Lord Buckingham’s Bride

by Sandra Heath

  ‘Me? Assist the British? You’ve taken leave of your senses, my dear.’

  ‘Deny the czar the chance of seeing these documents, my lady, and you may be putting his life and the safety of Russia in peril. I’m not speaking theatrically, embellishing it all to impress you; I’m telling you the truth. There is a traitor here in St Petersburg, someone who is prepared to give Russia’s military secrets to the French. That someone, your brother, was in Paris recently.’

  Irina stared at her. ‘What are you saying?’ she asked sharply. ‘Are you implying that Nikolai…?’

  ‘Yes, my lady.’

  ‘How dare you!’

  Alison put the document wallet on the table. ‘These papers were in Bonaparte’s possession, my lady. Please look at them.’

  ‘I have no desire to read your documents or to assist you in your machinations.’

  ‘If you love the czar, you will look at them,’ replied Alison, meeting her gaze.

  ‘I love the czar and I love my brother.’

  ‘But does your brother share your love for the czar? Can you put your hand on your heart and swear that Prince Nikolai is loyal to the House of Romanov?’

  Irina stared at her, more than a little shaken as an echo of conversation returned to her: ‘If it were not for the czar’s intransigence, Irina, I would by now be married to the Grand-Duchess Helen. 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. That is an insult I cannot and will not forgive.’

  Alison looked at her and saw that her face was suddenly a little pale. ‘You aren’t certain of Prince Nikolai’s loyalty, are you?’ she said quietly.

  ‘Of course I am—’

  ‘No, my lady, you have doubts. May I ask if he told everyone here that he was going to Paris? Or was it something that he confided only in you, so that you would know where to reach him?’

  Irina turned away. ‘He was considering purchasing an estate in the Bois de Boulogne, but felt that it was prudent for the time being not to broadcast it too much, for the czar did not trust the French,’ said Irina, her voice lowered almost to a whisper. She turned away, her hands trembling, and she went to feed strawberries to the monkey again. She was trying to distract herself, but the truth was beginning to stare her in the face, and she didn’t want to recognize it.

  ‘My lady, please look at the documents in the wallet.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘For the sake of the man you love. You have the czar’s love, and you will keep it if you do the right thing now. Do the wrong thing, and not only might the czar forfeit his throne with his realm, but if he should survive a French invasion, then he may well think that you were party to your brother’s treachery.’

  Irina turned quickly, the dish of strawberries falling from her fingers. ‘I would never be party to anything that—’

  ‘Then look at the documents, I beg of you,’ cried Alison, pushing the wallet across the table.

  Reluctantly Irina picked it up, taking the documents out and laying them carefully on the table. The oil lamp cast a revealing light over the detailed analysis of Kronstadt’s defenses and over the intricate maritime chart of the approaches to St Petersburg. Irina stared at them.

  ‘You know what they are, don’t you?’ Alison said gently.

  Irina nodded, ‘Yes, but I cannot believe that Nikolai—’

  ‘I cannot prove that he has done anything, my lady, but I tell you that it is true. He has been promised great rewards by Bonaparte, and for this he is prepared to sell the czar and Russia into French hands.’ Alison looked sadly at her. ‘Forgive me, my lady, for the last thing I wish to do is make you sad, but somehow those papers have to reach the czar, and you are the only one who can see that they do. I know the sacrifice I’m asking you to make, but you will make a far greater one if you refuse to act. You’ve already loved and lost, so how much greater will the pain be this time?’

  Had she gone too far? By reminding Irina of her husband, had she tipped the scales the other way?

  Irina touched the wedding ring on her finger and then looked at Alison. ‘You are either very brave or very foolish, Miss Clearwell.’

  ‘You know my name?’

  ‘Nikolai told me.’ Irina still toyed with her wedding ring. ‘You are right, the pain would be intolerable if I lost the czar. I do love him, more than life itself, and if I can do anything to protect him, even if it means sacrificing Nikolai, then I will do it.’

