From Governess to Countess (Matches Made in Scandal)

by Marguerite Kaye

  ‘You’ve allowed me to set up my dispensary, of course.’ Allison sat up, fired with enthusiasm. ‘The people I’ve been treating don’t care who I am or what I look like. They care only that I can ease their suffering. Unlike that little girl at the ball, they have no physician on hand to attend them. These are the people I want to treat, Aleksei. These are the people who need me most, the people I can make the biggest difference to. These are my kind of people, good-hearted, hard-working ordinary people. And when I leave here, the fee I have earned provides me with the means to do that.’

  Aleksei looked satisfyingly confounded. ‘A dispensary? Is that what you mean?’

  Allison beamed. ‘Not for society, but for the people society depends upon. I can’t save every child, but I can help those who have no access to any other help. You see, they won’t care, the physicians and the apothecaries, that I am not a member of their societies and guilds, for they don’t care about the people I will treat, the people who cannot pay. So they won’t hound me, I doubt they will even acknowledge my existence, because I will not be a threat to their livelihood or a challenge to their position.’

  ‘Though they won’t be able to ignore you, for you will shine a light on their shortcomings.’

  ‘Oh, no, now you really do flatter me. Truly, Aleksei, as far as these men are concerned, the poor are unworthy of their attention. My services will be free for those who cannot pay, and for those who can afford a small contribution—oh, but I’ve not thought through the details. I plan to train an assistant too—you see, that was also your idea. What do you think?’

  ‘I think you will be a great success wherever you go. I think it is a truly wonderful idea.’ He pulled her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her. ‘And I think you are wonderful.’

  ‘Then perhaps we should start a mutual admiration society, for I think you are wonderful too.’ She reached up to brush the white-blond kink in his hair. ‘Are you really contemplating remaining here in St Petersburg with the children?’

  ‘I have no option but to consider it,’ he said wearily.

  ‘Aleksei, you’ve lurched, as you said yourself, from battle to babysitting without a moment to consider the future. Do not make any rash decisions or promises you might come to regret. I don’t know why it hasn’t struck me until now, but there are some similarities between your case and my mother’s. I told you that she left me with my grandmother when she married? Well, what I didn’t tell you is that she promised to come back for me when she was settled. There were a few visits, always with the promise that the next time she’d take me with her. Then the visits were replaced by letters, saying the same. And then finally very occasional letters, containing no promises at all.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Allison. That must have been hard to take.’

  ‘Horrible, when I was wee. It would have been much better for her to have been honest from the start. A clean break would have been very painful, but I’d not have had to endure years of hoping in vain for the impossible. I think she knew in her heart that it would be a mistake for the pair of us. Her husband wanted no part of me, while my grandmother brought me up as if I were her own child. So as it turns out, it was better for both of us that we parted. Do you see?’

  ‘I do, though I’m afraid I can’t be as generous as you regarding your mother’s behaviour.’

  ‘Then you don’t see, because what I meant was it would have been wrong for her to sacrifice her happiness for mine. I wouldn’t have been happy anyway, and once I was old enough to realise what she’d done, I’d have had guilt to contend with too.’

  ‘Allison. I do see. I promise you, I understand what you’re saying, though I seem to remember a time not so long ago, when you advocated my staying.’

  ‘At Peterhof. I remember. I was wrong.’

  ‘Maybe you were. Maybe not. It is my conscience at stake, not your mother’s, and I think—oh, you know, I don’t know what I’m saying. I don’t know what I think at the moment.’ He kissed her brow. ‘Save that it’s not your problem.’

  ‘No.’ A lump rose in her throat. ‘I wish I could help you more.’

  ‘You have, more than you can know.’ He kissed her brow again. ‘Now it’s time, in your own words, for me to help myself, and to let you get on with helping yourself.’

  A tear trickled down her cheek. She made no attempt to catch it. ‘You think it’s time for me to head back to England?’

