Secret Fire

  “Mitya, please, you mustn’t get upset,” Anastasia insisted with a worried frown. “The doctor said that once you regained full consciousness, you would have to remain undisturbed and progress slowly.”

  “You’ve had a rough time of it,” Nikolai added. “You were burning with fever most of the time, though there were several occasions when you awoke and seemed perfectly normal, making us think it was over, but the fever came back again.”

  “Yes, I’ve told you three times myself how you got here and what was wrong with you,” Anastasia said. “You were awake enough to make demands, give orders, and be a nuisance. Don’t you remember?”

  “No.” Dimitri sighed. “How did I get here, if you wouldn’t mind telling it again?”

  “Some soldiers found you while out searching for a runaway serf,” Anastasia explained. “They thought they had him when they saw your tracks leading to that shelter you were in. How long you had been there is anyone’s guess, for you were already delirious and couldn’t say. You couldn’t even tell them who you were.”

  “They took you back to their barracks, and fortunately someone recognized you and sent word to us,” Nikolai continued. “When Vladimir got there, you were just lucid enough to demand he take you home.”

  “Which was a mistake,” Anastasia added. “You were caught in a storm that had apparently already struck in that area several days earlier, and it took days to get you here. By then you were so much worse, we feared for your life.”

  “Women,” Mikhail grunted. “They don’t realize a man isn’t going to let a little thing like a cold end his days, not when there are so much more exciting ways—”

  “Spare me your gory adventures for now, Misha,” Dimitri said tiredly. “When did you get here, anyway?”

  “About a week ago. Here I was expecting a glorious homecoming, and everyone is sitting around here with long faces, worrying about you.”

  “Everyone?” His spirits rose. “Katherine too? Was she worried?”

  “Katherine? Who is Katherine?”

  Nikolai chuckled. “He means the little wench—”

  “Lady Katherine St. John.” Dimitri glared at him.

  “Really? You mean she was telling the truth, even about Sonya?”

  “Yes, and that reminds me: What happened when you found her?”

  The question, put in that tone, had the power to make Nikolai step back, even though he had nothing to fear from Dimitri at the moment, as weak as he was. “Nothing. I assure you I never even got near her.”

  “Will someone tell me who this Katherine is?” Mikhail asked again, and again got no answer.

  “Where is she?” Dimitri demanded, first of Nikolai, whose blank look made him turn to his sister next. “Nastya? She is here, isn’t she?”

  “Actually—”

  She got no farther, her uneasy look warning him that she was withholding bad news. “Vladimir!” He turned to Nikolai, frantic now. “Where is he? Get him for me.” And again: “Vladimir!”

  Anastasia pushed him down on the bed as Nikolai rushed out of the room. “You can’t do this, Mitya! You’re going to have a relapse—”

  “Do you know where she is?”

  “No, I don’t, but I’m sure your man does, so if you will just calm down and wait until he gets here—”

  “My lord?” Vladimir appeared, hurrying toward the bed, already apprised of the reason for Dimitri’s distress. “She went to the British Embassy, my lord.”

  “When?”

  “The day after you left. She is still there.”

  “I posted a man to keep watch, my lord. He has yet to see her leave.”

  The tension drained out of him, leaving Dimitri so weak that he could barely keep his eyes open. As long as he knew where she was…

  “Now will someone tell me who this Katherine is?” Mikhail demanded.

  “She’s going to be your sister-in-law, Misha, just as soon as I am on my feet again. Good to have you back, by the way,” Dimitri added, just before sleep claimed him.

  “I had the impression he wasn’t too keen on marrying.” Mikhail glanced at his siblings questioningly.

  Nikolai and Anastasia were both smiling as they moved quietly out of the room, but it was Nikolai who suggested, “I guess someone changed his mind.”

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  “Lady Katherine, are ye receivin’ this mornin’?”

  Katherine glanced up from the tally books with a sigh. “Who is it this time, Fiona?” When would her neighbors stop being so blasted nosy?

  “She said she was the Duchess of Albemarle.”

  Katherine simply stared at the girl while the color slowly receded from her face. Dimitri’s grandmother? Here? Did that mean… No, if Dimitri were in England, he would have come himself. Wouldn’t he?

  “My lady?”

  Katherine focussed on the maid again. “Yes, I’ll see her. Show her into the— Wait, she is alone, isn’t she?” At Fiona’s nod, she said, “Very well. On second thought, show the lady in here. My office is more informal. And bring some refreshments too, Fiona.”

  Katherine didn’t move from behind her desk. She sat there, worrying the tip of her quill between her teeth, and growing more and more nervous by the second. Why was Dimitri’s grandmother coming to see her? There was no way she could know anything. No one knew the truth, not even her father.

