Secret Fire

by Johanna Lindsey

  “I do wish you would be more precise, my dear. If you mean Nikolai, he didn’t stay here long. He came to welcome you home as soon as he heard you were back and has gone on to Moscow with the same intent. Obviously you missed each other on the road.”

  Dimitri brushed past her into the drawing room, heading straight for the liquor cabinet. Possessiveness was a new experience for him. He didn’t like it. For a moment he had actually thought about throttling his brother just for doing him the favor of fetching Katherine back here—no, not for that. For being out in the countryside alone with her, giving him the opportunity to do what he did best. If Nikolai so much as touched her…

  “I suppose you are tired, Mitya, and that is why you are behaving in this boorish manner. Why don’t you get a good night’s sleep, and we can talk in the morning about why you have returned so soon.”

  He downed a short vodka before fixing her with his dark gaze. “Aunt Sonya, if I don’t get some answers here very quickly, you’re going to think my present behavior is on the right side of saintly. I came back here to see Katherine and for no other reason. Now, where the hell is she?”

  Sonya had to sit down after those terse words, but to her credit, her voice didn’t sound at all as shaken as her insides. “I imagine she has retired for the night.”

  “I checked her room. Where is she sleeping, then?”

  “With the servants.”

  Dimitri closed his eyes. Those tactics again. Trying to make him feel guilty for all the times he had thrown her origins at her and also making a statement that was quite clear. The meanest bed was preferable to his.

  “Damn her, I should have known she would pull something like that as soon as I was gone!”

  Sonya blinked in surprise. He was angry with the woman, not her. This was more than she could have hoped for, considering she had realized her mistake the moment he had shouted for his whore. Perhaps she could increase that anger.

  “She is the most haughty, insulting woman I have ever met, Mitya. I put her to work scrubbing floors to see if that would humble her a little, but I doubt anything will.”

  “She agreed to that?” Dimitri asked incredulously.

  Sonya could feel the color rising in her cheeks. Agreed? Agreed! He would have let her refuse? Didn’t he hear her? She had been insulted. What was he thinking of to spoil that creature so?

  “She didn’t object, no.”

  “Then it seems as if I have wasted my time in coming back,” Dimitri said with bitter asperity, not even looking at his aunt now. “So she wants to scrub floors now! Well, if she thinks that little piece of work is going to make me feel any more guilty, she’s sadly mistaken.”

  He snatched up the bottle of vodka before angrily stalking out of the room. Semen and the other footman had to move quickly away from the door, where they had been eavesdropping before he burst out of the room and practically ran up the stairs.

  Sonya poured herself a glass of sherry and smiled as she took a sip. She hadn’t understood Dimitri’s last comments, but that didn’t matter. He would return to Moscow now and Tatiana, and probably be gone for months, forgetting about the Englishwoman completely.

  Chapter Thirty

  Nadezhda Fedorovna watched the Englishwoman covertly, blue eyes narrowed with resentment and loathing. And the more she watched her pushing her brush around the kitchen floor, ignoring everyone around her as if she were too good to associate with the kitchen servants, the more Nadezhda’s resentment festered.

  Who was she, anyway? Nobody. She was small, so small she could have passed for a child, while no one could mistake Nadezhda’s full figure for anything but a woman’s. Her hair was a dull, nondescript brown, while Nadezhda’s was a flaming red, glossy, thick, her best feature by far. The only thing the foreigner had to recommend her was unusual eyes. In fact, there was nothing about her that should have attracted someone like Dimitri Alexandrov. So what had the Prince seen in her that no one else saw?

  Nadezhda wasn’t just prejudiced. Everyone had asked the same question. But for Nadezhda, who had had one glorious night with the Prince years ago, but had never been able to entice him again, the question was a burning one.

  It was something she had never been able to get over, her failure with the Prince. She had had such wonderful plans. She would bear the Prince a son, elevating her stature enormously, assuring herself a life of ease.

