Ironically, the doorbell jangled at that precise moment. Lurline walked in, obviously straining from the weight of the tapestry bags she carried. Without fanfare, she told Dani, “Madame Coltrane sent these over.” She set the bags down and stood back, nodding politely to Cyril.
Dani was puzzled. She’d packed everything she wanted or needed. As she moved to see what was inside the bags, Lurline said, “She sent some of your books, mademoiselle. And some of the objets d’art from your room.”
Dani was impressed with Kitty’s thoughtfulness and said so, adding, “But you tell her it wasn’t necessary. I could have brought them over myself later.”
With her usual candor, Lurline brightly observed, “It was probably her way of saying she’s not angry and wants you to be happy here.”
Dani frowned, not wanting to discuss personal matters in front of Cyril, and she could see he was eagerly taking in each word. “Well, you run along now, and do relay my appreciation.”
Lurline moved to the door. “Yes, I’ll do that, and Madame said to tell you to please come for a visit soon.”
The moment she left, Cyril could not restrain his curiosity. “What’s this all about? It sounds as though you’ve left home.” He laughed at what was surely a ludicrous assumption.
Dani picked up the bags, set them to one side. “That’s exactly what I’ve done. I live here now.”
Cyril was stunned, and could not resist expressing disapproval. “It’s unheard of for a young lady of your background and breeding to live alone. People will—”
“People can go to hell if they don’t like it,” Dani snapped rebelliously. “I’m not going to live according to other people’s rules, Cyril, and if you think I’m going to stand here and listen to you criticize me, you’re crazy.”
Cyril shook his head, sighed. “It seems every time I open my mouth I annoy you, Dani. I’m truly sorry.”
She was not about to be manipulated into feeling pity for him. “If you’d mind your own business, we’d get along just fine.”
He gritted his teeth. He had not come here to have a fight. Softly, he attempted to smooth the friction. “Back to my purpose in being here—I’d like to take you out to dinner tonight.” Stepping closer, he gently touched her arm. “Quite frankly, my dear, I’d like time for us to be alone together, without interruptions, and maybe you’d find out I’m not such a despicable person after all.”
Dani wearily assured him she found him quite nice when he was not prying into her business.
“Then you’ll have dinner with me?” he asked hopefully.
She shook her head, moved away from him. Her plans were to close early, straighten up her apartment, then surprise Drake with a visit to invite him over for dinner tomorrow night. Oh, it was all she could do to keep from singing aloud at the thought of actually being able to prepare an intimate little dinner for the man she might be falling in love with! How wonderful it was to be free! Her dream was truly a reality, and she intended to live it well.
Cyril was watching her closely, could see her mind was elsewhere. “Why not?” he demanded coolly. “What else do you have to do?”
Exasperated, she cried, “Oh, Cyril, why do you make me say such things to you? It’s none of your business what I have to do. Please just accept my regrets.”
Petulantly, he said, “Well, the least you can do is give me a reason why you don’t want to be in my company.”
Wearily, she decided there was no harm in telling him. Maybe he would stop badgering her if he realized once and for all she was interested in another man. “I’m going to visit Drake.”
He stiffened at once. Drakar…Drake. By any other name the man was still a scamp. Broodingly, he looked over Dani’s head and beyond to where the painting of the Alexandrovsky Palace was displayed. An idea was rapidly forming. Now that she was living upstairs, it might prove difficult to break in at night, but since he knew she’d be out this evening, what better time to make his move? If he waited any longer, the Russian would have her eating out of his hand…and his hands would, no doubt, be on the painting. Cyril couldn’t let that happen. Returning his attention to Dani, he acquiesced. “Very well. Maybe we can make it another evening…”
“Of course,” Dani murmured, knowing all the time she had no intention of going out with him.
He hastened to add, “But don’t make it too long. I’m going to be leaving Paris soon, and I probably won’t return till spring.”
It was Dani’s turn to be curious. “Why will you be away so long?”
