Lord Buckingham’s Bride

by Sandra Heath

  ‘My dear, at the moment you will have to be,’ said Natalia, laughing a little. ‘Ah, it is good to have another woman to talk to. At home I have sisters, and I miss them …’ Her smile trembled a little. ‘I mustn’t think about home,’ she said briskly, walking to the window and looking out. ‘I understand we are all to go to the opera tonight.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It wasn’t entirely accidental that I chose to be out today when I knew that that terrible woman might call. She is an incorrigible troublemaker, and if she could make something of the fact that I have married an older man, I vow that she would. She is bound to stir up all the scandal she can where you and Lord Bucking-ham are concerned, you know that, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes. Francis knows her from England.’

  ‘She is quite horrid, but since your uncle has accepted her invitation, I fear we must go. Still, it is Mozart, and that at least I will enjoy.’ Natalia turned to look at her. ‘Are you really up to a visit to the opera, my dear? You look so pale and tired.’

  ‘I’ll be all right when I’ve rested for a while, Aunt Natalia.’

  ‘Then rest you shall, and this afternoon you and I will begin to discuss the wedding. It will be small, I know, for such things must be of necessity, but we must still make you the most delectable of brides, must we not?’

  ‘We can try.’

  ‘My dear, you are hardly a plain little mouse,’ declared her new step-aunt with a warm smile. Then she sighed. ‘I know that your uncle has advised me not to say anything to the prince, but if he is here in this house and I have the opportunity speak to him, I don’t think I will be able to hold my tongue. I am so afraid that my father and the rest of my family are about to be turned out of the estate they’ve cared for for the past two hundred years. There have been Razumovs in charge at the Naryshky estate in Novgorod ever since the present prince’s ancestor first purchased it. Indeed, it is said that the Razumovs were placed there because that ancestor had not only enjoyed the favors of Razumov’s wife, but had also fathered her child. I have to admit that sometimes it seems that there is foundation in the story, for every generation of Razumovs possesses at least one member who has the Naryshky blond hair and brown eyes. My brother Alexei bears a more-than-passing resemblance to Prince Nikolai.’ She smiled ruefully at Alison. ‘I’m sorry, my dear, for I’m sure that you have no wish to hear the somewhat shocking story of my family’s history.’

  ‘Aunt Natalia, there are many families in England with similar tales to tell, and some of those families are very highborn indeed,’ replied Alison, thinking of several earldoms and a dukedom or two that owed everything to a king’s desire for someone other than his queen.

  Natalia nodded. ‘Yes, I suppose there are, my dear, but they aren’t about to be thrown out of their home because an overseer has too much of the master’s ear.’

  Alison didn’t reply, for the injustice of Leon Razumov’s situation was only too plain.

  Natalia came to her, giving her a warm hug. ‘Welcome to this house, Alison. I’m sure that you and I will get on famously. But for the moment I will leave you to rest. Do you wish for any refreshment? A little light luncheon perhaps?’

  ‘No, thank you. Perhaps later on…?’

  ‘I will send Katya to you in a few hours’ time. Rest well, my dear.’

  As the door closed upon her step-aunt, Alison went to the window to gaze out. She stared toward the Irina, thinking about Nikolai. So much trouble and difficulty had come about simply and solely because he had noticed her. She was afraid of him and wished that she didn’t have to see him again.

  She looked down into the walled garden below and the criss-cross of paths patterning the lawns. The wall gave shelter enough for the daffodils to be quite advanced, their almost open buds nodding in the light breeze that came in from the Neva. There was a little white summerhouse against the wall, just beyond the wrought-iron gate from the quay. The summerhouse nestled among lilac bushes that must look very lovely indeed when in full bloom.

  She stared at the garden, and it seemed to blur before her eyes. She could see Francis’s face and hear his whisper. ‘Don’t feel guilty anymore, Alison, I beg of you. Go to your room now and rest for a while, and when we meet again, know that I really do wish to make you my wife.’

  She would be his wife and he would be her husband, but he would never be hers. Although his ring would grace her finger, he would always belong to Pamela.

