From Governess to Countess (Matches Made in Scandal)

by Marguerite Kaye

  She caught his hand as he made to strike himself again. ‘I’m so sorry I cannot be more definitive.’

  ‘No.’ He unfurled his fist to clasp her fingers. ‘Don’t apologise. You have made more progress than I have.’

  ‘For what it is worth, I do think you are right. There is something that does not add up.’

  His expression softened. ‘That is good to hear. Don’t worry, I’ve no intentions of giving up just yet. I have come too far to do that.’

  ‘As indeed have I!’ She had given up once. She had stopped believing in herself once. Never again. ‘I have come all the way from England, and I’ve no intention of going back there until I have completed the task you brought me here to do.’

  ‘I believe I’ve told you before, but it bears repeating. I am very glad that you are here.’ Aleksei’s smile was warm. He kissed her fingertips. ‘We will regroup and talk later, when I am clean and rested. How have you been coping with the children? I presume they are behaving themselves?’

  It was a perfunctory question. She could answer in kind, but what would satisfy Aleksei’s conscience would not appease her own. ‘I am finding them difficult,’ Allison said, choosing her words with care. ‘They are very reserved, extremely reluctant to warm to me.’

  ‘What does it matter whether they like you or not? It’s not as if you are to be any sort of permanent fixture in their lives.’

  Which was perfectly true, but his coolness irked her. ‘The tragedy is that the only permanent fixture in their life at present is that blasted dog,’ Allison retorted. ‘They need something—someone—to replace their parents.’

  ‘Their blasted governess, you mean.’

  ‘No, I don’t! I mean their mother and father, Aleksei, both of whom, from what the servants have told me, were loving and attentive parents, and whose presence in those children’s lives must be very much missed.’

  ‘You seem to have been gathering a great deal of information from the servants.’

  The second time this morning she’d had the opportunity to confess, but she did not want to divert the conversation from her charges. ‘And from the children too,’ Allison said, neatly avoiding the issue. ‘Elizaveta and Michael were not the kind of parents who saw their children once a day in the drawing room after dinner. They read stories to them, sat through some of their lessons, played games with them.’

  ‘Really?’ Aleksei looked sceptical. ‘If that is the case, Michael took a very different approach to rearing his offspring from our parents.’ He shaded his eyes with his hand to block the dazzle of late sunshine, and watched the three children playing a game of fetch which involved both Ortipo and Nikki chasing a large stick. ‘They don’t seem noticeably unhappy.’

  ‘Children are very resilient creatures, but I know that deep down they are grieving. Perhaps it’s for the best, after all, that they continue to resent me.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Because then they won’t mind when I leave. They have already lost the three people they care most about, so it is better that they don’t come to care for me.’ Or you, for that matter, Allison thought sadly, but did not say.

  Aleksei frowned over at his wards, now gathered around the edge of a large fountain, attempting to cast pebbles into the open mouth of a large stone fish from which water spouted. ‘Michael and I used to play that game. I always won, much to his chagrin.’

  ‘At least those three have each other.’

  ‘You think I don’t care for them, but you’re wrong. I care enough to know that I’d be a terrible guardian. Even if I wanted to weigh myself down with the burden of those three, it would be wrong of me. As you quite rightly implied, what they need is stability, a mother to rear them and a father to look after their interests.’

  ‘Is your cousin Felix married, then?’

  ‘No. I’ve never thought about it before, I wonder—but it doesn’t matter. I’m sure, when—if—I clear his name and hand him custody of Michael’s children, he’ll find a suitable wife.’

  ‘You could do that.’

  ‘Take a wife, simply in order to provide Michael’s children with a mother?’ he exclaimed, looking appalled. ‘Even if I could persuade any female to wed me on such terms...’

  ‘Don’t be so modest, Aleksei, there would be a queue from here to Moscow willing to take you under any terms, as Nikki’s guardian.’

  ‘You are mocking me.’

  ‘Only a little. Are you really so set against marriage?’

  ‘I am married to the army, and even if I was not—I have no intentions of remaining in St Petersburg.’

