Regency Romance: An Intriguing Invitation (Historical Billionaire Military Romance) (19th Century Victorian Romance) (19 page)

''You know why I'm here, don't you Igor?'' Slav said, in a somber tone of voice. Igor was just five feet
five
but  handsome
with his dark hair and blue eyes.

''Yes, it's time isn't it?''

Slava nodded. ''Yes it's time. The day has arrived, as I knew it always would. He has to
be stopped
. My mother is exhausted by his regular beatings, everyone who works for him is afraid of him, and now he has turned on me.''

''Okay, I understand,'' Igor said as he stroked his stubble.  ''How do you want to proceed?''

Slava laughed. ''You're the investigative
journalist.
I thought you might tell me. But as you ask, here are the names and addresses of five people who can bear witness against him.''

''Do you think they would testify against him. Wouldn't they be scared?'' Igor asked.

''They will be scared, but they are old now and have little to lose. I will provide them all with the necessary security. And besides, the State Security Service won't protect my father once the accusations come out. They'll drop him like a piece of hot coal.''

''Alright, I'll go and interview them all. What about other evidence?''

''I have a weapon,
which
the witnesses say
was used
at the time and I have  a shirt.''

''A shirt?''

''Yes, the one
worn
at the time. It's got blood on it.''

''Great. How did you come across these articles?''

''They were sent to me by an old woman called Petrova Abdulova. I also have the letter she wrote at the time.'' Slava placed a bag on Igor's desk. ''All the things you need are inside the bag. I know you will do me
proud,
Igor. Thank you for your friendship over the
years,
and I do hope our paths will cross a bit more often that they have in the last couple of years.''

''Let's chat about old times this evening. I'll pick you up at your hotel at seven.''

*****

''Octavia, oh Octavia'' her mother cried as the
bullet proof
limousine, dropped her outside the White House. ''What have you been up to, we were worried sick about you. Promise me never to run away like that again.''

Octavia didn't say anything. She looked at her mother, the First Lady.  A woman of average height and above average looks. A brunette, not a hair out of place, she had married Octavia's father when she was just nineteen. She was more
popular
than her husband among the
public,
because she was always on TV raising funds for children. ''Your father has canceled all his appointments this afternoon. We're going to sit down and have
a nice
chat.''

Octavia hoped the '
nice
chat' didn't turn into a
monolog
lecture. She went up to their apartment and into her room. It was predominately white and full of cuddly toys that
well-wishers
had sent her at various points during her life. The journey from London had tired
her,
and she undressed, had a shower and slipped under the sheets. She woke when her mother called her at around three pm.

''Octavia,'' her father exclaimed. ''It so lovely to see you. Come here.'' He took his daughter in his arms and hugged her. She was surprised how warm he was towards her. They were in the sitting room in the Presidential Suit in the White House. It wasn't a large
room;
it was cozy. There was a large round window in one wall, and double doors in the other wall leading to the rest of the suit. There were two sofas, opposite each other and a glass table between them. Octavia's father sat next to her mother with Octavia opposite them.

''Your mother and I are so happy that you are having a baby. We're
really
proud of
you,
and we want to tell you we will give you all the support you need throughout your pregnancy. If you think Slava will be a good
father,
and you love him, we will
support
both of you equally.'' He looked at his wife who nodded in agreement. ''Where we do have a concern, is with you traveling around unprotected.''

''Mum, Dad,'' Octavia began. ''I hate Harvard and law. I want to be a writer. I want it so much I was prepared to run away from you. Slava and I have found a way to make our dreams happen. He wants to
sail,
and I want to write. That's what we'll do. Live on his boat and follow our dreams.''

''Alright, if that's what you want.
What about your baby. He or she will have to go to school one day,'' the President asked.

''Of course, and we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
For now,
we have our
plan,
and
we
're going to follow it.''

''Okay then. Now we understand what you want we can support you. Why didn't you tell us you were so unhappy at Harvard?'' her mother asked.

''Because I was worried what you would think. I could see the headlines. President's daughter drops out.''

''Leave the press to me. When
I'm finished
with them, they won't dare to mention you anymore,'' her father said.

