Rose sympathized with Dimitry. It seemed he had a very sad childhood. Perhaps that was why he was so gruff and unfriendly. “Why does Sergi hate the tsar so much?”
Dimitry sighed. “He blames the tsar for his father’s death. Sergi refuses to accept his father was an evil man. As we matured, that resentment grew until my father finally sent him away to live with a distant cousin when Sergi was thirteen. Then last fall, my father passed away, and not long afterward the old tsar followed him. It was decided years earlier that Peter would be the next in succession for the throne. We have since learned that Sergi killed Peter’s younger brother, Nicoli, and took his ship to England. He wanted your country to help to take over Russia, but you already know that.”
Rose studied him. Pain and loneliness lingered in his icy blue eyes. “It must have been so hard for you growing up without a close and loving family.”
The unveiled emotions she thought she detected in his gaze disappeared, replaced by anger so raw it hurt her to see it. “Do not pity me, princess. Pity your friend, Sergi, because I promise when I get through with him he will wish he had died in that fire too.”
“But—”
Dimitry glared at her and rose. “I warn you, I will not be like my lustful father in being seduced by a deceitful woman.” He turned and stalked to the palace. Rose watched the prince go with a mixture of anger and pity. How dare he think her a dishonorable woman! How could he think Sergi was any friend of hers? She told him she was trying to escape from the man. At the same time she couldn’t help but pity Dimitry. A picture formed in her mind of the sad little boy he must have been. She couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for him, without a mother’s loving arms to soothe away his hurts.
Squeezing her eyes shut she tried to recall her own childhood. A brief flash of a Yule log and many colorfully wrapped boxes, then, she was at a party where she stood in the embrace of a tall man. Finally, a vision of feeding apples to a bay horse crossed her foggy mind. The fleeting images were gone as quickly as they came, without her being able to explore the scenes. Her head ached and she rubbed at her temples to soothe it. Somehow she was more lost after the brief memories than she was before.
“Princess.”
She looked up as Dimitry strolled toward her, a small brown leather book in his hand. She sighed. Now what does he want? She really didn't feel like talking to him again.
“Here.” He stopped in front of her and held out the book. “I came to give you this before, but…” he paused and looked down at his feet. “I am sorry, I did not mean to...what I mean is I...well...I just thought you might like something to read.”
Taking the book from him she realized it was a peace offering of sorts. She looked at the cover. It was titled in English, Russia—A Guide to Flora and Fauna. She smiled despite the awkwardness of the situation. “Thank you.” Flipping through the pages she stopped to look at some of the drawings of native plants and animals it contained.
“Would you like to see some of my horses? Most of the best ones are at my other residence, but I do have some I have bred here, if you would care to see them.”
She looked up and smiled, shy in the presence on this new, softer Dimitry. “I would like that.”
Dimitry pushed her chair along the path to the garden without speaking until they reached the grand stable doors. She took the hand he held out to help her up, her fingers tingling at the contact. He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm as he escorted her down the immaculate aisle. Bit by bit he seemed to lose some of his reservations as he pointed out each horse, describing its parentage and personality quirks.
A warm pleasant calm settled over her. Somehow discussing horses was right, like something she knew and was familiar with. She relaxed and was soon drawn into a discussion on breeding programs and breed traits, of which she was quite knowledgeable judging by Dimitry’s surprised expression and praise of her understanding. She followed him into the stable office. He unrolled some pedigree documents and she bent over the desk next to him to study them. His breath tickled the side of her neck as he explained the various notations on the sheets. Engrossed in the topic he didn’t notice when she studied him. She focused on his lips as they formed each word, resisting the urge to reach out and touch them with her fingertips. What would those lips feel like against her own she wondered? The words he spoke were meaningless and forgotten as their eyes met. His voice trailed off and his eyes darkened. His lips parted as if to speak.
“Dimitry?” Victor’s voice echoed down the aisle way.
He blinked and looked away. “In here.”
Rose’s face heated and she stared down at the papers on the desk.
Victor poked his head around the corner of the office door. “I need you to look over those supply requests when you have a minute.”
Dimitry re-rolled his papers and placed them back in the desk drawer without looking at her. “I will look at them just as soon as I escort the princess back to her room.”
Victor went on ahead and Dimitry escorted Rose back to the push chair. Once she was seated he rolled her back up the path to the veranda and carried her up to her room. The housekeeper met them in the hallway and opened the door to the bedchamber.
“I see a little fresh air did you good,” she commented after Dimitry excused himself and sauntered off down the hall humming.
Rose changed the topic. “I would like to write down some of the things I am remembering. The doctor said it might help my memory return quicker.”
Anya nodded. “Of course, I will go get you some materials.”
“No. I have taken up more than enough of your time. If it is all right, I can fetch them myself if you just tell me where to locate them,” Rose insisted. “I have not had a chance to see much of the palace, and I would love to see more. The little bit I have seen is so beautiful.” Anya gave her directions to Dimitry’s study and told her she would find all the writing materials she needed in the top drawer of the desk.
