Lord Buckingham’s Bride (15 page)

‘And Alexander's successor would be…?' prompted Francis.

‘The Corsican.'

‘That's what I was afraid you were going to say.'

‘I know you've already left your name at the palace, but I think it would be wise to repeat the exercise daily until the required audience results.'

‘As you wish.'

‘We have to use you, my lord, because to attempt to make an open diplomatic approach to the czar is still a little tricky. We haven't yet unearthed the informer at the embassy, and we don't want anyone to get wind of anything. If the informer has any contact with Naryshky …'

‘I understand, Mr Gainsborough.'

Alison looked at the ambassador's secretary. ‘Sir, do you know if the Countess Irina is party to her brother's plot?'

‘We can't be certain, Miss Clearwell, but I believe she is. She and Naryshky are very close; indeed, they dote upon each other.'

Alison shook her head, remembering watching Irina alone in the anteroom at the opera house. ‘No, Mr Gainsborough, I think you are
wrong. If you'd said that you had irrefutable evidence that she was as guilty as he, I'd have to concede that my judgment is in error, but in the absence of any evidence of her involvement, then I have to say that I believe she is innocent.'

He smiled. ‘Miss Clearwell, it would be most agreeable to think that the countess isn't part of her brother's scheme, but it would be very unwise to bank upon such being the case.'

Alison said nothing more, but in her heart she knew she was right about Irina. The czar's mistress might love her brother, hate the British, and support the French, but she wouldn't do anything at all that would hurt or endanger Alexander, whom she adored with all her heart. ‘
Avec tout mon coeur
…'

Mr Gainsborough took out his fob watch. ‘I think it's time I left. I'll leave the way I came, via Horseguards Boulevard. If you need me, you have only to send a message to the embassy. Good night.'

‘Good night,' replied Francis, and they watched him slip away toward the far end of the coach house. They didn't see or hear the outer door open and close, they only knew that everything went very quiet.

Francis turned to her. ‘It seems I am in your debt, Alison.'

‘If I have prevented the prince's man from overhearing anything he shouldn't, then perhaps I've redeemed myself a little, since it was all on account of me that you have difficulty with the prince in the first place.'

‘Perhaps.'

Was now the time to attempt to repair the damage done by her outburst of earlier? ‘Francis—'

‘I think we should return to the house, don't you?' he interrupted coolly.

The apology and plea for forgiveness died on her lips. His gratitude for what she had done now hadn't removed his anger. Nothing had changed.

Resignedly she accepted the arm he offered and they walked back through the misty gardens toward the house. The faint glow of dawn marked the eastern sky, and soon it would pierce the cloak of vapor enveloping St Petersburg. On the Neva a ship's bell sounded and somewhere the first sea gull called.

As they entered the silent house and walked to the staircase through the hyacinth-scented hall, Alison knew more than ever that a match between her and Francis would be a disaster, for he felt far less for her now than he had when first they had entered this house.

Sergei didn't stop running until he reached St Isaac's Square again. The mist was luminous and the pontoon bridge was ghostly as it led away into the haze. He could just make out the
Irina
, her hull
wraithlike
and indistinct, but Vassily Island was still lost from view.

He looked back toward English Quay, half-afraid that he would see the Englishman, but there was no one behind. He exhaled with relief, walking slowly on. If only he didn't face certain ruin if Nikolai called in all the IOUs … But he did, and ruin was something he dared not contemplate. He simply wasn't the man for something as daring and dangerous as an abduction; why, even his initial reconnaissance had almost ended in disaster. What a fool he had been to stand so openly in the doorway. If his legs hadn't found wings he would be in the Englishman's furious clutches now. Plague take Nikolai! What was it about these two that interested him so? Why was he so convinced that they weren't lovers at all? What difference did it make if his ultimate purpose was to kidnap the lady and force her to submit? Besides, it was quite obvious that Nikolai was wrong about them, for they were lovers, as he, Sergei, had seen every time he had watched them.

