Flight to Verechenko (17 page)

‘Sometimes,' she said to Catherine, ‘I don't know whether you are a very simple girl or a very clever one,' and she swept from her boudoir leaving Catherine mystified. Standing regally at the head of the magnificent staircase, the Princess greeted her guests, flanked by Catherine and Lena. It was as both Vilya and the Princess had known it would be. Not a man bowing over Princess Dagmar's hand and kissing it, could keep his eyes from Catherine. Yet she seemed totally unaware of the reaction she was causing.

The Princesses and Countesses, the Baronesses and Duchesses, carefully avoided giving Catherine even the merest acknowledgement. Not because they believed her to be socially inferior, though certainly Lady Cunningham had made sure that the English community were aware of the fact, but out of seething anger at the besottedness of their menfolk. Suddenly the costly stones that graced their throats and ears seemed garishly commonplace. To outdo another woman in the extravagance of jewels in St Petersburg was an impossibility. Princess Dagmar's companion's decision to wear only a rose was, in the eyes of the ladies, a masterstroke. Even the representative from the British Embassy, a distinguished-looking gentleman by the name of William Townley, gazed admiringly at her. He knew of course, that according to Lady Cunningham the girl was nothing but a governess that the eccentric Princess had decided to foist upon polite society. Mr Townley, a mature gentleman in his fifties, was sure she was wrong. He knew a lady when he saw one and he was certain he was seeing one now. Lena fidgeted with her fan nervously. The Englishman was very attractive, with his steel-grey hair and quiet manner. Perhaps later he would dance with her. The thought made her so apprehensive she dropped the fan altogether and Willian Townley courteously retrieved it, handing it to her with a bow and smile that flustered her even further.

The envy in the eyes of the Russian ladies was nothing to the expression in the eyes of Lady Cunningham and Amelia.

Amelia had dressed with great care, certain that tonight was the night that the Marquis would propose to her. She had chosen to wear a diaphanous gown of white chiffon in the hope that it would make him realise how utterly breathtaking she would look in her wedding gown. Diamonds sparkled in her blonde hair, caressed her throat and clung in wide bracelets around her arms. Lady Cunningham's own drop earrings of priceless diamonds hung from her tiny ears nearly to her shoulders.

She would be queen of the ball and it was in this confident expectation that she entered the ballroom. A few heads turned, but not many. Certainly she had not heard the concerted inward gasp of admiration, that her entrance, decked in diamonds from head to foot, would have caused in London. Beneath the lights of a hundred chandeliers, every woman present was wearing a king's ransom of jewellery.

And then Amelia saw Catherine. She would have had to be blind to be unaware that the eyes of every man in the room were rivetted on her rival. Her little cat-like eyes closed to mere slits. She would make quite sure that the Marquis was under no misapprehension about Eleanor's background. That her mother had informed him on numerous occasions and without seeming effect, Amelia knew. But this time
she
would tell him. That Eleanor was invited to the ball at all was an insult to herself and to her mother.

The Princess, the reception complete, entered the ballroom, Catherine at her side.

Within seconds Lixy had foiled every other gentleman present and asked her for the first waltz. Lightly in Lixy's arms she danced round and round, the vast ballroom a fairyland of colour and light, but of the face she was searching for there was no sign.

‘I suppose you know you are creating a sensation,' Lixy said, his eyes admiring.

‘Me?' she looked at him in genuine surprise.

Lixy laughed. It was going to be pleasant having Eleanor's continued company, for he knew that Kiril intended marrying her. Some wives could make friendships between men difficult. This one wouldn't. He enjoyed her company just as much as he did Kiril's.

‘At this rate we'll never get her back as governess,' Alexis said glumly to Maria, whose chaise-longue had been brought down to the ballroom.

Maria laughed, clasping her husband's hand. ‘I am afraid you are right, darling. We must look elsewhere. You know that Kiril intends marrying her?'

‘Does he, by God!' Alexis, immune to any of the undercurrents around him had known no such thing. ‘ When Dagmar realises that all hell will be let loose!'

‘No it won't,' his wife chided. ‘Dagmar has positively encouraged him to propose.'

