Flight to Verechenko (13 page)

Not daring to give a backward glance she slipped her long fingers into the soft gloves and only Lixy was aware of how reluctant Princess Dagmar's companion was to be given free rein in the treasure house of Fabergé. He had seen the way her eyes had been drawn to the windows and knew as well as she who stood beyond. A pity, Lixy thought to himself, as he watched the coachman help them into the carriage. The Marquis of Clare's reputation had preceded him and he had never embarked on any affair with seriousness. Eleanor could get herself hurt there, and he liked her too much to want that to happen to her. Whereas Kiril's interest in her distinctly exceeded that he usually showed in a pretty face.

In Lixy's estimation, Kiril was on the verge of falling in love, if he hadn't done so already. And if Lixy was any judge of character, and he flattered himself that he was, then it would be with the full approval of his grandmother. As not even the visiting German Princess last year had found favour in Princess Dagmar's eyes, Lixy found the whole situation tantalising. And in another few hours there would be the added complication of the arrival of Lady Cunningham and her daughter. Two beautiful women under the same roof: one a fiery redhead, the other a feather-brained blonde. Life was beginning to prove very interesting. He wondered if Amelia Cunningham had any aspirations to be a Princess or if she would be satisfied with becoming a Marchioness. Either way, the sparks would fly. Lixy lit himself another cigar and pondered the situation, feeling wise beyond his years.

Kiril had been aware of the faint flush in Catherine's cheeks as she took his arm, leading her down the flight of stairs towards the carriage. So he
did
have an effect on her after all. He smiled to himself, aware that tall though she was her head still scarcely skimmed his shoulder and that she carried with her the elusive scent of gardenias. So she was not going to betray her emotions openly. With longstanding experience Kiril knew that once she had been decked in necklaces and tiaras of diamonds and sapphires, and had braclets of emeralds encircling her fragile wrists, and sapphire ear-rings to match the stone on her finger, then she would be unable to conceal her feelings for him and those delectable lips would be his for the taking. And not only her lips: Kiril felt a flood of heat in his loins. Young, unmarried English girls were notoriously difficult to seduce, mainly because they were permanently accompanied by over-protective Mamas and companions. But Eleanor had no such protectress and he knew with an instinct as old as time itself that she was a creature of passion.

With difficulty he controlled his imagination and said, ‘My grandmother insists on keeping you a mystery, Eleanor. Am not I permitted to know more about you than the others? Believe me, I would guard your secret with my life if you so wished.' His voice was gentle and caressing.

‘There is no mystery, Your Highness. I came as governess to the children and now act as companion to Princess Dagmar.'

Kiril laughed. ‘I'm not such a fool to be taken in by the governess story, and don't refer to me as “Highness”. The name is Kiril: and yours is Eleanor?' There was a question in his voice.

For a moment Catherine wondered if the Princess Dagmar had told him the truth and he was teasing her, then he added, ‘Strange. You do not look like an Eleanor. An Eleanor should be a shy, brown-haired, quiet creature: not a girl of such ravishing beauty that she takes men's breath away.'

There was no banter in his words. As he looked across the intimacy of the carriage to her, Catherine knew the compliment had been intended. The expression in the vivid blue eyes deepened.

‘You
are
beautiful, Eleanor.'

‘Thank you,' Catherine wondered how far it was to Fabergé, aware that with each lurch of the carriage as it avoided a speeding troika or crowd of pedestrians, Kiril's knees briefly touched her own. Despite the spring sunshine the carriage was closed, increasing the feeling of closeness. The hands on his lap were wellshaped, a magnificent diamond on his little finger. Her first impression of him had not been wrong. Even at such close quarters Prince Kiril Dolgorovsky was an exceedingly handsome man, despite the girlish prettiness of his fair hair and golden-tipped eyelashes, there was no denying his blatant masculinity. Yet even in such close proximity he did not make her heart beat the faster, nor her senses reel.

Kiril's fair handsomeness was lost on her. She craved thick black hair, clinging in tantalising curls in the nape of an olive-toned neck. Broad shouders that wore a cloak with arrogant panache. Mocking dark eyes beneath sweeping black brows.