  ‘Allison.’ He pulled her tight against his chest, hugging her so close she could hear his heart beating even through the thick wool of his uniform coat. ‘I think Grigory was right, it’s time I stopped burying my head in the sand. Not about the children, but about you.’

  He let her go, holding her at arm’s length. ‘From the moment you walked into my life, I wanted you. I’ve never met anyone like you, nor am likely to again. I know it won’t last because it can’t, for all sorts of reasons, not least the fact that you’ve a perfect future back in England mapped out for yourself, but the thing is, the longer it goes on, the more likely we are to get hurt. Or at least I am. I can’t speak for you.’

  ‘Aleksei, you know you can.’ Another tear trickled down her cheek. Her throat was clogged. ‘It’s one of the things about us, it has been from the start, hasn’t it, this—this unspoken connection between us. You know I want you every bit as much as you want me. When we make love...’

  He swore under his breath. ‘Don’t say any more.’ He swallowed hard. ‘It’s time for me to stop procrastinating. Whatever that means, it is not your concern. And as for the children, they will miss you greatly, though not as much, I suspect as you will miss them. Your work is done here, Allison, and I’ve no right to keep you with me simply because I’m not ready to let you go yet.’

  Yet. Not yet, but soon. They had no future together. She knew that. She was a herbalist and part-time governess. He was a count. She could shed her tears over that fact, and leave him with that watery memory, or she could make the most of what very little time they had left now, and create sweeter memories to sustain them in the lifetime spent apart that lay ahead of them.

  Allison brushed her cheeks dry. She smiled mistily up at him. She twined her arms around him. ‘You’re right. I wish I could say otherwise, but I can’t. Though you’re wrong about one thing, Aleksei. You don’t have to let me go. Not quite yet. Make love to me,’ she said, and then she kissed him.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was still very early. The sky was overcast, a lowering grey that promised that particularly unpleasant drizzly soft rain that wasn’t quite rain, but soaked you anyway. Allison, having spent a torrid night tossing and turning, made her way quickly out to the fernery, her favourite of the succession houses, in search of solitude before resuming her governess duties.

  Sitting down under the now familiar statue of Aphrodite, she unbuttoned her cloak and massaged her throbbing temples. To call yesterday a bit of a day, as Seanmhair would have, was a serious understatement. The first revelation had been born of the indignity of her being slapped down at the children’s ball. From the pain of her confession to Aleksei, had come catharsis and then a liberating hope, a bright new vision for her future that the herbalist in her couldn’t wait to embrace. It was as if all her life she had been preparing for this, lending meaning even to the role she had played in her own downfall, and the scandal she’d had to weather as a result.

  So many ideas, so many plans would be fighting for room in her head, were it not for the second, even more momentous revelation emerging from yesterday. She was in love with Aleksei.

  Not so much a revelation really, more like a secret that had been suppressed. Of course she was in love with him. Now she’d admitted it, it was impossible to imagine she could ever have been anything else. The attraction had been irresistible from the start. She’d never felt so drawn to a man, never desired any man the way she wanted him. But it wasn’t only that. He understood her. He knew what mattered to her and what didn’t, because he understood in a way she’
d thought no man ever could, how much a part of her were her skills. Her need to heal. Her need to try to ease any sort of pain or suffering, whether it was the minor ailments of the Derevenko servants, or the heartache of his wards. He encouraged her. Even more importantly, she was certain he would never try to change her, never expect her to sacrifice her life for his. She’d always thought that there could be no room in her heart or her life for anything other than her vocation, but how wrong she had been. For the right man, for this man, there was a veritable palace in her heart.

  The right man, but Aleksei was wrong in every other respect. If circumstances had been different—oh, so very different—then how blissfully happy they could be. He’d admitted he cared, last night, and that had been the most difficult thing for her to deal with. Her poor aching heart longed to declare itself, but she would not cause him the pain of having to reject her, as he must.

