Bertrice Small

by Unconquered

  The two men stood and shook hands. “I cannot thank you enough, Lord Dunham. You have saved my child from a nightmare. God only knows how he would have treated her once they were back in St. Petersburg. I will arrange to have Belinda’s body removed from your house as quickly as possible.”

  “I think it would be wise to say that Lady de Winter had come to bid my wife and me farewell, for we are soon going home to America. That should explain her being in Devon Square this morning, and avoid any scandal.”

  The Duke of Northampton nodded his agreement. “Indeed, we must avoid the taint of scandal for the sake of the ladies.”

  Jared Dunham left Northampton House and directed Martin to the residence of Prince and Princess de Lieven. They were still sleeping, but Jared convinced their butler of the urgency of the matter, and shortly both de Lievens appeared in their morning room where Jared waited. Once more the lord of Wyndsong Manor told his story, and as he spoke Prince de Lieven’s face grew darker and darker, while his beautiful wife first grew pale and then began to look angry.

  When Jared had finished Prince de Lieven said furiously, “It is unthinkable that Cherkessky should be allowed to get away with this! I will, of course, send for him immediately and demand the whereabouts of Lady Swynford. As for what he has done to your wife, I understand your desire to keep the matter a private one. She has a magnificent and unconquerable spirit, Lord Dunham.” The Prince sighed. “This is not the first time Cherkessky has done something like this. Remember when we were in Berlin several years ago, Dariya?”

  “Yes, two girls disappeared from Baron Brandtholm’s estate. He denied it, of course, but they had been seen entering his carriage. He paid the baron an indemnity—goodwill, I believe he said—and still denied taking them. Then, in St. Petersburg three years ago, there was the matter of Princess Tumanova’s governess. She was the love child of the Duc de Longchamps, you know. I cannot help but wonder what happened to her.”

  “She died on the Tatar march from the Crimea to Istanbul,” said Jared, not distressing the princess further by telling her how Mignon had died.

  “How awful,” exclaimed Dariya de Lieven, “and poor, poor Miranda! How very brave she has been through it all.”

  “Enough, darling,” said Prince de Lieven. “Lord Dunham is aware of his wife’s bravery. Our task now is to find young Lady Swynford before she can come to any harm. By now they have realized their error. We must stop this thing before it goes any further.”

  The Russian ambassador reached for the embroidered bellpull. He sent a message to Pultney’s Hotel. The de Lievens and Lord Dunham sat down to wait. They were rewarded in a shorter time than they had anticipated by Prince Alexei Cherkessky’s arrival.

  “De Lieven,” he said, entering the room, “you caught me just in time. I was on my way out.”

  Prince de Lieven looked coldly at Alexei Cherkessky. “I want the whereabouts of the woman you had kidnaped from the Prince Regent’s masquerade last night, Cherkessky, and I want them now.”

  It was only then Alexei Cherkessky spotted Jared Dunham. Looking directly at the American, he smiled, and said in answer to de Lieven, “My dear Prince, I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean.”

  A wicked smile appeared on Jared Dunham’s face. “You got the wrong woman, Cherkessky. My wife and her sister exchanged costumes. The woman your men snatched was not my wife, but her sister, Lady Swynford.”

  “I don’t believe you!” the prince said, oblivious to the de Lieven’s. This was now between himself and the arrogant Yankee.

  “Belinda de Winter came to me this morning to commiserate with me over my loss. You can imagine her shock when my wife came downstairs. I have already been to see the Duke of Northampton. He knows everything about you. There will be no engagement to Lady Georgeanne, Cherkessky. Prince and Princess de Lieven have also been told everything. I do not believe that the princess will allow you to be received socially in any decent house in England now, will you, Dariya?”

  “Most certainly not! Your conduct has been immoral and unforgivable!”

  “Lady Swynford’s whereabouts, Prince. What I say in my report to His Imperial Majesty, the Tzar, depends on you. You have little enough left as it is, Cherkessky. If you wish to be allowed to retain what you still own, you had best cooperate with us. I have the power to arrest you here and now, and return you to the Tzar’s justice.”

  “Do so,” came the cool reply. “You will still not have Lady Swynford back.”