*****

As he was about to leave for the airport, Slava's phone bleeped. It was an Email. He opened it and read:

Hi Slava, please find attached the first in the series of articles. I hope you like it.

Igor.

Slava clicked on the attachment and began to read.

St Petersberg 2015

Night of Knives - The First In A Series of Articles About The Unsolved Murder of A Woman.

She was a woman in her forties. A woman to whom life had not been
at
all kind. Neighbors remember her as being slight and
extremely pretty
. What stood out
most,
though, to those that
are able to
recall her, was her kindness. She was willing to help
anybody
and regularly looked after some of the older women in the street. The street where she lived was a just like most of the other residential streets in St Petersberg, apartment
buildings,
and play areas. It was a close-knit neighborhood, where people knew each other and took an interest in each other.

You could
be forgiven
for thinking that the woman in question worked in a local factory or shop, but you would be wrong. Illona Kuklov was a prostitute. On the night of thirteen January 1985, it was bitterly
cold,
and she had just let her last client of the day out of her apartment. Somewhere around ten pm, there was a scream. It was a scream that makes those I have interviewed about the incident, still have sleepless nights.

When neighbors rushed
to her apartment,
they found
Illona
struggling for breath in a pool of her
own
blood. She had
been repeatedly stabbed,
and the weapon was still poking from her chest. Illona's murder has remained unsolved ever since, but it shouldn't have. There is more than enough evidence to bring the murderer to
trail
. Several witnesses, a murder
weapon,
and a shirt are all pieces of vital evidence that have been ignored by investigators.

This newspaper has uncovered the truth about this gruesome
murder,
and we
are able to
reveal exclusively, that the chief suspect in the
murder
is
Stanislv
Kuklov,
Illona's
son. He is better
known
today as the Russian Ambassador to the United States of America.

Follow each day this week as we exclusively reveal how this man has avoided arrest for so many years and what can now be done to bring him to trial.

Slava shut his phone and smiled to himself as his plane took off towards New York.

*****

''But how do I hold her,'' Slav said as he looked at the tiny bundle in his arms.

''Oh I can see you've got a lot to learn,'' Octavia said as she walked up the gangplank on Serene. ''Bottle feeding and diaper changes, you can learn the lot.''

''Octavia.
Come
here please,'' he said. As he put his arm around her, he kissed her. ''You have made me so a happy, I can't tell you.
She is so beautiful.
I'm afraid I will never be able to give her away to another man like your  father did on our wedding day.''

''You will if he's as good a man as you,'' Octavia said.

*****

Later that day Slava received a text message from Igor.

''Judge says he's an animal. Gave him
thirty-five
years.''

*****

THE END

Saved From a Scoundrel – A Clean Regency Romance

Chapter One

Lady Isabeau Camm collapsed in a cushioned chair in the row along the wall, waving her fan in front of her face. It was entirely too hot in the
ballroom
, and there were entirely too many people there. She continued fanning herself until she saw Anne coming toward her. She lifted her fan high in the air and called out loudly, “Anne! Anne! Over here!”

Anne saw her and made a beeline toward Isabeau, dropping herself
into
a chair next to her.

“Oh, Izzie!” Anne looked as exhausted as Isabeau felt. “It feels like this ball will never be over. We should just start walking home.”

“It’s much too cold to walk, Anne.” Anne had lived next door to Isabeau and her family since they were
very small
children. They had played together from the very early ages, sharing dolls and secrets throughout the years.
This was
their first time on the season and were both trying very hard to keep up with the
Ton
and present the best appearances possible.

“Do I look terrible, Anne?” Isabeau raised the hand she wasn’t using to hold the fan and patted down her auburn hair, feeling just a few strands that had come loose from the barrettes and pins. She instantly flushed, picturing her hair fluffed out all over her head. Anne shook her head.

“No, you look beautiful,
Isabeau,
” Anne said, using her handkerchief to dab at her forehead and face. “My, it is quite hot in here. Someone should open some windows and doors.”

“Let’s take a walk on the veranda, Anne. Come on.” She stood up and held out one hand to her friend. Anne took it and stood up. They made their way through the pressing bodies to the
massive
double glass doors that looked out over the veranda and the vast field beyond. Anne pressed the door handle down and swung the window doors out wide. The two women instantly felt a breeze flow past
them,
and they both sighed, enjoying it immensely.

