From Governess to Countess (Matches Made in Scandal)

by Marguerite Kaye

  ‘You do?’ He sat back down abruptly. ‘Why?’

  ‘We have no evidence that Michael knew about the affaire. Remember, from what Anna Orlova told us, that it was Elizaveta who was at her wits’ end, Elizaveta whose behaviour was completely out of character. Her absence had been noted by Anna. She took the extraordinary step of effectively banishing her, threatening her family—if Michael already knew, what would have been the point?’

  ‘By the stars, you are right. You think then, that Elizaveta murdered Michael?’ Aleksei shook his head, as if that would clear the tangle of thoughts careering around it, like a whirling cloud of starlings. ‘But then why kill him? If she had banished the Orlova woman, there was no need to worry that she would be discovered.’

  ‘Perhaps that wasn’t the motive. What if she planned to kill Michael in order to be free to marry her lover?’

  ‘Completely out of the question,’ Aleksei said firmly. ‘Elizaveta was Her Serene Highness, Duchess Derevenko. She was born and raised to the position. She and Michael were betrothed as children. She dedicated her life to keeping herself and her family at the pinnacle of St Petersburg society. It is inconceivable that she would throw that away for any man, no matter how in thrall to him she may have been.’

  ‘Whoever the man was, he must have held her in thrall for her even to risk an affaire, considering the risks she was taking,’ Allison said drily. ‘If Michael had found out, Aleksei, what do you think he would have done—assuming, as we have, that he would not kill Elizaveta, the mother of his children.’

  ‘He’d have taken steps to ensure the scandal never saw the light of day. So the obvious step would be to silence the only other person who knew.’ He clutched her hand. ‘So what Elizaveta would be concerned about if he found out would not be her own safety...’

  ‘But that of her lover!’

  ‘Precisely. And what’s more, it wasn’t only Michael who would do anything to protect the Derevenko name. What was it Grigory said to me? Something about Elizaveta taking the moral high ground, and being careful to ensure that she remained there.’

  ‘Isn’t that more or less what Anna Orlova said, that the Duchess would do almost anything to protect her reputation?’

  ‘Including go to the length of killing her husband? Is that really what we are saying?’

  Allison spread her hands. ‘It explains Elizaveta’s insistence that a fish intolerance was the cause of her own illness. She must have realised she’d poisoned herself by mistake. She would have been desperate to prevent the doctor from making any sort of link between her illness and Michael’s death because she would have been absolutely determined that no one would know what she had done. Even in the throes of death, she did all she could to avoid a scandal.’

  ‘If she’d been so concerned about scandal, she should have refrained from taking a lover,’ Aleksei exclaimed furiously. ‘Can we really discount the possibility that the lover was responsible? What if he murdered them both to protect himself?’

  Allison shook her head. ‘That isn’t likely. The poison had to be administered in situ. We have no evidence of anyone else being here at the palace on the morning Michael died. And really, Aleksei, would Elizaveta’s lover consider murder the best way to protect himself? The consequences would be an unspeakable death, if his act was discovered—and it would be likely that he would be discovered if he was so foolhardy and reckless to come anywhere near the palace. Don’t you think silence on his part would be the safest route?’

  ‘So it was almost certainly Elizaveta,’ Aleksei said grimly. ‘Her hand may well have been forced when the Orlova woman discovered her absence, but the fact remains, she had the poison already prepared. She was planning to kill my brother, one way or another.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  He shrugged away her comforting hand. ‘As to her unnamed lover, whether he was embroiled or not, he must have his suspicions, given the circumstances. When the deaths were proclaimed, he would have been terrified, knowing that he would be deemed guilty by association if his affaire was discovered. But no one knows of it, save us, of that I am sure, for there has not been even a whisper at court—nor even from the greatest of all gossips, Grigory Fyodorovski,’ Aleksei said bitterly.

  He sat back heavily in his chair, rubbing his temples. His head ached. Michael was murdered by his wife. Elizaveta was a murderess. Was it really credible? That sick feeling in his gut told him it was. ‘Whether Elizaveta’s lover was guilty of plotting a murder, or guilty only of cuckolding my brother, we will never know. The dead cannot speak, and he has the most compelling of reasons to remain anonymous. So it seems we have an impasse. The truth, but not all of it.’