  ‘Must the children remain here?’

  He shrugged irritably. ‘Michael would not contemplate them being raised anywhere else.’ In the distance, a bell rang and the children and dog began to stampede towards the house in eager search of their lunch.

  Which meant that Allison had an appointment elsewhere too. ‘I should go and...’

  ‘I’ll come with you. We’ll go through the garden-room door, it’s quicker.’ He checked the path to ensure that the children were out of sight, before sliding his arms around her waist. ‘My thoughts have not been wholly consumed by my search for the Orlova woman. Thinking about you has been a very pleasant distraction.’

  Her heart began to thump in her ribcage. How could she have found him intimidating? The way he looked at her now, it made her blood fizz with anticipation. She couldn’t doubt that he found her attractive. It was a heady feeling. ‘Really?’ Allison said, smiling teasingly, ‘I on the other hand have been far too busy to spend much time thinking about you.’

  He laughed. ‘So you admit to thinking about me some of the time?’ His hand slid up her arm, coming to rest on her shoulder. His thumb began to stroke circles on the sensitive skin at the back of her neck, under her hair. She shivered. She reached up to trace the white line of the scar on his brow, relishing the way he responded to her touch.

  ‘Allison.’ He spoke her name as a caress. ‘I do believe we have unfinished business.’

  ‘Aleksei, I do believe you are right.’

  He did not have to urge her to close the miniscule gap between them, she did that of her own accord. Their lips met, a tentative touch at first, as if they were worried that the three weeks would have dulled the attraction between them, but they need not have. Soft lips, rough stubble, and the tantalising touch of his tongue, and she melted swiftly into the heat of him. It was over too quickly. It left them both staring, breathing heavily.

  ‘Tonight, do you think?’ he asked.

  ‘Tonight,’ she agreed, without a second thought, allowing him to lead her towards the door of the garden room, momentarily forgetting what he was likely to find there.

  * * *

  A few moments later, Aleksei stopped short in front of the snaking line of servants queuing in the corridor outside the garden room. There seemed to be a full wardrobe of Derevenko livery represented, including an underfootman, a gardener, a scullery maid, two chambermaids and a stable hand, along with two individuals whose colours he did not recognise and a small, ragged urchin. All of them, including the strangers, flapped into a fluster of bows and curtsies, while the urchin simply gazed at him with wide-eyed wonder that made Aleksei want to laugh. ‘What the devil is going on here?’

  With one accord, every face turned to Allison. Whose face had turned a bright, mortified red. ‘It is my fault.’

  An inkling of understanding made him survey the gathering anew. Two bandages. One sling. Whatever was wrong with the others remained, probably most thankfully, obscured from view.

  ‘I can explain.’

  ‘I look forward to being enlightened.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Allison said, turning to her expectant patients, ‘but I am afraid I won’t be able to...’

  ‘No, wait here. Miss Galbraith will be with you shortly.’ Aleksei ushered her back into the garden room, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the door. ‘I’m waiting.’
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br />   ‘Aleksei, I want to assure you that I would never...’

  ‘Put anything before your obligations to me? I know that.’

  ‘I did not intend to keep my little dispensary from you. I would have told you later, if you had not insisted upon escorting me here—’ She broke off, grimacing. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘There truly is no need. I told you before I left that I trusted you, and I meant it. If you wish to utilise your skills for the benefit of Nikki’s servants—though I confess, there were some in the crowd who did not look as if they belonged to the palace?’

  ‘No.’ She looked ridiculously guilty. ‘They have no one else to turn to and if I did not treat them, they would simply go untreated. These people cannot afford to visit an apothecary, never mind consult a doctor, and in some cases they have been living with their ailments for so long, they have quite forgotten what it is like to be without pain. But I should have consulted you, at the very least.’

  ‘I wasn’t here to consult.’

  ‘No, but...’

  ‘Allison, I understand.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘I suspect you can’t help yourself.’

  ‘You’re right,’ she said, eyeing him with surprise. ‘I had forgotten how much I enjoy treating patients.’