Alexis' bushy eyebrows rose in disbelief. ‘ But she's a governess, Maria. Dagmar is mad, but she's not certifiable.'

Maria tapped him reprovingly with her fan. ‘I've a feeling Dagmar knows more about Eleanor than we suspect. Look! Eleanor is dancing with Prince Yurovsky now and he looks absolutely smitten. Where is Kiril?'

‘Doing his best to get away from the Minister. A ball the day after war has been declared isn't exactly convenient. You note no Government Ministers are present?'

‘But he'll be here soon?'

‘I should think he's champing at the bit to get away. He would be if he could see the way Yurovsky is flirting with Eleanor. Damn it all, the man looks as if he's going to propose himself any minute.'

‘I think he already has,' Maria said smugly.

‘And she turned him down? A prince!' Alexis exclaimed disbelievingly.

‘I don't
know
that he has. Just my feminine intuition, and yet if he had or if he did then Eleanor would turn him down.'

‘Feminine intuition again?'

‘Yes, dear.'

‘I don't know how you do it.'

‘No dear, I know you don't.' Her big, kind Alexis hadn't one ounce of intuition. ‘ Why don't you dance with Eleanor when this dance finishes? She looks as though she desperately wants to escape from Prince Yurovsky's clutches. You can't stand beside me
all
the evening.'

‘Why not? I enjoy it. You're beautiful. In fact, you're so beautiful I've a good mind to kiss you.'

‘Not in front of all St Petersburg society,' Maria said giggling.
‘Especially
your wife! How ridiculous you are, Alexis. Now, the music is finishing, off you go.'

With an exaggerated sigh of obedience, Alexis made his way towards Catherine. Balls and parties were not for him. He much preferred the wide-open spaces and the company of other men.

Prince Yurovsky was brushed to one side with very little ceremony as Alexis swept Catherine away from under his nose.

‘A pity the Countess is crippled,' Lady Cunningham said slyly to Lena, her face mottled with rage at the success Catherine was having, knowing full well that her own daughter was being put in the shade. She followed Alexis and Catherine around the room with a hard glint in her eye. ‘It leaves a man so vulnerable, don't you think?'

‘Oh, the Vishnetskis are terribly happy,' Lena said, wondering where William Townley had disappeared to and not for one moment grasping Lady Cunningham's insinuations.

‘Maybe so,' Lady Cunningham continued undeterred, ‘but I think Countess Vishnetskaya is nursing a viper in her bosom.'

‘A what?' Anxiously Lena gazed across at Maria's décolletage.

‘A viper,' Lady Cunningham repeated, thinking the Baroness an uncomprehending idiot. ‘The way that hussy has ingratiated herself. After all, my dear Baroness, although Miss Cartwright is now acting as Princess Dagmar's companion and indeed behaving as if she was one of the family, she
was
engaged as the Vishnetskis' governess, was she not?'

‘Oh, but that was only a temporary arrangement,' Lena said kindly, she had never bothered her head about who or what Eleanor was. She was a dear, sweet girl and that was all that mattered. ‘In fact,' she leaned confidingly towards Lady Cunningham, ‘I believe that she is going to marry the prince.'

‘The Prince!' Lady Cunningham's words were strangled in her throat. Her voice rose perilously high. ‘What Prince?'

‘Why, Kiril of course. They will make
such
a handsome couple.'

Lady Cunningham blanched. If what this blabbing fool was telling her was true, then her behaviour towards that wretched girl could well prove embarrassing. Innuendoes about a governess were one thing, about a princess quite another. And if she were to marry into the Dolgorovsky family then she
must
have breeding. Why the Russians were stricter about such matters than the English. Lady Cunningham had the uncomfortable feeling that she had made a grave error of judgment.

As Alexis thanked Catherine formally for the dance, a Grand Duke immediately took his place, and then Baron von Bezabrov, Lixy again and then a General with so many medals on his chest that Catherine's bosom hurt. The Englishman William Townley danced with her, asking her about Baroness Kerenskaya and what relationship she was to Princess Dagmar. Lixy danced with her again and then an officer from the Chevalier guards.