Rose wandered down the halls looking at the various paintings hanging on the walls. She made her way down the main stairs and took the passage to the left as the housekeeper had instructed counting the doors until she came to the fourth one.
Victor’s voice carried through the closed door. “You two certainly looked cozy when I saw you in the stables earlier.”
Dimitry snorted. “So what, I was showing her the horses.”
“Do you still think she is a spy?”
“I cannot prove she is not.”
“Really Dimitry, can you honestly imagine her sneaking around snooping through your drawers? I bet she would not know a military secret if it was written in bold red letters at the top of the page.”
Rose turned to go. She certainly didn't need to hear any more of the conversation.
“You never know,” Dimitry replied. The door to the study swung open. Dimitry looked shocked to see her at first. He cleared his throat and scowled at her. “What are you doing here?”
Her tongue refused to cooperate for a moment. “I—I was just... umm...looking for some paper.”
He lifted one eyebrow. “Paper?”
“And ink.” She paused, adding, “And, umm, a quill.”
“Is there anything else?” His lips pressed into a thin line briefly.
“No.” Rose looked down at the carpet.
“Do you need to send a message to someone?”
“I do not think so. I just thought…” Rose trailed off as Dimitry turned around and walked back into the library, closing the door and leaving her standing on the threshold. Thinking she was dismissed, she turned and headed back down the hallway in the direction she had come.
“You are forgetting something.”
She stopped and turned around. Dimitry approached holding out the supplies she requested. Annoyed he had the power to make her feel guilty when she had done nothing wrong, she took the offered materials and stalked off.
Victor's voice carried down the hall. “Really Dimitry, must you
treat the poor girl like a criminal?”
She didn’t hear Dimitry’s reply because one of them chose that moment to shut the door.
Chapter Ten
Rose was finishing her list of recollections when there was a knock on her door. “Come in.”
Dimitry entered the room. “I thought once you finished your letter, I could see it gets on an England bound vessel.”
“Why?” Rose asked, still angry over the overheard conversation. “So you can read it first in case I am a spy?”
He frowned at her before a shadow of guilt passed across his face. “Of course not, I just wanted to be helpful.”
She glared at him. “Thank you, but I do not need your help!”
“Oh, now that is a hay penny jest, as you English say, because without my help you would be lying dead at the bottom of that hill right now,” Dimitry spat back.
“The term is halfpenny. Of all the gall, I am supposed to be thankful?” Arms akimbo she scowled at him. “You are the one who ran into my horse in the first place.”
He dropped his gaze. “Well, even if you made it down the hill in one piece, Sergi would have caught up with you eventually.”
Rose fumed. “What difference should it make to me if I am his prisoner or yours?”
Anger glittered in his eyes. “You are not my prisoner.”
“You could have fooled me.” Rose put a hand to her head and exhaled as it began to throb.
Dimitry slumped into the chair across from her and sighed. “I did not come up here to fight with you.”
“Oh really.” She crossed her arms and glared at him. “Why did you come up here then?”
Dimitry crossed his arms as if in imitation, and glared back at her. “I came to ask you if you would care to go to the ballet with me this evening.”
Stunned she stared at him. “Oh.”
He ran his hand through his hair. “I have no notion why, but every time I am around you I display an appalling lack of manners.”
Rose didn’t know what to say, so she remained silent and stared into the fire.
“So, will you go with me? That is unless of course you are not well enough…”
Rose plucked at an imaginary piece of lint on her skirt. “I would like that.”
“Good.”
There was silence for a moment. She stole a peek at him from the corner of her eye. It appeared he was every bit as uncomfortable as she, twiddling his thumbs and staring around the room.
He cleared his throat and stood. “I took the liberty of picking you up a dress for the event. It seems one of the more fashionable ladies commissioned a new theater dress to wear and then left on an impromptu tour of Italy. I hope it fits. If not, I am sure Anya can take it in for you.”
She gave him a tentative smile. “I am sure it will be fine, thank you.”
He nodded. “Good. I will be waiting for you downstairs at eight o’clock.” He bowed and hurried out as if he was afraid she would change her mind.
Rose smiled to herself and slid her forgotten memo into her dress pocket. The ballet? He acted as if she was a leper one moment and a friend the next.
Anya bustled in her eyes dancing with excitement. “Look what just arrived for you!” She held up a large flat box.
Rose stood and crossed to the bed where the housekeeper deposited the package. She lifted off the lid and looked inside. Nestled amongst the tissue paper was a dress of royal blue velvet. Lifting it carefully out of the box she held it up in front of her and turned to look in the mirror. The subtle V shaped neckline was studded with tiny glittering diamonds. Puffed sleeves gave way at the elbows to sheer strips of pale blue fabric that floated down past the wrists. The bust of the dress tapered into a point at the waist to join a full, but simple skirt trimmed with more tiny diamonds.
“Oh!” Rose murmured. “It is beautiful.”
“Look.” Anya held up a pair of matching blue slippers also with tiny diamonds sewn onto the toes. “There are undergarments too. We must hurry if you are to be ready on time.”
