Splendor (19 page)

"I do not think that any feat would prove too daunting for an original thinker like yourself. And if I succeed in my negotiations, why, there shall be no trouble at all." Sverayov came forward and he gestured magnanimously at the sofa. "Please, make yourself comfortable. I hope you did not walk all the way here from your father's shop?"

Carolyn had little choice but to sink into the very soft sofa. Sverayov loomed over her. "I took a hansom. I only walked a few blocks." Did he really mean what he had said? Was it possible that he understood her originality and admired her mind? Carolyn was bewildered. Such a possibility meant that she might have to reassess her judgment of him entirely. And that she was not prepared to do.

At that moment, Alexi caught her eye and winked at her. "I have an affair to attend to," he said, and he strode from the room.

"My brother enjoys choosing his words with utter carelessness," Sverayov remarked, still standing.

"Either that, or he chooses them with utter care," Carolyn returned.

He inclined his head. "You have not lost your keen powers of verbal repartee or astute observation since we last spoke."

Carolyn did not mean to be coy. "Are you flattering me?" She wished he would not continue to unnerve her so. "I do not know how keen my powers are, but I do think that your brother enjoys being observed."

"He does, and I am."

She lifted her chin and held his eye. ' 'Is such a penchant another male Sverayov trait?''

He smiled. "Like that of our passionate nature?"

Her heart skipped a number of beats. Her smile faded.

"Are we speaking now of flattery—or flamboyance?" he asked.

"I think we are speaking of both," Carolyn returned slowly, every fiber of her being attuned to this man.

"Yes," he said softly, not waiting for her to reply. "Sverayov men quite enjoy flattering those women they wish to pursue—and they are renowned for their flamboyance."

Was he serious? Was he pursuing her? "We have our flamboyant royalty here," she said huskily. "Royalty, given its very nature, must always be excessively arrogant and prone to posturing."

"I agree," he said, surprising her. "But did you really come here to discuss family traits and characteristics with me, Carolyn?"

Carolyn swallowed. Her name had rolled off his tongue like the softest strains of a lute. And she had come to find out if he knew the truth about her. ' 'I came in order to bring you the book." Her heart hammered incessantly against her ribs. "Actually, I was reading this morning's papers when I was struck by the thought that I should have given you Marmion yesterday," she said, regarding him closely.

His expression did not change. And he did not take the bait. "So I was on your mind this morning," he said softly.

and he did not pose his remark as a question.

Carolyn opened her mouth to reply, and found she did not know what to say.

He did not smile at her. "But it was my sister you were thinking of. Not our small experiment."

She could not speak.

He was also silent.

Carolyn fought for her wits. She felt her cheeks burning. "Your Excellency, you must think me shameless," she began, but he cut her off.

"I do not think you shameless." His hands went into the pockets of his jacket. And he stared at her with intense amber eyes.

Carolyn stood up. She could not believe her audacity. "Then what do you think?"

"I think you are extremely intelligent, quick-witted, curious, without guile or pretense. I think," and he paused, his gaze direct, "that you could not lie well if your life depended on it."

Her heart thrust against her chest again. Hard and fast. Was he referring to her deception, which was immense? Or did he believe what he was saying—Eind had no clue as to her charade? Carolyn watched him walk away from her. She had come here to test him, but she was at a loss. She did not know what to conclude. Except that he did not seem to think badly of her for her terribly forward behavior yesterday. To the contrary.

He faced her abruptly. "What would you do, or say, if I said that I intend to drive you home when you leave here today?"

She was at a loss. Did she dare accept his offer? Did he think, this time, to seduce her? Could she resist him if she truly wanted to? When, if she were daringly honest with herself, she knew she did not want to refuse him at all?

"Katya," Sverayov suddenly said, an unfamiliar tension in his tone.

Carolyn tensed, following his gaze. Her own widened as it settled on a small child with startlingly fair skin and jet-

black hair. The httle girl stood hesitantly in the doorway, her expression far too severe for such a young child. She did not smile. Carolyn suddenly sensed that she was afraid.

She turned to look at Sverayov and her gaze widened yet again. He was smiUng—but it was a far different smile than the one he had directed toward her. "Katya, do come in. I'm sorry, I did not see you there. Please meet Miss Carolyn Browne."