  *

  As Alison stood at the window of her room at English Quay, three miles to the north across the city, on secluded Krestovsky Island, the Countess Irina von Strelitz was returning from a ride along the canals and waterways of the delta. She wore a crimson riding habit trimmed with deep white fur, and there was a white fur hat on her magnificent titian hair. Her soft brown eyes were radiant from the ride in the brisk spring air, and her pale cheeks were flushed. She had a curvaceous figure that was outlined exquisitely by the clever cut of the habit, and she rode with the accomplishment that was expected of highborn Russian ladies. Her mount was still impatient after the ride, capering a little as she reached the road that led across her estate to the stables, but she urged it on and the sound of its hooves carried clearly across the park, where fountains played among the lime trees. She was happy because tonight she was going to the opera, a diversion she always enjoyed, and afterward, when St Petersburg slept, the czar would leave his retreat on nearby Kamenny Island, cross over the wooden bridge, and come to be with her. She would lie in his arms between scented sheets, and when he left at dawn, he would love her more than ever, for only she knew how to make him happy and relaxed and, above all, how to satisfy his every and most secret desire.

  Her house came into view and she reined in for a moment. It was a lovely house, with a green cupola and a Roman portico on white columns, and it faced across the park toward the wooden bridge leading to Kamenny Island. An elegant conservatory was built against the southern wall, its many glass panes catching the sunlight as she rode toward it. She always returned from her rides to take a little refreshment in the almost tropical surroundings of the conservatory, and accordingly a groom was waiting by the door to take her horse.

  As he led the horse away, she paused to tease off her gloves. Her wedding ring shone on her finger, a constant reminder of the great love she had had for her dead husband. She would never forget Axel von Strelitz, and she’d never forgive the British for murdering him.

  Pushing open the conservatory door, she stepped from the cold into the sweet-scented humidity inside. Flourishing green leaves pressed all around, and exotic flowers bloomed brilliantly, sometimes white, sometimes a vivid salmon-pink or scarlet, and sometimes mauve or pink. Vines climbed up trellises, vases of cut flowers stood waiting on the red brick floor, in readiness for taking into the house, and tiny birds fluttered among the branches high overhead. There was a tinkle of water as fountains splashed into marble basins where fish darted beneath lily pads and the soft buzzing of insects among the blooms. The air was almost stiflingly hot after the crisp May air outside, for the conservatory was heated by a number of large stoves that were kept constantly stoked to make everything as warm as possible.

  There was an alcove at the far end of the conversatory, a secret place where a white-painted wrought-iron table and several chairs had been placed, and it was there that she always liked to sip a small cup of sweet Turkish coffee after her rides. Gathering the skirt of her riding habit, she made her way quickly toward it, for the maid would have put the coffee there the moment her mistress had been seen riding toward the house. Her light footsteps sounded on the pathway leading between the towering greenery, and a small chattering call greeted her as her pet monkey jumped excitedly up and down on its perch, knowing that it was about to be fed some delicious strawberries from the little bowl that was just out of its reach.

  Smiling, Irina hurried past the table and chairs without looking and took one of the strawberries to hold it out to the little creature. As the ea
ger little paws snatched at the fruit, someone coughed very deliberately behind her.

  Irina whirled about and found herself staring at a dashing figure in the uniform of a high-ranking officer in the Preobrazensky Regiment. ‘Nikolai,’ she cried delightedly, hurrying to him and flinging herself into his arms.

  He laughed, holding her close. ‘Irina, Irina, how very good it is to see you again.’ He spoke in French, the first language of all highborn Russians.

  ‘But when did you return? I thought you would be in Stockholm for weeks yet.’

  ‘King Gustavus Adolphus is ill, thank God.’ He smiled at her, his gaze moving over her lovely face. ‘You grow more beautiful each time I see you. I trust that his imperial majesty still pays you every attention?’

  ‘Of course he does. I will see him tonight, first at the opera and then afterward, when he comes here to be with me.’ She drew back. ‘Will you come to the opera as well, Nikolai? You know how I hate it when I have to sit alone in my box, and the czar sits alone in his box. If you were with me, it would be much better.’