The four white stallions were reined to a halt. The customary red carpet was unfurled. The Prince gave Catherine his arm and proceeded to buy her more jewels in one hour than her family had ever possessed in its whole history.

Deferentially they were escorted to a private room, a procession of impassive-faced assistants coming at a clap of hands, with satin cushions bearing an Aladdin's Cave of jewels. Catherine gasped, touching a gold and diamond bar brooch reverently, her eyes widening at the necklaces and pendants. Every so often as the glittering display was paraded in front of her, Kiril would nod his head very slightly. A sapphire and diamond
trois fleur
pendant with sapphire drop ear-rings to match her ring was discreetly packaged in a velvet-lined case. A diamond pussycat pendant with emeralds for eyes followed. An emerald and diamond
petite fleur
pendant joined it. Then an emerald surrounded by diamonds hanging on a fine gold chain. A ruby and diamond heart on a gold chain. The gold and diamond bar brooch. Gold butterfly ear studs and last, but by no means least, a dazzling diamond and coral necklace.

A dazed Catherine tried to make up her mind which was the prettiest, which to choose, and stared unbelievably as package after package was carried by uniformed assistants out to the carriage and the waiting Dmitri.

‘
All
of them?' she asked increduously. ‘ You can't possibly buy me
all
of them!'

‘A mere handful,' Kiril said with something like regret. ‘They will design a collection of jewels for you personally, but that takes time. These little trinkets will have to do in the meantime.'

‘But I can't accept presents as costly as this!' Catherine protested. ‘A pendant or a brooch yes, the Princess can't have meant you to buy all
these.
'

Kiril shrugged. To say that he had charged the sapphire and diamond pendant and the gold and diamond brooch to his own account would only cause a fresh outburts of protest and he believed Catherine was quite strong-willed enough to refuse to accept them if she knew from whom they came. He said, ‘I'm a far better judge of my grandmother's intentions than yourself, Eleanor.' He smiled down at her, enjoying her pleasure, pleased to have her on his arm. It gave him a heady sense of intoxication that he hadn't experienced since his youth.

As the carriage made its way back through the crowded St Petersburg streets to Verechenko, Kiril grew thoughtful. What he had said, about being an accurate judge of his grandmother's intentions, was true, and he was beginning to suspect very strongly that Eleanor figured very high in his grandmother's intentions for his future. It was a prospect that failed to alarm him. He gazed across at her, her lovely face still bemused by the wealth that had been showered upon her.

‘You are very beautiful,' he said at last, as the carriage rocked gently over the broad bridge spanning the Neva.

She flushed slightly, not accustomed to the flirtatious banter that she felt the Prince was indulging in, then she saw the expression on the finely-chiselled face and her confusion deepened.

‘Thank you,' she said simply, looking out to where the steel-grey waters swirled below them.

Very slowly he leant across, taking her hand in his. ‘I made a mistake in taking the carriage for our excursion,' he said huskily. ‘The Panhard would allow me to sit next to you with much greater comfort, perhaps even to …' He leaned across to kiss her and she shrank back, withdrawing her hand hastily.

‘Please, Your Highness … Kiril …'

He hesitated. With any other woman he would have ignored her protests with gentle firmness. Especially a woman he had just spent thousands of roubles on. But this one was different. This one was an unknown quantity and for the first time in his twenty-five years, Prince Kiril Dolgorovsky was unsure of himself. He leaned back, surveying her thoughtfully so that she did not know where to look, and then said: ‘ If I were to tell you that I have fallen in love with you, would you believe me?'

‘We've only just met,' Catherine said, wishing that Dmitri would drive faster and reach Verechenko, so putting an end to her embarrassment.

‘Sometimes one meeting is all it takes.'

She remembered her meeting with Dominic in the darkened London street. Hadn't she fallen in love then? She'd never been the same since, haunted by his face and voice, longing for his touch.

‘I can see by the expression on your face that you agree with me.' Kiril's voice was thick with desire. With every fibre of his being he longed to take her in his arms, yet if she should resist …

‘I think Lady Cunningham has arrived,' Catherine said with relief as their horses galloped down Verechenko's gravel drive.

