Microsoft Word - jw (10 page)

"wildly, blindly, inordinately," must have been splendid indeed, a lover beyond compare. Dazzling male beauty and a hard, superbly muscled body could account for only part of his success. He had to have other qualities as well to have sexually enslaved a woman like Catherine for so many years. I was intrigued, I admitted that, but my curiosity was . . . was merely curiosity. It would be a rare woman who could replace Catherine of Russia, yes, but there wasn't a man on earth who could replace Jeremy Bond in my heart.

It was well after noon when the carriage began to slow down. The countryside was lovely, grassy fields of pale jade green dotted with large boulders, trees spreading cool blue-gray shadows. The carriage stopped. The groom opened the door for us. Count Orlov himselftook my hand and helped me down. Those strong fingers tightly pressing mine caused no emotional tremors inside. Those dark blue eyes peering so fondly into mine prompted no corresponding fondness, and the warm, gentle smile on his wide pink lips brought no matching smile to my own. Royal favorite he may have been, but I was immune to his allure. I was grateful to him for all he had done, yes, and I would be polite and friendly, but there would be no repetition of last night's cozy intimacy. Count Orlov was not going to have another opportunity to cast his spell over me.

"You have the comfortable journey?" he asked me.

"It was extremely comfortable."

"Ah, Sir Harry," he said, grasping the man's arm, half dragging him out of the carriage. "You kept the lady com: pany. I suppose he bores you with tedious business talk?"

"Not at all," I replied.

"I'd like to bore
you,"
Sir Harry said grumpily, straightening the lapels of his coat. "I've been trying for three days to talk to you about those coal mines, Orlov. If you want to invest in them we must-"

Orlov made a mock scowl and pounded Sir Harry on the back, almost toppling him. Sir Harry gave him a resentful, resigned look, and the count slung an arm around his shoulders in a hearty, affectionate hug.

"Always the boring details!" he exclaimed. "This man here drives me into the frenzy, Miss Danver. He has the clerk's mentality, always the numbers, always the papers.

We discuss all this as soon as we settle in London, Sir Harry, I promise. Now we have the picnic. Is fine idea, no?"

"Positively inspired," Sir Harry said dryly.

Orlov curled his forearm around Sir Harry's throat and squeezed playfully, pretending to strangle him. Sir Harry coughed, freed himself and gave his robust employer another offended look as he stalked away. Count Orlov chuckled, planted his fists on his thighs and watched him depart. He was dressed in gray today, soft pearl gray velvet, although his sweeping cloak was lined with white silk.

The invigorating horseback ride had given his cheeks a pink flush, and his golden brown hair was attractively windblown. His vitality charged the air.

"Is fine fellow, Sir Harry, but a fusspot, I fear. His head is full of the business matters, the facts and the figures. I tease him about it."

"I should say you're most fortunate to have him working for you." .

"Ah, yes, he takes the money, makes it multiply. I will go and humor him a bit, let him tellme about these boring mines while the servants finish setting up our picnic. Here comes Lucie to greet you. You and I will talk later."

Lucie came hurrying to me as her uncle sauntered off to join Sir Harry. She, too, had a flushed, healthy glow, and her eyes were full of pride as she whirled around to show off her new blue velvet riding habit. It was very English, very smart, very flattering to her slim young figure. The hat had a black silk scarf tied around the crown, the ends floating free behind, lifting in the breeze. Neat black leather boots and a pair of supple black leather gloves complemented

the outfit.

"Do I look English?" she asked,

"You look lovely," I told her.

"I was eager to wear it. This morning I felt carefree-ssometimes I do, sometimes not. I wanted to ride my horse.

It was rude of me not to share the carriage with you."

"Nonsense," I replied.

"My uncle and I had a race. Vladimir and the others were very perturbed because we flew on ahead and could not be properly guarded. My uncle was upset because I won. He pouted and said he was getting old, and then he laughed and said he would win next time."

"Sir Harry told me you are an excellent horsewoman."

"Yes, I ride much. I ride fast. It is good cure for melancholy, I find. It sets the heart free and drives away the sadness.

