by Carola Dunn
Prince Nikolai laughingly insisted that a Russian grandmother amply compensated for any distance in her connexion to John. She allowed him to lead her around the side of the room, though she cast a nervous backward glance at Teresa, who nodded encouragement.
Of course he was a friend of John’s, and surely nothing could happen to her in a ballroom, but she hoped he would not be excessively angry when he discovered her station in life.
The Volkovs greeted her with open friendliness. The princess enquired into her family tree and managed to discover a remote relationship. One of Kolya’s younger brothers requested a mazurka. Rebecca stood chatting with two sisters who, when they found that she knew nothing of London fashions, favoured her with their own opinions of the latest St Petersburg modes.
The first dance ended, and John came looking for her. He brought with him a young man he introduced as the Honourable Sebastian Crane. Mr. Crane seemed to be an obliging gentleman. Besides putting down his name on Rebecca’s card, he begged both Kolya’s sisters to stand up with him, and even approached the elderly princess. She rapped his knuckles coquettishly with her fan and sighed.
“Ah, monsieur, but I danced till dawn in my time.”
Mr. Crane was listening politely to her reminiscences when John bore Rebecca off.
“I never realized before,” he said, “that one of the chief duties of a minor diplomat is to keep the ambassador’s guests happy. Come, the music is beginning.”
Rebecca had practised the waltz with Teresa. She had thought it would be alarming to be held so close by a man, and it had been an act of bravado to accept John’s invitation. Yet when he took her in his arms she felt safe, protected, though suddenly there was something wrong with her breathing.
He swung her onto the floor. She concentrated on her steps at first, till her breathing settled, then ventured to look up. He was smiling down at her and she smiled back, suddenly exhilarated.
“How pretty you are tonight! I’m sorry I have not had time to visit you since we arrived. Are you enjoying life in St Petersburg?”
“Oh yes. I thought there would be nothing for me to do, but I have been very busy. Now that we are settled, Annie is much occupied with her duties as abigail, so I have been taking care of Esperanza.”
“Surely Teresa does not confine you to the nursery?”
“Hardly. Am I not here tonight? She has been a deal too good to me. Indeed, I feel more like a younger sister than a governess, or even a companion. I ought not to accept so much, but it is excessively difficult to refuse her.”
“Don’t I know it! My cousin is irresistible, in more ways than one. I hope you do not regret being persuaded to come tonight?”
“I have never been to a ball before, and I was afraid such a crowd of strangers would be overwhelming. At first it was, with the bright lights and the jewels sparkling, and everyone talking at once. But you are here...and your friend is very kind and charming. I am prodigious glad I came.”
“You have never been to a ball before? What a shocking confession! I could not have guessed it from your dancing; you are light as a feather. I trust you mean to attend many more? I shall do my best to be present at every one so that you are not overwhelmed.”
The ready colour mounted to Rebecca’s cheeks. “I ought not. But if Teresa invites me, I shall!”
The music came to an end with a swirl. John stopped a waiter and presented Rebecca with a glass of Champagne. She sipped it, and sneezed as the bubbles rose to her nose.
“Oh dear, is that another first?” John asked, amused. “It will probably give you hiccups too. I’d best find you some lemonade.”
“No, I shall drink it very slowly and learn to like it. Will you take me back to Teresa now? I am sure you ought to be about your duty, taking care of the ambassador’s guests.”
“You are one of them, my dear. I shall therefore now make polite conversation. Have you seen the Winter Palace yet, Miss Nuthall?”
“I have not had the opportunity, my lord. I have several times visited the Nevski Prospekt, however. It is a splendid thoroughfare, is it not, and the several bridges greatly enhance its attractiveness.”
“The chief attraction is the shops, I understand,” John teased. “I should like to drive you and Teresa about the city one day. Kolya has been teaching me to drive a troika.”
“Is that how you have been spending your time? Oh, I beg your pardon, it is none of my business.”
He seemed to be about to speak, then a shadow crossed his face and he shook his head, almost angrily, she thought.
“Like you, I keep busy,” he said lightly. “in fact, you are right, I ought to be doing my duty. Now where has Teresa disappeared to?”
Prince Nikolai overheard these last words. “If you are seeking Lady Graylin in capacity as chaperon,” he said, “allow me to relieve you of necessity, my friend. Miss Nuthall is promised to me for next dance, I believe. Mademoiselle?” He bowed and held out his arm.
The lively figures of the écossaise made Rebecca hot and a little tired. She was glad to sit out the dance after it with the prince, who amused and shocked her with tales of the Imperial Court in the reign of Tsar Pavel Petrovich.
Among other instances of insanity, he told her, the Tsar had been obsessed with uniforms, down to such details as the cut of a collar and the number of buttons.
“Is that why almost all the Russian gentlemen are wearing uniforms?” she asked.
“No, it was Pyotr Veliki—Peter the Great—who did that, as means of controlling nobility. Not only military, but every rank of our civil service has its own. You see my revered papa over there beside my mother? That is uniform of highest rank, and stars he is wearing are especial honours.”
