Splendor (28 page)

Carolyn nodded. "I am sorry, Papa."

He was breathing harshly. "And what happens, when he seeks you out—when his daughter is not present?"

Carolyn stiffened. She felt her cheeks turning red. "He has not invited me into his home to take advantage of me," she said, mimicking the prince's exact words.

"Please! This is not about his daughter. It is about his seduction of you."

"Oh, God, Papa, you are so wrong," Carolyn cried.

"You are so innocent! So gullible! You are no match for a man like him."

Carolyn did not know what to say, because in spite of all of her resolutions, in spite of his adamant claims, she suspected that George was right.

"He intends to use you, Carolyn," George said with anger. "I am certain of it."

"No. He is an honorable man," Carolyn said firmly— yet with a twinge of dismay she could not deny. But she was going to have to accept reality, and she did not quite know how she had strayed so far from it. She was now his daughter's companion, period. And he had never been eligible for any other relationship. Not from the v^ry first moment she had laid her eyes upon him.

"You are falling in love with him, aren't you?" George asked accusingly.

Carolyn was silent. She knew she must not respond.

"Can you deny that you have feelings for him?"

"No. I cannot. You are right." She turned away. "Even though I know it is wrong—and hopeless."

George looked at her.

Carolyn reached for her coat. "I am going. Papa. I will be back later to get more of my things." She picked up a small valise. "Please don't worry. And I am only going across town." Now was not the time to tell him that she might depart with the family to Russia.

"Oh, God," was all her father said.

He held his head in his hands, worrying about his daughter, feeling as sick as if he had lost her, and perhaps he had. They had never had this kind of disagreement before, but it was far more than that. He knew Carolyn was being used, and he knew she was going to get hurt. Just as he also knew that he was poised on the edge of a cliff, and it would not take much for someone to push him over. Someone— Sverayov.

Danm him, he thought. And in the next breath, he almost choked on a sob, thinking, Please, Carolyn, please.

He remained in the kitchen, even though it was now almost nine and he had a bookstore to open. His temples had begun to throb with a headache that was afflicting him far too often recently. How he hated the war.

He became aware of someone rapping on the front door of the store, perhaps with the head of a walking stick-George sighed. He could not refuse to open up, not when every single sale was so important to them. Slowly, he stood, feeling every one of his forty-eight years.

Whoever was at the front door began banging now, loudly and obnoxiously. George's stride increased as he left the kitchen. "Hold on," he shouted somewhat irritably. "Good God, you'd think someone has died."

George squinted, approaching the door. But he could see nothing, because the shades were drawn.

"Is someone at home?" a woman demanded huskily from outside. "Open up, I sayl Open up!" She was an old woman—her voice was raspy from age and use.

Perplexed, George threw the bolt and pulled the door open, and came face-to-face with an elderly, gray-haired noblewoman clad in a simple yet elegant navy-blue ensemble. There was something familiar about her, yet he was sure they had never met before. And then he saw the carriage parked on the street. His heart siaimned to a stop. He stared, stunned, at the blue and silver crest. The Stafford coat of arms.

"Took you long enough, Browne," Edith Owsley snapped. Without a hello, she strode past him and entered the store, not using the cane she had been banging on his door.

Tension filled him. And with it, anger. So much anger— dozens of years of it. He stalked after her. "You are not welcome here."

- She faced him, after having looked all around the shop. "So this is it. The place where you sell your books—where you and Margaret lived."

"Do not mention my wife to me."

"Please. She was my daughter for more years than she was your wife." The old lady stared at him.

"Get out."

"Not until I've seen her."

He stiffened. "Seen who?" But dear God, he had an inkling. Could his life get worse?

"Her. Carolyn. My granddaughter."

He wet his lips. His mind raced. His reflexive reply would have been to tell her to go to hell, where she would one day go anyway, he was quite certain. But he could not comprehend why, after all these years, she wished to finally meet her granddaughter. Dammit. He didn't want to think about her money, but he could not help it. They were so poor. He could barely support himself and Carolyn. And it

was Carolyn he worried about, especially as he was not sure she would ever marry. In spite of his better intentions, he could not help thinking that if Edith Owsley suddenly took an interest in her granddaughter, their problems might be over.