  An unutterable relief swept over Alison, and she had to steady herself on the table. She bowed her head for a moment and then looked at Irina again. ‘I’m so very sorry that I have had to bring this to you, my lady, for I know how you must be feeling now.’

  ‘Do you?’

  Alison nodded. ‘We may be from different nations, my lady, but we are both women who have to make terrible decisions in the name of love.’

  ‘And what decision do you have to make, Miss Clearwell?’

  ‘The decision not to marry Lord Buckingham.’

  ‘Not to marry him? But why? If you love him—’

  ‘He doesn’t love me; he loves someone else.’

  Irina studied her. ‘Then why is he marrying you?’

  ‘To protect my reputation. He feels it is his duty to do the right thing by me.’

  ‘Are you quite sure he loves this other woman?’

  Alison nodded, remembering how he had murmured Pamela’s name in his sleep. ‘I’m quite sure.’

  ‘Perhaps I am the wrong person to speak to of reputations, Miss Clearwell, for I am the czar’s mistress and the whole of Russia knows it. I don’t have a reputation to protect.’

  ‘No, but you have the czar’s love, and that is everything.’ Alison glanced down at the documents and the wallet. ‘I will go now. Once again, I’m sorry for what I have had to tell you.’

  ‘I believe you are, Miss Clearwell.’

  Alison smiled a little. ‘I pray only that the czar will be able to act upon the knowledge he is about to receive.’

  Irina took a long breath. ‘He will act, Miss Clearwell. I will see to it that he understands fully what has been going on.’

  Alison raised her hood and then paused before leaving. ‘Will you warn Prince Nikolai?’

  ‘No, Miss Clearwell, I will not, for if he is a threat to the czar now, then he will be again. He may be my brother, but he will never take precedence over the czar, any more than I believe I would ever have come before his ambitions. You have accomplished what you came for, and now I think you should go.

  Alison nodded. ‘Goodbye, my lady.’

  ‘Goodbye, Miss Clearwell.’

  Alison turned, but then Irina spoke again. ‘Miss Clearwell?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Lord Buckingham is a fool if he doesn’t love you.’

  The cold night air came almost as a shock as Alison left the conservatory again and hurried back to where Katya was waiting by the lilacs. As they made their way back toward the creek, Alison knew that she had done the right thing by giving the documents to Irina. She had taken an enormous risk, but she had followed her intuition and in a short while now Alexander would be in full possession of facts that would enable him to save his realm and his throne.

  St Petersburg was still enveloped in mist as the rowing boat returned to the jetty by the Admiralty. There was hardly anyone abroad as they walked swiftly toward St Isaac’s Square and the pontoon bridge, so that it came as something of a shock when a tall man loomed out of the mist right in front of them and addressed Alison by name.

  With a gasp, Alison came to an abrupt halt, staring at him. Then she gave a relieved smile. ‘Captain Merryvale?’

  He removed his hat and bowed.

  ‘How good it is to see you again. I knew you were here in St Petersburg, for I saw the Duchess of Clarence at her berth.’

  ‘She arrived in Stockholm on the very day the Pavlovsk left. I’m relieved to say that I am not held to blame for the loss of the Duchess
of Albemarle and that on my return to London I am promised a new command.’

  ‘I’m very pleased for you, sir.’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Clearwell.’

  ‘Will you be returning to England on the Duchess of Clarence?’

  ‘Yes, tomorrow afternoon. I’ve just been making final customs arrangements for part of her cargo. I’m afraid that such things have to be done whether it is night or day.’ He smiled. ‘May I escort you home now, Miss Clearwell?’

  She returned the smile. ‘If you wish, sir.’

  Accepting the arm he offered, she walked at his side, with Katya following a step or so behind. Nikolai’s spy had completely slipped her mind.

  Sergei was waiting beneath the trees opposite the Clearwell residence and the carriage was drawn up at the curb farther long the street, out of sight in the mist. He was tired, cold, and angry that he had allowed his prey to elude him earlier. If Bragin had succeeded where he, Sergei Mikhailovich Golitsin, had failed, then ruin would no longer be merely a threat, it would be a reality.

