Carola Dunn (12 page)

“It all seems so...wasteful, so frivolous.”

He looked at her, his dark eyes serious. “Frivolity is no bad thing, you know, in moderation. Perhaps I have had too much in my life, but you have had too little. Enjoy yourself, Rebecca, while you have the chance.”

She frowned. There was a tantalising hint of a hidden meaning behind his words. Before she could begin to puzzle it out, her next partner came up and addressed John in Russian, begging his pardon for interrupting their
tête-a-tête.

John looked blank. Rebecca knew he was perfectly capable of understanding the simple words. Why was he pretending not to?

The Russian apologized in French and repeated his explanation of his interruption. John stumbled through a response in the same language, not only his pronunciation but his grammar atrocious.

As Rebecca went off on her partner’s arm, she glanced back and saw John’s self-satisfied expression. She remembered how pleased Andrew had been at his inability to speak Russian. She had all the clues, she thought, but there was no time to put them together before she was whirled into the dance.

Chapter 10

John was not the only member of the embassy staff to put in a late appearance on the day after the ball. In fact, being more accustomed to going to bed at dawn, he arrived before Andrew and was waiting in his office, with his heels on the desk, when his superior turned up.

“Fedorenko has the day off,” said Andrew, closing the door.  “We can talk.”

“How is it that your desk is still as empty as the day we arrived?” John enquired, yielding his place.

“The kind of papers I deal with are mostly kept in a locked safe. Besides, a great part of my usefulness to the Diplomatic Corps is my ability to remember details without writing them down.”

“I can see that would come in handy in our business. I may have something of a talent that way myself, for I can always recall which cards have been played, and by whom. I’ve not yet heard anything worth remembering, though.”

“You will. You have other worthwhile talents, too. Cathcart was impressed with the way you handled that impossible Frenchwoman.”

John was pleased, but he grumbled, “That’s all very well, but I nearly came to grief last night. I was with Rebecca when someone addressed me in Russian. She knew very well that I ought to be able to understand.”

“Did she comment?”

“No, she just looked surprised and puzzled, and I don’t suppose anyone noticed, or guessed why.”

“Perhaps you had best avoid her company.”

“No! That I will not. And I cannot avoid Teresa, who is equally likely to give me away.”

“She is not! Teresa is equal to anything.”

“So is Rebecca. But that is beside the point. There seems to be a general impression that they are both cousins of mine, so I cannot avoid either without causing talk. I think I should explain the situation to Rebecca.” John did not mention his unhappiness that she should think him sunk once more into a life of dissipation.

Andrew frowned. “I cannot like it. The slightest hint that you are not the scapegrace you appear to be, and your usefulness will be at an end.”

“Your opinion of Rebecca seems to be as low as your opinion of me. She will never betray me deliberately, and she is more likely to do so inadvertently if she does not know the truth. The same applies to Teresa, of course.”

“Very well.” Having made up his mind, Andrew was decisive. “I shall tell Teresa, and you may tell Rebecca. You must not think that I do not value Rebecca. She has many excellent qualities, or I should not trust my daughter to her, but she has not Teresa’s force of character.”

“If you knew what her life has been like, you would understand and appreciate her courage,” said John softly, and took his leave.

* * * *

He went straight to the small house the Graylins had hired. A Russian servant admitted him and showed him into the drawing room, which was crowded with visitors of both sexes. John remembered how quickly Teresa had gathered about her a circle of friends after she arrived in London knowing no one. The years had only added to her poise and charm, without detracting one whit from her vivid loveliness. Now gentlemen and ladies alike clustered about her, laughing and talking in at least three languages.

Rebecca’s corner of the room was quieter. She sat with her back to the window, a sunbeam playing with the golden lights in her hair. Her face brightened when she saw John.

He smiled at her as he crossed the room, but the smile faded when he recognized her companions. Kolya, the womanizer—well, John could hardly take exception to that, and at least he had brought one of his sisters. The fourth member of the group, however, was Count Boris Ivanovich Solovyov, dandy and spy.

