by Anita Mills
“And I cherish you already,” Kate said sincerely.
“We will do very well together, I think. And when the children come, you will have Galena to rock them. We shall be happy, Ekaterina.”
But after Peg had done her best, after the exquisite gown was on, and the long tissue silk scarf flowed from the crown of flowers on her head, Katherine stared hard at her reflection. What she saw did not comfort her—she was still naught but a plain girl dressed finely.
Despite the warm, musty dampness of the old stone chapel, Katherine felt as though her whole body had turned to ice. For a moment, she wanted to tell Harry that she could not do it, but then she saw Alexei Volsky waiting for her at the altar. And the parish vicar looked expectantly toward her brother. There was no more time. She smoothed the skirt of her gown and straightened the circlet of roses on her head, hoping that the long scarf fell straight. She was as ready as she was ever going to be. She nodded to Harry, and he took his place beside her.
The old vicar cleared his throat, then began, “Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here …” She held her breath, scarce hearing him until he asked, “Who giveth this woman?”
“I do,” Harry said clearly, placing her cold hand in Alexei’s. He turned and walked to sit beside their mother. Behind the count, his groomsman stood woodenly, as though he were a palace guard. Beside Katherine, Clarissa waited also, ready to witness. As the vicar cleared his throat again, the younger girl leaned close to whisper, “Buck up, Kate—’tis a wedding, not a funeral.”
Katherine was so aware of the man holding her hand that she could think of little else until she was asked if she would take Alexei Petrovich Volsky for her husband. He asked twice, prompting Alexei to squeeze her fingers, and she managed to nod, saying almost too low for any to hear, “I will.”
There was an air of unreality to all of it. And all too soon it was over. She looked down at the diamond and ruby ring on her finger, thinking she’d tied herself to him forever. She was irrevocably Katherine Elizabeth Mary Winstead Volsky—or was it Volskaya? She was not even sure of that.
The parish book was signed, witnessed, and dated, and there was nothing more to do but leave the chapel. She looked briefly at the crucifix that hung behind the altar, thinking a quick, silent prayer. Please, God, let him love me.
He settled his shoulders as though a burden had been lifted. “Well, it is done.”
“Yes.”
The rain had intensified, and when they emerged from the stale air of the chapel, it was truly pouring as though the sky emptied buckets. Alexei caught her hand and ran for the carriage. “Let us hope this is not an unfavorable omen!” he shouted. He pushed her up, then heaved his body in after. Sinking back against the leather squabs of Harry’s traveling coach, he brushed at the rain spots on his coat. Looking up, he forced a smile.
“The gown becomes you, Ekaterina. Galena has transformed you.”
“Thank you.” She dropped her gaze to her clasped hands in her lap. “I am most grateful to her.”
“We can leave immediately after the wedding breakfast, or if you prefer, we can stay here tonight and hope the rain ends.”
Somehow the thought of going off with a stranger was suddenly quite daunting. She colored uncomfortably, then blurted out, “I should rather stay here.”
“As you wish. Galena thought perhaps you would rather be away from your mother and sister.”
She fought rising panic, telling herself everything was going to be all right, that she already loved him. He was handsome, kind, and considerate—what else could she wish for? If only he would say something to let her know he could love her …
“You are quiet, Ekaterina.”
“It is all so new to me. And I have scarce seen you. I—”
“Do you not think I regret that?” he asked, sliding across to her seat. Reaching to lift the ring of roses from her hair, he carefully folded the soggy silk scarf attached to it, then set them on the other side. “Galena has kept her promise to me, and you do not shame me, daragaya,” he said.
Snuggling against his wet coat, she felt the cold metal medals, but she did not care. Everything was going to be all right. Everything was going to be all right.
His hand lifted her chin, and his blue eyes blurred before hers. The softness of his breath against her cheek sent a shiver through her. She sat very still as his mouth pressed against her lips. Then she felt his other hand brush her breast lightly. Her face flamed as she caught his fingers.
“Alexei—no!”
He released her and leaned back, watching her, frowning. “Do they teach you English girls nothing?”
