Splendor (30 page)

"I do not wish to discuss Miss Browne."

"Have you taken her to bed yet, Niki?"

Silence filled the room.

Carolyn forgot to breathe. Appalled.

"Marie-Elena, my private affairs are exactly that. Private," Sverayov finally ground out.

Carolyn could not believe it. Why didn't he deny it?

"What can you possibly see in her!" Marie-Elena cried.

"I see a wonderful companion for Katya," he said flatly. "Now, why don't you leave—or shall I?"

Her dress swished as she moved. Carolyn could not help but lower herself to peer out from under the desk—and she saw Marie-Elena's red hem swiriing about his polished patent shoes.

"I do not like her, nor do I like her ideas," Marie-Elena cried. ' 'And it is unacceptable for you to bring your current affaire de coeur into this house."

"I refuse to defend myself against your accusations. Miss Browne stays. She is good for Katya, and I would hope that even you have enough maternal instinct to agree with me." Sverayov's tone was dire.

"Do not cast stones at me," Marie-Elena cried. She paced, her gown swishing, swirling, exposing beautifully beaded red satin slippers. "I am Katya's mother. Surely I have some rights!"

"You seem determined to do all that you can do, my dear, to incite me to take away those rights," Sverayov said.

Marie-Elena said, viciously, "I am her mother, Niki! And I do not wish to discuss that nasty gossip about myself and Sasha another time!"

Suddenly he said, as viciously, "Perhaps, if your prior behavior had been more honorable, I might not be inclined to heed the gossips. You may lie until you are blue in the face, claiming that Sasha was not the father of the child you just lost, but I will not beUeve it."

His words were angry, but they were also bitter, and Carolyn sensed that he had been deeply hurt by this last betrayal.

"Stop throwing the past in my face!" Marie-Elena cried.

"I am sorry! So sorry!" Her tone dropped dramatically, and she whispered, "I swear, I am so sorry about all of the past." Now she was bitter. "But you will never forgive me, will you?"

There was a long, heavy silence. Sverayov finally said, "How can I forgive you for taking away the one thing in this world that I cherished more than anything else?"

Marie-Elena answered after a pause, her tone terse. "We can never know for certain that Katya is not your daughter, Niki."

His laughter was harsh. "It is highly unlikely," he said.

Carolyn was frozen, shocked. She could not have heard what she thought she had just heard!

And Marie-Elena was silent.

So was Sverayov.

And Carolyn, crouched beneath the desk, was panting— terrified now that they would hear her labored breathing or her deafening heartbeat.

"Damn you!" It was an explosion. Marie-Elena left the room, slanmiing the door behind her.

Another brief, tense moment of silence reigned. Sweat streamed down Carolyn's body beneath her clothes.

And Sverayov said, coolly, "You may come out from under the desk now. Miss Browne."

-^ Twenty ^

CAROLYN prayed she had misheard, better yet, imagined his words.

"Miss Browne?"

Her heart sank like a rock, then began to beat with frightening force. Carolyn crawled out from under the desk, feeling like a very guilty child caught with her hand in the cookie jar, or worse. His black buckled shoes were beneath her nose. She started to stand and hit her head on the desk and winced. Aware that her cheeks were burning, Carolyn crawled another two paces and glanced gingerly up. Sver-ayov stared down at her.

Taking a deep breath for courage, Carolyn rose to her feet. It crossed her mind that he was going to dismiss her on the spot—and she suddenly had no wish to lose her newfound post. To the contrary. She could not leave his household now—for many, many reasons.

"Are you in the habit of spying. Miss Browne?"

She found his choice of words unnerving. "No. I am not. I am terribly sorry."

"Then you must be in the habit of crouching under desks," he said coldly.

She met his golden gaze and tried to decide just how angry he was. "Acmally, I don't know why I hid under the desk when I heard you and your wife in the hall."

"People usually hide when they are up to no good," he stated flatly.

Carolyn swallowed. "I was working on Katya's new program. I had intended to work in the nursery classroom, but Taichili was already there, penning letters, and I did not think it a good idea for me to revise the schedule in front of her."

He stepped past her and picked up the notebook, glancing at it. "You have only allotted two hours a week for watercolors and dance," he said. "An hour each on Tuesday and Thursday."