Carolyn waited as the child obeyed, coming forward and curtsying, keeping her dark eyes lowered.

"Katya is my daughter," Sverayov said.

Carolyn started, her gaze flying ta his. Then she regarded the child, who was truly beautiful—and did not resemble Sverayov in the least.

"You seem surprised." He shrugged. "Why should it be surprising that I have a daughter?"

"I ... I have never thought about you in that role," Carolyn said, faltering. She lobked from the prince to his daughter again. Clearly the little girl took after her mother, and Carolyn was dismayed to finally be faced with some evidence of just how beautiful the other woman was. But why was this child afraid? Was she afraid of her own father? Instantly Carolyn's heart went out to the little girl. And even though Sverayov was a prince and a libertine, she did not think that he would be a poor father. Oddly enough, she thought quite the opposite.

"Hello." She smiled at Katya. "You may call me Carolyn if you wish. All my friends do."

The girl nodded, not answering.

Carolyn bent down, still smiling, so their faces were almost level. "Are you looking for your kitten?" she asked in a conspiratorial tone.

Katya's eyes flashed with sudden enthusiasm. "Have you seen him?"

' T most certainly have. He is very beautiful. What is his name?"

"Alexander."

"You named him after the tsar?" Carolyn asked, without amusement.

Katya shook her head, her expression again blank. "I named him after Alexi."

"I see. What a splendid honor for your uncle." Carolyn winked at Katya. "He is under the sofa, or that is where he was when I last saw him." She turned, in order to glance at Sverayov, and then her smile died. He was staring at both her and his daughter with an oddly intense expression she did not, could not, understand. But the moment he saw her regarding him he smiled, all charming pretense.

Shaken, Carolyn knelt beside Katya, on her knees, confused, her pulse pounding. Something was terribly wrong, and it was dismrbing her mightily. "I see him," she said cheerfully.

"Alexi," Katya called. "Alexi, come here."

"Try this trick. Cats love soft, funny sounds. Ppst, ppst, ppst," Carolyn said.

Katya looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

"It usually works," Carolyn told her.

Katya looked over her shoulder at her father. Carolyn also glanced back, suddenly aware of just how undignified she must appear, on her hands and knees, peering under the sofa. She smiled sheepishly.

"It is all right," Sverayov said softly to his daughter.

"What, may I ask, is going on here?" a woman exclaimed.

Carolyn stiffened, expecting Meirie-Elena, the wife. But the moment she espied a tall, thin middle-aged woman in spectacles standing in the doorway, her entire demeanor reeking of disapproval, she knew that this was not Katya's mother.

"Excellency," the woman cried. "Katya has her arithmetic lessons to do—but when I turned around, she was nowhere to be seen!"

"Well, Taichili," Sverayov said carelessly, "as you can see, Katya is looking for her cat."

"That cat can wait," Taichili sniffed. "Signor Raffaldi is having an apoplexy."

Carolyn looked from the stem woman who must be the child's tutor or governess to Sverayov, who appeared annoyed, and then at Katya. The little girl had tensed. Tears had filled her eyes, but no one could see them except Carolyn, as they both remained on the floor. Carolyn's heart broke. Katya began calling frantically to the kitten. "Kitty, kitty," she cried.

Carolyn laid her hand on her thin shoulder. "Don't worry," she said soothingly. "We will find Alexander and put him back where he belongs."

Katya gave her a beseeching look and shoved her face closer to the floor. "Kitty!" She was desperate.

And Carolyn was angry. She did not understand what was going on, but knew the child was in pain—and it was far more complicated than a mere hiding cat.

"Excellency, Katya finishes her lessons at four. Surely she can look for the cat then." Taichili spoke shrewishly, with bitter authority. Carolyn despised her.

"The cat is under the sofa," Sverayov said flatly. "A few more minutes will not hurt anyone."

Taichili huffed with displeasure.

Carolyn climbed to her feet, brushing off her skirts. The sofa was up against the wall. She bent and pushed at it, moving it forward an inch.

"Stop. I will do that," Sverayov said sharply. He had moved beside her before she could try to budge the furniture again. "Ladies do not push sofas about," he said, sending her a sidelong glance.