  She had not conceived from her one night with Dimitri. Some were beginning to think he was impotent, herself included. At the time she was wise enough to realize that she could still claim a child as his if she could get pregnant soon enough after she had been with him. With a little help from the lustier of the footmen, she had done just that, and was so happy, so proud of her accomplishment, that she had to boast of it to her sister, who betrayed her to their father, who beat her so badly for planning to deceive the Prince that she lost the baby. Nadezhda had wallowed in her bitter failure ever since.

  Now here was this foreigner, this ugly interloper that the Prince had brought here and put in the White Room. The White Room! And she would have everyone believe that the Prince really cared more about her other than to bed her at his convenience.

  Nadezhda had laughed when she heard that Princess Sonya had ordered her caned for her insolence. She had been delighted to see her put to work in the kitchen at the meanest tasks. She wasn’t so haughty now. And the Prince hadn’t come to remove her from her drudgery either, as half the household had anticipated, foolishly believing that he wouldn’t like the way his aunt had treated the woman. But he had brought her here. And he did leave her here, instead of sending her on her way after he was done with her. And he had also looked for her last night as soon as he returned, news Nadezhda had received with rancor, until she later learned he was now furious with the woman, no doubt for showing such disrespect to his aunt.

  No one had told the Englishwoman that the Prince was back. The other servants were in fact purposely keeping the news from her in a ridiculous attempt to spare her feelings. She didn’t even notice the whispering and sympathetic looks, she paid so little attention to what was going on around her. It would serve her right to find out the Prince had been here after he was gone again, but Nadezhda couldn’t wait that long. No one had told her the subject was prohibited. And the woman ought to be made to see that she had fooled no one with her delusions about their Prince Dimitri.

  Nadezhda was only surprised that Princess Sonya hadn’t been the one to tell her. It had been plain to see she hadn’t been pleased yesterday morning when the woman didn’t protest against her new position of floor scrubber. No doubt the Princess, like Nadezhda, had been hoping for resistance so that she could punish her again.

  At least Nadezhda had been there to witness that humiliation. And she had been quick to inform the woman how lucky she was to be getting off so lightly after running away, stealing a horse, and putting the Prince’s brother to the trouble of fetching her back, that she should have been caned again instead. And what did that bitch reply to Nadezhda’s thoughtful disclosure?

  “I’m not a serf, you fool, I’m a prisoner. It’s perfectly natural for a prisoner to try and escape. It’s expected.”

  Such impudence. Such ingratitude. Such pretension. It was as if she thought herself so superior to them all that she was incapable of being humbled by anything they did or said to her. But Nadezhda had the means to bring her down a peg or two now, and if no one else had the gumption or desire to do it, she certainly did.

  Katherine should have been warned by the malicious looks being cast at her by the flame-haired Nadezhda that she was in for more unpleasantness, but she hadn’t thought the girl would be so spiteful as to pass her and deliberately spill a full bowl of wet breakfast scraps, pretending she had tripped. If Katherine hadn’t moved quickly enough, the wastes would have landed in her lap instead of just spattering her knees and arms.

  “How clumsy of me!” Nadezhda proclaimed loudly before dropping to her knees as if she meant to
clean up the pile of oatmeal, rotten tomatoes, sour cream with bits of eggs, onions, mushrooms, and caviar oozing in it—Russians loved caviar with their blini, the pancakes served every morning at Novii Domik.

  Katherine sat back, waiting to see if the girl really would wipe up her mess. But all she did was shove the now-empty bowl in front of Katherine.

  “It’s silly of them to make you scrub the floor over and over again, when it is already spotless,” Nadezhda murmured snidely. “I thought I would give you a little something to make your efforts worthwhile.”

  So she was done pretending this was an accident. “How benignant of you,” Katherine replied without expression.

  “Benignant?”

  “Forgive me. I sometimes forget myself when speaking to an ignoramus.”

  Nadezhda didn’t know what ignoramus meant either, but she did know when she was being subtly insulted. “You think you are so clever with your fancy words, eh? Well, Miss Clever Bitch, what do you think of Prince Dimitri’s return and his avoidance of you?”

  Katherine’s expression became an open book filled with excitement. “Dimitri’s back? When?”