  ‘At least now we know that your cousin is innocent,’ Allison said tentatively. ‘The murders were nothing to do with acquiring the Derevenko fortune.’

  Aleksei sat up with a harsh bark of laughter. ‘Trust you to put a positive slant on the situation. You’re right. It seems like Michael’s change of will was, after all, a coincidence.’

  ‘Your brother must have known, as we all hoped, that Napoleon’s defeat was imminent, that peace would follow. Perhaps he had always wished you to be his children’s guardian, and only ever named Felix because you were not available?’

  ‘I don’t know. I suppose that makes sense.’ Aleksei rubbed his eyes wearily. ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but it looks unlikely that you will ever know some things for certain. I am so very sorry that I can’t give you the complete proof you need. I know how much you want to be sure of the facts.’

  ‘And how sure I was, that I wanted to know them,’ Aleksei said, with a twisted smile. ‘We have a Russian saying, it means something along the lines of impaling oneself with one’s own bayonet.’

  ‘Shooting yourself in the foot. I prefer to say, be careful what you wish for.’

  ‘I think I prefer that too. When you arrived here, my most fervent wish was to uncover the true circumstances surrounding my brother’s death. With your help, we’ve done that, and though we don’t have complete proof, I think we have proved what happened beyond all reasonable doubt.’

  ‘Will that be enough for you, Aleksei?’

  ‘It is enough for your English courts, and so must be enough for me. I need time to think. I need time to come to terms with it, but it will have to be enough. Which effectively means that you have fulfilled the primary objective of your contract. Congratulations.’

  His words silenced both of them. Allison flushed red and then turned quite pale. Her eyes were stricken. ‘You wish me to return to England forthwith?’ she asked, with a catch in her throat.

  No! It was like a punch in the gut. Of course he had always known she would go, but—but not yet. Though he didn’t have any right to detain her. And perhaps he was mistaken, and she was keen to go and get on with carving the new life she talked so passionately about. ‘There is no perpetrator to be brought to justice,’ Aleksei continued roughly, ‘indeed no justice to be served, for I am hardly going to cause a scandal by proclaiming murder.’

  ‘So now you can make plans to give the children into Felix’s care,’ Allison said, her practical words belied by the giveaway catch in her voice. ‘And Anna can resume her duties, I suppose. The children adore her. Now that she can return, I won’t have to worry about—they won’t miss me.’

  They would, but not as much as he would. And as for the children, he felt strangely resistant to releasing them into anyone’s care. Timing, Aleksei told himself, that was all it was. He wasn’t ready to hand them over yet. Any more than he was ready to let Allison go. Not quite yet. ‘I have not decided whether to re-employ the Orlova woman yet,’ he said. ‘And if you recall, the terms of your contract included a secondary objective, of taking care of the children. So that duty is not fully discharged, Governess.’

  His words were mere sophistry and if he knew it, so too must she. But she chose not to dispute it. With relief Aleksei noted her demeanour brighten visibly. Allison didn�
�t want to go either. Not yet. Thank the stars she was so endearingly transparent.

  ‘I would not like to leave so abruptly as Madame Orlova,’ she said. ‘The children do not love me as much, but I think they do care a little.’

  ‘They care a great deal, as you must know,’ Aleksei said, sitting back down beside her, taking her hands in his, refusing to acknowledge how relieved he was save in the tightening of his clasp. ‘We will need to accustom them to the idea of your departure.’ And himself too. ‘Allow them to spend a bit more time enjoying your company before you leave.’ And him too. Yes, that was it. ‘So I’m afraid I can’t release you from your contract just yet.’

  ‘No, I don’t think you can.’

  She smiled at him mistily, and he felt a strange twisting in his gut. A long tress of auburn curls had been released by the hairpin which now lay discarded on the floor, shaped into an imperfect circle. He pushed her silky strands back from her cheek, twining her curls around his finger. Wanting manifested itself in an ache low in his belly. Not desire, something different. He rested his cheek against hers, breathing in her particular scent, his mouth on her hair, and closed his eyes.

