From Governess to Countess

by Marguerite Kaye

  It was not their lovemaking but the aftermath, the intimacy of their stroll, the recognition that time was against them and all that implied about their feelings. For the first time in her life, she had an inkling of what it would feel like to fall in love. Not that she would allow herself to do such a thing. She was only envisioning it, because Aleksei was—yes, she could admit that much—he was like no other man she had ever met. Though they were polar opposites in many ways, they were also in many ways soul mates. As for the unbridled passion that had flared between them—didn’t opposites attract? Particularly when the situation encouraged them to surrender to that attraction without fear of consequences.

  That was it. Nothing more. She was not falling in love with Aleksei. She was immune to love. And even if it turned out that she was not, the antidote was there, waiting for her, in the form of a ship which would transport her back to England at the end of her assignment, where her future awaited her.

  Chapter Eight

  Allison had forgotten all about the footman’s ill-timed arrival until the next day, when she left the children with their nanny, and was in her chamber, preparing for her daily dispensary. If the servant had talked—and why wouldn’t he?—the entire servants’ hall would know what she and Aleksei had been up to last night. All very well to tell herself that they must have guessed at the liaison after their first illicit dinner together, but that night no one had witnessed anything untoward. Now, there was tangible proof. The occupants of Derevenko Palace would brand her a harlot, and this time, it would be the truth.

  No! Allison glowered down at the scarf she was about to use to tie back her hair. She was not a harlot, any more than Aleksei was a—whatever the male term might be. Though of course, she thought bitterly, rather tellingly there was no male equivalent.

  But it was with a sinking heart that she made her way to the garden room, where she was surprised to find the crowd of patients awaiting her was no smaller than usual. And as the consultation progressed, and not a word or a hint of anything other than gratitude was spoken, Allison’s spirits lifted considerably. As she tidied away the detritus of her work and checked the contents of her herb chest, she was singing lustily to herself in the Gaelic.

  ‘I think that is a happy noise, but I’m not absolutely sure.’

  She whirled round to find Aleksei standing in the doorway. ‘It is a song about the cutting of the peats—that is the turf that is burned in the Highlands instead of coal. The peat is thick and dark and moist, and it wobbles as you cut it, and the cutting of it makes your shoulders burn, and the burning of it when it is dried fills your croft with an unmistakable aroma.’

  He laughed. ‘A very happy song, then.’

  ‘Oh, aye,’ Allison said, deliberately broadening her accent, ‘for when it is done you have fuel to last the whole winter.’

  ‘Are you finished consulting for the day?’

  When she nodded, he came into the garden room, closing the door behind him. ‘Good,’ he said, taking her into his arms and kissing her.

  ‘Aleksei, we must not—not here.’ But even as she protested, she was standing on tiptoe and claiming another kiss, and then another, and another, until they dragged themselves apart, breathless.

  ‘If someone came in...’ Allison said, then stopped short. It would make no difference if they did, if this morning was anything to go by. She locked her herb chest and slipped the key into her locket.

  Aleksei was idly turning a pestle in an empty mortar. ‘Do you think that a permanent dispensary here would be worth considering? I was thinking about what you said, about the servants having nowhere else to turn. Obviously if they were seriously ill, a doctor would be summoned—at least I’d like to think so—but from all you’ve told me, the complaints you treat, they are not life-threatening, are they?’

  ‘Only painful and often very debilitating. Are you serious?’

  ‘Yes.’ He smiled at her. ‘Michael’s valet has been singing your praises, and so too has the butler. All of the staff are much happier, I’m told. And what’s more, we’ve had any number of servants from other palaces enquiring about employment here. Thanks to you.’

  ‘Oh.’ A lump rose in her throat. ‘That is most—most gratifying. Thank you.’

  He laughed, catching her hands in his. ‘It is I who am grateful. Do you think it’s something I should pursue?’

  ‘Absolutely, but do not underestimate the effort required to establish a dispensary, Aleksei. You would need to find a herbalist, for a start.’

  ‘Wouldn’t you be able to train someone?’

