Splendor (27 page)

"She will not like it, either now or if you start at a later date. But is that what is really on your mind?"

She flushed.

* 'And I do not think you are afraid of living in a foreign country," he said softly.

"No. I am not." Carolyn imagined herself in some palatial Russian home, a mansion built of stone, crowned by gold Byzantine onion domes, with gilded interior rooms, red and royal-blue runners on the floors, and a staff of hundreds. She thought the house would feel empty, for it would be just she and Katya residing there with the other servants. But she could imagine Sverayov's sudden arrival home— the flurry of the staff, the eagerness of his daughter, and the tension she herself would feel. He would appear on the threshold in his immaculate uniform, a greatcoat swinging about him, dripping snow. She closed her eyes.

What about accompanying his daughter now? They would see one another every day. No. This would never work.

"Do you doubt that I can comport myself correctly if I so choose?" He interrupted her thoughts.

She started and breathed, "Can you deny that there has been a certain illicit attraction between us?"

"I am not inviting you into my home to mistreat you, Carolyn," he said far too sharply. "I am not inviting you to be Katya's companion so that I can take advantage of you."

Foolishly, her heart and spirits sank.

"Nor do I regret anything that we have shared. But I

have received the feeling that you think I should. Why?"

She was incredulous. "I can give you two very good reasons. Your wife—and your daughter."

His eyes hardened. "Did I not explain to you, once before, that Marie-Elena and I are estranged?" His voice was cold. "I do not like to repeat myself—and I like defending myself even less."

Carolyn flinched.

"Have I suggested that you enter my home in order to become my mistress?" He was angrier now. "We are discussing your position as my daughter's companion—nothing more."

Carolyn was shaken to the quick. She had never seen him in a temper before, and did not know what she had done to cause it. And she was also hurt. For she did understand one thing. If she took this post, there would not be any more moments shared between them—not of passion or anything else. He had just made that clear. And that, of course, was as it should be.

She was heartsick. For now she knew the extent of his feelings for her. It was minimal, or else they could not be so easily shut off and denied.

"You seem dismayed," he said harshly. "Why?"

She shook her head. "I need time to think this through."

"I assumed that would be your answer." He swiftly strode to her, gripped her arms. "Katya needs you, Carolyn. You are far too intelligent not to see that."

She knew she must not accept. But he was right, that little child needed her. Oh, God. For even now, his palms cupping her elbows, her skirts brushing his boots, she was agonizingly aware of him in ways she did not want to be. "I cannot," she whispered. For instinct told her where such entanglement would lead.

"Carolyn," he said. "I suggest you accept the post here and now. You will have time, then, to decide if you will remm to Russia with Katya." His gaze held hers. "Which I urge you to do."

She could not move. With her every instinct, she knew

that to become more enmeshed in his life was the biggest mistake she could ever make.

' 'If you wish, you could consider it a temporary position. Until you feel reassured about it," he said.

She met his golden eyes. Felt her heart race. And she heard herself say, her tone husky, "Very well. I accept. For the time being." There was no harm in that.

And slowly, he smiled.

Or was there?

Marie-Elena had changed her plans for the evening. She studied herself in the standing full-length mirror in her dressing room. She had never looked better and she was fully aware of it. She had always had a superb body, even while enceinte, but her recent encounter with death had taken another inch off her waist, accentuating the fullness of her bust and the pleasing curve of her hips. The pale ivory chiffon gown she wore floated over her body, outlining every curve. There was no possible way, she decided, that Nicholas could remain inmiune to the vision she had created for that evening.

Her pulse rioted and anger overcame her. Thank God she had eavesdropped on Nicholas's business proposition. And she had been right to suspect his interest in that skinny conmioner. Just what had occurred thus far between her husband and the bookseller's daughter? Just what, exactly, had happened in the park? What had happened last night? And how dare he tell that plebeian outsider that he was exiling her to Tver!

Marie-Elena swept from the room and down the hall, fighting her rage and fear. It was unbelievable. Nicholas enamored of a peasant girl like that, when he had his choice of the most beautiful women in the world. When he could have her.