“I’m sorry—it is just so terribly new to me.” But as she said it, she remembered Bell Townsend’s ruthless kiss, and could not help comparing it to Alexei’s bloodless one. It was, she told herself fiercely, that Alexei Volsky respected her.
Her husband stared silently out his window for a moment, then observed abruptly, “We are arrived.”
Harry threw open the door, grinning. “I thought you’d stolen my coach and made off for Leicester without eating.”
“Actually, we have decided to stay the night here,” Alexei announced. He jumped down and reached for Katherine, lifting her by her waist, then letting her slide the length of him. His hand closed over hers. “Come, Ekaterina, for the guests await.”
Like the ceremony itself, the wedding breakfast was a private family affair. There had not been time, Lady Winstead had complained repeatedly, to do justice to “dear Kate’s marriage,” but that could not be helped. It was a miracle that anything had gone right.
The irritated cook had outdone himself despite griping, “I shall have to serve naught but pastries and a joint on this notice.” What he had actually managed was a full five-course meal that would have done the chef at the Pulteney Hotel in London proud. But Kate scarce noted it.
While Alexei and Harry manfully carried the conversation by discussing everything from the weather to the late war, Kate sat silently, pushing her food from one side of her plate to the other. When Lady Winstead noticed, she urged her to “eat rather than play” with her food. But Harry insisted she be left alone. And Madame Malenkov nodded, saying that poor Kate was but tired, and who could blame her?
“Ekaterina has lived in the whirlwind these last days, n ’est-ce pas’? I for one think that she must rest after the bride cake is eaten,” she declared firmly. “Do you not agree, Lexy?”
He nodded. “It cannot have been easy for her.”
“But what will you do?” Kate blurted out. A new flood of color rushed to her face, and she felt utterly foolish. “That is—”
“If the rain stops, Harry will show me the ruined monastery, I think. And if not, perhaps he and your sister can be persuaded to play the cards.” He smiled, then patted her hand. “You are our responsibility now, Ekaterina.”
Finally, the dishes were cleared and the cake eaten. For all that it had been called a breakfast, the clock in the front saloon chimed two. Harry lifted his glass one last time.
“To Kate and Lexy—may they have a long life together!”
Galena sipped, then held hers up again. “And may they make me an aunt many times over.” Her eyes met Kate’s. “Ah, ma cherie, but you cannot know how I have longed for a child to hold. Now these arms will carry an infant of yours one day.”
Alexei clinked his glass against his sister’s. “God grant your wish, Lena,” he murmured.
Harry cleared his throat. “Well, do you join me for a bit of brandy in the front saloon ere we tempt the rain again, Lexy?”
“Most gladly.”
Lady Winstead rose. “Then all is settled for the afternoon, is it not? If Madame Malenkov does not mind it, I think I should like to lie down myself.”
“But of course I do not mind it,” Galena murmured, rising also. “Come, ma petite—I will go up with you, and we will leave the men and Claire to their amusements.” She cast a warning look at Alexei. “I trust you will not speak of the p
olitics, for we all know you would be a Tory if you were English.”
“I do not need you to tell me what I can say, Lena.” In front of them all, he leaned to brush his lips against Kate’s cheek. “Until later, Ekaterina.”
With Peg’s help, Kate removed the circlet of roses and the scarf, then stepped out of her wedding dress. She’d hoped Galena had wanted to speak with her, but Alexei’s sister had gone to her own chamber. And Kate had not been able to bring herself to ask her anything with Peg hovering nearby.
Far too unsettled to sleep, she lay down and stared at the ceiling. It was, she reflected apprehensively, quite one thing to wish to be married, and quite another to contemplate sleeping in the same bed with him. She touched her zona, remembering how his hand had brushed her breast, and shame flooded through her.
He would do more than that, she did not doubt it. But what? And would he be pleased with her? Or would he be as disappointed as he was in her brother’s carriage?