  Think of it! She forced herself to do so, yet again, in the hope of extinguishing hope completely. She was as low-born as it was possible to be, with no idea who her father was, only the one certainty, that he had never been married to her mother. Aleksei was as high-born as it was possible to be, second in line to the most powerful and wealthiest dukedom in Russia. Even promiscuous St Petersburg society, which accepted without a blink of an eye, Count Derevenko taking a nonentity of a governess as his mistress, would not tolerate him taking her as his wife. She would be shunned, which she cared not for, save that it would hurt Aleksei, though not as much as the pain she would bear when society ostracised the pair of them. No, she was born on the wrong side of the blanket, and she would be on the wrong side of the fence for Aleksei for ever.

  So it was just as well, really, that she had no inclination to switch sides. Just as well that her calling would keep her on the side of the poor and the needy. Just as well she would soon have the means to bring her precious, newborn plans to fruition. It would be a soothing balm as she tried very hard to forget all about her precious, newborn love.

  With this melancholy thought she roused herself. What she must not do was permit Aleksei to guess the depth of her feelings for him. She was not gone from St Petersburg yet. There were still days and nights, like last night, to savour. Memories to squirrel away to sustain her in the solitary future which was her destiny. Fastening her cloak against the rain which was now battering hard against the glass of the succession house, she hurried along the soaking paths to the garden room.

  ‘Miss Galbraith! At last. Where have you been?’ Catiche’s face was tear-streaked. ‘We’ve been looking for you everywhere. Please hurry. It is Ortipo.’

  * * *

  The silly creature had eaten some poisoned bait put down by the gamekeeper to control vermin. Allison had managed to force him to take a small dose of ipecacuanha, dried golden root from her herb chest, with revoltingly spectacular though very effective results. The children’s much-loved pet lay snoring loudly in his fur-lined basket now, with Elena, Nikki and Catiche hovering over him, leaving Allison to seek out Aleksei in his study, clutching the present a grateful Catiche had presented her with.

  ‘Allison. You look very serious.’

  He was in his shirt sleeves, his black coat draped over the chair behind the desk where he had been sitting, neat stacks of papers, letters and journals spread before him. He looked tired, the grooves around his mouth, the fan of lines at the corner of his eyes more accentuated. Had he lain awake all night too?

  She walked into his outstretched arms, resting her cheek on his chest, drinking in the essence of him for a long, aching moment, before disengaging herself. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you but I have something very important to show you.’

  He shrugged. ‘I was working on the plans for the modernisation of Nikki’s estates. We are thinking of trialling them on one of the smaller manors first. I have in mind appointing one of my ex-comrades to oversee matters. It is an important but rather dry task, so I am glad of the distraction. What is that you have there?’ She handed him the volume of Culpeper’s English Physician. ‘One of your herbal texts?’ Aleksei said, frowning over the ornate frontispiece.

  ‘No, Catiche just gave me it as a thank you for saving Ortipo.’

  She went on to explain the morning’s events. ‘Where on earth would she come by such a thing?’ Aleksei asked when she had finished.

  She braced herself. ‘I’m afraid that it was yet another keepsake that Catiche “liberated” from her mother’s bedchamber.’

  It took a few seconds for her meaning to dawn on him, but when it did, Aleksei let slip the weighty tome, catching it just in time before it dropped to the floor before sinking on to the window seat, looking quite astounded. ‘This was in Elizaveta’s room?’ He stared at the book, holding it now as if it was about to explode in his face. ‘Is it in there, Wolf’s Bane?’

  And when Allison opened the text at the relevant page, he paled. ‘Proof positive that my brother was murdered by his own wife, and with malice aforethought too. My wards’ mother was a cold-blooded murderess.’ Shock and anger turned his Baltic-blue eyes to ice. ‘The children, they must never, ever—dear God, they must never have so much as an inkling of this.’

  ‘Of course not!’

  He stared down at the page for long minutes, dark thoughts flitting across his countenance. When finally he closed the pages, his face was set and extremely grim. ‘So, I have the definitive answer I sought after all. The timing is most serendipitous.’

  He did not sound in the least happy. Allison’s heart sank. ‘What do you mean?’