  “Early last evening.”

  Early last evening Katherine had been dead to the world after twelve hours of drudgery. She wouldn’t have heard anything if the house had fallen down around her ears, so she certainly wouldn’t have heard Dimitri raising hell in her defense. But then why hadn’t he sought her out? The morning was hours old. Why was she still here?

  “You’re lying.”

  Nadezhda’s lips tilted mockingly. “I have no need to lie about this. Ask Ludmilla there. She saw him come in. Ask anyone here. They all thought to keep it from you because of your insistence that he would be furious when he learned what had happened. Well, little fool, he was furious, to be sure, but with you.”

  “Then his aunt didn’t tell him the truth.”

  “Believe that if you like, but I know differently. The conversation they had was overheard. Princess Sonya told him everything. He knows you’re here scrubbing floors and he doesn’t care. Stupid wench,” Nadezhda spat. “Did you really think he would take your side against his aunt? He’s been up for hours, making preparations to leave again today. That’s how eager he is to see you.”

  Katherine didn’t believe her. She couldn’t. She was a spiteful, malicious girl, though what Katherine had done to earn her enmity she didn’t know. But Rodion came into the kitchen just then, and surmising the situation, yanked Nadezhda to her feet. He wouldn’t lie to Katherine. He had been nothing but kindness since Nikolai had brought her back here.

  “What have you done, Nadezhda?” he demanded.

  The girl simply laughed, and jerking her hand away, swayed back to her corner of the kitchen. Rodion immediately bent down to help Katherine scoop the pile of scraps back into the bowl. She didn’t say anything until the messy job was done, then she asked him plainly, “Rodion, is Dimitri really here?”

  He wouldn’t look up. “Yes.”

  A full minute passed. “And he knows where he can find me?”

  “Yes.”

  He glanced at her then, but wished to God he hadn’t. Sweet Mary, he had never seen such bleak pain in someone’s eyes before. The beating hadn’t done it to her, but a few nasty words from that spiteful Nadezhda had.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She didn’t seem to hear. She hung her head and began the mechanical motions that pushed the brush back and forth across the floor. Rodion stood up and looked about the room, but everyone suddenly seemed inordinately busy, no one even hazarding a glance in their direction—except Nadezhda, who smiled gloatingly. Rodion turned and stalked out of the kitchen.

  Katherine continued scrubbing the same spot, over and over. How furious Sonya would be if she knew how beneficial this particular task was for Katherine. She had been angry when she had been given no choice but to comply and do as the witch ordered. She had discerned immediately that Sonya would have relished her refusal, so instead she refused to give her that satisfaction. She would scrub the bloody floor until it killed her, without a single complaint.

  But instead of the physical labor aggravating her sore back, it had eased her condition, the constant slow moving of her arms pulling and massaging each muscle, soothing the tightness, reducing the swelling instead of inflaming it as that jarring ride had done. And after a full day of scrubbing yesterday, when she might have thought she would have to crawl to her bed in agony, she was simply worn out from the labor, a strain in her lower back, and a definite soreness in her arms and hands, but that she didn’t mind at all. All movement was easier now, with only a slight twinge here and there. She could almost forget the beating, if she didn’t actually touch her back.

  The tears that had been gathering in her eyes spilled over. So much for trying to distract yourself, you idiot. When was the last time you cried without some kind of pain forcing the tears out? There’s no pain now, you stupid ninny. Stop it! There’s no good reason! You knew all along he didn’t care. Look how he left without a word, without insuring your safety. just a few words to his aunt could have prevented that archaic beating.

  Oh, God, it hurt so much that she could hardly breathe for the choking constriction in her throat. How could he just leave her here? He wasn’t even going to come to see if she was all right after that savage beating. He cared that little. That’s what hurt the most.

  He had spent the night here, gone to bed knowing that his aunt had condemned her to slavery in the kitchen, done nothing to alter that fact. No apologies. No champion. And he was going to leave again. Was this his idea then of how she would be kept busy while she was here? The bastard.