Kiril silently cursed Dmitri for not having the sense to extend their ride, then helped her down from the carriage to be greeted by the chime-like laugh of Amelia Cunningham.

‘Dear Prince,
there
you are. We thought you were quite lost.' She ignored Catherine as if she did not exist.

‘Our trunks have just been taken upstairs. Would you believe we only have thirty-six between us? It makes me feel quite a pauper. But I've decided to travel very light and stock up my wardrobe in Paris on my return.'

‘Which is when?' Kiril asked, good manners keeping the hope from his voice.

‘Not for a
very
long time,' Amelia said coyly. ‘In fact I love St Petersburg so much I could quite happily live here for the rest of my life.'

Faithless too, Catherine thought furiously as she excused herself and made her way to the Princess's boudoir. She had flirted with Dominic till he had been taken in by her and now, the minute his back was turned, she was doing her best to charm Kiril in the same manner. She wondered what Amelia Cunningham's reaction would be if she knew the eligible Prince Kiril had just made a declaration of love to the Vishnetski children's ex-governess. The thought was enough to dispel her fury and make her giggle. It would serve the Cunninghams right if she pretended to reciprocate Kiril's feelings. Then they would
have
to be civil to her.

‘That Cunningham creature has arrived,' the Princess said curtly. ‘Why she should count me as one of her friends I can't imagine.' She turned from her dressing-table mirror. ‘Let me see what Kiril has bought for you.'

Footmen entered the room, the exquisitely wrapped packages carried on silken cushions.

The Princess surveyed the jewels approvingly and said slyly, ‘I suppose you want to know what I've found out about our handsome guest.'

Catherine's smile faded. ‘I've already been told all I need to know. I spoke to Lixy this morning.'

‘I see.' She pursed her lips, ruby-encrusted fingers curling round the knob of her cane. ‘So what do we do? Announce you at lunch as Lady Catherine Davencourt and put the Cunninghams in their place, or keep up this masquerade?'

‘It got into the London papers,' Catherine said, her face scarlet with shame. ‘The maid overheard me and talked. She said I had called him dissolute and a womaniser and that I had said no decent girl would ever condescend to marry him.'

‘And did you?' the Princess asked interestedly.

Miserably Catherine nodded. ‘And so, of course, they dug up all the old scandal. It must have been dreadful for the family.'

‘They'll survive,' Princess Dagmar said philosophically. ‘ They've survived worse scandals than that in the past. I was there when that hothead attempted to shoot Dominic within yards of the Royal Box.'

Catherine's eyes darkened in misery. Who was the woman Dominic had risked scandal and the wrath of an outraged husband for? Had he loved her very deeply?

The Princess was already rising and as maids fluttered round and liveried footmen hastened to open the doors, Catherine accompanied her down to the terrace where aperitifs were being served.

The Cunninghams and Dominic turned as the Princess made her entrance, and Lady Cunningham rushed over to her, arms outstretched, skin sagging as she clasped Dagmar's hands in an esctasy of welcome.

Amelia, torn between a Russian Prince and a wealthy Marquis was doing her best to flirt equally with each.

Trying to be unnoticed Catherine walked quietly towards the balustrade, staring down towards the lake, painfully aware of Dominic only yards away from her.

‘What happens when the clock strikes twelve?' his deep-timbred voice asked mockingly.

She drew in a deep, quivering breath and turned to him with outward calm.

‘I'm afraid I don't understand.'

He leaned negligently against the balustrade, his eyes roving over the exquisite French-made dress, the choker of pearls that the Princess had insisted she wear, the carefully coiffeured hair.

‘I think you understand very well.' A corner of his mouth curved in a crooked smile. ‘Last week a brown-haired, demure governess; this week a titian-haired beauty taking St Petersburg and a prince by storm.'

‘Why have you to be always so rude?' Catherine asked hotly.

The dark eyes sparked with a light she hadn't seen before.

‘Why do you have to be such fun?' he said. Lady Cunningham called his name. He ignored the summons. When his hand reached out for her she was powerless to resist. His lips brushed her ear, her cheek. She was trembling, his without any reservation. Lady Cunningham's voice pierced the dizzying vortex she was falling into. He released her. Turned. Reentered the room.