  ‘Yes, but it would take months, if not years, and I...’

  ‘Won’t be here for much longer.’ He let go her hand, turning away. ‘Nor will I. I shall simply have to make the suggestion to whomever I find to replace me.’

  His shoulders lifted in a shrug. She had not seen that shrug of his for some time. I won’t let it bother me, that shrug said, which meant it did.

  If only she could help. Allison caught herself just in time. She picked up the mortar and pestle Aleksei had been toying with, and placed them on a shelf. ‘Was there something you wanted from me?’ she asked, keeping her voice light. ‘Apart from a kiss that is?’

  ‘Yes.’ He turned back to face her, keeping his own voice light too. ‘There is to be a grand picnic to celebrate peace in Europe at the Peterhof Palace in a couple of days’ time. The Emperor wants to reward all the men who fought for Mother Russia—though of course, he means only the officers. I thought that the children might enjoy it.’

  ‘Did you indeed? You are in danger of concerning yourself with their welfare.’

  ‘It will be good for them to get out a bit more, now that the mourning period is over.’

  ‘That is true.’

  ‘And I was thinking that Nikki would enjoy the spectacle, for there will be every uniform in the country on display.’

  ‘That is a nice thought, Aleksei.’

  He drew her a wry look. ‘I am not entirely indifferent to them, you know. There will be a fair, puppet shows, that kind of thing. Plenty to entertain them all.’

  ‘And time for them to get to know their Uncle Aleksei a little better?’

  He shrugged again, but he also smiled. ‘Do not push your luck, Miss Galbraith. I am hoping that it will also present the opportunity for me to do a little more digging, hopefully finally track Grigory down, but with the pleasure of your company to take the edge off the tedium. What do you say?’

  She wanted to say that if he tried to get to know the children better he’d find them eager to reciprocate. She wanted to say that it would not take much for them to overcome their awe of him, if he could overcome his reserve. But she did not want, as he had warned her, to push her luck. He was reserved for very good reasons. So she smiled up at him, dropping a curtsy. ‘I say thank you very much, Count Derevenko. The children and their governess will all look forward to it with great anticipation.’

  * * *

  The day of the picnic at Peterhof dawned unseasonably warm for late September, with the sun splitting a clear blue sky in which no cloud dared to trespass. Most likely, Allison thought, on orders from Tsar Alexander himself, who was nominally the host, even though he was still abroad and would not attend in person.

  It was to be a simple, rustic affair, Aleksei had informed her, information which she took with a very large pinch of salt, having a fair idea by now of what the Romanov court considered understated. Her gown was white, the skirts consisting of layers of plain muslin, but the bodice was intricately pleated and trimmed with pretty white lace. The long sleeves were full, like a man’s shirt, but gathered and tucked into the same lace at the shoulder, elbow and wrist, ending in a wide flounce. A blue sash the colour of the sky overhead formed the only other decoration, the same colour as her reticule, and the trimming on her bonnet. With Natalya’s help, Allison had purchased a sk
y-blue silk wrap to drape around her shoulders, although in the growing heat of the day, she had little need of it.

  Catiche and Elena, also thanks to Natalya, were dressed in matching white trimmed with sky blue. ‘Though our dresses are far nicer,’ Elena announced guilelessly, ‘I think you look very pretty.’

  ‘Elegant,’ Catiche corrected her. ‘Miss Galbraith is too old to be pretty.’

  Which backhanded compliment, Allison decided, biting her lip to hide her smile, was progress of a sort.

  ‘Good morning.’ Aleksei appeared, wearing his dress uniform. There really was something quite shockingly appealing about him in that uniform, the way it drew attention to his physique, the fit so perfect as to be almost breathtakingly tight. Allison could almost see the flexing of his thigh muscles as he moved. And she should most decidedly not be looking at his thigh muscles. His shoulders instead then...

  ‘Uncle Aleksei, I have a uniform too,’ Nikki said, thankfully distracting her. ‘Papa had it made for me specially, so I could be one of your soldiers.’