How the devil had the wretched man wormed his way into an acquaintance with Rebecca?

By the time he had bowed to the ladies and spoken to Kolya, John had recovered his poise. He greeted the count with easy courtesy, then turned back to Rebecca.

“I see you are engaged at present, Cousin, but I want to remind you that you promised to drive with me one of these days. May I call for you tomorrow afternoon?”

“Oh dear, Princess Volkova has invited us to drink tea tomorrow. Perhaps the next day?”

He remembered that Volodya had asked him to attend a military review that day, before a night of carousing. The hussar was a useful contact and he did not want to offend him. After some discussion, it was fixed that the earliest afternoon that both he and Rebecca were free was a week hence.

In no good humour, he exchanged a few words with Teresa then went up to the nursery to see Esperanza.

“Dusha moya!”
Gayo greeted him. The parrot’s vocabulary was grown much more decorous since he had been living in the nursery.

If being addressed as “darling” by a bird was not enough to raise John’s spirits, the little girl’s delight at seeing him cheered him and he spent some time playing with her.

Annie was apparently occupied elsewhere, since a Russian maid was in charge. John knew that a Russian coachman had been hired to drive the ladies about. He wondered if all these servants, too, were in the pay of the Foreign Ministry. He must warn Rebecca to be careful of what she said even in the safest-seeming places.

* * * *

Rebecca had already come to the same conclusion. She longed to ask Teresa’s opinion of the curious incident at the ball, but if her suspicions were correct it was best to mention it to no one. Overheard by the wrong person, the information might endanger John.

On the other hand, if she was wrong it looked very much as if he was so disgruntled by
his position that he had abandoned any effort to succeed and had returned to his former dissolute life. The possibility disturbed her.

She was too busy to worry about him overmuch. She took seriously her duties as governess, and had made a game of teaching Esperanza her ABCs and the Russian alphabet together. The child was a joy to be with, lively and loving and as intelligent as her parents. However, most of Rebecca’s time was spent with Teresa. Enlisted at first as a companion to her employer, she imperceptibly slipped into being her protégée.

She tried to protest. “Indeed I cannot accept any more clothes. You know a hundred people here now, and do not need me to go into company with you.”

“Fustian!” said Teresa briskly. “If I did not give my dresses to you I should have no excuse to buy new ones, and I do love shopping for pretty things. It is most fortunate that we are much of a height and that you are not too young to wear bright colours as I do. Besides, I am practising my skills as chaperone, so that when Chiquita makes her come out I shall know how to do it properly.”

So Rebecca went to afternoon teas and balls and musicales and the theatre. Prince Nikolai and John were often in attendance at the same parties, and both sought her out. However, she had no opportunity to speak privately with John, and she noticed that he generally left early, in search, she presumed, of less respectable entertainment.

The day came when he was to take her driving. Spring had at last invaded St Petersburg. The air was balmy, trees were greening, and fur coats and hats, if not yet laid away in camphor, were at least not in evidence.

John brought a bunch of violets, as if he had guessed she would wear her new lilac pelisse. She pinned the sweet-scented flowers to her bodice and happily allowed him to hand her up into the carriage he had hired.

The groom jumped up to his perch behind. As
they drove off
,
John explained the finer points of driving a
troika
as opposed to a pair or four-in-hand. Rebecca was not very interested, but she enjoyed listening to his voice as he demonstrated his newly acquired expertise. Dextrously he wove his way through the bustling traffic on the Nevski Prospekt, dashed across the bridges, past the colonnades of the Kazan Cathedral, to the great square in front of the Winter Palace.

John grinned at Rebecca’s gasp of amazement.

“Spectacular, ain’t it?”

She had thought herself inured to the splendour of the mansions of the nobility, but the Tsar’s Winter Palace dwarfed all the others. It seemed to stretch forever across the far side of the square, an endless vista of blue-green stucco, white pillars, rows of windows, with statues decorating the roof balustrade.

“I have never seen anything like it,” she said lamely.

“Over a thousand rooms, or thereabouts. I wish I could show you the inside too. Perhaps Kolya can smuggle you in.”