  He heard footsteps approaching from the direction of St Isaac’s Square and he looked intently toward the sound. Then he made out a woman’s voice speaking in English.

  Turning, he gave a low whistle and immediately he heard the carriage stir into motion, the team’s hooves slow and steady. He ran softly across the street to the shadows by the gate in the wall, pressing back out of sight as the approaching footsteps grew louder. The carriage was close now and would be alongside at the very moment the Englishwoman and her maid reached the gate. As their figures became discernible in the mist, Sergi leapt out to seize Alison. Too late he saw that there were three figures instead of two, and he was almost caught completely off-guard, but his instinct saved him. He lashed out blindly, catching the unfortunate Captain Merryvale a brutal blow to the jaw. Katya began to scream for help and for her pains was thrust so hard against the wall that she was winded, falling to the ground like a sack.

  Alison was too frightened to do anything but back away. She couldn’t cry out and she couldn’t run away, her strength and willpower had deserted her. Sergei seized her and dragged her roughly toward the carriage, which had now drawn up beside them. In his panic to accomplish the task as expeditiously as possible, he flung the carriage door open, and it struck Alison on the forehead. She lost consciousness immediately and knew nothing as she was thrust into the vehicle. Sergei clambered in as well, slamming the door behind him, then the whip cracked and the team struck sparks from the street as they strained to come up to speed.

  Katya scrambled to her feet in dismay, staring at the carriage as it drove swiftly through the eddying mist. The whip cracked again, the sound seeming to echo all around, and then gradually silence returned and the mist swirled slowly again, like the gentle billowing of a fine muslin curtain.

  Tears filled Katya’s frightened eyes as she bent to shake Captain Merryvale, but he didn’t stir. She straightened, running to the house and up the steps to the door. She hammered on the lion’s-head knocker with so much force that the sound reverberated through the house like an echoing thunderclap.

  Lights began to appear as candles were hastily lit inside, and voices were heard as Mackay and several of the footmen came from their beds.

  In his room, Francis at last stirred as the noise penetrated his sleep. His thoughts were scattered for a moment and then he sat up, running his fingers through his hair. He heard the confusion as the servants went to investigate. What in God’s name was going on?

  Then his glance moved to the table where the precious wallet should have been lying …

  18

  Alison lay on a soft bed swathed with golden satin. The sheets and pillows were satin and so was the tentlike canopy, and the scent of roses hung in the dawn-lit room. It was a seductive perfume, caressing her senses as she began to stir.

  She still wore her gray velvet gown, and her hair had come loose from its pins, spilling in confusion over the pillows. Her eyes opened and she gazed up at the golden canopy. Where was she? She couldn’t collect her thoughts because her head seemed to be swimming, and as she slowly sat up, a sharp pain lanced behind her eyes, making her feel suddenly and violently sick. She held her breath, closing her eyes again. The room seemed to be swaying and she found herself gripping the satin sheets in a futile effort to make everything be still again. Then, very gradually, she realized that it wasn’t her imagination, or the pain in her head, for the room really was rocking gently from side to side. It wasn’t a strong motion and wasn’t even particularly unpleasant, but added to the sickening pain behind her eyes, it made her feel very unsteady and ill.

  After a long moment she opened her eyes again, looking around the room. There was damask on the walls and a sable-covered ottoman couch against the foot of the bed. The scent of roses came from an open potpourri jar standing on the floor next to the stove that was warming the air. There were damask curtains at the single window and another curtain tied back beside the door. Her gaze moved over everything. She had never been in this room before, and yet somehow it seemed familiar. How had she come here? She couldn’t remember anything.

  She put a hand tentatively to her forehead and winced as her fingertips brushed the bruise. Again she had to close her eyes as a wave of nausea washed over her. Oh, if only everything would stop swaying …

  Without warning her memory returned. Suddenly she could see Captain Merryvale falling to the ground and hear Katya’s screams for help. She saw the maid being flung against the wall and she felt herself being seized and thrust toward a carriage. She had been abducted by Nikolai’s creature!