  The little boy saluted then stood to attention. Return the salute, Allison begged Aleksei silently, but there was no need. He did so in all seriousness, before telling the child, much to his delight, to stand at ease. ‘You will meet a great many soldiers today. I hope you will salute them all as smartly. Now, shall we show these lovely young ladies the way?’ he said, sweeping Nikki up on to his shoulders and heading for the boathouse.

  * * *

  The jetty where the boat moored at the end of their brief river journey was at the mouth of a long narrow channel of water which led the eye naturally up to the Peterhof Palace, sitting atop a small rise. Painted straw and white, the palace was gracefully symmetrical and extremely beautiful.

  ‘They say it is modelled on the French palace of Versailles,’ Catiche informed Allison as they docked, ‘but naturally, Peterhof is superior.’

  ‘How so?’ Allison asked.

  The girl looked somewhat surprised at this question. ‘Because it is Russian,’ she said, as if this was self-evident.

  ‘I have visited Versailles,’ Aleksei said. ‘It is vast. The courtiers are forever getting lost, and have to climb out of windows into the gardens, simply to get their bearings.’

  ‘That is preposterous.’ Catiche eyed her uncle uncertainly. ‘Are you teasing me?’

  He looked at her blandly. ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘I don’t know. You have never done so before, but I think—when Papa teased us, his eyes crinkled at the corner just as yours have just done, so I think you must be.’

  Though the girl turned quickly away, she failed to hide the sheen of tears which welled up in her eyes. ‘I don’t look at all like Michael,’ Aleksei whispered to Allison, looking rather dumbstruck.

  ‘Actually, you do a little. Catiche has a miniature portrait of him, and there is as she said, a strong similarity about the eyes.’

  ‘What is Catiche doing with a miniature?’

  ‘It belonged to her mother. I believe she took it from her room.’

  ‘Why on earth would she do that?’

  ‘Honestly Aleksei, isn’t it obvious? She has a miniature of her mother, too. They are keepsakes, to have something close at hand to remind her of her parents.’

  ‘She ought to have asked permission.’

  ‘Please don’t even think of chastising her,’ Allison whispered urgently under her breath. ‘She trusted me enough to show them to me and I don’t want to risk betraying that trust. You have to appreciate that she’s at that awkward age for a girl, laughing one minute and in floods of tears the next. She is even ambivalent about her debut children’s ball, which is fast approaching, occasionally excited but mostly adamant she does not want to attend. And on top of all these emotional dramas every girl her age goes through, Catiche has recently lost her parents. She misses them dreadfully, Aleksei, they all do. I know you don’t want to hear this, but like it or not, you are all they have now. You are their closest relative in the world, and you are their father’s brother.’

  ‘But I am not their father. And they won’t have me for much longer. Weren’t you the one who told me that it might be for the best not to get too close to them? You know that this arrangement is not permanent.’

  Allison flushed. ‘I was referring to myself.’

  ‘Are you implying that it would be best if I remained here as their permanent guardian?’

  ‘No. Yes. I don’t know. For the time being perhaps. You said yourself, the army in peace time is not for you.’

  ‘Quitting the army is one thing, deciding to dedicate my life to raising my brother’s children quite another,’ he snapped. ‘If I wanted to be a father, I’d have married and had children of my own.’

  ‘Haven’t you ever wanted to do either?’

  Her question clearly took him aback. It had surprised her just as much that she had asked it, and she found herself, for some odd reason, holding her breath. ‘My career has always taken precedence,’ Aleksei replied, eyeing her askance. ‘As has yours. I believe we discussed this.’

  They had. Allison tried to replicate one of his dismissive shrugs. ‘I just wondered...’

  ‘Playing the guardian to those three has not changed my mind, but I wonder if it has affected you more than you realise. I think you are in danger of taking your role as governess too seriously.’

  And he was horribly right. She could feel a flush creeping up her throat. ‘I cannot afford to do so.’

  ‘While I, on the other hand, must take my role as guardian very seriously indeed. Which is why I will revoke it, in due course.’