Sergei paused, looking toward the bronze horseman in the center of the square. Soon Nikolai would be meeting the unfortunate
daughter
of the even more unfortunate Leon Razumov in the shadow of the statue. He would threaten and frighten her in order to learn the truth about her two guests, but there wasn't anything new to learn, for she would merely confirm what was obvious to everyone except Nikolai Ivanovich himself. Lord Buckingham was in love with Miss Clearwell, and she was in love with him. That was the end of it.

B
y midday the mist had gone and the sun was shining as Natalia waited nervously by the statue. She wore a dark-green cloak trimmed with black fur, the hood pulled over her head. The
thoroughfares
surrounding the square were busy now, and ships were arriving and leaving on the tide. Vassily Island shone across the water, its wharves a hive of activity, and on the
Irina
there were some sailors scrubbing the decks. The schooner rocked gently on the flow, her figurehead bright and arresting.

Natalia gazed toward Prince Nikolai's beautiful vessel, and she shivered with nerves. She didn't hear the prince approaching and so gave a start when he suddenly spoke to her.

‘How punctual you are,
madame
.'

She turned swiftly.

He smiled a little, his dark eyes calculating. She was already afraid, just as he meant her to be, for if she was afraid, then she wouldn't lie very well, not if she thought her father's well-being was at stake. ‘I will not waste time,
madame
, but will come directly to the point. I wish to know all there is to know about your two new guests.'

She looked at him in confusion. ‘But, highness, there isn't anything to tell that you do not know already.'

‘Do you honor your father,
madame
?' he asked softly.

‘Of course I do, highness,' she replied, her face growing more pale and anxious.

‘Then if you wish me to consider his case fairly, I advise you to tell me anything that maybe of interest. For instance, why is it that Lord Buckingham is really here in St Petersburg?'

She stared at him. ‘I don't understand, highness—'

‘It's really very simple,
madame
,' he snapped. ‘I do not believe that he is here to be married or to purchase a horse from the imperial stables. I believe he has an ulterior purpose.'

Natalia was bewildered. ‘Ulterior purpose? Highness, I don't know of anything other than the two things you've already mentioned. Some time ago he arranged to approach the czar about a colt from the imperial stud, and then matters with my husband's niece reached a point and they decided to use the visit here in order to be married. The special license has been applied for at the British embassy, and the wedding is to take place in about a week's time. Why, you are to be invited, highness. As to the purchase of the colt, Lord Buckingham has already left his name at the Winter Palace and now awaits the call to the czar's presence.'

Nikolai studied her. Was she a truly consummate actress, or could it be that she really was telling the truth? She was very convincing, and the look of anxiety and bewilderment in her eyes could surely not be false. ‘Remember your father,
madame
,' he warned, ‘for his future hangs upon your veracity.'

‘I am not lying, highness, I swear it. I do not know what you suspect about Lord Buckingham and Miss Clearwell, but they are only lovers who wish to be together. They've sought my husband's
blessing
and assistance, and he has agreed to their request. He believes them, and so do I, for I cannot imagine that they are dishonest about their feelings for each other.'

‘And you would stake your father's future upon it?'

Slowly she nodded. ‘Yes, highness.'

A nerve fluttered at Nikolai's temple and he waved her away. ‘Very well, that is all.'

‘Highness, about my father …'

‘Yes?'

‘He has always served you faithfully and has managed the estate more than profitably.'

‘I am aware of that,
madame
.'

‘Then you will hear his case with—'

‘I will treat the case on its merits,
madame
, and if I think that Bragin's nephew is more suitable, then I will choose him.' Tears filled her eyes. ‘Please, highness—'

‘That is my final word on the matter.'

As Natalia hurried tearfully away, afraid of provoking him if she pleaded anymore, Nikolai drew a long thoughtful breath. He glanced up at the bronze horseman. Suddenly he felt more secure, for it seemed that his fears might be groundless after all. Leon Razumov's daughter was too frightened to be lying, and the fact that there was indeed to be a marriage, to which he himself was to be invited, went a long way toward allaying the suspicions that had flared so disquietingly into being that night in Stockholm. He had allowed his fear of discovery to get the upper hand, and had seen threats and danger where there were none.