Carolyn would not have to work for Sverayov.

He would not have to go back and forth to the Continent—not ever again.

He wet his lips. Cautiously, fighting the urge to grab her and drag her from the store in spite of her age, he said, "She is not here."

Lady Stafford's hands found her hips. Her green eyes, hardly clouded by age, pierced right through him. "Where is she?"

"At her place of employment," he said.

She stared. "I was led to understand that she worked here, with you, selling books."

"She did." Now he was perspiring. "Until recently. She has become a companion to Prince Sverayov's daughter."

"A companion?" The old lady's brows lifted. "Are the two of you so poorly off that she has been reduced to becoming a governess?"

He fought his temper. "Carolyn has always done as she pleases. I believe this post interests her for many reasons."

"Such as?" The old lady was not mocking, but forthright.

"I think she sees it as both a challenge and an opportunity."

"Explain," Edith Owsley demanded.

He only did so because he knew he should not throw her out on her ear. "Carolyn believes education needs to be reformed. Especially the education of her own gender."

The Dowager Viscountess of Stafford stared, wide-eyed. And then she laughed. "Really? How unusual." She pulled on her gloves. "Good day, Browne."

He blinked as she strode past him. And then, before he could even reply, she was marching out of the door.

Upon arriving at Sverayov's residence, Carolyn was shown to her room, which was on the fourth floor where the nursery, the classroom, and the rest of the household staff's bedchambers were. She was very surprised by how pleasant and spacious her bedroom was. In fact, this room with its eastern rug, chintz draperies, armoire, and chest made her own attic bedroom seem miserable in comparison.

She thought about her father and hoped, very much, that he was not as unhappy as he had been when she had left a short while ago.

"If there is anything that you need, His Excellency has instructed me to see to it," Whitehead droned. The butler was expressionless.

Carolyn smiled. "Thank you, but I believe that I am fine. Is Katya in the schoolroom?"

The butler confirmed the fact. And he had hardly exited the chamber when Carolyn spied a ball of white fur racing past the door, left ajar, and into her new room. Carolyn eyed the kitten, now perched on a beautiful pink and white chair, licking one of its paws. "Are you here to welcome me?" she asked with a laugh.

Carolyn walked over to the blue-eyed kitten and scooped it up. "Let us go find your mistress, Alexander," she said, leaving the chamber. Voices could be heard coming from what must be the classroom. Carolyn paused on the threshold.

Katya sat at the small table, her head bent studiously over her task, a pencil in her hand. A small, dark-skinned dapper man was seated at a different desk, thumbing through a sheaf of papers, speaking to the room at large about Peter the Great. The tall, no-nonsense Taichili sat at another table, hands clasped, her spectacles sliding down her long nose. Everyone looked toward Carolyn at the exact same time.

"Hello," Carolyn said cheerfully. She entered the room. "I am sorry to interrupt."

Katya stared.

"Your kitten wandered into my bedchamber," Carolyn told the little girl. "How are you today?"

"Fine, thank you. Miss Browne," Katya said, glancing somewhat nervously at Taichili.

Carolyn let the kitten go, and it immediately raced to Katya, but the little girl did not stoop to pet it. She remained still.

The Russian woman was standing, scowling. "Katya is in the midst of her history essay, Miss Browne."

"I am terribly sorry," Carolyn said, sincerely. "I will come back later. When will she be through?"

Taichili seemed smugly pleased, but Raffaldi had shot out of his seat and grabbed Carolyn's hand, preventing her from leaving. "His Excellency told us about you, Miss Browne, and may I welcome you into his employ?" Raffaldi was smiling and affable. "As the princess'is a stellar student, a small interruption does no harm. I am Signor Raffaldi, Katya's tutor."

"Thank you," Carolyn said. She ignored Taichili, who made no effort to hide her displeasure, and faced Katya. "Katya, your father has asked me to be your companion,' and I have agreed. I hope you do not mind."

Katya lifted her eyes to Carolyn's, but before she could speak, Taichili marched forward and interrupted. "Surely you do not ask a child for her opinion?"

Carolyn straightened. "I most certainly do."