It is good to feel the wind sting the face, to feel the great animal beneath you, under your control. Do you ride?"

"Not much," I admitted. "I once spent quite some time on a mule."

Lucie looked startled. "A mule? This long-eared animal that makes a hee-haw noise?"

I nodded, amused by her description. "It was several years ago, in America. I was riding through the wilderness on an overgrown trail called the Natchez Trace."

"This on a mule?"

"I grew very fond of her."

"There were Indians?" she asked.

"Savage Indians. They almost got me," I said quite truthfully. "I hid in a cave until they went away."

Lucie's violet-blue eyes were wide with dismay, then disbelief.

She shook her head, smiling, convinced I was teasing.

I smiled back, pleased to see the girl so lighthearted. A little way ahead of us four heavily laden coaches lined up at the side of the road, varnished golden brown wood gleaming in the pale sunlight. Servants in white and gold were opening doors, fetching various items, carrying them to a shady spot beneath a spreading oak where carpets and cushions had already been laid. Vladimir and the other guards had selected a spot for themselves farther on behind more trees, where they were already noisily consuming roasted chickens and passing bottles of vodka.

"Come," Lucie said, taking my hand. "We will go sit under the tree. I am frightfully hungry after my ride. Our chef prepared a special picnic lunch for us before we left the inn."

The white rugs patterned in yellow and gold that were spread out over the grass were the same from the night before in the private dining room. The cushions were plump and white and soft. Lucie took off her hat and plopped down, reclining with one elbow propped on a cushion and looking very indolent and young. I sat down in a more dignified manner, spreading my blue and violet striped

skirts. Leaves rustled overhead. An acorn dropped into my lap. Flecks of sunlight and shadow danced about us, and the smells of grass and bark and root were mingled with the marvelous smell of freshly baked pastry as one of the servants placed a fancy white wicker hamper on the edge of the rugs. I wondered idly if we were going to dine on gold plate.

"My uncle tells me you had a lovely meal together last night," Lucie remarked.

"It was very pleasant."

"I had the headache," she said. "I preferred to stay in my room and see the lovely presents he brought me from London. My uncle is very good to remember to bring presents.

Is this grammar correct?"

"It will do nicely."

"All the time my French improves. One day I will learn to speak English, too. My uncle likes you very much. He says I am most fortunate to have so enchanting a friend."

"That was very kind of him."

"He makes you uneasy?" she asked.

The bluntness of the question startled me. "Why-not at all," I lied. "He was-he is very charming."

"He is overbearing sometimes," she said quietly. "So much energy he has, so much vitality-it is unsettling often to strangers. He is rough and loud like the swaggering soldier, but he has many tender sentiments as well."

The subject of our conversation marched over to us with long strides, his cloak flaring behind him like white-lined gray wings. In a jovial, mock-exasperated voice he informed us that in order to humor "this maddening clerk"

he had agreed to talk about boring things while they ate.

They would have chicken and stout fare with the men and leave the delicacies to us. He would pine for our company the whole time, he assured us, and then, with martyred expression,

left to rejoin the persistent Sir Harry.

"Sir Harry has to badger my uncle much," Lucie said, smiling. "My uncle does not like the business matters."

"That's quite apparent."

"He gives in, though. He knows Sir Harry knows best."

We did not dine on gold plate but, instead, on beautiful china that might have graced the table of Louis XV. There was a cold, creamy asparagus soup and marvelous flakey pastries filled with liver pate. The chicken wings baked in a honey glaze were delicious, as were the eggs in aspic and the enormous ripe olives. A bird scolded us from a leafy branch as we ate, and I was not surprised to see a parade of ants march across the rugs. We drank cold, sweetened tea served in glasses of ice, a most eccentric drink but quite refreshing, and for dessert there were small, square chocolate cakes iced with almond paste and filled with raspberry preserves.

"Your chef is incredible," I said, dipping my fingers into the crystal finger bowl thoughtfully provided. "I've never had such food."

"He studied many years in France," Lucie informed me.

"Once he cooked for the Empress, but my uncle lured him away with much money. He grumbles at all this travel and the difficulty in getting ice."

