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attired people, he might have been entering a tavern filled with old drinking mates.

"Quite a mob," he remarked. "I'm the guest of honor, by the way."

"How nice for you," I said dryly.

He smiled and nodded amiably at first one person, then another, and I observed that he seemed to have made quite

a number of acquaintances during the past three days. I began to suspect that he hadn't spent nearly as much time in conferences as he had implied, and I began to fume silently

when I saw how obsequious everyone was toward

-, him. Their attitude toward me was considerably more II.mbivalent.

I was here, yes, and on the arm of the hero of the day, but after the Potemkin-red room incident which, of course, was altogether too delicious to remain secret in this beehive of gossips, I had been persona non grata at court, Should they acknowledge my presence by more than

a cool nod? Should they speak to me? They kept their distance

until, finally, The Tester sauntered over to us, looking particularly sultry and opulent in a black velvet gown with scarlet panels, a small fortune in diamonds and rubies adorning her throat and wrists.

"It's lovely to see you again, darling," Protasova said.

"Let me steal you away from this gorgeous man for a few minutes. I'm dying to talk and you look like you could use a glass of champagne."

"I certainly could."

As Protasova led me across the room, the others relaxed visibly. If the Empress's chief lady-in-waiting sought me out, I must be grata again. Dozens of smiles flashed at me as Protasova motioned to a footman and plucked two glassesfrom the tray he brought over. An amazingly handsome

young lieutenant with dark bronze hair and moody blue eyes joined us, his tight-fitting uniform obviously tailored to accentuate his lean, athletic build. Protasova gave a weary sigh and told him to go wash behind his ears.

"They get younger all the time," she said, "and I, alas, begin to feel older and older. Not that I don't still enjoy my work," she added.

"A new testee?" I inquired. "What happened to young Peter?"

"He failed the test," she replied. "In fact, he ran off with Countess Zavadovsky, she of the frilly pink gown and high-pitched giggles. It caused a minor scandal but no great loss."

I took a sip of my champagne, glancing across the room. _

Jeremy was surrounded by people, quite the center of attention

and savoring every minute of it. Less than enchanted, I finished the champagne and set the glass aside, a flush tinting my cheeks.

"Your Mr. Bond has caused quite a sensation,"

Protasova remarked, observing my ire, "but he'll be all yours tomorrow, darling."

"If he lives," I snapped.

Protasova laughed huskily. "Incidentally," she said,

"Potemkin departed for Moscow this morning."

"I'm relieved to hear it."

"His departure ten hours before your reappearance at court was no coincidence, believe me. The Empress has forgiven him, but she's taking no chances. I suppose you've

heard about Orlov," she added.

"I-I'm afraid I haven't."

"Terribly sad," Protasova said, shaking her head. "It seems he went berserk when he and his brothers were out pursuing the peasants, started raving and slashing at everyone with his sabre. They had to restrain him-he was bound hand and foot, in fact. His brother Alexis is taking care of him. Gregory's at Alexis's house, and one hears they had to remove all the furniture from his room and pad the walls to keep him from doing harm to himself."

"I'm very sorry," I said quietly.

"Two doctors are in constant attendance, and his chances of recovery are still in doubt. They've been giving him drugs to calm him down-at least he no longer believes he's the Imperial Eagle."

Several people came over to speak to me then, and I was forced to put on a polite social front. The information about Gregory didn't surprise me, nor did it distress me. I was pleased to know he was being cared for, of course, but his fate no longer concerned me. I chatted and answered inane

questions and said yes, Mr. Bond was indeed a hero, and when the hero himself eventually came over to lead me away I gave him a look that should have turned him to stone.

"Something wrong?" he inquired.

"We'll discuss it later," I promised.

"Quite a place, this," he said. "I've never seen so many crystal chandeliers, so much pink marble and gold leaf, but you know what?"

"What?"

"I'd rather be in our hut in the wilderness, in front ofthe fire. What about you?"