Prince Nikolai sounded proud of his father’s elaborate coat with its flashing diamonds and vast quantity of gold braid. Rebecca murmured admiringly, but privately thought the plain elegance of the English gentlemen’s black and white much to be preferred. John in particular looked splendid in his evening dress.
Her next dance was with Sebastian Crane. At first the figures of the quadrille gave them no leisure for conversation, until it was their turn to stand and watch the other couples in their set.
“Your cousin’s up to every rig and row,” said Mr. Crane admiring.
“My cousin?”
“Danville.” He brushed aside her attempt to explain that John was not really her cousin. “Comes in to the embassy at noon, stays half an hour, an hour at most, then off he goes to play with the natives. Wish I knew how he gets away with it, even if his father is a duke.”
“He’s not really a diplomat,” she offered hesitantly.
“I’ll say he’s not! Cathcart keeps our noses pretty much to the grindstone, though I will say this for the old boy, he puts on a good show. What do you think of the decorations?” He waved his hand in a comprehensive gesture.
Amid the general glitter, noise and movement, Rebecca had not even noticed the decorations. She was too concerned about what she had heard of John to take any interest in them now, but a certain anxiety in the young man’s tone warned her that she must make some comment.
From the centre of the ceiling hung what looked like a flying worm made of green silk. Rearing over it was a strange four-legged brown creature somewhat resembling a bear, with a suit of armour balanced on its back. Rebecca glanced around the room. The walls were hung with banners, a red cross on a white ground. It dawned on her that it was the twenty-third of April, St George’s Day, and doubtless the ball was in honour of the patron saint of England.
Before she could think of something complimentary to say, he went on, “I was in charge of it, you know. Had the deuce of a time making that armour stick together, and I’m afraid the horse isn’t quite right.”
“I think it’s a very clever idea, and the dragon is splendid,” Rebecca reassured him.
He beamed in gratitude as they reentered the pattern of the dance.
Her effort was repaid. Mr. Crane not only
put his name down for an écossaise, he subsequently brought several gentleman of various nationalities to be introduced to her. Since John and Teresa were also determined to provide her with partners, she was soon engaged for every dance.
Faces and names merged in her mind. When supper was announced at one o’clock in the morning, she was relieved to see John’s scrawl on her card, not another stranger’s. Then she remembered what Mr. Crane had told her, and worry began to gnaw at her again.
John came to fetch her. “What’s wrong, Rebecca?” he asked. “Has some young puppy been annoying you?”
“No, everyone has been very kind.” She wanted to ask him about his position, about the way he spent his time, but he had very firmly turned the subject last time it arose. Perhaps he regretting ever having confided his doubts and ambitions. He seemed to have distanced himself from her and returned to a life little different from that he had led in London.
“You must not let anything spoil your first ball. Save your troubles for the morrow, or rather later today. Another glass of Champagne will help.”
He seated her at a small table and brought her a selection of delicacies from the buffet, then set himself to cheer her up. She found him irresistible. Admittedly she did not try very hard to resist. He soon had her laughing at his diplomatic efforts to prevent the wife of the French ambassador from coming face to face with the wife of the Russian Foreign Minister.
“It seems madame once made some comment about Russian fashions which was taken as a personal affront. It’s a wonder their husbands did not call each other out.”
“One of my partners—I cannot remember his name, but he was Russian—would talk of nothing but duels and insults and avenging his honour.”
“They seem to be quick to take affront. I step carefully, I assure you. I have had enough of duels.”
“He boasted of having fought a dozen, but perhaps it was nothing but talk. Russians seem to love display.” She confided her distaste for the gaudy uniforms.
“None of them can hold a candle to our own Prince Regent’s taste in dress,” he assured her. “George IV, I mean. Of course, Prinny is one of a kind, and he does not attempt to force the rest of us into his mould.”
“It all seems so...wasteful, so frivolous.”
He looked at her, his dark eyes serious. “Frivolity is no bad thing, you know, in moderation. Perhaps I have had too much in my life, but you have had too little. Enjoy yourself, Rebecca, while you have the chance.”
She frowned. There was a tantalising hint of a hidden meaning behind his words. Before she could begin to puzzle it out, her next partner came up and addressed John in Russian, begging his pardon for interrupting their tête-a-tête.
John looked blank. Rebecca knew he was perfectly capable of understanding the simple words. Why was he pretending not to?
The Russian apologized in French and repeated his explanation of his interruption. John stumbled through a response in the same language, not only his pronunciation but his grammar atrocious.
As Rebecca went off on her partner’s arm, she glanced back and saw John’s self-satisfied expression. She remembered how pleased Andrew had been at his inability to speak Russian. She had all the clues, she thought, but there was no time to put them together before she was whirled into the dance.
Chapter 10
John was not the only member of the embassy staff to put in a late appearance on the day after the ball. In fact, being more accustomed to going to bed at dawn, he arrived before Andrew and was waiting in his office, with his heels on the desk, when his superior turned up.
“Fedorenko has the day off,” said Andrew, closing the door. “We can talk.”
“How is it that your desk is still as empty as the day we arrived?” John enquired, yielding his place.