“The season. I always go to Saint Petersburg for the season.”
Dani blinked, not understanding. “What season?”
“Why, the social season, of course. In Saint Petersburg. Officially, it begins on New Year’s Day and lasts until the beginning of Lent, but I like to go over early in November. There’s so much going on.” A dreamy expression took over as he attempted to describe how the aristocracy spent the long winter nights moving through staggering rounds of concerts, balls, banquets, ballets, operas, midnight suppers, and private parties. “Everyone who is anyone is there, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He could not help sounding boastful.
Dani was obviously envious. “It sounds so exciting.”
“I’d love to take you there with me, but I don’t suppose that’s possible.”
She shrugged, then brightened. “I’m thinking of going to Denmark, to visit the Royal Copenhagen factory to see if they’ll let me import their Flora Danica porcelain and offer it in my shop.”
He shared her enthusiasm. “That would really be unique, Dani. I hope you can arrange it. But it’s a shame that we won’t be leaving Paris at the same time. I prefer to go by ship, before the rivers freeze, and we sail right around Denmark to enter the Baltic Sea. In fact, the ships usually stop in Copenhagen. I could go with you to the factory, perhaps help make the arrangements.”
Dani readily agreed that would’ve been nice but explained she didn’t know just when she could get away. “You’re probably leaving much sooner than I.”
“Probably.” He smiled to himself, not about to admit he intended to get out of Paris as soon as possible once he had the painting in his possession. Drakar would head for Russia the fastest way available, and Cyril hoped Drakar would be gone by the time he got there so he would be free to search for the egg without worrying about the Russian’s presence.
A customer wandered in, and Cyril left. He had a lot to do in preparation for the evening, and first on the agenda was a visit to the telegraph office to arrange the bogus message for Drakar. He had toyed with the idea of having it appear to come from Czar Alexander but rejected that plan. As soon as Drakar found out the Czar hadn’t sent for him, he’d realize someone wanted him out of Paris, especially when he returned to hear the painting had been stolen. No need to risk that, not when it was easy to conjure up a message from a nonexistent relative, a distant cousin of Drakar’s father, who Drakar would never have heard of, who was also interested in restoring honor to the Mikhailonov name. The message would be worded so as to hint that this cousin had information about the Fabergé egg but feared the revolutionaries were on his trail. When Drakar arrived and found no cousin, he could assume his relative was a victim of the radicals still searching for the egg and the money it would bring.
Of course, the telegram would be delivered in the wee, wee hours of the early morning, after Dani would have left his apartment, and if Drakar tried to send a message to her informing her of his sudden call to Russia, Cyril would have a paid ally nearby and ready to sabotage that effort.
He whistled merrily as he made his way to the telegraph office, confident he had thought of everything.
Lily paced about restlessly in her room, chewing on her nails, then yanking them from her mouth angrily, only to repeat the nervous habit a few moments later. She was frightened that Colt was going to renege. Yesterday evening, after promising to go through with their marriage to preserve her honor, he’d resisted her attempt
s to get him into bed. She had petulantly told him she felt rejected, but he had irritably said that was just too bad…he wasn’t in the mood. She had left in a huff, but he had not hurried after her as she’d been sure he would. Dinnertime came and she was alone. The elder Coltranes, she was told, were in seclusion for the evening because Monsieur was not feeling well. Lily certainly knew the reason for that, had expected him to have a stroke when he found out his precious baby daughter had moved out of the house. But when she heard that Colt would not be joining her for dinner, she felt her own personal stroke coming on. She hurried up to his room, but he did not respond to her frenzied knocking, and after she lost patience and angrily shouted his name, Kitty had appeared to frostily tell her Colt had gone out for the evening and would she mind not making so much noise? Lily had bit her tongue to keep from sticking it out at the snobby matriarch, and rushed to her room to send for wine and proceeded to get drunk enough to quell the rising fury as she waited up for Colt. But she had fallen asleep, had not heard him come in, and first thing this morning, she had gone to his room only to be told by his maid that he’d already left for the day.
