Splendor (32 page)

"That would be wonderful," Carolyn said grimly.

"Miss Browne," he said, his tone changing, "is that not your grandmother?"

Carolyn stiffened, her gaze moving in the direction he stared. She saw a small, handsome white-haired woman simply dressed in an expensive dark blue brocade gown and a matching plumed turban, speaking with two other couples, standing not far from her and Anthony. And although Carolyn had not seen her grandmother since she was a small child, specifically not since she and her mother had not been allowed past the foyer of Midlands, she recognized

Edith Owsley instantly. Her heart, already racing, beat so hard now that Carolyn was left breathless.

*That is Lady Stafford," Anthony said firmly. "I haven't seen her in a year or two, but I am certain of it."

Carolyn could not speak. Her grandmother was listening intently, with dissatisfaction, to a younger woman. She frowned and began to speak rapidly. Carolyn could not move. Lady Stafford was lecturing upon some subject dear to her, that was clear. She was speaking with passionate conviction.

And so many thoughts tumbled through Carolyn's mind that she was alnaost incoherent. She hated her grandmother, she did. Her grandmother had turned her and her mother away, both literally and figuratively, in a time of dire need. And her grandmother hated her.

"Shall we go and say hello?" Anthony asked.

Carolyn started, about to protest. And as she did so, her grandmother suddenly turned and met her gaze. Her expression changed immediately—her eyes widened in shock and recognition.

Carolyn tensed. George had always told her that she was very much the image of her mother. She turned her back on Edith Owsley, her pulse roaring in her ears. She was incapacitated. "Anthony," she said huskily, "I have no wish to speak with my grandmother. Could we get that ratafia now if you do not mind?" She was shaking.

Anthony gave her a queer look. "Of course." He tucked her arm in his and they moved deeper into the crowd. "Are you all right. Miss Browne?"

Carolyn could feel her grandmother's eyes following them—following her. She wished she hadn't come. But then she refused to be cowed by Edith Owsley's appearance at the ball—she would enjoy herself. She was determined. "I am fine." She paused by a marble column, beneath a portrait of some dandified Davison ancestor, perspiring. She managed a smile, making it firm.

"I will be right back," Anthony promised, but he looked alarmed.

Carolyn nodded, grateful to have a moment alone. When he was gone, she leaned against the pillar. What should she do if her grandmother approached her? Be polite, she decided. But that would be awfully hard when she would want to scream at her, Why? Why? Why?

"I do not believe it," a woman said tightly.

Carolyn was swept with dismay. This was not what she wished to deal with now. She turned to face Marie-Elena, marshaling her defenses. "Hello." She nodded politely.

"What are you doing here?" Marie-Elena exclaimed, her black eyes filled with anger and hate.

Carolyn wet her lips, once again taken aback by the other woman. "I was invited—exactly as you were."

Marie-Elena's hands found her lips. Her full bosom heaved, threatening to overflow her extremely low-cut gown. "Who would invite you? Surely not—Niki?"

Carolyn felt like saying yes. "Is it really your affair?"

"Are you not in my employ?" Marie-Elena demanded.

"I am employed by your husband."

"Yes, and I suppose he pays you handsomely—for all that you do." Her eyes glittered.

Carolyn fought to hold on to her temper and succeeded. "If you wish to question my wages, I suggest you discuss it with him."

"I shall. Does Niki know you are here?"

Carolyn hesitated. She almost told the other woman that Nicholas had encouraged her to come. "He knows. I thought it his business to know of the invitation."

"I see!" She was trembling. "He has lost his mind— somehow you have bewitched him—but I cannot imagine how!" She raked Carolyn with a condescending regard. Her meaning was clear. Carolyn was a cow—who could not possibly interest Sverayov.

"I have not bewitched your husband," Carolyn said quietly. "I doubt any woman could bewitch him. He obviously has a strong mind of his own."

"So now you are an expert on Niki—as well as my child's education?"

Carolyn shrugged, having already protested her expertise to this woman before. "Think as you will."

Marie-Elena stared. "This is disgusting," she finally said. "You in my home, and now, here. I will not put up with it. Your days are numbered, my dear."

Shivers swept up and down Carolyn's spine. "Are you threatening me?"