“This was
a wonderful
idea, Isabeau.” Anne stepped out into the evening, taking a small fan similar to Isabeau’s out of her handbag and opening it. I thought I might die in there!”

“Me too.” Isabeau nodded. “I don’t want to be on the verge of fainting when I have my next dance.”

“Who do you have next?” Anne took her card from her bag and put the fan back
in
it. “I have…” She scanned the card. “It looks like Lord Rupert is next in line.”

Isabeau laughed softly. “Lord Rupert. I have already danced with him. Watch his hands and be careful of his feet. He is quite a talker, as well. My goodness, his business is doing so well, you would think he would be the richest Lord on earth, richer than God!”

The girls laughed. Isabeau glanced at her card. “I have Jonathan Barnaby. He’s an Earl, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is extremely wealthy!” Anne raised her eyebrows. “He would be a good
husband,
I would think. But he’s very young. I’ve danced with him, too. He’s very agreeable.”

“I don’t want to marry anyone unless I love
him,
” Isabeau said. “I don’t care if he is a rich man or a pauper.”

“
Oh,
I didn’t mean to imply anything otherwise, Izzie. I know you. I wonder, though, if you would
really
feel the same passion for a
pauper
as you would for a Lord. Having money does make a difference.”

“Money also changes the way people are
inside,
” Isabeau said. “I know several wealthy men who had delightful personalities until they became
wealthy
.”

“I think it’s different when they already have a fortune they have inherited through their family name. I think men with old money are a little more judgmental than the others who have had to work their way to wealth.”

“I would agree with that.” Isabeau nodded her head. “It is because they were once paupers themselves…or close to it. When you are
poor,
and you grow up to be rich, you can see things from both perspectives.”

“Who else do you have on your card? There are four more dances. After Lord Rupert, I have good old hairy Lord Henry.”

“Oh no!” They both laughed. Lord Henry had not cut his hair from the time he was about ten years old. He was another
local,
and both girls knew him well. They were all friends and had a good time
together,
so her dance with him was more for fun than anything

The doors the girls had come out of burst open and two young men came through in a hurry, their eyes in search of something. When they spotted the girls, they both called out to them.

“Anne! Isabeau! We’ve been looking for both of you!”

The women turned to see Lord Rupert and Earl Barnaby heading toward them.

“Oh!” Anne flushed. “Have we lost track of time? Oh dear! Has the next dance started?”

Lord Rupert held out his hand to her, flashing a brilliant smile that made his eyes
flash
. “If we hurry, we won’t miss more than a few moments!”

Anne matched Lord Rupert’s smile, took his
hand,
and the two of them jogged across the veranda to the door, slipping in swiftly.

“Well, they are very much in a hurry to dance, aren’t they?” Earl Barnaby turned a smile to Isabeau. “I, however, am less motivated to find a spot on the floor. I am feeling…a bit overheated in there.”

“That’s why we came out here.” Isabeau nodded. “It is
extremely hot
in there. And with that many people crowded in there
…
I’m
actually
quite surprised by how many
people
came tonight. It’s as if everyone from all around the country came here for this one ball.”

The Earl laughed. He held out his
hand,
and she took it, letting him take her back across the veranda to the doors. “I think that would be quite a lot more
people,
”
he
said when they got to the
doors
. He stopped her when she put her hand on the door handle.

“We don’t need to go in yet, do we? Shall we skip this dance? Or perhaps dance out here? I can hear the music fine. Can you?”

Isabeau was intrigued. It would be quite lovely to dance out here on the veranda. She lifted her arms and smiled at him. He put his arm around her slender
waist,
and they began to dance. “Have you had any interesting partners yet?”

“None that had me dancing on the
veranda,
” she responded softly.

“It certainly seems less stressing than being in there, surrounded by all the others and feeling somewhat suffocated.”

“I agree. How have you fared tonight? Any of the Ladies catch your eye?”

“None yet, present company excluded. I must say I am enjoying this dance in particular.”

“That is very pleasing to hear.” Isabeau smiled at him. “You realize that if we are spotted, everyone will come out
here,
and we will
be surrounded
once again?”