  ‘If you wish it, then of course I will come with you. Irina, how have things been in my absence?’

  ‘Things?’ She went to the table to pour the coffee into the two little cups that the efficient maid had placed on the tray. ‘What things?’

  ‘Political things. Is Alexander more favorably disposed to France than he was when I left?’

  ‘Yes. I do my best.’

  ‘I’m sure you do.’ He smiled as he accepted the cup she held out to him. ‘I trust that the new British ambassador hasn’t too many opportunities to exert his charm upon him?’

  ‘Upon Alexander? No.’

  ‘Good, because if there is one thing our dear czar responds to it is the cultured and engaging manner of a gentleman like Lord St Helens.’

  Irina’s smile faded a little. ‘Don’t talk about the czar like that.’

  ‘Like what? Oh, Irina, don’t be silly, I didn’t mean anything.’

  She went to the table and sat down, sipping her coffee for a moment. ‘I don’t like it when you refer to the czar in that way, Nikolai.’

  A light passed through his eyes and then he nodded. ‘Forgive me, I didn’t mean to offend you. Very well, you have my word that I will be more respectful in future.’

  ‘He has advanced you, Nikolai. If it were not for his assistance, you would not be of such a high rank in the regiment, would you?’

  ‘And if it were not for his intransigence, I would by now be married to the Grand-Duchess Helen,’ he replied sharply. ‘It is good enough for him to bed you outside his marriage, but it isn’t good enough for me to make his sister my princess.’

  Irina’s brown eyes swung toward him in surprise at the force of his bitterness. ‘Nikolai, I had no idea you felt so strongly. You’ve never given any sign of it before now.

  A nerve twitched at Nikolai’s temple, for he hadn’t meant to let her realize so much. ‘Don’t let us argue, Irina, for all this is old ground.’ He looked pointedly at the wedding ring on her finger. ‘Perhaps now is not the time to mention this, but …’ He allowed his voice to trail away.

  She saw the way he looked at her ring. ‘To mention what, Nikolai?’

  ‘Well, knowing how you feel about the way Axel was killed—’

  ‘Was murdered,’ she interrupted. ‘What do you want to tell me?’

  He sat down, ignoring her look of disapproval as he raised his legs and rested his spurred heels on the edge of the wrought-iron table. ‘Do you recall an approach made to the czar by an Englishman called Lord Buckingham? He wishes to purchase a colt from the imperial stables.’

  She nodded. ‘Yes, I remember. What about it?’

  ‘I’ve now met Lord Buckingham; indeed, I made his acquaintance and that of his bride-to-be while staying in Stockholm.’

  ‘And? Oh, do get to the point, Nikolai!’

  ‘I was agreeably surprised by them, and when I learned that I was to come back to St Petersburg, I waited for their ship at Kronstadt and conveyed them here in the Irina.’

  ‘I can only imagine that the lady is very beautiful,’ Irina murmured.

  ‘I will ignore that remark,’ he replied.

  ‘Which means I’m right. Do go on.’

  ‘Well, during conversation on the Irina, I learned that until very recently Lord Buckingham had been in the British navy and that he commanded one of their vessels at the Battle of the Nile.’

  Irina looked steadily at him. ‘Are you sure?’ she asked softly.

  ‘Very sure indeed, and what’s more, I happen to know that his vessel was responsible for the final explosion on the L’Orient. Irina, Lord Buckingham may as well have put Axel to death with his own hand.’

  Slowly she put her cup down. Her hand was trembling and her face had gone pale. She rose to her feet and turned away. ‘Why did you tell me?’ she asked in a whisper, going to give the monkey another of the strawberries.

  ‘Because I happen to know how very much the Englishman desires that colt from the czar. It means a great deal to him, something to do with bloodlines and a red Barbary stallion from Syria. It occurs to me that although it would be small revenge to you for losing Axel, it would nevertheless be quite a blow to his lordship if you were to thwart his plans to see Alexander. All you have to do is whisper in the imperial ear tonight and Lord Buckingham will be denied his dearest wish.’

  ‘Does the acquisition of this colt really mean so much to him?’