  Her fingers fluttered over the back of his neck, stroking, soothing. ‘It has been what my grandmother would call a bit of a day,’ she said softly.

  Aleksei laughed silently. ‘That is an understatement.’

  He lifted his head, capturing her face between his hands. And kissed her.

  The sweetest, achingly beautiful of kisses it was. With a soft sigh, she seemed to melt into him. Not surrender, but giving. Succour. Release. He tilted her back on the chaise longue and she lay pliant beneath him, her hands on his arms and his back and his buttocks, smoothing, stroking, and her tongue stroking his. He was melting with their kisses, the balm of them pushing all the trauma of the day to the back of his mind. They were not the answer, those kisses. The questions would return. The agony of not knowing would come back to torture him.

  ‘Allison.’ He said her name, for the simple pleasure of saying it. ‘Allison,’ he said, between kisses. But for now, those kisses were all he needed. For now, she was all he wanted.

  Chapter Ten

  ‘I know you plan to hold your daily lunchtime dispensary, but I promise I’ll have you back in plenty time,’ Aleksei told Allison the next day when she joined him with the children in the reception hall just after breakfast.

  ‘Where are we going, Uncle Aleksei?’

  It was Elena who asked, but all three children eyed him expectantly. ‘We are going to the food market,’ he said, digging into his pockets and producing three purses, which he doled out to each of them in turn. ‘You know, the place where your dinners come from?’ he prompted, when the children stared at him blankly.

  ‘But our dinners come from the kitchen,’ Nikki protested.

  Catiche rolled her eyes. ‘Merchants deliver the food to the kitchens from the market, Nikki.’

  ‘Most people are obliged to go and buy the food themselves,’ Aleksei told them. ‘Only as much as they can carry. They also have to cook it themselves.’ He knelt down in front of them. ‘We are very privileged. Most people in St Petersburg don’t live in a palace or have servants.’

  ‘Of course we know that, but...’ Catiche bit her lip.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘We are Derevenkos,’ the girl said earnestly. ‘Papa would not allow us to mix with ordinary people.’

  ‘Then it’s high time that you did. Think of it as an outdoor lesson, part of your education.’ Aleksei got to his feet and ruffling their hair. ‘But fun too.’

  ‘What do we need this for, Uncle Aleksei?’ Elena pulled out a coin from the purse, studying it as if she had never before seen such a thing. Which she might well never have, Allison thought with amusement.

  ‘To buy whatever takes your fancy,’ Aleksei said, putting his hat on. ‘Now, if you are all ready?’

  The three ran outside, stopping short when they discovered there was no carriage awaiting them. When Aleksei informed them that they were to walk along the river to their destination, they gazed at their uncle in astonishment. Allison waited for either Catiche or Elena to complain that walking was beneath the dignity of a Derevenko, but to her surprise, they exchanged excited glances, linked hands with Nikki between them, and set off along the wide embankment at a skip.

  ‘I hadn’t thought about it before,’ Allison said, as Aleksei drew her arm into his, ‘but any time they leave the palace it is either in the carriage, or in the boat.’

  ‘Safe from contact with the great unwashed. Catiche was right, Michael would heartily disapprove of today’s outing.’

  ‘Is that why you decided upon it?’

  He laughed. ‘No. I meant what I said to the children. They have been far too closeted from the world, and they have far too inflated an opinion of themselves.’

  ‘That’s unfair. They are not conceited.’

  ‘No. But they are arrogant—or they will be, if someone doesn’t teach them that not everyone is as lucky as them.’ He smiled down at her, and she wondered how she could ever have thought his eyes icy. ‘I also thought it high time that you sampled some of our traditional Russian food.’

  ‘Is it the same market where Elizaveta...?’

  He put his gloved finger to her mouth. ‘Let us not talk of that today. But be reassured, I have checked with Nyanya, and none of the children have inherited their mother’s intolerance to fish, so if they want to sample a coulibiac then they may.’

  That he had had the foresight to check was astonishing, Allison thought as Aleksei directed Catiche to turn left over the canal. Then there were the little coin purses. But most astonishing of all was the fact that Aleksei had dreamed up the expedition in the first place.