I didn't deign to answer, and Jeremy grinned his endearing grin and gave my arm a squeeze. Everyone was looking at us, so I didn't slap his face, nor did I kick his shin. I longed to do both. He knew I was aggravated and knew the

reason why and seemed to find it amusing, which didn't help his cause one bit. I saw the way the women were looking

at him, not a one of them who didn't long to steal him away from me. He was aware of those looks, too, and he swaggered even more in his outlandish uniform and goldlined

cape.

A hush fell over the crowd as the gilded white double doors at the end of the room opened and two handsome guards in full uniform stepped through, holding the doors back as the Empress of All the Russias made her dramatic,

belated entrance. Catherine paused in the doorway for a moment, glancing about the room with dark, thoughtful eyes. She was sumptuously attired in a pink velvet gown appliqued with silver flowers, the wide skirt parting in front to display the cloth-of-silver underskirt. Her powdered hair was wonderfully arranged in a high pompadour and ringlets, Ii la Marie Antoinette; a stunning diamond clasp holding one white and two pale pink plumes in place, and diamonds shimmered at her ears and throat as well.

The short, rather dumpy woman with round cheeks, long nose and plump pink mouth had never looked more majestic,

those dark eyes rather pensive tonight.

When she saw Jeremy and me, Catherine smiled

warmly and started toward us, casually acknowledging the bows and curtseys along the way. Jeremy executed a deep, perfect bow when she reached us, and I curtseyed, brocade rustling softly. Catherine nodded and, momentarily

ignoring Jeremy, took my hands in hers, squeezing them gently.

"It's nice to see you again, my dear," she said, "I'm very pleased you could come."

"I'm honored to be here, Your Majesty."

"You look radiant," she told me. "I see the gown was ready in time. It's most becoming."

"I want to thank you for it, for the diamonds as well. It is so-very kind and generous of you."

"A small token of our appreciation," Catherine replied.

"I didn't want you to leave Russia without a little memento. I see my selection was appropriate-the diamonds

enhance your remarkable beauty, my dear."

Her manner was friendly, her eyes full of warmth, but that kinship I had felt when we had tea at the Hermitage was missing. Though he was away, Potemkin was still between

us. She smiled and turned to Jeremy and said he looked very striking in his uniform and asked if he found this reception tedious and dull, man of action that he was.

Ever the gallant, Jeremy replied that no reception arranged

by Her Majesty could possibly be dull, that her gracious presence would immediately enliven any function, tedious or no. Catherine's response to all this charm was purely female. She beamed, looked ready to melt with pleasure. He had a way with women. Indeed he did.

Catherine moved on to greet her other guests, and the English ambassador and his wife came over to talk with us. The ambassador informed Jeremy that,

singlehandedly,

he had improved diplomatic relations between

Russia and England tenfold, that England owed him a huge debt of gratitude. Jeremy said it was nothing at all.

Sir Reginald Lloyd joined us a little later and told me that he was to take me in to dinner tonight and considered it an honor. This was news to me, but I smiled and said I was honored to be going in with such a handsome and distinguished

gentleman.

Jeremy, of course, went in with Catherine when we adjourned

to the large gold and ivory and pale pink dining room with its painted ceiling and shimmering chandeliers.

She held on to his arm, smiling as he told an amusing anecdote.

They occupied a table with the British ambassador and his wife and two court officials, while I dined at the'

next table with Sir Reginald, Protasova and six others. I tried my best to enjoy the meal, talking about Lucie and Bryan with Sir Reginald, listening to Protasova's witty and deliciously risque accounts of court intrigue, primarily amorous, but it seemed interminable nevertheless.

Jeremy was having a marvelous time, holding everyone at his table spellbound with accounts of his rowdy adventures

in America-I caught a few words now and then.

Catherine was clearly enchanted, as vivacious as a girl as she smiled and nodded and encouraged him to tell more. I shouldn't be irritated, I told myself. He was entitled to his hour in the sun. He was indeed a hero, and he had proved his love for me a thousand times over. Still, I toyed with my food and drank far too much wine, longing to leave.