Well, it was too late now to prevent the canceling of the audience with the czar, but that wasn't of any consequence. Lord Buckingham could look elsewhere for a suitable horse. Nikolai smiled a little, relieved too that there would no longer be any need to effect the Englishman's convenient ‘disappearance,' with the consequent
implication
that Irina was the person behind it. If the devil had driven, however, he, Nikolai, would have had no compunction about
pointing
the finger of suspicion at his sister, for she no longer deserved anything but his contempt. She was blissfully ignorant of his true
feelings
toward her; she was his adoring sister and believed that he returned her affection ounce for ounce.

Nikolai strolled away from the statue toward the carriage that was to take him across the pontoon bridge to the boat that would row him out to the
Irina
. He felt as if a weight had been lifted from his
shoulders
, and he inhaled deeply of the invigorating air. Ah, St Petersburg, most matchless of cities, soon you will be free of the Romanov yoke. The greatest ruler in the world, Napoleon Bonaparte, is to occupy the Winter Palace, and at his right hand, sharing the glory, will be Prince Nikolai Ivanovich Naryshky.

The liveried black postilion was waiting by the carriage door,
opening
it the moment he approached. Nikolai climbed into the
sumptuous
fur-upholstered vehicle and sat back, his thoughts returning to Lord Buckingham's bride. Before she became the wife of a lord she was going to be the unwilling mistress of a prince.

As Prince Nikolai's carriage drew away from the curb in St Isaac's Square, Alison was descending the staircase from the bedroom at her
uncle's house. She was dressed in a pale-blue muslin gown with long sleeves and a square neckline that was trimmed with a rufflike pleated lace frill. Her hair was arranged in a side knot from which tumbled several plump ash-blonde ringlets, and there were simple drop pearl earrings trembling from her lobes. She had taken care over her appearance this morning, because they were all about to drive to the Hermitage, next to the Winter Palace, to look at the fabulous
collection
of treasures on display there. It was an excursion that was
considered
de rigueur
for all visitors to St Petersburg, and Francis meant to combine it with a second call at the palace to leave his name.

She was a little early and so meant to wait in the grand salon until the others were ready as well, but as she reached the landing above the entrance hall, she saw Natalia come quickly in through the main door below. Alison paused by the balustrade, for it was immediately obvious that her step-aunt was upset about something. As she watched, Natalia hurried across the hall to the staircase, gathering her dark-green cloak to ascend quickly. Her face was tearstained and she didn't see Alison until she reached the landing, when she halted with a guilty start.

‘Alison, I didn't see you there.'

Alison was anxious. ‘What is it, Aunt Natalia? What's wrong?'

‘Wrong? Why, nothing.'

‘But you've been crying—'

‘No!' The word came out sharply, but then was repeated more controlledly. ‘No, Alison, I just have a bad headache, that's all. I'll be all right when I've rested for a while.'

‘But, the visit to the Hermitage …'

Natalia shook her head. ‘I can't go, I don't feel well enough. Please give my apologies.' With that she gathered her cloak once more ready to go on up the second flight of the staircase to the floor above, but then she paused, meeting Alison's eyes. ‘You do love Lord Buckingham, do you not, Alison?' she asked.

‘Yes, of course I do,' replied Alison honestly, wondering why such a thing should be asked. A cool finger touched her spine, a finger of warning, for there was something very strange about Natalia.

‘And apart from the purchase of a colt from the czar, his lordship's sole purpose here in St Petersburg is to make you his bride?'

Alison managed to meet her eyes without wavering. ‘Yes, of course,' she said again, but the cool finger had now turned to ice.

‘I trust that you are telling me the truth, Alison, for if you are not …' Natalia didn't finish the sentence.

Alison took a step closer. ‘Aunt Natalia, won't you please tell me what's wrong?'

‘There is nothing wrong, Alison, not if you are being honest with me. But if you are lying, and if my father suffers …' Again Natalia didn't finish the sentence.

Alison stared at her, suddenly realizing. ‘Has the prince spoken to you?'

‘The prince? Why should you think that?' Natalia asked swiftly, her eyes intent.