Lily picked up a vase, started to throw it, caught herself and set it back down. She had to get out of that room or she would go crazy. Dammit, what was Colt doing? Where was he spending his time? They needed to talk, to make plans. Most of all, she fumed as she made her way through the quiet house, she needed to get him to an altar before he changed his mind.
There was no one about. Stomach rumbling, she went into the kitchen where Bevette, the day cook, confided that Monsieur and Madame Coltrane had left unexpectedly for a holiday in Chantilly. They had not said when they would be back.
Bevette was happy to have someone to complain to. “No one tells me anything around here till I’ve already done a day’s work. I had lunch ready to go on the table when I found out you were the only one here.” She gestured to a sideboard where a cold salmon salad waited. “Do you want to be served in the dining room?” she asked, as though it would be a great imposition.
Lily wrinkled her nose. “I’m not hungry. But tell me, do you know where Monsieur Colt has gone?”
Bevette shook her head.
Lily cursed beneath her breath, started out of the room.
Bevette called out irritably to ask whether they’d be present for dinner. “Maybe I can do for the night chef what no one has had the courtesy to do for me—save him from a lot of unnecessary work if Monsieur Colt isn’t going to be here…and you aren’t going to be hungry,” she added testily. She’d never liked the haughty wench anyway.
Lily seized the opportunity to unleash some of her own frustrations. “Don’t bother me with your problems, goddammit!” she screamed. “I’m sure you’re getting paid for your trouble, you whining old crone.”
Bevette’s eyes widened, lips parted in hurt and surprise. Monsieur Colt, she thought for the hundredth time since the news had spread through the house, had to be insane to even think about marrying such a shrew.
Just then the back door opened, and Lurline walked in. Looking from one to the other, she hesitantly asked, “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong, you little twit,” Lily snapped, “except that I find myself all alone in this house, and such rudeness doesn’t need the added insult of having to listen to the servants griping.” With one final glare, she walked out, leaving them staring after her.
Lurline wanted to know what on Earth had happened, and Bevette shrugged, said she must be upset about hearing that the Coltranes had left on a holiday after Monsieur Colt had disappeared.
“He hasn’t disappeared,” Lurline said with a sneer. “He’s down at that little bistro on the Rue de Berri, drinking, no doubt, to forget his stupidity in getting mixed up with that little tart. As for the Coltranes leaving, the first I heard about that was when I came back from taking some things to Mademoiselle Dani, but I’m not surprised. I’m afraid Monsieur didn’t take Mademoiselle Dani’s moving out very well.”
Bevette sighed, said she wasn’t going to worry about any of it, and walked over to eat the salmon salad herself.
Lurline decided to help her.
Lily went into Travis’s study and helped herself to his liquor cabinet and a bottle of his best brandy, then went into Kitty’s elegantly furnished parlor. With a sweeping gaze of envy, she knew most of the opulent decor would be hers one day…if she became Mrs. John Travis Coltrane, she reminded herself. Oh, where was Colt? And why was he avoiding her? There could only be one reason, and she didn’t like thinking about that. A pity, she reflected, that she hadn’t made Drakar fall in love with her. He was at a good age to settle down to marriage and probably wouldn’t have needed much prodding. After all, she had heard some whispers of scandal about his family, how it was rumored he’d actually been banished from Russia by the Czar. Why, he’d probably be grateful to settle down and have a real home, and of course, Lily mused, none of those simpletons he’d been seeing, Dani included, could even come near her own beauty and social graces.
It was then, while she was lost in deep ruminations over Drakar, that the messenger came. Lily, hoping for word of Colt, went to the door herself, waving away the butler.
A skinny young man in a bright red suit and flat-top hat of black held out an envelope and brightly said, “Mademoiselle Daniella Coltrane.”
Lily snatched it from him. “Merci.”