  ‘My dear Irina, he’s an Englishman, a devotee of the turf, and a passionate breeder of the finest horses. He has set his heart on this colt because he has worked for years to perfect the thoroughbred. It would cut him to the quick to be denied not only that particular colt, but any other from the imperial stables. Indeed, the severest blow you could deal him would be to see that he is denied any prospect of access to the czar, for that would humiliate him as well.’

  ‘Humiliate him?’ She turned, a third strawberry in her fingers.

  ‘He’s a braggart and has been telling all and sundry that he will be able to persuade the czar to do as he wishes.’

  She gave the strawberry to the delighted monkey. ‘Lord Buckingham will not see the czar,’ she said softly, ‘you have my word upon that. When I see Alexander tonight, I will tell him it would hurt me if he received the Englishman who killed my husband.’

  ‘It is wise to ask Alexander a favor that concerns your late husband?’

  ‘The czar understands and respects my feelings for Axel, just as I understand the fondness and respect he has for the czarina, even though he comes so often to my bed. He will grant my wish, make no mistake about that.’

  Nikolai smiled and got up from his seat. ‘Well, I think I’d better be going.’

  ‘I hoped you might stay,’ she said quickly.

  He went to her, kissing her on the cheek. ‘I’ve already ignored my duty by coming to see you before I reported to the Winter Palace, and after I’ve conveyed the situation with Gustavus Adolphus, I’ll be expected to go straight to the barracks.’

  ‘But you’ll still come to the opera with me tonight?’

  ‘Of course. And you will be sure to put a stop to Lord Buckingham’s hopes?’

  ‘Oh, yes, I’ll be certain to speak to Alexander tonight. The Englishman will never be received.’

  Smiling again, he turned to go, but Irina spoke once more.

  ‘What is her name, Nikolai?’

  ‘Whose name?’

  ‘Lord Buckingham’s bride-to-be. She is what all this is really about, isn’t she? You desire her?’

  ‘You wrong me, Irina.’

  ‘I know you, Nikolai.’

  He smiled a little. ‘Her name is Miss Alison Clearwell.’

  ‘And do you think you will succeed with her?’

  ‘Oh, I mean to succeed with her, Irina,’ he replied softly.

  ‘Then I wish you well,’ said Irina, taking up a fourth strawberry and holding it out tantalizingly toward the mo
nkey’s quick little paws.

  Nikolai left the conservatory, and as he returned to the landing stage where a boat was waiting for him, he hummed lightly to himself. Soon Lord Buckingham would be thwarted, whether or not he was a British agent; and if he were to disappear in the near future, it was going to be highly unlikely that Alexander would order an investigation. Alexander would be afraid that Irina was behind the disappearance and would stay his hand in order to shield her.

  Lounging back in the stern of the boat, Nikolai smiled a little. He was beginning to feel safe again now that he was able to take control of things himself, and soon he would be as completely secure as ever. In the meantime, however, before his ultimate aim came to rewarding fruition and Alexander paid the price for the insults of the past, there was the delightful prospect of possessing Miss Alison Clearwell. His desire for her had increased rather than lessened, and she was constantly on his mind. Her perfume permeated his dreams, a seductive blend of lavender and innocence to torment his senses, and the need to make her his grew stronger with each passing hour.

  12

  Alison looked at her reflection in the tall cheval glass, for her preparations were now almost complete and it was nearly time to leave for the ordeal of the opera and Mrs Fairfax-Gunn. Outside, the long northern evening was still light, even though the hour was late, and it would be some time yet before the lamps were lit along the embankment. The Pavlovsk had arrived an hour or so before, and now lay at her mooring on Vassily Island, just a little downstream from the Irina. Francis’s luggage and her valise had been brought straightaway to English Quay.

  The new maid Natalia had provided for her had proved to be very talented indeed. Katya was small and slight, with dark hair worn in coiled plaits that were almost completely concealed beneath a large white mobcap, and she wore a sturdy beige linen gown, with a neat white apron to protect it. She had a rather flat face and would have been quite dull had it not been for her lustrous dark-brown eyes, which shone as appealingly as those of a spaniel.