  The market was a long, low building rather like a very large stable, painted terracotta and white. Inside, the space was cavernous, with rows and rows of stalls set out around a huge fountain. The children, quite overawed, huddled close to Aleksei and Allison, their eyes wide with wonder. As her own most likely were, for though she was accustomed to the Covent Garden market, there was almost nothing at all familiar in the wares on display, save the flowers, which spilled out in large buckets in the space closest to the fountain.

  One half of the market was given over to basic foodstuffs. Vendors of the same foods were grouped together. There were greengrocers in one corner. Along the back wall were all the fish stalls and the butchers, where the various cuts were set out like a work of art, black and white sausages strung out between the shelves like bunting. Next came cheeses, milk and curds. The breads at the bakers’ stalls came in all shapes and sizes, sold whole or by weight. There were rye breads and black breads, soft white floury breads, and crispy, long breads plaited into complex shapes. The smells were mouth-watering. To the children’s delight, one baker offered them sugar-coated sticks of hot fried dough, which they took, too awed to say thank you, until prompted by Aleksei.

  The baker bowed low to Nikki, who returned the bow, making the man laugh. From a sweetmeat stall, a woman approached bearing a tray of twisted barley sugars, begging Aleksei for permission to approach. ‘Only one piece each,’ he cautioned them, slipping some coins unobtrusively into the woman’s hand.

  A little crowd formed around the children, with offers of pies and pastries, sweetmeats and fruits from competing stallholders, but while Nikki happily helped himself, smiling and laughing in Russian, Catiche was looking very uncomfortable as people milled around them, desperate for a glimpse of the aristocratic visitors. And Elena—where was Elena?

  Casting around in a panic, Allison saw her talking animatedly to a young peasant girl. Allison gestured that they should join them, which the awe-struck girl reluctantly did. ‘This is Tatyana,’ Elena informed her. ‘Her papa has the best sweetmeat stall in the market, may I go and see it?’

  ‘Indeed you may,’ Aleksei said, ‘and take Catiche and Nikki with you. But be sure to pay if you wish to sample anything.’ H
e smiled down to Tatyana, addressing her in Russian. The little girl looked intimidated at first, but then she smiled, nodded, and seemed, to Allison’s amusement, to grow in stature.

  ‘What on earth did you say to her?’ she asked, as the four children headed off, with Tatyana firmly in charge.

  ‘I told her that I relied upon her to look after them and to meet us at the fountain in half an hour.’

  ‘You think they will be safe on their own?’

  ‘I forget that you don’t speak Russian, and wouldn’t have heard Nikki boasting that he was Duke Derevenko, and that I am his uncle, the fiercest soldier in the Tsar’s army,’ Aleksei replied wryly. ‘Everyone knows who they are now, and no one would dare harm a hair on their privileged heads. The only threat to them will be a sore stomach from eating too much food. Talking of which...’

  The hot-food stalls lined the central aisle of the market. There were large pies, sweet and savoury, called pirog, small ones called pirozhki filled with potatoes and meat, and vatrushka pastries filled with cheese. Knish was a dumpling made of potato, and syrniki pancakes were stuffed with jam. There were endless varieties of cabbage soups and stews, and almost as many dishes featuring pickled cucumbers.

  ‘I can’t eat another crumb,’ Allison said finally, refusing the tiny blini pancake which Aleksei offered her, ‘I think I might burst.’

  He had sampled far more than she, careful to spread their custom as widely as possible, exchanging relaxed banter in Russian with the stallholders. It was the first time she had had the opportunity to watch him like this, and she could easily imagine how he would have been with his men. Though he was perfectly at ease, there was an invisible line between him and the stallholders, drawn out of respect mingled with awe, the product not only of Aleksei’s demeanour, but of his family name.

  At the Winter Palace all those weeks ago, and later at Peterhof, she had taken for granted that he not only held his own but stood out among his class. Here at the food market, she had for the first time a taste of the fame which power fuelled. Aleksei might think of himself as first and foremost a soldier. When he said that he loathed the pomp and circumstance of his brother’s rank, she believed him. But he was still of that rank. And that rank was miles above her own lowly station.