‘Because he is the only one who could make your father suffer,' replied Alison, again managing to meet the other's gaze without giving anything away.

‘You are right, Alison. He could indeed hurt my father, and maybe he will anyway, but if he should do so because of something else, something to do with you and Lord Buckingham, then I will never forgive you. Never!'

Turning, Natalia hastened up the second staircase, not glancing back once as she reached the top. As her footsteps died away along the passage on the floor above, Alison Iowered her eyes unhappily. She remembered how Francis had warned that Nikolai would turn his wrath upon Leon Razumov if he discovered the truth, and how she, stung by her own guilt, had accused him of cynical self-interest and insincerity.

With a heavy heart she walked on toward the grand salon. Please let all this be finished as soon as possible, let the documents be safely delivered, and let Nikolai pay the price for his unbelievable treachery to his country and his czar. And let Alison Margaret Lydia Clearwell return to England, where everything was calm, uncomplicated, and safe. She pushed all thoughts of the marriage to the back of her mind, for it was something she still hoped at all costs to avoid, but she knew in her heart of hearts that it might not be possible to avoid it, that events might force her to go through with a ceremony that she knew would be wrong.

She entered the grand salon and went to the windows facing toward the Neva, brushing past her uncle's telescope as she did so. Her step-aunt's words kept returning to her, and her spirits, already low, sank still further.

Outside, the sunlight sparkled on the Neva, and the vista of St Petersburg stretched gloriously all around. Beyond the pontoon bridge, where the Neva was at its widest before parting into two
channels
, she could see the forbidding ramparts of the Peter-Paul Fortress, and the slender golden spire of the cathedral that nestled within its walls. Behind the fortress was Peterburg Island, and beyond that, invisible in the sunny spring haze, was Krestovsky Island, where the Countess Irina resided.

In the foreground, Nikolai's schooner still lay at her midriver mooring, and as Alison looked, she saw the prince himself standing on the deck. She turned to the telescope, directing it toward the vessel and bending to look through. Suddenly she was looking straight at Nikolai, his figure caught in a circular frame, for all the world like a miniature. She could see the golden shoulder knots and braiding, the crimson cuffs of his black tunic, and the light-blue cordon of St Andrew across his shoulder. She could even see the miniature of Alexander at his throat, a miniature on a miniature. There was
nothing
on his head, so that the light sea breeze ruffled through his blond hair, and he was standing with his hands on the deck rail, gazing pensively down at the rippling waters of the Neva.

As she looked, he straightened, his glance moving directly toward her. He seemed so very close through the telescope that she drew back with a gasp, for his eyes had seemed to meet hers, but then she
realized
that he couldn't see her properly, any more than she had been able to see him properly before looking through the telescope.

She bent to look again, but he was walking along the deck now, toward the doorway that led to the stateroom at the stern of the vessel. As he vanished from view, Alison continued to look through the telescope, training it on the busy pontoon bridge and then upon the quays of Vassily Island opposite. She was searching for the
Pavlovsk
, but there was no sign of the brigantine. Then she
remembered
Captain Merryvale's words. ‘The
Pavlovsk
is due in tonight, and she will leave again on tomorrow's midday tide for St Petersburg, for
she stays for only one tide.' The brigantine was already on her way back to Stockholm.

Alison studied the busy wharves and then paused as the telescope came to rest upon a strangely familiar vessel, a British merchantman that hadn't been there the day before. It was the
Duchess of Albemarle
. Alison stared through the telescope as if at a ghost, but then suddenly realized that it wasn't the sunken vessel that she was looking at, but her sister ship, the
Duchess of Clarence
. Evidently Captain Merryvale hadn't had very long to wait in Stockholm, after all. She wondered if he had definitely sailed with the new vessel, and even as she wondered she saw him standing on the quay with several of the ship's officers. He was smiling and nodding, but he looked heavyhearted, as well he still might be after losing his ship in such a way. To have had her founder in a raging storm was probably
acceptable
, but to lose her because of a fire in the calm sheltered waters of Stockholm harbor was such an unnecessary and pointless accident.