Marie-Elena laughed, tossing her head of thick, blue-black hair. "Yes. I am threatening you. If you do not leave of your own accord, I shall make sure I arrange your dismissal, one way or the other, myself."

Carolyn was afraid. She had not a doubt that Marie-Elena had no morals, and no compunction about doing whatever she had to do to accomplish her own selfish aims. But she said, stiffly, "I care about your daughter and I am not abandoning her now. In spite of your threats."

"You care about my daughter?" Marie-Elena was aghast, appalled, furious. "She is my daughter. Mine. And I will not have you poison her against me!"

Carolyn was in disbelief. "Princess, I have no interest in poisoning Katya, not in any way."

"You are such a liar. I know what you want. Do you think me smpid? You want my husband, my daughter, my home. In short, you think, idiotically, to take my place. You must be insane. Niki will never divorce me in order to marry you." And Marie-Elena's smile was at once bitter and triumphant. "You are a nobody!"

Carolyn was so shocked that she could only stare.

And then, in a split second, Marie-Elena's expression changed. She smiled, becoming radiant and beautiful. "Hello, my lord. I do not believe we have had the pleasure."

Carolyn shifted and saw Anthony holding two glasses of ratafia. Two spots of pink colored his cheeks. He handed Carolyn a glass and bowed. "Anthony Davison. It is a pleasure, Princess Sverayov. I am at your service."

The gesture sensual and elegant, Marie-Elena extended her shm arm and small hand. Anthony took it, kissing it.

She gave him an artful, promising look. "Hmm. You are Lord Davison's son?"

"Yes. The youngest, I am afraid." Anthony straightened. He was trying very hard, Carolyn thought, not to look down at Marie-Elena's revealing gown. His eyes were glued on her face.

"I met your father at the opera. I can see the resemblance. I am very pleased to meet you. Perhaps later you might wish to share a dance with me?"

Anthony's eyes widened.

Carolyn felt herself flushing as well. She did not have to be a genius to understand what Marie-Elena was doing— wooing Anthony right out from under her very nose while in front of her. Proving that her feminine power was far superior to Carolyn's.

"I shall save you the last dance," Marie-Elena purred. She did not even bother to look at Carolyn as she slithered away, her gold gown dripping like fluid over her high buttocks. Carolyn gazed down at her drink. She had felt beautiful a few moments ago. Now she felt downright ugly.

"Well," Anthony said, too loudly. "Shall we find a quiet comer?"

Carolyn managed both a nod and a smile.

Nicholas arrived at the ball late. But it took him only a matter of minutes to learn that Davison was closeted in the library with both Castlereagh and another member of the foreign ministry and the ambassador from Sweden. The Swedes had reached a rather loose arrangement with the Russians, which in actuality promised little and satisfied no one, and Sverayov would have loved to know what was being discussed inside the library.

"How long have they been inside?" Nicholas asked his brother who had provided him with the news.

"Half an hour. Why are you so late?"

"I had some correspondence to catch up on," Nicholas said as he and his brother paused on the threshold of the ballroom. He regarded the festively attired crowd with great

interest. He estimated that there were a hundred couples on the dance floor. But there was no sign of Carolyn. He continued to search the crowd, and was disappointed.

"She is here with young Davison," Alexi remarked, obviously attuned to his thoughts. "I saw them earlier. But I do not think she is enjoying herself."

'That can be changed," Nicholas muttered, more to himself.

"Has George left the country?"

"Yes. With an escort—unbeknownst to him."

Alexi shook his head. "Why do I suspect that you are following him not just to make certain that he fulfills all of his newfound obligations?"

Nicholas tore his gaze from Carolyn. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

Alexi chuckled. "How you lie when it suits you! I have the strongest feeling that his escort is under orders to protect him—at all costs."

"You are mad," Nicholas said.

Alexi grinned. Then he gripped Nicholas's sleeve. "Your quarry arrives."

Nicholas had already seen Carolyn pausing on the outskirts of the ballroom on its other side. She was alone. "I shall see you later," Nicholas said.

"Do you wish to dance?" Anthony asked.

Carolyn had not the slightest desire to join the dancers on the dance floor. ' 'Would you be terribly affronted if I declined?" she asked.