"This lady does," Carolyn returned.

He said, under his breath, "Why should I be surprised?"

They pushed the sofa forward. It screeched against the floor. Katya gasped as the kitten darted out from underneath it and flew across the room. She stood, gave both Nicholas and her governess a frightened look, before racing after the kitten.

Nicholas watched as the Persian leapt onto a chair and

from the chair onto a table boastiug numerous items, most of them exceedingly fragile porcelain vases and plates. He smiled, remarking Carolyn's alarm. Taichili harrumphed as it rushed past a vase and a snuffbox. As usual, the governess annoyed him.

Miraculously nothing crashed to the floor. And then Ka-tya claimed the cat, scooping it up into her arms and holding it tightly to her chest. She buried her face against its fur.

Nicholas hated seeing Katya so distraught, but before he could speak, Carolyn had swiftly crossed the salon. She smiled at Katya, who did not look up, and patted her back. Nicholas found himself staring once again. "I imagine it must be quite frightening when you lose your kitten in a house that is so big," she said.

That got Katya's attention. "He is my best friend," she whispered. There was a sheen in her eyes.

"I am sure that he is. But cats are very smart. He won't get lost. Where do you feed him?"

Katya hesitated. "He eats in the kitchens."

"Do you want me to tell you a secret way to make sure that, even if he gets lost, he always comes back to you?"

Katya nodded eagerly.

Carolyn put her hand on her head, stroking her hair unthinkingly. Nicholas continued to watch his daughter and Carolyn, tension riddling his body. "From now on, feed him in your room. And that will be his home."

Katya stared up at Carolyn. "They won't let me."

Carolyn turned to regard Nicholas. "I'm sure that if you ask your father, he will give you permission to feed Alexander in your room. It is a very small request." She smiled sweetly at him.

Nicholas managed to remove his gaze from its intense focus upon Carolyn. But he could not smile. Carolyn was so genuinely kind, so impossibly compassionate. He would have never guessed that this master of wit and disguise would be so wonderful with children.

Katya did not make her request.

"Excellency?" Carolyn prompted.

"I heard," Nicholas said slowly. An idea, one both absurd and astounding, had suddenly taken hold of him. "Of course you can feed the cat in your room, Katya," he said, shocked by his thoughts.

Katya's eyes brightened. And for the first time since entering the salon, she smiled. Nicholas was motionless, his gaze glued to his daughter's face. She was hugging the kitten, hard.

"That is absurd." Taichili came forward. "Excellency, there will be food all over the floor—and insects! I must insist, Excellency—"

"We have a house filled with maids," Nicholas said flatly. "Alexander eats in Katya's room—if that is what Katya wants."

Taichili was furious, her face red, but she said not a word.

"Perhaps you should return to your lessons, now, Katya," he said kindly.

She nodded. "Thank you, Father." Suddenly she faced Carolyn. She smiled shyly. "Thank you. Miss Browne, for helping me find Alexi."

"It was my pleasure," Carolyn said sincerely. She reached out to rub the kitteij behind its ears. "You have a beautiful friend, Katya," she said.

Katya beamed.

"Miss Katya?" Taichili intoned.

Katya's smile vanished. She followed Taichili from the salon, not looking back a single time. The room was ach-ingly silent when they were gone.

Nicholas studied Carolyn. How full of surprises she was. But now, suddenly, the stakes had changed. And he was so uneasy.

"She is a beautiful child," she said hesitantly. It was obvious that she wished to say more, but did not.

"Yes," Nicholas returned. He met her gaze. "You were very kind to her. Thank you."

Carolyn was startled. "There is no need to thank me."

His lashes lowered. "To the contrary," he said. If only she knew how affected he was by this brief encounter.

"I don't understand."

"I am sure that you do not." His lashes lifted. He hesitated. "It is getting late. Let me see that you get home safely."

Carolyn flushed. "I can take a hansom."

"No." He was firm. "I will send you home in my coach. It is still out front." He met her gaze. "I would see you home myself, but I forgot about a late appointment that I have to keep." It was a lie. But he needed time now, to think carefully about what he intended to do—and how it would bode for everyone.