Dinah was summoned, and the two servants helped Rose bathe. Once she was dried and corseted, she sat down wrapped in a morning robe at the dressing table. The three women frowned at her reflection in the mirror as Anya and Dinah fussed with her hair.
“Let’s start by taking off that bandage,” Anya decided. She unwound the white dressing revealing the long raw cut underneath.
“Maybe I should not go to the ballet tonight.” Rose sighed, looking at the ugly scab. The housekeeper pulled a few wisps of hair down along Rose’s hairline to hide it. “I think if we cut the hair shorter in the front, maybe we can pulled it forward and curl it around your face.” She opened the dressing table drawer and rummaged around inside. “I think there is a pretty ribbon in here that matches the sleeves to the dress. We can wind it along just under the curls to cover up the rest of the cut.” With a triumphant grin she held up a blue ribbon.
Rose gave her a doubtful look.
Anya patted her shoulder. “It will be dark in the private box so no one will be able to see you well anyway.” She picked up the scissors, made the necessary cuts and carefully curled the ends with the tongs. Once she was finished and had the ribbon wound through the hair, she stood back to admire her handiwork. “There. See? One can hardly see the cut now.”
“You are wonderful Anya.” Rose gave the housekeeper a grateful hug and went to put on her dress.
The housekeeper blushed, clearly affected by the unexpected hug. “Nonsense, I’ll leave Dinah to help you finish dressing.” She gathered up the discarded clothing from the floor and hurried from the room.
At exactly eight o’clock, Rose descended the curved staircase one step at a time, afraid her carefully arranged hair would fall apart. Her hands shook when she spied Dimitry at the bottom talking to Victor. When she was half a dozen steps from them Victor caught sight of her over Dimitry’s head and smiled. Dimitry turned. She hesitated as his eyes darkened. He gave her an approving smile and she held his gaze as she took the last few steps.
“You take our breath away with your beauty.” Victor bowed low and kissed her hand. His eyes twinkled when he straightened. “Does she not, Dimitry?”
Rose’s face warmed at the compliment.
Dimitry cleared his throat and held out a white fur cloak. “Here, put this on.”
A little disappointed, she turned and allowed him to slip the warm cloak over her shoulders. When he was done she pivoted and fumbled with the ties on the cloak to avoid his gaze. What did she care if he didn't think her attractive? She was, after all, supposedly engaged to another man; a man she could not even remember, but surely must love, or at the very least feel some kind of affection.
“Well, I had better get going.” Victor winked at her. “I have a lovely evening planned with a stack of unread reports.”
Rose giggled as he bowed and held the door open for them. Dimitry offered her his arm and escorted her to the waiting coach-and-four. Once seated inside they rode the short distance to the theater in awkward silence. Rose began to doubt her decision to attend the ballet. Maybe she should have stayed behind at the palace. It was too soon to go out after her accident. She glanced up at Dimitry who was staring out the window. He certainly did not look like he wanted to be here. She opened her mouth to say she did not feel well and suggest they return to the place instead, when they pulled up in front of the theater.
The large three-story building was flanked by giant marble pillars. Each one connected to fanciful stone arches that flowed into the domed roof. Lanterns glowed all along the steps up to the massive double doors. An attendant rushed forward to open the carriage door and place a small step stool to aid in their descent from the carriage.
Dimitry stepped from the carriage and held out his hand to her. When she hesitated he whispered, “There is not another woman here tonight who wouldn't envy your beauty.” Rose’s heart leaped. With her little hand cradled securely in his larger one she stepped down from the carriag
e. Taking his offered arm she allowed him to lead her up the steps into the theater.
He leaned his head close to her, his breath tickling her ear. “Everyone is already seated. I thought we would arrive ‘fashionably’ late to avoid all the attention. Anya told me you were feeling a little self-conscious about your head wound.” He smiled down at her as she clung to his arm.
She glanced at him, pleasantly surprised by his thoughtfulness. “Thank you, oh dear, I have no idea how to address you.”
“Please call me Dimitry. I am a prince in title only. In Russia there are many princes, most of us have little claim to royalty beyond a few distant lines.” He smiled, and for the first time since she met him, it reflected in his eyes.
A couple of well-dressed nobles spoke to Dimitry as they crossed the almost deserted foyer and cast curious glances her way. Dimitry returned their greetings and continued on up a long staircase. When they reached the third and final level, they walked down a large balcony flanked on one side by red velvet draped arches. Halfway down the corridor he paused as an attendant parted the drapes in between one set of arches, exposing a dark, cozy alcove. Inside were two comfortable looking chairs with a small table in between overlooking the railing of the balcony. Dimitry ushered her inside, took her cloak and handed it to the man; then seated her at the table as the drapes were dropped back in place.
Looking over the railing she realized they were on a small private balcony high above, and directly across from the stage. She could see the floor of the theater crowded with lesser nobles waiting for the performance to begin. The orchestra pit was set in front and below the stage itself. The instruments warming up were barely detectable over the noise of the crowd. Leaning out over the railing she could see three levels of private boxes, most filled with members of the aristocracy.
To Love a Horseguard Page 7