  Which implied that she no longer did. When she was embarrassed, her cheeks flushed. When she was hiding something, colour stole up her throat, as it did now. He waited, giving her time to explain, but she so clearly didn’t want to. ‘Well then,’ Aleksei said, ‘tell me how this free service came about.’

  ‘It started with Natalya, Elizaveta’s maid,’ Allison said, looking relieved. ‘I thought she had been crying, her nose and eyes were so swollen, but it turns out she suffers dreadfully from hay fever, which is very easily treated with elderflower and marigold.’

  ‘I presume that Natalya sang your praises to the other servants?’

  ‘Only to your valet, who suffers from swelling of the joints in the fingers and toes. He recommended me to the housekeeper who is perpetually bilious. Then the chef came to me when he developed lockjaw from a cut from a meat knife—fortunately, you have wild garlic in the garden, since I have none in my herbal chest, and the chef himself procured the necessary mustard oil. Then, let me see, yes, Sergei...’

  ‘The head gardener who, I presume owed you a favour, hence your introduction to the Apothecary’s Garden?’

  ‘Yes,’ Allison admitted, with a sheepish smile. ‘He had fallen into a patch of stinging nettles, and his wife’s niece who works in the kitchen of the Vasiliev Palace came to me with a stomach complaint, and—well, it just snowballed from there. I come here at lunchtime when the children are with their nanny. There are not usually so many waiting, though some—the groom you saw—come every day for treatment. He suffers from stones, poor man, and my cure is likely to cause him some considerable pain when they pass. But you are not interested in—Aleksei, you truly are not angry?’

  ‘How could I possibly be? Aside from the good you are doing, the suffering you are alleviating, and the gap which I was not even aware needed filling, you obviously—simply listening to you talk, it’s very clear to me that you relish what you are doing.’

  Her eyes lit up. ‘I love it.’

  ‘I can see that you do.’ He could not resist kissing her, but forced himself to do so swiftly. ‘I will not keep you, you must be anxious to attend to them. I will see you later.’ Recalling the stack of post which had accumulated in his absence, and the latest list of questions from the over-zealous man of business, Aleksei rolled his eyes. ‘Much later. Meet me here, after dinner.’

  Another kiss would be a temptation too far. He opened the door, startling the waiting patients. ‘Now, who is first in line?’

  Chapter Six

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘I am taking you sightseeing.’

  Aleksei led her out into the garden. The night sky was clear, the air chilly as he led her along a path to the perimeter wall, producing a key which opened a wooden door set into it. To Allison’s surprise, they emerged on to the banks of the Moyka River. A large boathouse jutted out into the water. Aleksei produced a second key and, as she stepped warily into the gloomy interior, she could hear the gentle lapping of the waters against the wooden supports. She had no sense of the scale of the building itself until he lit a lamp, at which point she found her jaw dropping at this latest demonstration of the Derevenko’s vast wealth. ‘Good grief!’

  ‘My father’s idea,’ Aleksei said of the huge barge which took up most of the mooring, dwarfing the smaller, everyday boat moored alongside it. ‘He took to heart the idea that St Petersburg was the Venice of the north, and had this built, modelled on a craft in one of the Italian painter Canaletto’s waterscapes. It’s monstrous, isn’t it?’

  ‘Magnificently so,’ Allison agreed, reaching out to touch the high gold-painted stern on which was perched a carved image of the same bird which was carved over the entrance to the palace.

  The barge sat low in the water, surrounded on three sides by wooden decking. Though the hull was painted white, it seemed to her that everything else, including the rudder, was covered in gold. A huge throne-like chair was built into the shelter of the stern, covered in crimson velvet. A cabin—if such a thing could be called a cabin—was constructed in the centre of the barge, the roof supported by wooden pilasters painted to look like marble. She made her way along the decking, counting the places for the oarsmen, Aleksei holding the lantern aloft for her. ‘Eighteen. It must be tremendously hard work.’