Katherine sat before her dressing table, pulling her hair this way and that, wondering which way Alexei might like it. It didn’t matter—after a rainy day, it was hopelessly flat. She made a face at herself, then saw Galena in the mirror.
“I am caught,” she confessed, sighing. “It is impossible, I fear.”
“Nonsense.” The older woman moved closer and picked up the hairbrush. “We pull it back like this,” she said, “and then we put a turban over it.”
“To sleep?” Kate asked doubtfully.
“Not to sleep. But by the time it comes off, Lexy will not care what your hair looks like, Ekaterina.”
For a moment, Katherine went cold. All day long she had hoped either her mother or Galena would say something to her, and now she longed to ask, but she could not. Now she had only perhaps a few minutes before the stranger she had wed would come up to her.
“There.”
It seemed as though someone else looked back at her. “I don’t know.”
“Believe me, it is all right.” Galena moved to the front and adjusted the embroidered lawn nightgown. “Not that this will stay on very long,” she murmured.
“Lena—”
“Yes, yes—I know you are worried, Ekaterina, but there is no need. Lexy will be all that is kind to you.”
“I cannot think I must take my night rail off.”
“I expect he will take it off for you. Some men will only lift up the hem, but it is such a mess that way.”
Katherine swallowed hard. “I don’t know, Lena,” she whispered miserably. “What if I do not please him?”
“Humph! Men are such selfish creatures, that they please themselves.” Seeing that the color had left Katherine’s face, the Russian woman put her arms around the girl’s shoulders. “I will tell you what to expect, Ekaterina, but it sounds worse than it is. You forget what is happening in the passion of the moment, I promise you.”
“I will try not to give him a disgust of me.”
Galena dropped down onto the padded bench beside her. “You are a good girl, Ekaterina Ivanova, but a man wants much more than that. Now, when he comes up to you, you should be in the bed, and you should smile at him. And when he undresses, you must not appear afraid of what you see.” She reached to pat Katherine’s hand. “When the clothes are off, he will lie down beside you.”
“All of them? The clothes, I mean?”
“I expect he will not wear his nightshirt until later. It gets in the way. Then he will touch you.”
“Where?”
“Everywhere—even where you scarce touch yourself. But you will like it, I promise you. It is only the act itself that might hurt a little, and then it is only the one time. But he must be inside you, or else a babe cannot be made.”
“Inside me?” Katherine echoed faintly. “Oh, Lena, surely—”
“You will like it,” Galena repeated. “It is quite pleasant when you get used to it. And if Lexy is not too selfish, you will find you wish him to come to you often.”
“Lena, I don’t think I can do this,” Katherine whispered desperately.
“Pah. Tomorrow you will think yourself a silly goose for being afraid of him.” Rising, Galena leaned to kiss Katherine’s cheek. “But for now, Ekaterina, I must go. It would not be at all proper for me to be here when he arrives.”
In the distance, a clock struck over and over again, telling her it was quite late. “I expect he still is having brandy with Harry,” Kate decided.
“Just remember to wait in the bed.” Galena surveyed her critically one last time, then reached for the rouge pot and the hare’s foot. “Just a little,” she murmured, “lest he think you a ghost. And perhaps a tiny bit of perfume—not too much, for he will wish to breathe. There. You are ready, Ekaterina.”
The girl was going to be a cold piece of wood and Galena knew it, but it couldn’t be helped. The longer Lexy waited, the worse it would be for both of them. Galena went downstairs to the book room and rapped lightly on the door before opening it.
Harry Winstead sat sprawled, his coat open, his vest hanging, his cravat loose, and it took no great powers of perception to realize he was utterly foxed. And her brother was opposite him, a large brandy glass in his hand.
“Shame on the both of you! You are disgusting,” she chided them.
“Not disgusting,” Harry insisted. “Disguised.”
“It is Ekaterina’s wedding!”
With an effort, Katherine’s brother rose, weaving unsteadily on his feet. “Ought to go to bed,” he mumbled thickly. “Cannot make it.”
“Garçon! Garçon! What is it you say—footman? Footman! Come aid your master!”