He hadn't touched her in five and a half years.

On the landing she paused, taking a deep breath, adjusting her decoUetage, thinking about Carolyn Browne actually taking up a position in her house. She would not allow

it. He could, of course, have his affairs as he chose, as he had done, these many years, but not with that overeducated, opinionated shrew. Oh, no. She just could not allow it— even though she told herself that Carolyn Browne could not possibly be any threat to her.

But she was grim. Niki's affairs were always very brief and very impersonal. In fact, he was usually bored by women, even in the company of those stunning enough to rival Marie-Elena, and once or twice Marie-Elena had seen him with a woman reputed to be his latest liaison, and still his ennui had been obvious. He had not seemed at all bored this afternoon while in Miss Browne's company, or that other evening at the opera.

She did not understand what, exactly, was happening, but it had to be stopped. And Carolyn Browne was not returning to Russia with them, by God!

Marie-Elena entered the salon. Nicholas and Katya were watching the kitten chasing a ball of yam. Katya was smiling, and so was her father. "Hello," Marie-Elena said brightly.

Katya's smile disappeared, but her gaze fastened on her mother unblinkingly. Marie-Elena swept forward and put her arm around her daughter. "Ehd you show your father the cat's beautiful collar?" she asked, turning to Nicholas.

He recrossed his legs. He was sprawled now negligently on the sofa. But there was nothing negligent about his regard. Marie-Elena knew him well; he was not a man to miss a trick. Yet if he noticed how alluring she looked, he gave no sign of it. ' 'Do you think a sapphire-smdded collar appropriate for the cat of a child of six?" he asked.

"You have never questioned my spending before."

He turned his attention to Katya. "Shall we put Alexander away so we may eat?"

"Yes, Father." Katya slipped off the sofa and scooped up the kitten. She waited for permission to leave, which came when her father nodded. She hurried out of the salon.

"It is not your spending I question," he said flatly, once their daughter was gone. Nicholas stood, but before he

could walk anywhere, Marie-Elena came up behind him. "I am sorry if I was too extravagant. Please, Niki, do not be mad. Katya and I had such a marvelous time shopping together!"

."Really?" One tawny brow lifted. "I hope that was the case." He started to move away again, but she caught his arm.

"How was your afternoon?" she purred.

He eyed her. "Since when do you care about my after-noons-^or mornings or evenings, for that matter?"

She smiled archly. "I assume your little bookseller friend returned home safely?"

"Yes, Miss Browne did."

"You are losing your superb taste, darling. She is hardly worth your attention."

"Your spiteful nature is showing, Marie-Elena. I have no intention of discussing Miss Browne with you. But I did offer her the post of companion to our daughter."

Marie-Elena did not bother to feign surprise. "Absolutely not."

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, his eyes turning to steel.

She regrouped. "I do not want that commoner around my daughter, and Katya has Taichili, she does not need a companion." She smiled brightly.

His smile was ice. "My dear wife. I am not asking your opinion, or advice. This is my household—of which you are only one part." She stiffened and he smiled. "I have hired Miss Browne as Katya's companion, and that is that."

Marie-Elena could not believe her ears. Although they fought over Katya periodically, she had long learned how to use her power as the child's mother to win most of the arguments, and it had been years since the present household arrangements were formed. Never had she dreamed he might suddenly think to change the staff—upsetting what worked so very well for Marie-Elena. "Over my wishes?" she cried.

"Yes."

"But there is nothing wrong with the staff we now have!"

"I do not want Taichili in charge while you are at Tver," he returned coolly.

Marie-Elena's heart beat hard. "What do I have to do to get you to change your mind? Niki, I hate the country!"

He gave her a disdainful look, not answering her, moving toward his desk.

Marie-Elena wet her lips and spoke in a rush. "We did have a wonderful afternoon, ask Katya." It was a lie. She had hated the two hours they had spent together. Katya never spoke unless spoken to, and when Marie-Elena had lost her temper, Katya's silence had become even worse. At one point Marie-Elena had been afraid that her daughter was going to cry—and she had really lost her temper then. And all for a damned cat.