Sensing my mood, Sir Reginald told me again what a boon

Jeremy had been for English diplomatic relations with Russia and added that his ideas on military defense had pleased and stimulated Catherine's generals. So he had spent a great deal of time with them after all, I thought, ashamed at myself for entertaining suspicions.

As Protasova had observed, he would be all mine tomorrow,

and when after dinner the formal ceremony was held and Catherine presented him with his medal, I was filled with pride and found it difficult to hold back my tears. He was grave and dignified, standing at attention as the Empress

placed the ribbon around his neck, and his words of thanks were brief. He had done no more than any Englishman

would have done, he said, and while he was quite grateful to the Empress and to Russia, he felt the medal really belonged to Miss Marietta Danver, whose heroism far outweighed his own and who was responsible for his being in Russia in the first place.

Almost as large as a saucer and oval in shape, the medal hanging around his neck on a dark blue velvet ribbon was completely covered with jewels, the Imperial Eagle in diamonds

against a red and blue background, one side rubies, the other sapphires, mounted on and framed in silver. It had been created by the court jeweler especially for Jeremy and must have cost a fortune. Catherine took his hand and smiled and said her country would be eternally grateful to him, and then one of her generals said a few words and the English ambassador spoke and all the while

Jeremy stood there tall and solemn and wonderfully handsome,

looking every inch the hero.

And afterward, when everyone crowded around him to express their congratulations, he nimbly eluded them and came over to where I was standing. Smiling a tender smile,

love in his eyes, he took my hands in his and told me the medal really did belong to me and he intended to hang it around my neck immediately. To keep from dissolving into tears and making a complete fool of myself I tartly informed

him that it was much too garish for my taste and would clash with my gown. He said I could be an awful bitch at times and I said he was right and he grinned and gave me a tight, affectionate hug right there in front of everyone.

"Let's leave, love," he said. "I can hardly wait to get you all to myself."

"We can't leave until the Empress does, it would be a shocking breach of protocol. Besides, you're the guest of honor."

"Protocol be damned. Come."

He led me over to Catherine and she smiled warmly and said she hoped the medal would always remind him of his sojourn in Russia and added that she was still sorry he hadn't let her make him a count. Jeremy told her that the medal would remind him not only of Russia but of its gracious

and beautiful Empress as well, and the compliment made her glow. Lowering her heavy lids, she gave him a seductive look, tapped his arm playfully, and told him he was absolutely outrageous and it was a good thing he was leaving Russia at once, lest she lose her heart completely.

"You have a prize here, my dear," she said, turning to me. "Hold on to him."

"I intend to," I said.

"I realize it's a shocking breach of protocol," Jeremy began, "but, as you know, we have a ship to board and-"

He

let the sentence dangle, smiling an apologetic smile.

"It's a long drive to Kronstadt," Catherine said, "and, it's after three. You must leave at once, of course."

And, breaching protocol herself, Catherine left her other guests and accompanied us back to the front entrance, the

perfect hostess, Empress or no. A footman brought my cloak. Another hurried out to see that our carriage was brought round. Jeremy slipped the gorgeous mink-lined cream brocade around my shoulders, and the three of us chatted lightly until the footman returned. Catherine gave Jeremy her hand. He lifted it to his lips and told her he would always remember her many kindnesses.

Catherine

smiled and wished him well and then turned to me, her dark blue eyes full of warmth and, I thought, rather sad.

"I shall think of you fondly, my dear," she told me. "Be happy in your new life."

I made a deep curtsey, and we took our leave, moving down the wide white marble steps by the light of the torches still held aloft by the footmen stationed on either side. Jeremy helped me into the elegant gold and white carriage and, a few moments later, we were on our way, both of us weary and lost in thought. We passed the outskirts

of the city and had almost reached Peterhof before Jeremy sighed deeply and said it had been quite an evening,

hadn't it. I agreed and told him he had been a credit to his country.

"Hated every minute of it," he confided. "All of those people flocking around me, babbling in French. I just wanted to be with you, love, wanted to take those diamonds