"That is not how we do things here, Miss Browne."

"It is how I do things," Carolyn said calmly.

"A child is not entitled to an opinion," Taichili said fiercely.

' 'Every human being, man or woman, child or adult, free or slave, is entitled to think independently and form opinions," Carolyn said, as fiercely.

Raffaldi's eyes were wide—but he hid a smile. Katya was also wide-eyed.

"Does the prince know that you hold to such a position?" Taichili cried, aghast.

Carolyn smiled. "He most certainly does." She turned

her back on Taichili. "Katya, do you mind that I have been appointed your companion?"

Wide-eyed, Katya shook her head.

Carolyn touched her hair. "Good. That pleases me. Now, as soon as I learn the details of your schedule, I shall find out what times we have together, and we shall begin our explorations."

Katya did not speak, but Taichili choked, "Your explorations?"

"Yes." Carolyn faced her, smiling. "Katya and I have so very much to explore. Since she is a foreigner, I thought an exploration of London the first order of business. That and an exploration of fictional reading material."

"Fiction?"

Carolyn's smile widened. "Fiction." From the comer of her eye, she saw that Raffaldi was trying not to laugh. At least she had one ally up here in the nursery.

Taichili recovered. "Well," she huffed, "Katya's schedule has no time for explorations. She has lessons from the morning until tea." She glared.

"Then I shall have a discussion with His Excellency— because Katya's schedule must be entirely rearranged."

Sverayov had already left. Carolyn refused to feel even faintly disappointed—she had not taken up this position in order to pine after him. Carolyn had no chance to see Katya again until lunchtime. Katya took her dinner with Taichili in the nursery. When Carolyn entered, she was witness to a very somber scene: the child eating as silently as the governess.

Carolyn smiled brightly, swiftly approaching. "May I join you?" As she had anticipated Taichih's glare, she addressed only Katya, and sat down when the child nodded hesitantly. "I have asked Whitehead if I may eat with you. He is bringing me up a table setting and a light meal."

Katya glanced briefly at Taichili before smiling slightly at Carolyn. Carolyn only had to look at her face to know

that she was bursting to speak. "What is it?" she 2isked gently.

"Can we really explore London?" Katya asked breathlessly.

"I do not say what I do not mean," Carolyn responded.

Taichili snorted and stood. "I have lost my appetite." She walked away from the table, only to stare with folded arms out of one of the windows.

Carolyn sighed. "I only have to discuss your new schedule with your father, but I am sure he will not be a bother."

Katya stared at her as if she could not believe what was happening.

"Are you afraid to smile? Are not smiles allowed?" Carolyn asked gently. She squeezed the child's hand.

Katya smiled reluctantly.

"That is much better. What is black and white and red all over?"

Katya Winked. "I beg your pardon?"

"I am asking you a riddle. Can you guess the answer?"

Katya eyes brightened. She glanced over her shoulder at Taichili. "Black and white and red all over?" she asked breathlessly.

Smiling, Carolyn nodded.

"Is it an animal?"

"No. But I'll give you a hint. It involves my previous profession."

Katya's brow screwed up. From her position by the window, TaichiU turned. "This is absurd," she said. "Why the prince employed you, I cannot imagine."

Carolyn felt like telling her that was exactly why the prince had hired her, because of the lack of imagination and inventiveness in his household, but she smiled and held her tongue. "Give up?" she asked.

Katya nodded, her gaze glued to Carolyn's face.

"A newspaper," she said.

Katya's eyes widened and then she laughed. Merrily. It was a beautiful sound, Carolyn thought with real satisfaction.

"What is going on in here?" a woman cried.

Carolyn had been seated with her back to the doorway. Never mind, she would recognize that sultry voice anywhere, for it belonged to Sverayov's wife. Her spine stiffening, dismay unavoidably overcoming her, Carolyn turned.

"Hello, Maman," Katya said shyly.

Marie-Elena stood angrily in the doorway, her hands fisted on her hips, which were frothed in pink pleated chiffon. "What is going on in here in the middle of Katya's lessons?" she demanded. Her black eyes were ice cold. If she had heard her daughter she gave no sign of it.