"In fact," she continued brightly, just now deciding to accept an invitation she had received earlier, "tomorrow I am taking her to tea with the Duchess of Hartford. She shall so enjoy herself!"

"Really?" He slowly looked up. "You can spend every minute between now and when you leave London for Tver with our daughter, but that will not change my decision; it is final."

Marie-Elena stared. "I sent a letter to the tsar today. And another one to my father."

"Well," he said, smiling, "unless they plan to send a liberating army to the countryside, you will remain at Tver."

Marie-Elena stared at his hard, set face—and burst into tears. "Niki, why are we fighting?" she whispered. She stepped close to him, clasping one of his hands with both of hers and holding it to her breasts. "I am begging for forgiveness."

• "Please." He was disgusted, shifting away from her. "Save your theatrics for someone else."

"I want to start over," Marie-Elena said frankly. Their

gazes met, locked. Her tone was husky. "I keep thinking about you, really, I do. I miss you."

"Just stop," he said tiredly. "And even if you were telling me the truth—this time—I do not think about you. Except for the fact that you bear my name, our marriage ended five years ago—and that is the truth."

She stiffened. She had never in her life been rejected like this. She could hardly believe it was happening—he must be lying to her—he must. "Is it that little commoner?" It was hard to breathe. "Are you smitten? That is why you want her here—that is why you want her to return to Russia with Katya."

He shook his head. "Only you, my dear, would think such a thing."

Marie-Elena clenched her fists. Trembling. "I don't believe you."

He shrugged dismissively. "I am going out. Good day, madame," he said, and he strode from the room, leaving her standing there in its center, alone, clad in her stunning, nearly translucent chiffon gown.

She took a deep breath, but failed to find any composure. Nicholas could not treat her this way and get away with it. Oh, no. She had some serious thinking to do.

But one thing was clear, Marie-Elena thought grimly. She would not allow that conmion tart into her home. And she would not allow Carolyn Browne to seduce Nicholas away from her. For, as ludicrous as it seemed, Marie-Elena had seen them together, and she knew with every fiber of her being that the bookseller's daughter was, somehow, a threat. She would do whatever she had to do to make sure that Carolyn Browne stayed out of their lives.

PART TWO

"^^

The Companion

GEORGE was seated at the kitchen table, sipping tea and reading a newspaper when Carolyn entered the room that next morning. She was filled with tension and had hardly slept that night, tossing and turning and thinking about what she was going to do—knowing she was entering extremely dangerous territory, yet trying to tell herself that she was merely becoming a small child's companion. And she worried about her father. She knew exactly how he was going to react to the news of her new employment.

The moment she entered the room, he looked up, shoving the journal aside. They had hardly spoken at all last night when Carolyn had returned from Sverayov's. He could not have made his disapproval of her taking tea with the Russian more clear. She had been hurt. She had also been angry-She tried to smile at him. "Good morning." She bent

and kissed his cheek and quickly poured herself a cup of the freshly brewed tea. She hesitated, sucked up her courage, and sat down next to him. "Papa, we must talk."

He regarded her. "What is on your mind?"

She wet her lips. "Sverayov offered me a position—and I have accepted it."

George gaped. "He what! He offered you what position? Are you mad? This is a ruse," he finally shouted.

Carolyn stood up, alarmed. "He has a terribly neglected

child. A child I feel strongly for. Her name is Katya and she is six years old. I am now her companion."

George also stood, seriously flushed. "I do not believe what I am hearing," he said tersely. "You—a child's companion?"

"He told me I can name my price." Carolyn tried to appease him. "I was asking for a modest salary, but he is paying me five times the usual rate! In advance!"

George stared. "We do not need the income that badly. And who will watch the store when I am away? I have to go to the Continent again, very shortly."

"We can arrange for temporary help," Carolyn said.

"Have you truly made up your mind? You will go against my wishes?" George asked. "Because I am opposed to this. Nothing will change my mind."