Carolyn was relieved that they were on firmer territory. "Yes, Your Excellency. I think that too much emphasis is given to those pursuits in a female child's education. Watercolors are a relaxing pursuit, and dance an important social skill for Katya, but neither will broaden her mind."

His gaze held hers. Then it moved back to the notebook. "Astronomy? You wish for my daughter to study the stars?" One brow slashed upward and he slanted his gaze at her. "And what is this? Taxonomy? Drama?"

Carolyn became nervous. "I wish to open up her mind to the world, Your Excellency, and there are so many possibilities when it comes to learning."

"Such as anthropology." He faced her.

Carolyn thought he was upset, but it was very hard to read his expression. "Yes." She swallowed. "Just as anthropology is the study of different people and different cultures, taxonomy is the study of different classifications. Both give one a broad mind and a broader view of life. As far as astronomy is concerned, the Greeks studied the galaxy—and the Egyptians did, as well. Did you know that?" She could not help smiling. She was trembling, her hands damp.

"Ptolemy," he said.

Her eyes widened. "And Copernicus. Yes, well, I wish for Katya to become aware of the vaster scope of nature, as well. And astronomy is a science, but of course, you must know that if you are familiar with Ptolemy. Sciences

are very precise, logical ways of studying things and ideas. Science will teach Katya how to think in a specific, structured, analytical fashion. Actually, the same is true for taxonomy." Carolyn smiled.

"I am surprised you are not a scientist instead of a bookseller," Sverayov said.

She thought he was joking—but could not be sure. She said in a rush, "She will learn how to look at the world and classify its elements—and thus obtain a far better understanding. Like science, taxonomy will teach Katya how to think objectively."

"And drama? Will the study of the theater also teach her how to think objectively?"

She was riveted by his golden gaze—and his eyes were gleaming. "Are you amused?"

His brows arched and his eyes widened. "Absolutely not."

She did not believe him and she folded her arms. "Objective thinking is precisely one half of what an education should be comprised of."

"I am afraid to ask what the other half must be."

"The other half must be subjective thinking. The other half must be filled with the exploration of ideas that are creative, imaginative, and bold," Carolyn said earnestly.

He stared. "Then you are clearly the perfect person to revamp Katya's program," he finally said.

She flushed. "I believe you are complimenting me."

"I am."

Briefly, Carolyn was flustered. She struggled to continue in a logical fashion. "We will attend the theater, and afterward we can discuss the merits of what we have seen. Katya can write essays espousing her point of view. Perhaps, together, we shall write a Christmas skit. Did you notice that I also want her to keep a journal? This is all the subjective part of the program."

"No." His gaze remained on her face. "I did not notice that."

"I think that keeping a journal will do far more than

develop Katya's mind—it will expand her ability to express herself." Carolyn stared back at him. "You hate it. It is too liberal."

" 'Liberal' is hardly the word I would choose to describe this program. Miss Browne."

"Am I dismissed?" she heard herself say.

"No. Your ideas are extraordinary. I do not object at all to the revisions you have made to Katya's program—as long as she continues to learn the classic subjects as well." He snapped the notebook shut. "For example, I insist that she continue to learn Latin."

• Carolyn began to breathe more easily. "I am in agreement with you. There is wonderful literature, essays and poems, for her to read when she is fluent in the language. Excellency." She could not help but be enthusiastic.

He smiled, slightly. "Perhaps my daughter will also read Sic et Non at the age of eleven."

Carolyn also smiled, and for a moment, their eyes held. But suddenly his expression changed drastically, a cloud covering his face, shadows filling his eyes. In that instant, Carolyn knew he was recalling his wife's recent words— as was Carolyn. Dear God, was it true? That Katya was not his daughter? But he had always referred to her as "my daughter."

He handed the notebook to her and paced across the room. Carolyn watched him pour vodka into a glass. She took the time now to notice how good he looked in his beautifully tailored tailcoat and satin breeches. But of course, he had the kind of physique that would look good in just about anything, including a Roman toga. Carolyn quickly averted her eyes as he glanced over his shoulder at her. She was Katya's companion; Katya must be her only concern. And then she thought, just whom was she fooling?

"Would you care to join me?" he asked.

She stiffened with surprise, knew she must, of course, refuse. "Yes, please." Her wayward self was once again ruling her better self.

He poured a second glass and returned to her, handing

it to her. "What you have heard tonight in this room cannot ever go any further."