"Hardly." Anthony smiled at her. "I am not particularly fond of dancing myself. Shall I fetch us some supper?"

Carolyn»smiled. "That would be wonderful."

Anthony left, and Carolyn sipped her ratafia, watching the dancers, relieved that she had not been forced to take to the floor, where she would have performed abysmally, for she did not know how to dance except in theory. She thought about Sverayov. She had yet to see him tonight, and she was v€ry disappointed even though she was trying

to feign indifference, even to herself. And she brooded about Marie-Elena.

His wife was a problem. Carolyn was now certain of it. At first, she had been fooled by the other woman's demeanor and appearance—^or as Sverayov would say, by her theatrics. But her angelic fa9ade was only that, a facade. That was now very clear.

And she could not entirely blame Marie-Elena for feeling threatened and being nasty earlier, but the fact that she had so thoroughly cuckolded Sverayov had confused Carolyn completely. Or was she confused because he was hurt and angry, and that was making her hurt and angry? But the fact did remain that Marie-Elena was his wife. Nothing was ever going to change that.

And, thinking of the devil, it was as if she had suirmioned him up. Carolyn saw him pause on the short flight of steps on the opposite threshold of the room. She stiffened, clutching her glass. He stood above the crowd. How her heart raced. How magnificent he was. No one could mistake him for anything other than royalty, Carolyn thought, and then she was angry with herself for being so affected by him that she was now becoming impressed even by his lineage.

He was regarding the crowd. He seemed to be gazing out over the dancers, searching for someone. But surely not for her. The entire balkoom separated them. As Carolyn stood alone, near a colunm, in spite of being five feet six inches tall, she was certain she could not be seen by him. She wondered if she should attempt to work her way through the dancers and wander over to him. Better yet, she should leave and pretend she had never seen him. She was Katya's companion and she was at the ball with Anthony—there was no point in pursuing an encounter.

But suddenly he seemed to be gazing in her direction. Carolyn tensed, as, across the entire ballroom, and the hundreds of guests, the impossible happened. Their gazes met.

And then he smiled. Although quite a distance separated them, there was no mistaking the flash of white teeth in his tanned skin. Abruptly Sverayov descended the short flight

of steps and entered the ballroom. Even though he was a head taller than most of the guests, the crowd quickly swallowed him up.

Carolyn did not move, stiff with expectation, certain he was coming to seek her out. Her gaze was glued on the crowd, and then he materialized from amongst them, his strides long and swift.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Carolyn?" he asked, bowing briefly.

Carolyn returned his smile. "You have taken me by surprise."

"A common military maneuver," he said, and his eyes seemed to dance.

It took Carolyn a moment to realize that he was jesting with her. She smiled. "Good evening. Your Excellency. Do you have battles on your mind?"

His own smile, brief as it was, disappeared. ' 'Frankly, I do."

Her intuition screamed at her and she plucked his sleeve. "What has happened?"

He regarded her steadily. "Unfortunately, I am not at liberty to divulge that information to you."

"You seem disturbed. The news is not good, then?"

"Do not jump to conclusions," he chided gently. "We are not here to discuss war, but to enjoy ourselves."

She nodded. "I am sorry."

"Are you?" His gaze was probing. "Enjoying yourself, that is?"

Carolyn hesitated, lowering her eyes. "How can I not? I am lucky to even be here."

"Perhaps young Davison is the lucky one."

His soft tone made her look up, only to meet his brilliant regard. She had to admit it. When he spoke to her in such a manner, he seemed sincere. Not at all like a rogue—or a man bent on an odd kind of revenge. "I am the fortunate one," she said firmly.

He laughed and shook his head. "Well, there is another

side to all of this. Copperville can surely enrich his column after this night."

She grinned. "Did you know that several high-ranking diplomats, including our very own Castlereagh, were ensconced in the library for over half an hour?"

His eyes widened. "No," he exclaimed.

She eyed him. "And Lady Carradine is here. I think she has mended her broken heart—quite swiftly, too."

He smiled back at her. "Whom is she with?"

"His name is William O'Council, he has no title, but he is the second son of an earl. He is also tall and blond, like you." Carolyn smiled, enjoying herself.