“Don’t need—”
But as one of the lower footmen appeared, Galena snapped her fingers imperiously. “You—take him to bed,” she ordered. She waited only until she could hear Harry Winstead trying to sing as he was helped up the stairs, then she rounded on Alexei.
“And you! Alexei Petrovich, you are pyanee!”
“Nyet, Lena. I have not had nearly enough.”
“You belong up there beside your wife!” she hissed at him. “She awaits you!”
“Lena, I don’t want—”
“I don’t care what you want!”
He ran his fingers through his disordered hair. “Lena—”
“Lexy, we were agreed!”
“I don’t want to play games anymore,” he muttered defensively. “I do enough for you. You have given me a plain woman, Lena.”
“What difference does it make? She will serve very well.”
“She is like kissing a stone. I should have taken a Russian woman.”
“But this one will not understand the gossip—nor will she run home to her family, Lexy.” She moved closer again and reached to brush his cheek with the back of her hand. “Lexy, it will work—had I not thought it, I should never have suggested Ekaterina to you.” Her hand moved across his lips. “She is more than half in love with you already.”
“You did not see her in the carriage, Lena.”
“Lexy … Lexy … Are you so used to harlots that you do not know how to treat a virgin?”
“Strange words coming from you,” he muttered, turning his head away.
“Seduce her,” Galena advised him. “Everything depends on you—everything. You need a wife, Lexy—you need an heir for Domnya.”
“Do I do this for Domnya, Lena—or for you?”
“Both. It means everything to me.” Once again, she touched him. “You can make her love you, Lexy.”
“Lena, it is not right.”
“Lexy … Lexy … what is wrong? We give her a title and wealth, and you cannot say she will ever have that here. There will be children at Domnya, Lexy,” she argued passionately. “She will have her sons and daughters around her.”
“What of me, Lena? What of me?” he asked bitterly.
“Ah, Lexy,” she said softly, “for you it will be as always.”
“I do not like it that Townsend comes to Russia,” he muttered.
“Are you jealous?”
“Of course not! But if I am married to the Angleechahnka, I can complain, can’t I?”
“Yes. But you worry too much. Cher Bellamy has other reasons for coming to Russia, Lexy.”
“I do not want Sherkov for an enemy.” He reached to pour himself more of the brandy.
She knocked the glass from his hand. “No more, lest you cannot do the deed.”
He raised his hand to protest, then dropped it. “The things I do for you, Lena—the things I do for you.” He caught her arm and rubbed his face against the flesh. “Why can you not come to Vienna?”
She pulled away and stared at him for a moment. “I have to take care of Ekaterina. Now, you will delay no longer—you will go to your wife, Alexei Petrovich!”
He looked away, saying nothing.
“Seduce her, Lexy—seduce her,” she urged him.
The ormolu clock seemed to tick more loudly, keeping time with her heart, as she waited. Once again, Katherine sat before her mirror, brushing at her hair. The turban lay on the dressing table, discarded because she didn’t want to wear it. Somehow it had seemed foolish to put something on her head if she were going to be naked everywhere else.
Galena had told her to wait in bed, but somehow Katherine could not bring herself to do it. She was still nervous and more than a little frightened, for the Russian woman’s description of the marital act had been revolting, no matter how many times she’d insisted Katherine would like it. Every time Katherine thought about it, her blood ran cold in her veins, turning her body to ice.
Part of her wanted him to come, to get it over with, and part hoped he drank so much with Harry below that he would not come at all. But it did not matter, she told herself resolutely—no matter what he did to her, she was not going to resist. Her whole life depended now on making him love her.
The ancient floorboards creaked beneath the carpet in the hall, and for a moment, her heart paused. Footsteps drew nearer, stopping outside the bedchamber. The door swung inward. She could see him in her mirror, but she still could not force herself to turn around, not knowing what Galena had told her. As she watched, her breath held in abeyance, he discarded his coat, hanging it over the back of a chair. His waistcoat and cravat followed. Her heart pounded in her ears as he loosened his frilled white shirt at the neck.
