the grand duchess.”

  Katherine crawled between her covers and pulled them up over her shoulder. Turning over, she said, “Thank you, Lena—I know not what I should ever do without you.”

  “Ah, Ekaterina, you must not worry—I will never leave Domnya. Never.”

  She felt a rush of gratitude wash over her. Galena would see she had a betrothal reception or a party at the embassy. Galena would see she had a little time with Alexei. Galena understood.

  Monk’s End: July 3, 1814

  Galena had been right. The time had passed far too quickly, marching Katherine through a seemingly endless round of fittings and the embassy party, and now the wait was over, and the interim had been sustained by a daily posy and love note from Alexei. Now she would wed in the same small chapel where she’d been christened and confirmed.

  Even Claire, who had been so spiteful in the beginning, was caught up in the bittersweet excitement. She’d cried the night before, saying she could not bear to part with “the sweetest of sisters,” then she’d dabbed at her tears, adding that Kate was so very fortunate.

  Walking alone through the fine mist that shrouded the ancient graveyard, Katherine sought the courage to carry through with this giant step in her life. One part of her said that she barely knew him, the other argued that her mama was right—she was fortunate to have gained a man like Alexei’s notice. And while she could not have done better, she certainly could have done worse. She had only to think of Bell Townsend to know it.

  Off to the side, just beyond the old stone wall, she found her father’s grave and stopped. Leaning down to brush wet leaves that clung to the limestone marker, she stared at the deeply chiseled letters. John, 11th Baron Winstead, b.1753, d.1812. It still did not seem possible that at fifty-nine, he’d taken his own life.

  The pain cut through her breastbone, leaving a hollow ache within. That was why she so seldom came here—she could never help asking why. But now she looked down at the glistening grass, thinking of him, remembering his easy laugh, his twinkling eyes, the smoky smell of his coats. She’d been the daughter that trailed him to the stables, that rode with him about the manor. She had to hold back tears and fight the lump in her throat to speak.

  “I am getting married today, Papa. I-I wish you could have been here, you know. I’d know if you liked him. And I-I’m afraid, Papa—I mean, what if—”

  “Kate, whatever—? This is not the time for a pulled face,” Clarissa chided, coming up behind her. “And you are getting wet.”

  Kate turned around, then blurted out, “Oh, Claire, what if I cannot hold him? What if I cannot make him love me?”

  “In any event, you are a very rich woman,” her sister answered practically. “Besides, you cannot cry off now, else Mama will be mad as fire.”

  “But I am not beautiful like you!”

  “No, you are not, but there is no accounting for the Russian taste, I suppose, though Madame Malenkov—well, it does not signify, anyway. You are fortunate he is marrying you.” She looked down at Kate’s hand and sighed. “I should take the hetman himself for a ruby like that, you know.”

  “Yes, yes, I know I am fortunate, but—”

  “And at least you will have that woman to dress you instead of Mama. Even I have to admit you look much better.”

  “Better,” Kate repeated. “Better than what? An Antidote?”

  “What does Count Volsky say?”

  “That I look well! As though I have been ill!”

  “Kate, I have never known you to be such a goose!”

  “But I don’t really know him!” Kate wailed. “And I am afraid! There—I have said it, Claire. I am afraid!”

  “Of
what? Of being a married lady?”

  “I don’t know! Maybe he won’t love me!”

  “What difference does that make? You will be Countess Volsky. Really, Kate, but sometimes I just don’t understand you.”

  “Nobody does! Not you—not Mama—not Harry even!”

  Clarissa sighed. “Kate, you do not have time for this. Alexei has already gone to the chapel, and you are not even dressed. Come on—before the sky pours, and my hair is quite ruined.”

  With an effort, Katherine sniffed back tears, then managed to smile sheepishly at her sister. “I guess I am a bit of a goose, aren’t I?”

  “Yes, and I shall be a shocking fright also, if you do not stop this.” Catching Kate’s hand, Claire started to pull her back toward the old manor house. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but Sally Jersey thinks you have done exceedingly well for yourself.”

  “I know—everywhere I go, someone whispers the same thing. ‘It is the Winstead girl as is betrothed to the Russian,’ ” she mimicked. ‘With her looks, she is so very fortunate.’ Do they all think me deaf, Claire?”

  “Kate, where have you been?” Lady Winstead demanded anxiously from the porch. “We have been looking for you for an age! It is nigh to half past nine—and the vicar will be there at ten!”

  “I went walking. I wanted to tell Papa.”

  “In this?” Her mother’s voice rose incredulously. “And look at you! I vow I shall swoon!”

  “Nonsense,” Galena Malenkov cut in briskly. “She does not need to be overset on her wedding day.” To Kate, she said much more kindly, “Come, ma petite, and Galena will help you ready yourself. And if Lexy must wait, so be it.” She reached out to take Katherine’s cold hand. “You have a bit of fright, mais non?”

  “Yes.”

  “A natural thing for a young girl,” the Russian woman reassured her. “Now, I have that Peg heating the tongs again, so you are not to worry. And the gown is readied. You have but to get dressed, and we will fix the hair a bit here and there, put on the veil, then voilà!”

  “You are very kind, Lena.”

  “Pah. We are to be sisters, after all.”