He continued to hold out his hand expectantly, palm up. The smile on his lips was frozen. “Is there anything else, mademoiselle?”
She closed the door in his face. Eagerly, she rushed into the parlor to rip open the envelope, knowing it had to be from Drakar.
It was.
Eagerly, she scanned the lines: Regret everything. Let’s make amends. Please come for dinner around eight tonight. I care deeply.
Lily smiled, folded the paper, and tapped it thoughtfully against her chin. She had overheard someone remark at a tea that the rich Russian had his own apartment on the top floor of a hotel he owned. It would be easy to find out which one. This afternoon she was going to drop by, on the pretext of telling him she’d inadvertently received his message for Dani and, regretfully, did not know where she’d moved.
She was trembling with anticipated glee at the thought of how, after she charmed him thoroughly, he’d extend the invitation to her instead, and if things went according to plan—Colt and his family could go to hell!
Lily hurried upstairs to dress and prepare for what was surely to be the greatest performance of her life.
Chapter Twenty-Two
During the time Antone had worked as concierge at Le Palais, he had become accustomed to the comings and goings of Monsieur Drakar’s numerous lady friends. Each had been lovely in her own way but none quite so beautiful as his guest of the previous evening. Her hair had gleamed and glittered with the brilliance of roasting chestnuts, and never had he seen such striking eyes—kind and friendly and the color of honey. She was not only Monsieur’s loveliest choice thus far but also obviously one of the most refined.
So why, Antone wondered with a sigh of exasperation as he stared after the haughty young woman, did his master now relegate himself to such a churl? He allowed that she was somewhat pretty, but dear Lord, such a disposition. Why, in his fifteen years of service to the public, never had he seen such behavior. Such a tantrum she threw, all because he’d told her she could not go up to Monsieur’s apartment unless she were announced. No time for that, she’d screeched, she would announce herself. When he’d protested, she’d really begun to scream like a banshee. Passersby paused to stare. So he had let her go. If Monsieur scolded him, so be it. A small price to pay, he’d tell him, to end Mademoiselle’s shocking scene in front of the hotel.
The lift stopped in front of impressive brass doors. Lily hoped she didn’t look as nervous as she felt. Her future security could depend on what she was about to do. At least, she consoled her tremulously pounding heart, she was confident that she looked quite lovely in the
yellow velvet dress and matching cape edged in ermine. She loved the way the hood framed her face, giving her an aura of innocence.
She raised the ornate knocker on the door, tapped lightly.
The door opened almost immediately, and Drake stared down at her. His surprised expression quickly changed to one of amusement. “Well, Mademoiselle Deauneve. To what do I owe such a pleasure?”
Lily flashed her most beguiling smile, floated by him as she chided, “You know you can call me Lily.” Immediately awed by the lovely decor, she almost forgot her little speech of explanation but quickly recovered to say, “I have something for you. This”—she held out the envelope—“and my apology.”
Not understanding, Drake looked at the envelope, then at her questioningly.
“I’m afraid I opened it by mistake. I was expecting a message myself. When I saw it was for Dani, I was quite embarrassed.”
Drake stiffened with instant annoyance. “Then why didn’t you go ahead and give it to her…along with your apology,” he said tartly.
“I didn’t know where to send it,” she said innocently. “She’s moved out of the house.”
He asked Lily to tell him everything she knew.
She shrugged, removed her cape and tossed it carelessly onto a chair. “I really don’t know very much. It’s been a nightmare around there the past two days. Everyone seems to have gone crazy. The Coltranes left unexpectedly to go on holiday somewhere, and Colt is never around. I think he’s avoiding me.”
She gave him a look of misery and softly accused, “I told you yesterday morning that things weren’t going well for me. You said you’d make time for me later.”
He crossed the room to stand beside her. “It seems I have time now, Lily, and hearing all this truly distresses me.”
Love and Splendor: The Coltrane Saga, Book 5 Page 22