“Do you think so? I shall ask him.”

He frowned. “I did not know you were well enough acquainted to make such a request. I warned you that he is a rake, did I not?”

“He has never been anything but perfectly proper to me, I promise you. I like him.” Rebecca tactfully changed the subject. “What is that building over there?”

“With the golden spire? That is the Admiralty. And the golden dome is the Cathedral of St Isaac. It is still under construction, I collect. These Russians have a liking for gold, from the braid on their uniforms to the roofs of their buildings. The cathedral in the Peter-Paul Fortress is gold-roofed too. Would you care to see it? It is on an island in the Neva River, facing the palace; we might walk along the embankment since the weather is so clement.”

It was the opportunity Rebecca had been awaiting. She eagerly agreed.

He drove closer to the river, then left the
troika
in the groom’s care. There were several people strolling along the granite embankment, alone, in couples, or small groups. John and Rebecca walked a short way, then stopped to gaze at the turbulent stream, racing down to the Gulf of Finland with chunks of ice and the melted snows of a Russian winter.

Rebecca shivered, reminded of the Lincolnshire river, little more than a brook compared to this mighty torrent, from which John had pulled her. She was sure he must remember too, but he was by far too gentlemanly to mention the incident.

“Are you cold?” he asked. “This sunshine is deceptive.”

“No.” The monosyllable hid a sudden rush of affection for him. He was not merely gentlemanly, he was kind. He was everything a man should be except, perhaps, responsible. Rebecca longed to ask about his work for the embassy, but she could not think how. After all, it was none of her business. “Is that the fortress,” she asked, pointing across the Neva at another gold-spired building.

“Yes, that is it. You must have heard the noon gun? It is fired from there. The place is used as a gaol for prisoners of state.”

“Prisoners of state?”

“Traitors, spies, those whose views differ from the Tsar’s.”

“I do not like it.” She shivered again. “No, I am not cold, truly, but that place is sinister—it makes me shudder. Pray let us walk farther.”

“Of course, you fanciful creature.” He took her kid-gloved hand and tucked it under his arm, warming it against his side as they went on. “There is something I want to tell you, Rebecca.”

She looked up at him eagerly, “Oh yes, what is it?”

He hesitated, as if searching for words, and flushed slightly. “Perhaps you have wondered why I spend my time...why I live as if I had never left London?”

“You do not owe me any explanation. Because you confided in me once, you must not think I should ever presume to expect...”

“I
want
to explain. I do not want you to think ill of me. You see, I am collecting information for Andrew. Only Lord Cathcart knows that I am not the dissolute wastrel I appear to be.”

“I guessed,” she said softly, casting a frightened glance at the prison on its island, so close, so threatening. “When you pretended not to understand.”

“That was Andrew’s notion, of course. Famous, is it not? They talk quite freely in Russian in my presence. My own idea seems to be working quite well, too.”

She smiled at the deprecating tone that could not hide his pride. “What is that?”

“I told several of the fellows that…Dash it, I ought not to tell you.”

“Pray go on, John. You cannot leave me in suspense.”

“Well then, I made it plain that I will not gamble when I’m...uh, that is, when I have been drinking. So if I refuse to play cards they assume that I am inebriated, and they do not mind their tongues as they would if I were sober. Which I am, of course,” he added hastily. “Or nearly, at least.”

“You will be careful, will you not?” she begged, half shocked and half amused. “I know that when gentlemen have been drinking, they do not always act or speak as they mean to when sober.”

“I am not so easily befuddled, but I am careful, and you must be too. Never say a word about this, even to Teresa, though she knows. There are ears everywhere in this suspicious country.” He paused while an innocent-looking couple passed them. “By the way, how did you come to be acquainted with Count Solovyov?”

“I was introduced to him at the embassy ball.” She wrinkled her nose. “I do not much care for him, but one cannot cut everyone one does not care for. At least, I think one should be able to but Teresa says it would not be
comme il faut
to refuse when he asks for a dance. Fortunately he is more interested in Teresa than in me.”