  ‘Impossibly hard,’ Aleksei said. ‘I took one of the places once. It’s far too heavy, utterly impractical. Unless you run with the tide, you need horses to help tow it. It’s only used on state occasions, and then, obviously, only in the summer months. In the winter, every river and canal in St Petersburg freezes over. You ought to see the sleigh my father had built for those occasions,’ he added, with one of his mocking smiles. ‘Imagine something similar to this, only with runners. Come on, let me show you inside.’

  It was a short step from the decking on to the barge, where Aleksei was already holding open the door to the covered area. Allison stepped through into a surprisingly small space, made sumptuous with velvet and furs, and glinting with more gold leaf.

  Aleksei set the lantern down on the highly polished table, then threw himself on to the sofa. ‘My head aches with questions. I was so sure that I would find that woman. I don’t know what to do next.’

  Allison sat down beside him, taking his hand between hers. ‘It will come to you. What you need to do is stop fretting about it for a while.’

  ‘You’re right.’ He rolled his shoulders, visibly relaxing, pulling her closer to him. ‘Tell me, have any of the servants come to you seeking a love potion? Does such a thing exist?’

  ‘Oh, they exist, all right, but they do not work. No elixir can compel someone to fall in love, though there are any number of quacks who will sell you something they swear will do just that. I never would. To have to ask for such a thing in the first place must surely mean that it’s a lost cause. It is cruel to offer hope when there is none.’

  ‘You think so, under any circumstances?’ Aleksei asked seriously. ‘I have had men—boys—mortally wounded, dying on the battlefield and begging to be told that they will live to see their loved ones again, while their lifeblood ebbs from them. I always lied, without compunction. Is that truly so wrong?’

  The shadow of that last death, the mother’s desperate pleas came back to her. Had she lied? She could not recall. ‘No, I don’t think that is wrong at all. I reckon I would do the same,’ Allison replied. ‘I cannot imagine the horrors and the suffering you have had to witness.’

  ‘And inflicted, in the name of my country. It is ironic, is it not, that here we sit, you who have a vocation for healing, and I who have made a career out of killing.’

  ‘You are a soldier, not a murderer.’

  He shook his head, looking grim
. ‘There are times when there is a very fine line between the two. I’m not sure I have the stomach for the kind of wars our Emperor will wage now. More territory seized. More people put into servitude. More unnecessary deaths.’

  ‘So you plan to leave the army, then?’

  Aleksei sat up, shaking his head. ‘I have not thought that far ahead,’ he said dismissively. ‘We’re in danger of running out of sightseeing time. I thought we’d take a trip out on the water.’

  ‘You’re teasing me. Wouldn’t we need another eighteen oarsmen?’

  ‘I don’t mean in this lumbering behemoth.’ He got to his feet, pulling her with him. ‘Being out on the water is the best way to see the true beauty of the city—and it is beautiful. When it is asleep, at peace under the stars, there is nowhere more beautiful than St Petersburg. Come, let me show it to you.’

  * * *

  Intrigued, she followed him to the far end of the deck, where he set about turning a large wheel which caused the riverside doors of the boathouse to slowly open. A set of steps led down to a small rowing boat, bobbing in the shadow of the barge. He leapt lightly into it, holding out his hand for her, though Allison needed no assistance, gathering the heavy folds of her cloak around her before climbing nimbly aboard.

  ‘You’ve done that before.’

  ‘Countless times,’ she said, flashing him a smile. ‘Fishing is a way of life where I come from. I can row too, I’m very proficient.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it, but you’ll get a better view if you sit there.’ He pointed at the wooden bench in the stern, which was strewn with pillows, a large blanket, neatly folded, placed on top.

  She did as she was bid and tucked the blanket snugly around her, thinking that she did indeed have the perfect view as she watched Aleksei place the oars in the rowlocks and untie the boat from its moorings. He was wearing top boots and breeches, a wide-skirted coat, but no greatcoat. His movements were fluid, easy and graceful. Seated facing her on the middle bench, he nudged the craft away from the decking with the blade of an oar, expertly easing the little boat out of the boathouse and on to the river, heading upstream.