  And you fell in love with him, you contemptible fool, even when you knew it was an asinine thing to do. Well, you got just what you deserved. You always knew love was an insane emotion, and this proves it.

  It was no use. There was no room for anger to take hold, nothing inside her but the hurt that was fast numbing her senses, until finally there was nothing left to feel but welcome emptiness.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  “The boots, man!” Dimitri growled impatiently. “I’m not presenting myself at court. They’ll be covered with dust by the end of the day.”

  Semen rushed forward with the boots still only half shined. Why did he have to be at the bottom of the stairs when the Prince needed a valet to replace the absent Maksim? He was a jumble of nerves, expecting at any moment that the Englishwoman would appear and tell Dimitri the whole of the story, not just the half-truths the Princess had told him. But then she didn’t even know the Prince was back. Why should she leave the kitchen? He couldn’t depend on that. He wouldn’t be able to relax until Dimitri was gone again, and, thank God, he was preparing to leave now.

  Dimitri caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and was surprised by the baleful stare it returned. No wonder Semen was so edgy. Had he possessed this angry look all morning? How should he know? He was still half drunk, if truth were known. Two bottles of vodka hadn’t produced the desired effect of putting him to sleep. It had only made his thoughts discordant as the night wore on. And even after a sleepless night, he still wasn’t tired. Sweet Christ, what he wouldn’t give for a little sleep to erase the whole problem from his mind.

  “You want the dress sword, my lord?”

  “I suppose I should wear my medals too on the road,” Dimitri snapped, but then quickly apologized for his testiness.

  He had donned one of his old uniforms simply because he felt in a warlike mood. He didn’t have to wear all the trappings that went with it. The scarlet jacket was still in excellent condition, the tight white trousers spotless, the knee-high boots as stiff as when they were new. If the Tzar had his way, the whole country would be in uniform, civilian as well as military. Unlike in other countries, here a man’s uniforms didn’t retire from active service when he did. At court, rarely anything else was worn.

  The knock at the door brought a sharp “Come in!” befor
e Semen could move to open it.

  Rodion stepped into the room, looking uncomfortable when he saw Dimitri’s scowling countenance. It had been one thing to think about setting the record straight for the woman’s sake, but quite another actually to speak up when the Prince was looking like this.

  Semen had quite literally turned ashen, guessing Rodion’s intention. Rodion had gotten drunk the night the woman burned with fever from the beating. He had been the one to take her to Parasha. He had been the one to warn the kitchen workers to leave her alone. Yet he had played a part in hurting the woman just as Semen had, even if neither had had any choice. How could he forget that?

  “Well?” Dimitri barked.

  “I—I think there is something you should know—about the Englishwoman—before you leave, my lord.”

  “Katherine. Her name is Katherine,” Dimitri snarled. “And there isn’t anything you can tell me about her that would surprise me, so don’t bother. In fact if I never hear another thing about her, it will be too soon!”

  “Yes, my lord.” Rodion turned to leave, relieved and yet disappointed at the same time.

  Semen was just letting out his breath, some little color returning to his cheeks, when the Prince halted Rodion.

  “I’m sorry, Rodion.” Dimitri motioned him back, sighing. “I didn’t actually mean any of that. What did you have to tell me about Katherine?”

  “Just that—” Rodion exchanged a glance with Semen, but stiffened his resolve and blurted—“your aunt had her caned, my lord, so badly that she didn’t awaken for nearly two days. She works in the kitchen now, but not by choice. She would have been beaten again if she had refused.”

  Dimitri didn’t say a word. For a long moment he just stood there staring at Rodion, then he left the room so quickly that Rodion had to jump back out of the way.

  “Why did you have to do that, you fool?” Semen demanded. “Did you see the look on his face?”

  Rodion was not in the least sorry now. “She was right, Semen. And it would have gone a lot worse if he had found out later, after he’d left, and no one bothering to tell him while he was still here. But he’s a fair man. He isn’t going to blame us for following the Princess’s orders. It’s not who wielded the cane that will concern him but why it was done, and that’s for his aunt to explain, if she can.”