  Her heartbeats quickened and she was trembling as she got up slowly from the bed, steadying herself against the post for a moment to look around the room again. She must escape! She went to the door, but it was locked. Turning, she went to the window, but that too was impossible to open. She gazed out at the mist, which was luminous now that the first light of dawn had begun to drive away the darkness. Where was she? Was she still in St Petersburg? The mist drifted impenetrably, weaving back up itself. She listened carefully and gradually became aware of the familiar sound of the wharves on Vassily Island. The sound was clearer than it had been from English Quay. Was she on Vassily Island?

  She stared out at the mist again, willing it to draw back so that she could see, but it remained stubbornly where it was, obscuring everything so well that she couldn’t even see the ground. Then, as she was beginning to despair, a rowing boat glided past, its oars shipped as the ebbing tide carried it downstream. In a moment it had passed out of sight again, swallowed by the mist.

  Alison’s heart had stopped. She was on the Irina! Suddenly the swaying sensation was explained and the strange familiarity of the room, which she now remembered was very similar to the stateroom where she and Francis had been entertained by Prince Nikolai. Trembling, she backed away from the window and then turned to run to the door, beating her fists against the wood and screaming as loudly as she could.

  ‘Let me out! Let me out!’

  At first there was no response, but as she continued to make as much noise as she could, she at last heard voices. One was high-pitched and almost singsong, and the other was deep and monosyllabic, and she knew immediately that they belonged to Nikolai’s servants, the dwarf in the golden robes and the huge black man. Then she heard another sound that made her pull back swiftly from the door; it was the disturbed and agitated growl of the lynx, Khan. The sounds were at the door now and the key turned in the lock.

  The door swung open and the dwarf came in. Behind him, blocking the doorway, was the black man, and he was holding on firmly to the lynx’s turquoise-studded collar. The animal’s amber eyes were wide and dangerous, its tufted ears were flattened, and its mouth was drawn back in a snarl that revealed its sharp teeth.

  The dwarf swaggered farther into the room, his little hands thrust arrogantly over his belt. ‘It will do you no good to make such a noise, Miss Clearwell,’ he said in singsong
French, ‘for no one will hear you.’

  ‘You can’t imprison me,’ she replied in the same language.

  ‘But we can, for we do his highness’s bidding. He will be here soon, and you will await him.’ The dwarf grinned, his glance moving deliberately and suggestively toward the bed.

  ‘Please let me go. I’ll make it worth your while—’

  ‘We do his highness’s bidding,’ he repeated, and then nodded at the lynx. ‘It would be very foolish if you tried to escape, Miss Clearwell, for Khan will see that you remain a prisoner.’

  ‘Please help me,’ she begged, but she knew it was futile.

  ‘Make yourself beautiful for his highness, Miss Clearwell, for that will avail you of much more. Please him, and he will grant you many things; displease him, and you will find that the Neva is very deep.’ Turning, he went out again and the door was locked behind him.

  Alison was panic-stricken, running to the door and beating at it again, but she could hear the dwarf laughing and Khan growling. Tears filled her eyes and she left the door again, hurrying to the window, but the mist still coiled and writhed silently outside, white now as the dawn grew brighter with each passing minute.

  The tears wended their way down her cheeks as she went to sit on the bed. She was filled with a sense of hopelessness. No one knew she was here, and so no one could help her. By now they would know that she had been taken, but they didn’t know who by. Unless … Francis would guess, surely? But what could he do about it? This was St Petersburg, and the prince was a powerful man. Her only hope was that by now Irina had given the wallet to the czar and that events were in motion to put a halt to Nikolai Ivanovich’s treachery.

  She stared down at the crumpled satin in her hands, and then her eyes wandered to the soft uncompromising expanse of the rest of the bed. She could see the suggestive grin on the dwarf’s face. ‘Make yourself beautiful for his highness, Miss Clearwell. Please him and he will grant you many things; displease him, and you will find that the Neva is very deep.’