The Counterfeit Count
Page 23
“Kóshka?” Creighton asked.
“Cat,” Demi said with a chuckle. “A nickname she gained the first time she followed me up a tree too tall for her and then could not find her way back down. I see, little sister, you have, like a cat, continued to land on your feet.”
“Where have you been?” She touched his face, wanting to be sure this was no dream.
“Fighting to halt insurrection from within our army.” He glanced at Miloradovich and his men. “This was not the first attempt to put an end to Alexander’s life. There are many who do not like the czar’s vision for Russia’s future.”
Shouts from the theater silenced every voice in the street. Natalya stared at the people emerging from the theater. She could not mistake a single one. The first, a man who seemed nearly as round as he was tall, was beyond doubt the Prince Regent. He was followed by a handsome man who offered his arm to a woman almost his height.
“The czar!” she breathed. She feared she would not be able to take another breath as Alexander turned to look at her, asking a question she could not hear the answer to. Her feet seemed melded to the stones as he and the Grand Duchess came toward her.
Czar Alexander looked to her right. “Kapitán Dmitrieff?” he asked, staring at Demi.
“No, I was—I am Lieutenant Dmitrieff.” He bowed and took a step back. Taking Natalya’s unwounded arm, he pushed her forward. “This is Kapitán Dmitrieff. Natalya Dmitrieff.”
She tensed as she stood before the Czar of All The Russias. Never had she imagined this moment. Even in her grandest dreams, she had dared to hope for no more than a missive from the czar’s ministers returning her father’s lands to her. Now those lands would be Demi’s, as they should be.
The czar’s blue eyes widened. When his sister said something too soft for Natalya to hear past the rush of trepidation in her ears, he chuckled before saying, “You are an odd cavalry officer.”
She tried to speak, but it was impossible. Even when she swallowed deeply, she could manage little more than a whisper. “I wished to revenge my family’s deaths by fighting the French. There was no one else once I believed the French had killed the rest of my family.”
“Come forward.” When she hesitated, he added, “Be brave as you always have been, Kapitán Dmitrieff.”
She obeyed and started to bow. Then, although she feared she looked absurd, she curtsied. Before the czar, she could not pretend to be what she was not. She must be honest as she had longed to be for so long.
Fingers under her chin tipped her face up. Looking into Alexander’s round face, she saw compassion in his eyes. “I understand I may owe you my life as well as my sister’s,” he said quietly.
“’Twas Lord Ashcroft who cut the fuse,” she replied.
“With his knife?”
“With mine.” She took a deep breath to try to steady her trembling voice. She had not been this frightened when she went into battle. “I am glad to be able to serve in whatever way I can.”
“That much is clear.” He glanced to where the wagon with Miloradovich was disappearing around a corner. “I have heard much of you and your exploits from a man I thought I could trust with my life. It appears his words about your bravery may have been more honest than his pledge to defend Russia. Is your pledge as failing as Miloradovich’s, Kapitán?”
“It has never changed from the moment I took it. I hold it dear.”
“Yet you served the very man who would have brought the flames of war back to consume us all.”
Natalya scraped her tongue along her arid lips. She winced when she tasted her own blood, but kept her voice even. “General Miloradovich was afraid of peace. I wish it with all my heart.” Glancing to her left, she delighted in the warmth surging through her as Creighton smiled.
“So it would seem.” The czar motioned for her to rise. “You have saved me and my sister and our allies this night. Speak the reward you would wish, Kapitán.”
“I wish only to see my brother assume my father’s lands and titles.”
“That is no reward, for both your father and your brother have served me loyally. I have no cause to deny Dmitri Dmitrieff what he rightly possesses.” He chuckled. “I offer you a reward. What do you wish?”
Taking a deep breath, she did not hesitate. “I wish to return to being myself. I would ask to be released from my service to the army.”
“You want nothing else?”
Again she looked at Creighton. His smile hinted at the delight of his arms enfolding her. Yes, she wanted so much more, but fulfilling her dreams was something Czar Alexander could not do. Only one man could make those dreams come true, only the man who had conquered her heart in spite of her efforts to keep him from claiming it.
When the czar chuckled and motioned for Creighton to step forward to stand beside her, Natalya did not dare move.
“You are?” Alexander asked.
“Captain Creighton Marshall, 10th Hussars.” He bowed his head to the czar.
Colonel Carruthers emerged from the crowd that had gathered. He cleared his throat. “As of next week, your grace, he will be known only as Creighton Marshall, 6th Viscount Ashcroft.”
“Does this man deserve such a title?”
“His father—”
“Not of viscount, for that is no more than an accident of birth. Does he deserve the title of captain?”
Colonel Carruthers smiled. “Tonight was not the first time he has proven himself to be a hero. A dozen men live this night because he rescued them from an enemy ambush, although he was shot himself.”
“You were shot?” Natalya gasped. She clamped her lips closed when Alexander chuckled.
“It would seem,” the czar said, “you have hidden your record of bravery from my kapitán.”
Creighton rubbed his left arm. “The wound was less severe than the one Natalya received tonight.”
“Both of you are worthy of the title of hero, although it seems to be one neither of you wish.” The czar glanced at his sister and smiled. “I grant you your request, Kapitán. Your service as a cavalry officer to me is complete, save for one thing. As your final command from your czar, Kapitán Dmitrieff, I order you to say yes when Lord Ashcroft asks you to be his wife.”
“But—” She gulped, realizing she had been about to gainsay the czar.
Creighton put his hand on her arm and turned her slowly to face him. His eyes twinkled in the lights from the theater as he brushed his lips against hers. When her arms rose to his shoulders, he said, “I’m waiting, Natalya.”
“For what?”
“For you to say yes.” His thumb beneath her chin tipped her face up toward him. “You have told me so often how you always obey orders. Will you disobey this one?”
“I thought you didn’t want a wife.”
“I didn’t realize how much I needed you until I thought you might be lost forever.” He kissed her cheek. “I guess I tried to be a hero one time too many, for I did not want to keep you from obtaining your dreams, even if it cost me my heart to let you go.”
“I did not want to go.” She brushed her fingers against his cheek, then leaned her head on his shoulder. “I want to stay here with you.”
His thumb tilted her chin back so she could see his smile. “Now you need not go. There is another Count Dmitrieff to reconstruct your father’s dacha. Nothing prevents you from obeying this order.”
“Save that you have not asked me to be your wife.”
“And when I do, what then?”
She laughed as she brought his mouth toward hers. “Then I suspect I shall never obey another order save to love you with all my heart.”
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the a
uthor’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1997 by Jo Ann Ferguson
Cover design by Neil Alexander Heacox
ISBN: 978-1-5040-0910-2
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