"The cold tea-"

"He calls it
iced tea.
It is his invention. The Englishmen are sure he is mad, spoiling their national beverage this way. Would you care for another glass?"

"Oh, no. I'm far too full."

Lucie gave a languorous sigh and lolled back against the cushions. "Me, too. I am replete. This is a good word?"

"A perfect word."

Plucking a blade of grass, she toyed with it for a moment and then began to idly stroke her cheek with the slender green stalk. Her lovely face had a pensive expression, and her eyes seemed to be gazing at some vaguely disturbing memory. She sighed again and, tossing the grass away, sat up and folded her arms across her knees.

"I am sad that we get to London so soon," she said.

"But London is a very exciting city. Why should you be sad?"

"I will not be seeing you again; I make a wonderful new friend, and so soon I must give her up. Once again I will be alone."

"I am sure you will make many new friends, Lucie."

She did not reply. A long golden brown wave fell across her cheek. She lifted a graceful hand to brush it aside.

"I am happy for you, though," she said, gazing into the distance. "You have this man. You have someone who loves you."

"One day soon you will have someone, too."

Lucie shook her head, as though such a thing were unthinkable, and then, abruptly, she picked up her hat and stood. As she put it on I got to my feet, too. One of the servants came aver to start gathering up the picnic things. I brushed my skirt, bewildered by these sudden shifts of mood. When she had adjusted the hat, Lucie turned to me with a bright smile, but her face seemed strangely hard despite the forced gaity.

"I will see about my horse now," she said quickly. "We will be sharing the carriage the rest of the way. We will talk nonsense and munch sugared almonds and be-and be very merry."

Lucie hurried across the grass to the area where the horses had been left, their reins tied loosely to an improvised post. What a strange, enigmatic creature she was, I thought, so young and vulnerable, and yet ... yet there were times when those lovely, slanted eyes were full of wisdom, full of secrets I felt she would share with no one.

The girl was charming and kind, and there was a poignant quality about her I found quite touching, yet it was as though an invisible cloud hung over her, obscuring the sunlight. I was convinced there had been some tragedy in her young life, one that had left deep scars.

As it would be some time before the servants had everything packed into the carriages, I decided to take a short stroll. Beyond the trees there was a narrow stream. I walked toward it. The thin sunlight bathed the boulders, flecks of mica glistening, and burnished the pale green •

grass with silver. Tiny purple wildflowers grew in scattered patches. Wild violets? Walking under the trees, I reached the river and stood on the mossy bank to watch the clear water rushing over the pebbled bed. It made a pleasant gurgling sound, soothing and serene.

Several minutes passed, and I was not aware of Count Orlov's presence until I noticed his shadow slanting long and black across the ground. I turned. He smiled a hesitant smile, the navy blue eyes humble. There was something on his mind, and he clearly didn't know how to go about expressing it. I was reminded of an awkward, overgrown boy as he stood there, undecided, his handsome face marked with adolescent torment.

"You wanted something, Count Orlov?" I asked.

"Is-it is not safe for you to wander off alone like this."

"This is England," I told him, "not Russia. There are no black bears roaming about, no wolves prowling."

"Nevertheless, you are under my protection. I would be desolate if anything happened to you."

He was quite sincere. I was touched by his protectiveness.

He stepped closer, still hesitant. The boyish quality somehow emphasized his virility, augmented the potent sensuality. He was so very large, a golden colossus. Tall myself, I felt almost petite alongside him. He smelled of sweat and leather and dust, and his hair was slightly damp, gleaming like dark gold in the sunlight.

"Did-did you and Sir Harry have a profitable talk?" I asked.

"Oh, yes. I agree to make the investments, if only to get him to discontinue the-" He hesitated, frowning. "If only to have him stop the pestering. He is very pleased and I hope to enjoy my lunch then but he takes out the papers and goes on and on with the explanations. I long to grab him by the neck and choke him, but I listen with the patient expression and agree. that it is a very wise thing to make these investments."

I smiled. "Poor Sir Harry."

"I –I wished to speak with you privately," he said.