Carolyn nodded. She wanted to ask if it was true—but his words seemed to indicate that it was, and the question would be prying. "I am very sorry I overheard such a private conversation between you and your v/ife, Your Excellency."

He did not answer, sipping his vodka and staring over the rim of his short glass at her.

Carolyn swigged her drink. "I suppose I should go." She started to set the glass down on a side table but he said, "No. Don't go."

She froze, then straightened, facing him.

"It's the truth," he said.

Carolyn stared at him, but he looked away, gazing instead, she thought, at some distant object—or into the distant past. "But you love her," she finally whispered.

"I fell in love with her the moment she was bom," he said, and he smiled, meeting her gaze. "She was the most beautiful sight I have ever beheld. So precious, a tiny, priceless treasure."

Carolyn was motionless. Her heart beat hard. Why was he exposing himself this way to her?

He drank. "Of course, I did not learn until six months later that Katya was not mine, and by then, it was far too late." He set his empty glass down and it thudded loudly in the silent room. He did not have to explain what it was too late for—for it was obvious. It had been too late to take back his love. Carolyn ached for him.

"Of course it was too late," she whispered.

It was as if he did not hear her. "I banished mother and child to my estate in Tver, what else could I do? But I was tortured by what I had done. And I missed Katya. And surely an innocent infant was not to blame for the sins of her mother. After a fev/ m.onths I allowed them to return home." He stared at Carolyn. "No one knows the truth. Until now."

Carolyn could only nod. She wanted to go to him and

hold him. How inappropriate that would be. Yet how right it would feel. "Katya needs you desperately, Excellency."

"Yes." He drank. His regard was piercing. "And you?"

She started.

He stared.

She inhaled, trembhng. Suddenly the night became a force enveloping them—one capable of extending the intimacy already formed. For the first time that evening, Carolyn became aware of the late hour, the sleeping, silent household, and how alone the two of them were. She did not want to recall their encounter after the races at Newmarket "I am Katya's companion," she finally said, managing a small smile. ' 'I thought we had formed a ... an understanding."

"Do you think I have forgotten? For even a single moment?' ' He walked away to refill his glass. Then he held it up and stared at it.

Carolyn knew that she must leave. Being alone with him now, at this late hour, was too dangerous. But she did not move.

Then, "And why did you hide under the desk, Carolyn?" he said, interrupting her thoughts.

"I don't know. I reacted, I did not think."

His expression suddenly softened. ' 'Only you would hide under my desk rather than revealing yourself." He stepped closer to her. He tilted up her chin; his hand was very warm. ' 'Only you would instruct my daughter in taxonomy and astronomy—with such enthusiasm."

His fingers seared her skin. It was hard to think. Her knees seemed weak. ' 'Your Excellency, I forgot to mention philosophy. She must read Plato and Socrates—"

"Nicholas," he said softly, not removing his hand.

Her heart had never beat this swiftly before. Carolyn felt faint. She knew he must not try to kiss her. For she did not think she could resist his advances. Not now, not tonight. "I must go upstairs."

He had not removed his fingers from her chin. "Why are you so very intriguing?"

She managed to open her mouth and form words. "I am not trying to be intriguing."

"I know. Women who try inevitably fail." His gaze moved to her mouth. He dropped his hand. His golden eyes were searing. Carolyn understood.

He said, "In the future, if you are going to be working late, in the library, please inform me of the fact."

Carolyn wanted to make her feet move, but couldn't. She understood his meaning. In the future he would not be up and about if she were present downstairs. Somehow, she was dismayed. But it was only proper. It was only right. Carolyn closed her eyes, thinking of Marie-Elena and Katya upstairs. She had known it would be this way if she took the position. She had known that temptation would be there forever in her face. Temptation—enticing, alluring, seductive. Temptation—in the form of a golden Russian prince. "Perhaps"—her tone was husky as she opened her eyes— "you could put a small desk in my room?"

He hardly smiled. "An excellent idea." He did not sound very pleased.

"Good night."

He saluted her with his glass.

Carolyn tensed. There was one more thing, and she could not leave without speaking of it. "Nicholas, I am sorry about tonight. So terribly sorry."

Their gazes locked. She referred not to their desire but to the tragedy of Katya's paternity. His jaw flexed. "Good night," he said firmly.