  ‘I know that, Aleksei.’

  He raised a haughty eyebrow. ‘Do you?’

  ‘I do. I should apologise. The children’s future is none of my business.’

  To her surprise, his expression softened. ‘Yet you cannot help caring. It is in your blood, Madame Herbalist. Just be careful you do not come to care too much.’

  * * *

  Aleksei and Allison walked on together in a silence which grew more comfortable as they progressed, and found them both fully restored by the time they reached the top of the walkway where the children waited impatiently for them.

  From a distance, Peterhof’s famous grand cascade had looked simply like two sets of steps built around a grotto leading up to the central portico, but as the Derevenko party approached, the fountains suddenly spouted, and even the children, who had seen the spectacle before, stopped to gaze in wonder.

  ‘Do you know how many fountains there are?’ Allison asked Nikki.

  The little boy shook his head. ‘But when I am big, I am going to build even more at my palace.’

  ‘I thought you wanted to be a soldier like Uncle Aleksei, Nikki,’ Elena said.

  ‘He can’t be a soldier, he is a duke,’ Catiche said.

  ‘Yes, I can,’ Nikki said, his lip trembling. ‘I can be a soldier as well, can’t I, Uncle Aleksei?’

  It would be tempting to lie, and so much easier, Allison thought, watching as Aleksei hesitated, though she was unsurprised by his answer. ‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘It is as your sister says, I’m afraid. You are a duke and, more importantly, will be head of the Derevenko family. That is your destiny.’

  ‘But...’

  ‘Aleksei! And accompanied by my favourite nieces and nephew. It is very good to see you all out and about on this most auspicious day.’

  ‘Uncle Grigory!’

  The appearance of the large, red-faced man averted Nikki’s tears. All three children clustered around their uncle, who hunkered down, his pantaloons straining at the seams, to envelop them in a communal bear hug.

  Grigory Fyodorovski looked to be in his early forties. A man whose figure and florid complexion reflected his appetites and, Allison thought, made longevity a remote prospect. There was an exuberance to
that moustache, and despite his size, a flamboyant style to his attire that indicated the dandy. The twinkle in his currant-like eyes, lost in the creases of his chubby cheeks, spoke of a jovial nature. It was clear that the children loved him, and equally clear, from the familiar way he spoke to them, that he was very fond of them too.

  ‘I have missed these little ones very much. It does my soul good to see them. And Elena, looking so like her mama, my dear late sister. I still find it hard to believe that she has gone. Forgive me,’ he said, creaking to his feet a few moments later, turning his attention to Allison, ‘I am, as you may have surmised, their uncle, Grigory Fyodorovski, and you must be the new English governess everyone is talking about.’

  The man made a sweeping bow, pressing a rather wet kiss to the tips of her fingers, before studying her quite unashamedly through his quizzing glass. ‘Well,’ he said, his busy brows waggling, ‘for once the gossipmongers did not exaggerate. Not an English rose, certainly not, but—ah, I will say no more. I have no wish to embarrass you.’

  ‘Then it is as well that I require a private word with you,’ Aleksei said, drawing him to one side.

  * * *

  ‘It has been too long since I saw these little ones. My time is not my own these days, but our Emperor’s to command. How are you, Aleksei? Such a tragic business,’ Grigory said with an immense sigh. ‘One minute, to be in the peak of health, and the next—an appalling stroke of fate for the little ones especially, to be deprived of both Mama and Papa. But they are looking very well, rosy of cheek and bright of eye. That governess of yours is doing something right.’

  ‘Miss Galbraith has persuaded them to share her love of fresh air and life outdoors,’ Aleksei said, realising with a start that this was true.

  ‘Ha! Unlike the previous governess, what was her name—Orlova? She left rather abruptly, I believe. I wonder why?’

  ‘I was rather hoping you might be able to enlighten me.’

  ‘Really? I’m afraid I cannot. I suppose it’s possible my sister dismissed her.’ Grigory frowned. ‘But I had the distinct impression that Elizaveta thought the world of the woman, so I must assume that she left of her own accord.’