“I’ll take that chance. It’s
a nice
evening out here. I don’t want to stop now.”

“I’m glad! I don’t either!”

They
laughed,
and he spun her in a circle. They finished the dance several minutes
later,
and he stepped back a foot to bow deeply to her. “That was a lovely dance, Lady Isabeau! Most enjoyable! I do hope you will consider me as a friend and we can dance again next time we see each other!”

She lowered her head. “I certainly would like that, Earl Barnaby.”

“Please, we must dispense
with
the formalities! I am Jonathan to my friends and you, dear lady, I do call
friend
.”

“Thank you very much, Ea…Jonathan.” She giggled.

He took her hand and kissed it as the doors opened and several people came wandering through. Isabeau
looked,
but Anne was not one of them.

It was Tomas Hurley. He was the
brother
of a duke, the beloved Edward Hurley, who was a business acquaintance of her
father
.
But unlike, the Duke, Tomas was rather disagreeable. He
had
an unpleasant
look on his face.

Isabeau’s heart hardened
instantly,
and she pulled back a little, not wanting to be too close to him until she had to be. He was on her card and
she
had forgotten it. She probably didn’t
want
to remember. He had a strange fascination with
her,
and if she could have avoided the invitation, she definitely would have. But her mother had insisted that both the Duke and his brother would be on her card, whether or not she liked them. They were prominent in society and must not
be shunned
.

She watched as Tomas Hurley passed the Earl. Both men nodded once and said the first name of the other. There was no love lost between them. She wasn’t surprised. She took a few steps toward the door, hoping to avoid having to speak to him but he was coming straight for her.

She curtsied when he got closer. “
Mr
Hurley. How are you feeling this evening?”

“I’m doing well.” His voice was somewhat high-pitched, reminding her of what she felt a weasel would sound like if it could talk. “I saw that Earl Barnaby had to go in search of you before the last dance. I hope you will see to it that I do not have to do the same.”

“I…I do believe there is another gentleman before you on my dance
card,
” she said hesitantly. She didn’t want to dance with him in the first place, much less go out of her way to make sure she was present
on
time.

“Precisely why I came to find you. I have told you previously of my fondness for you. It looks somewhat inappropriate for you to be dancing with another man on the veranda where no one else is present.”

Isabeau blinked. It was true that he had expressed his desire to see her more
often,
and he had come by the house on occasion to make it clear to her family, as well. But they knew she had no affection for him, which doubled her frustration that her mother had insisted Tomas Hurley be on her dance card. 

“I…am sorry that you feel that way,
Mr
Hurley. If you would like to cancel your dance with me because of this blight, I would understand.” She could only wish. She knew he would answer the way he did.

“No, I am still willing to dance with you. You will just have to curb your desire to
stray
when you don’t believe you are
being seen
.”

Isabeau felt rage surge through her. Outwardly, she curtsied again and smiled at him as she went past.
She
dared not say a
word
or her anger would betray her. She wondered if she could run out the door before her dance with him and make it home before he could sound an alarm. She could barely contain her
anger,
and it ruined the dance with Lord Carlisle, who was next on her card. He was
friendly,
but she could do no more than fake a smile and dread the moment she would be dancing with
Mr
Hurley.

There was a ten-minute break before the last two dances. Isabeau spent that time standing to the side with Anne, wishing she had the courage
just to leave
. If it hadn’t been for the Duke, Tomas Hurley’s agreeable brother, she would have. She knew it meant a lot to be on the Duke’s
good
side and if that meant dancing with his brother, then so be it.

The time was almost upon her. She felt pressured, anxious.

“Oh, I am not going to like this dance, Anne.” She moaned. Anne took her hand and squeezed it.

“I know. I didn’t enjoy my dance with him either. He is
very cold
and goes through the motions as if I was a big doll of some kind. He only has eyes for you and that is a sad situation for you, my dear.”

“I know. It is extremely troublesome. I fear what he might do when he realizes I am not going to marry him. I don’t even want to dance with him.”

Anne nodded. “I understand. It’s only a short while. Then you will be free of him.”

“But for how long? Until he comes knocking at my door again?” She shook her head and sighed.

“Here he
comes,
” Anne said, dropping her eyes. “Stay calm and just dance, Izzie.”