“The kind of papers I deal with are mostly kept in a locked safe. Besides, a great part of my usefulness to the Diplomatic Corps is my ability to remember details without writing them down.”
“I can see that would come in handy in our business. I may have something of a talent that way myself, for I can always recall which cards have been played, and by whom. I’ve not yet heard anything worth remembering, though.”
“You will. You have other worthwhile talents, too. Cathcart was impressed with the way you handled that impossible Frenchwoman.”
John was pleased, but he grumbled, “That’s all very well, but I nearly came to grief last night. I was with Rebecca when someone addressed me in Russian. She knew very well that I ought to be able to understand.”
“Did she comment?”
“No, she just looked surprised and puzzled, and I don’t suppose anyone noticed, or guessed why.”
“Perhaps you had best avoid her company.”
“No! That I will not. And I cannot avoid Teresa, who is equally likely to give me away.”
“She is not! Teresa is equal to anything.”
“So is Rebecca. But that is beside the point. There seems to be a general impression that they are both cousins of mine, so I cannot avoid either without causing talk. I think I should explain the situation to Rebecca.” John did not mention his unhappiness that she should think him sunk once more into a life of dissipation.
Andrew frowned. “I cannot like it. The slightest hint that you are not the scapegrace you appear to be, and your usefulness will be at an end.”
“Your opinion of Rebecca seems to be as low as your opinion of me. She will never betray me deliberately, and she is more likely to do so inadvertently if she does not know the truth. The same applies to Teresa, of course.”
“Very well.” Having made up his mind, Andrew was decisive. “I shall tell Teresa, and you may tell Rebecca. You must not think that I do not value Rebecca. She has many excellent qualities, or I should not trust my daughter to her, but she has not Teresa’s force of character.”
“If you knew what her life has been like, you would understand and appreciate her courage,” said John softly, and took his leave.
* * * *
He went straight to the small house the Graylins had hired. A Russian servant admitted him and showed him into the drawing room, which was crowded with visitors of both sexes. John remembered how quickly Teresa had gathered about her a circle of friends after she arrived in London knowing no one. The years had only added to her poise and charm, without detracting one whit from her vivid loveliness. Now gentlemen and ladies alike clustered about her, laughing and talking in at least three languages.
Rebecca’s corner of the room was quieter. She sat with her back to the window, a sunbeam playing with the golden lights in her hair. Her face brightened when she saw John.
He smiled at her as he crossed the room, but the smile faded when he recognized her companions. Kolya, the womanizer—well, John could hardly take exception to that, and at least he had brought one of his sisters. The fourth member of the group, however, was Count Boris Ivanovich Solovyov, dandy and spy.
How the devil had the wretched man wormed his way into an acquaintance with Rebecca?
By the time he had bowed to the ladies and spoken to Kolya, John had recovered his poise. He greeted the count with easy courtesy, then turned back to Rebecca.
“I see you are engaged at present, Cousin, but I want to remind you that you promised to drive with me one of these days. May I call for you tomorrow afternoon?”
“Oh dear, Princess Volkova has invited us to drink tea tomorrow. Perhaps the next day?”
He remembered that Volodya had asked him to attend a military review that day, before a night of carousing. The hussar was a useful contact and he did not want to offend him. After some discussion, it was fixed that the earliest afternoon that both he and Rebecca were free was a week hence.
In no good humour, he exchanged a few words with Teresa then went up to the nursery to see Esperanza.
“Dusha moya!” Gayo greeted him. The parrot’s vocabulary was grown much more decorous since he had been living in the nursery.
If being addressed as “darling” by a bird was not enough to raise John’s spirits, the little girl’s delight at seeing him cheered him and he spent some time playing with her.
Annie was apparently occupied elsewhere, since a Russian maid was in charge. John knew that a Russian coachman had been hired to drive the ladies about. He wondered if all these servants, too, were in the pay of the Foreign Ministry. He must warn Rebecca to be careful of what she said even in the safest-seeming places.
* * * *
Rebecca had already come to the same conclusion. She longed to ask Teresa’s opinion of the curious incident at the ball, but if her suspicions were correct it was best to mention it to no one. Overheard by the wrong person, the information might endanger John.
On the other hand, if she was wrong it looked very much as if he was so disgruntled by his position that he had abandoned any effort to succeed and had returned to his former dissolute life. The possibility disturbed her.
She was too busy to worry about him overmuch. She took seriously her duties as governess, and had made a game of teaching Esperanza her ABCs and the Russian alphabet together. The child was a joy to be with, lively and loving and as intelligent as her parents. However, most of Rebecca’s time was spent with Teresa. Enlisted at first as a companion to her employer, she imperceptibly slipped into being her protégée.
She tried to protest. “Indeed I cannot accept any more clothes. You know a hundred people here now, and do not need me to go into company with you.”
“Fustian!” said Teresa briskly. “If I did not give my dresses to you I should have no excuse to buy new ones, and I do love shopping for pretty things. It is most fortunate that we are much of a height and that you are not too young to wear bright colours as I do. Besides, I am practising my skills as chaperone, so that when Chiquita makes her come out I shall know how to do it properly.”