  “How much?” inquired Jared Dunham coolly. “Your price, swine?”

  The prince smiled wolfishly. “A duel, Lord Dunham. To the death. Pistols. If I win, I get your wife. If you win, you get Lady Swynford and I will get out of your lives forever. I will write down the exact whereabouts of Lady Swynford and place the paper in my pocket. It will be there for you if you win. If I win I will return Lady Swynford only in exchange for Lady Dunham.”

  Princess de Lieven turned to her husband. “Kristofor Andreivich! You cannot let him do such a thing!” she cried.

  “I trust,” said Jared, “that I have your word as a gentleman, Cherkessky, and that you will deal honestly.”

  “You American upstart!” snapped Alexei Cherkessky. “Do you dare instruct me on manners? My family goes back to the foundation of Russia. My ancestors were princes while yours were tillers of soil! Peasants! My word is good!”

  “Done, then,” replied Lord Dunham. “Since you have chosen weapons, I choose time and place. It is here and now.” He turned to Prince de Lieven. “I trust, sir, that you can supply the weapons.”

  “Lord Dunham! Jared!” pleaded Dariya de Lieven. “You cannot endanger Miranda like this! Not after all she’s been through.”

  “I am not endangering my wife, Dariya.”

  “You have agreed to turn her over to Prince Cherkessky if you lose!”

  “I do not intend losing, Dariya,” Jared replied coolly.

  “Arrogant Yankee!” snarled Cherkessky. “I am a champion of the pistol.”

  “You are also a fool, Prince, to believe that you can kill me.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because my reason for winning is more powerful than yours. It is love, and love can overcome the blackest evil. Look at my wife if you desire an example of the power of love. No matter what you did to her you could not conquer her spirit. She escaped you, Cherkessky, and fought her way home to me and to our child. Is your desire to win over me that strong? I think not. And if not, then you will lose.”

  Alexei Cherkessky looked shaken. He didn’t like all this talk of his dying. “Let’s get on with it!” he snapped. “I have written Lady Swynford’s whereabouts on this paper, and now I place it, so, in my jacket pocket. I now put the jacket on the settee for Princess de Lieven to guard.”

  Prince de Lieven removed a pistol case from a cabinet drawer. Opening it, he showed it to the two combatants, who both nodded, satisfied. The pistols were primed and loaded, and de Lieven handed the weapons to the two combatants. “You will walk ten paces,” he said. “Turn at my command, and commence firing. This is a duel to the death.”

  The two gentlemen stood back to back.

  “Cock your weapons,” came the command, and two clicks followed.

  “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine …”

  Alexei Cherkessky whirled and aimed at Jared Dunham’s back. A shot rang out.

  Jared Dunham turned slowly, gazing with surprise as Prince Cherkessky fell to the floor, dead. The Russian ambassador stared openmouthed as his wife lowered her small, still smoking pistol to her side.

  “He broke his word,” Dariya de Lieven said. “I knew he would. The Cherkesskys haven’t told the truth in two hundred years.”

  “I owe you my life, Dariya.”

  “No, it was we who owed you, Jared. How can we ever make up to you and to Miranda what was done to her at the hands of one of our own people? Not all Russians are barbarians, Jared. Please believe that.” She reached in
to the dead man’s jacket and pulled forth the folded paper. “Let us hope he was confident enough to really write down the whereabouts of poor Lady Swynford,” she said. She smiled. “Lady Swynford can be found at Green Lodge. It is the first house outside the village of Erith as you go toward Gravesend.”

  “I will come with you,” said Kristofor de Lieven. “The prince may have the house guarded by his Russian servants, and my authority will open all doors.”

  At that moment they heard a commotion outside the morning-room door. It burst open to admit Miranda and a disgruntled butler.

  “She insisted, Your Highness,” the butler apologized.

  “It is all right, Colby. This is Lady Dunham.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.” Colby looked at the body of Alexei Cherkessky. “Shall I have that removed, Your Highness?”

  “Yes. Arrange to have it buried in the parish churchyard.”

  “Very good, Your Highness.” Colby withdrew, imperturbable as always.

  “You dueled with him?” Miranda’s eyes were angry. “You could have been killed!”