Her eyes scanned the shifting mass of dancing couples in vain. Lena, slightly breathless, danced past in the arms of an elderly general. Countess Nestoreva was talking to a whitehaired gentleman who looked unmistakably English. The dancers surged and swung, and then she saw him.

He was dancing with Amelia Cunningham and she was looking up at him in a way that made Catherine feel faint. Lixy brushed past her, a slim brunette in his arms. The music stopped. The guards officer retreated, her glass of champagne was replenished as she stood with Maria and Alexis, waiting desperately for Dominic to move towards her. The young guards officer came towards her again, smiling. The music began and she accepted his hand, waltzing off into the centre of the ballroom. Amelia drifted past, this time in the arms of the elderly Count Nestorev.

Then, as the dancers swung apart, Dominic's eyes met hers. The dark eyebrows rose, the near black eyes gleamed, and Catherine's heart hammered wildly against the crimson jacket of her partner. As the dance ended Dominic strode across to her so impatiently that heads turned.

‘What do you mean by dancing with other men? I've been looking for you for hours.'

‘You've only just arrived.' She risked a look into his eyes and her heart turned over. ‘ Besides, I saw you dancing with Amelia Cunningham only a moment ago.'

‘Merely carrying out my duties,' he said dryly. The music had started up again. He swept her away, holding her close. ‘ So you would rather be with a young guards officer than with me?'

‘No. I would rather be with you.'

‘Good,' the strong arms around her tightened. The musicians swept past. She caught a glimpse of the Princess dancing with a military gentleman, Amelia's malicious eyes met hers and vanished.

‘I missed you this afternoon,' she said shyly.

‘I missed you too. I had forgotten you were so beautiful.'

Her heart beat up into her throat. They were at the far end of the ballroom and without missing a step Dominic waltzed her past a couple of elderly ladies sipping champagne and across the corridor into the deserted gold and white drawing room. The strains of the music followed them, softly muted. They danced round and round, a world apart from the hundreds of guests only yards away. The music died away and he held her in the centre of the candle-lit room, so close to his heart that she could hear it beating. Then, silently, he bent his head to hers and neither of them spoke for a very long time.

In the shadow of the doorway a squat figure watched them. Then, the expression on her face triumphant, Olga waddled quietly away. She had never forgiven Catherine for replacing her in the children's affections. Now she would have her revenge.

At last she said shakily: ‘The Princess will be looking for me.'

‘Damn the Princess.'

The strains of a mazurka filled the room as he kissed her again. Catherine felt as if she were on fire as he lowered his head, kissing her throat, her naked shoulder, the roundness of her breasts.

‘Marry me,' he said huskily. ‘For God's sake marry me and put me out of this torment.'

‘Oh, yes,' Catherine felt tears of happiness spring to her eyes as she trembled beneath his touch, ‘Oh yes, I will!'

Gently he lifted her face to his. ‘And now we must talk.' She opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced it with a touch of his fingers. ‘Sssh, my sweet love. There are things about me that you do not know. You may change your mind.'

‘Never,' Catherine said vehemently. ‘You see …'

This time he silenced her with a kiss. The room was too dark for her to see the gleam in his eyes as his arms circled her waist and he said: ‘As the Marquis of Clare I must return to London and my family estates. I have to tell you this, my love, because I left under rather … difficult … circumstances …'

‘Oh Dominic, please!' Catherine could contain herself no longer. ‘It wasn't your fault!'

‘But it was.' His voice changed, suddenly grave. ‘I had an older brother whom I loved very much. He was tragically killed, murdered. I had been living in Paris for many years. I never met any woman I loved enough to ask to marry me. My father thought marriage would steady me, and as his heir I promised to give the matter some thought.' He paused. Catherine's tears had long since turned to tears of misery. ‘ My brother's fiancée was a young lady in difficult circumstances. Her father was on the verge of bankruptcy. God alone knew what would happen to her with Robert dead, so I offered to marry her myself.' He paused again and it was so still that Catherine could hear his pulse beating in the wrists that held her. ‘Unfortunately my future mother-in-law was not a lady of discretion. She published the news far and wide even before there was an offical announcement. Even before I had had the pleasure of meeting my future bride.'

He paused, and Catherine could feel her heart hammering wildly.