  His reply made it feel as if her heart was breaking. ‘I had word from the docks this morning. There is a ship sailing for England in four days, and there won’t be another for some time. With your permission I will reserve the best cabin possible for you.’

  ‘Four days?’

  Aleksei covered her hands with his again. ‘We agreed last night...’

  ‘I am not—I know we did. It is just that it is so soon.’

  ‘Winter can set in very quickly here. It would be prudent to travel while you can.’

  Winter, when the canals and rivers froze. Aleksei would take the children out on one of the sleighs. Though that sleigh was unlikely to be used. She must not think of that sleigh. ‘Then it makes sense,’ Allison said, unable to disguise the tears which clogged her throat. ‘Will I tell the children?’

  ‘I will tell them. I will write to Madame Orlova, asking her to resume her post forthwith.’

  ‘That is—that is very efficient.’

  ‘Allison.’

  He sounded as wretched as she felt. No, not quite as wretched, for while he had put a rein on his feelings, hers had bolted away with her. She loved him so much. Too much to hurt him.

  ‘You’re right,’ she said, relieved to find that she had command of her voice again. ‘The sooner the better. Best not to prolong—you’re right, Aleksei, it’s what we agreed to last night.’ She managed to pin a smile to her face. ‘I have plans to make, many plans. A dispensary to open. Oh, and one to close. There is so little time, I don’t think...’

  ‘Leave that with me. You are irreplaceable but I’m sure I’ll find a competent substitute to carry on your fine work.’

  ‘You flatter me. No one is indispensable. I’m sure there are skilled herbalists out there.’

  ‘Perhaps, but they will not be you.’

  She should be pleased he valued her so highly. She was pleased, she was, and it was very foolish indeed of her to feel hurt. Anna Orlova would take her place in the schoolroom. Some other herbalist would take her place in the dispensary. She could live with that. But would Aleksei also substitute someone else for her in his bed? She was much less sanguine about that prospect. Would he take another mistress, or would he start his search for a suitable wife, just as soon as her ship sailed? A woman of breeding suitable to bear the Derevenko name, an aunt for the Derevenko heirs, a mother to Aleksei’s own children.

  A tear trickled down her cheek. She brushed it away angrily.
‘It seems you have everything well in hand.’

  ‘Allison, you must not be thinking...’

  But she shook her head. The dam of her feelings was threatening to break and she was desperate to escape to the sanctuary of her bedchamber and burrow under the sheets. ‘I’m not thinking anything. Save that I meant it, I am pleased that you have contingency plans and I shall not be missed too much.’

  ‘You know that’s not true.’

  But she brushed him aside. ‘I need to—the children—their lessons—my dispensary—I need to go and do—I need to go.’ From somewhere deep inside her, she summoned a brittle smile. ‘One last thing. Promise me you will not be too hard on Catiche, Aleksei. About the text, I mean. She is no thief. She is more like a magpie, stockpiling memories in the form of keepsakes. Like the miniatures.’

  * * *

  Aleksei stood unmoving in the centre of the room, staring at the door Allison had closed softly behind her, forcing himself to ignore the impulse to run after her, the urgent need to pull her into his arms, to kiss her, to soothe her, to dry her tears. What was the point? A fleeting comfort that was all it would achieve. And the danger of doing what he had promised he would not do, and beg her to stay till spring. Because she would love St Petersburg in the snow. Because then there would be time for her to properly train up someone to take over the dispensary. Because she could ensure that Madame Orlova continued with the children’s new, physically active regime, while resuming their lessons. Good, practical reasons. But trivial compared to the real reason. He desperately wanted her to stay for him. Selfish? Yes. Irrefutably true? Absolutely!

  And yet he did resist, though it took almost all of his self-control. He forced himself to sit back behind the desk, staring at the astounding, incontrovertible evidence that Elizaveta had murdered Michael. That a Derevenko duchess had murdered a Derevenko duke. In any other St Petersburg family, it would not be so shocking. The history of the Imperial family was littered with heinous crimes. But his family name was beyond reproach. There had never been any scandal attached to the Derevenko name.