  “I had no intention of being killed,” was the cool reply.

  “Well, at least you killed him before he could injure you.”

  “Dariya killed him.”

  “What?”

  “He cheated. He turned on the count of nine. He was going to shoot me in the back. Dariya had her pistol and shot him. She has a wickedly keen eye, wildcat. Dariya, how is it you had that little weapon of yours available?”

  Dariya de Lieven smiled. “When Colby woke us, I slipped it into my dressing-gown pocket. I had a feeling that trouble was brewing. It was simply a hunch, and I followed it. I always follow my hunches.”

  “And a damned good thing for you, Jared Dunham!” Miranda was furious. “What would have happened to us if you’d been killed, I would like to know!”

  Dariya de Lieven began to giggle, her nerves beginning to register the strain. “If Jared had been killed you would have been turned over to Prince Cherkessky.”

  “What?!”

  “Jared agreed on the duel. If he won he was to get Amanda back. If he lost, you were Cherkessky’s prize.”

  “Do I mean that little to you, milord?” Miranda demanded in a dangerous voice.

  “I had to offer him something worth having, wildcat,” he said softly. “Are you not the greatest prize of all?” He bent and kissed her lips.

  Prince de Lieven smiled to himself. What a rogue that daring Yankee was. And he handled his woman like a Frenchman, too. Admirable!

  Miranda began to laugh. “You cannot wheedle me, milord,” she said.

  “No?” he chuckled.

  “Well, perhaps a little. But dammit, don’t ever do an idiot thing like that again!” She paused a moment, and then said, “In the midst of this farce, did anyone bother to find out from Cherkessky just what he has done with my sister?”

  “She’s being held in a house just outside the village of Erith. It’s down the river toward the sea,” Jared replied. “Prince de Lieven and I were on our way to get her when you arrived.”

  “I’m coming with you,” she said.

  “We can travel faster alone on horseback.”

  “And how do you intend to transport Amanda? You know how wretchedly she rides.”

  “Of course,” said Dariya. “You must use one of our coaches. It really is the only sensible way, Kristofor Andreivich. It will reassure poor Lady Swynford to have the company of her sister. The poor woman must be absolutely terrified.”

  It would have done Amanda’s spirits good to know that as the sun crept toward noon, her deliverance was at hand. Prince de Lieven’s comfortable traveling coach rumbled along a secondary road that led to the village of Erith. Inside were the prince and Jared and Miranda Dunham. They had not stopped to get Adrian. There was no time.

  Around them was a beautiful spring day. They passed clumps of yellow and white daffodils. The meadows were newly green. Silently watching, Miranda was painfully aware of Lucas. Lucas was alive. She was glad he had escaped. Yet his being here presented a terrible problem. How would Jared react to the man who had taken his wife? His foolhardy behavior in dueling with Prince Cherkessky was frightening. She wished Lucas no harm, but she dreaded the meeting between him and Jared.

  As if reading her thoughts, Jared took her hand in his. “All we want to do is free Amanda. And young Kit Edmund, if he’s there,” he said.

  She smiled weakly. He seemed so cool, but what would happen when he stood face to face with the handsome Greek? Would he still love her after today? Never apologize! She started, and looked at her fellow passengers. They were absorbed by their own thoughts. Hadn’t they heard it? She certainly had! She had clearly heard Mirza Khan’s deep voice sternly admonishing her, and now she felt her courage returning. She sent him a silent thanks.

  A small signpost announced Erith was one mile away, and soon they were driving through the village, carefully looking for the house the prince had rented. “There!” said Prince de Lieven, pointing to a high stone wall. There was a shabby wooden plaque on it that read: GREEN LODGE. He leaned out of the coach window and instructed his driver. A groom jumped down from the box and, finding the gates unlocked, opened them wide for the carriage. They passed through and up the drive.

  The house, a tumble-down brick affair dating back to Elizabethan times, appeared empty. Many of its diamond-paned windows were heavily overgrown with dark green ivy. The grounds were unkempt and overgrown with weeds.

  Lucas heard the carriage as it came up the drive. At last, he thought, relieved, the prince has come. He was uncomfortable in this strange land, although in his few months in England he had gained a command of the language. Of course, he had learned a little English from Miranda. Miranda! How he wanted her back!

  He ran to the door. The prince must be told of the error at once. The lady was not Miranda. He flung open the front door and jumped back, startled. Facing him was not Alexei Cherkessky, but an elegant gentleman who spoke to him in flawless Russian. “I speak English,” Lucas said, not sure of the stranger’s dialect. The gentleman nodded. “I am Kristofor Andreivich, Prince de Lieven. I am the ambassador to England from his Imperial Majesty, the Tzar. You are the serf Lucas?”

  “Yes, Highness.”

  “Your master is dead, Lucas. I have only come for Lady Amanda Swynford and young Lord Edmund. I trust they are both unharmed.”

  “Yes, Highness,” Lucas answered slowly. Was this man telling the truth? Suddenly the door of Prince de Lieven’s coach opened and a woman descended. It was she! It was Miranda!

  “Little bird,” he whispered, “you have returned to me!” He brushed past the prince and swept her into his arms, his great leonine head dipping to seek her lips.

  Miranda twisted away from him. “Lucas! I have come for my sister. Where is Amanda?”

  “No,” he said. “You have returned to me. You love me. We were meant to be together. The prince gave you to me?”

  “Oh, Lucas,” Miranda said quietly, her heart going out to this beautiful, childlike man, “the prince did not have the right to give me to you. You must understand. You are free now, Lucas! With Prince Cherkessky dead you are free, as I am free! I am going home to America with my husband and my son, and you must make a life for yourself.”

  “But I do not know how to do anything but be a slave. If I am not a slave, then what am I?”

  “You are a man, Lucas!”

  Sadly he looked at her, and shook his head. Then Lucas turned to Prince de Lieven. “Lady Amanda is in the house. The young man also. I will take you to them, Your Highness,” and without another word to Miranda he turned and went back into the house.

  Miranda began to weep. He had not really understood. What was to become of him? He had spent most of his life being told what to do. He did not know how to be a man. “I hope you are in Hell, Alexei Cherkessky!” she cried. “How many lives have you ruined? Sasha! All those slaves! Lucas! Mignon! Me! If there really is a God in
Heaven, you are burning in Hell, and I curse you!”

  “Miranda, my dearest love,” murmured Jared Dunham. “Don’t, my darling. It is finally over. There is nothing more to fear, wildcat. I understand everything now. I do!”

  “Miranda!” Amanda Swynford flew from the house.

  The two sisters embraced, just as Prince de Lieven emerged. Kit Edmund, a bad bruise on his forehead, his harlequin costume much the worse for wear, was leaning on the prince’s arm. In an exhausted voice he said, “Will someone please tell me what the hell this is all about? Prinny’s parties are certainly becoming dangerous. I am safer at sea in a damned hurricane, than in the gardens at Carleton House!”

  They laughed. They could not help it, and as their mirth grew it brought relief. “It’s a very long story, Kit, but we’ll try to explain,” promised Miranda.

  “I certainly hope so,” replied the young Marquis of Wye in an aggrieved tone.

  Prince de Lieven’s coachman and two grooms had entered the house, and now they returned hustling out two protesting men. “These two did the kidnaping for Cherkessky,” said Prince de Lieven. “I wonder what to do with them?”

  “Let them go,” said Jared. “Cherkessky’s dead, and my wife and I would like this matter to remain private.”

  “It seems a shame just to let them go,” murmured Kristofor de Lieven. “Now in Russia, we would flay them alive.” The two culprits paled. “If I should ever see either of you in London,” began the Russian slowly and menacingly, but the two were already running down the drive.

  Suddenly Miranda said sharply, “Lucas! Where is Lucas?”

  “He was in the house,” replied the prince.

  At that moment Amanda cried out, pointing to the river at the end of the lawn. “Look!”

  They turned and looked toward the river. The great blond man was swimming downstream against the incoming tide. Riveted, they watched, horrified, as he tired and finally sank beneath the waves. His head bobbed to the surface once and then he disappeared.

  “Oh, the poor creature,” whispered Amanda. “The poor, poor creature!”