  The Earl had been so understanding in the one letter she had received from him before she left Russia, but that was in answer to the letter she had sent him, which was composed of elaborate lies meant to calm his concern and assure him she was fine, just not ready to come home yet. She couldn’t tell him the truth, for a father’s duty was to avenge his daughter’s honor, and she wanted none of that.

  The tale about being kidnapped by mistake and ending up in Russia was as close as she came to the actual truth. She made use of the excuse she had given the Ambassador by claiming that she had written immediately upon reaching Russia, but the letter must have become lost and she had only just learned that no one knew what had happened to her. And then in her indomitable way she informed him that as long as she had been forced on this trip, she was going to take advantage of it and travel a while more. He wasn’t too happy about that, but he wished her well and had included a tidy sum to see to her expenses.

  Yes, he had understood, until she had arrived home with Alek three weeks ago. Alek he didn’t understand at all, nor why she refused to make excuses for him, saying simply that she had fallen in love and children were the usual result of such happenings. The biggest bone of contention between them was that she wouldn’t name the father, said only that she had met him while traveling through Russia, and no, she simply didn’t want to marry him. What were they to tell people? Absolutely nothing.

  Katherine wasn’t the first to bring home a baby from her travels, but she wasn’t about to claim it was an orphan she had found. That excuse had been given so often by other highborn ladies that it simply would not have been believed. Since Katherine St. John wasn’t considered the type to indulge in an affair, she trusted that the rumors and speculation about her wouldn’t be too damaging. She was proved right. The general opinion, though she wasn’t aware that dear Lucy had started the rumor, was that she was a widow now, so devastated by her husband’s death that she refused to talk about him.

  This amused her. It allowed her to ignore all inquiries about her son’s father without the least bit of embarrassment. Not that she was ashamed. She was, in fact, so proud of her son that she delighted in showing him to anyone and everyone who asked to see him. But anyone and everyone did not include Dimitri’s grandmother.

  Alek unfortunately had that notorious Alexandrov face, as well as his father’s coloring. Not that Katherine wasn’t delighted with the way he looked, but he was too obviously Dimitri’s son. The Duchess would have only to look at him to see the resemblance. In some future meeting between Dimitri and his grandmother, Katherine’s remarkably Alexandrov-looking son would be menti
oned, and then Dimitri would know that she had left him, knowing she carried his child; that she had refused to marry him, knowing she might be denying him his heir. He wouldn’t take too kindly to that. He might even try to wrest Alek from her. She could not take any chances.

  At the sound of a throat being slightly cleared, Katherine jumped to her feet nervously. “Your ladyship, please come in.” She indicated the chair opposite her desk. “I understand you are acquainted with my father. He’s in London, if you came to see—”

  “I’m here to see you, my dear, and please let us dispense with formalities. I would like it if you would call me Lenore.”

  Lenore Cudworth wasn’t anything like Katherine might have expected, though what she had really expected she didn’t know, except that some ladies of the Duchess’s stature and age clung to the old ways, even to wearing outdated clothes, some even still powdering their hair. Lenore was dressed in a stylish traveling suit, vivid in color, her only concession to her age being her hair, which was done up neatly in an older style that quite suited her. It was silver-gray, though her face bore few wrinkles. She was still a very handsome woman, and Katherine was unnerved to see from where Dimitri got his dark brown eyes, for hers were exactly the same, if a little warmer, with infinitely more laugh lines surrounding them.

  “You mustn’t be nervous.”

  “Oh, I’m not,” Katherine quickly assured her. Blast, she was off to a bad start. “And please call me Kate. My family does.”

  “And what does Dimitri call you?”

  Katherine’s eyes flared, giving her away before she could ask, “Dimitri who?” “Why have you come here?” she asked instead, bluntly, fearfully now.

  “To meet you. To satisfy a curiosity. I have only just learned that you have returned to England, or I probably would have come sooner.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought you the type to sniff about for a scandal, your ladyship.”

  Lenore laughed despite herself. “Oh, my dear Kate, how delightfully refreshing to meet someone who doesn’t mince words. But no, I assure you I’m not a scandalmonger. You see, I received a rather long letter last year from Dimitri’s aunt on his father’s side—we will agree you know my grandson?” When Katherine didn’t so much as blink, Lenore smiled, undeterred. “Well, at any rate, Sonya, Dimitri’s aunt, does so love to complain to me about his many amorous peccadilloes. For years she has written, undoubtedly trying to disillusion me into believing the poor boy is a lost cause, which I have never believed for a moment. I would have discouraged her letters if they weren’t so amusing. But this particular letter wasn’t amusing at all. She told me that Dimitri was now bringing his…women, shall we say? That he was bringing his women back from England now and that he had gone so far as to install one in his own home.”

  Katherine had gone quite pale. “Did she happen to mention her name?”

  “I’m afraid she did.”

  “I see.” Katherine sighed. “She never understood why I was there, you know. It certainly wasn’t what she thought. And I doubt Dimitri ever did own up—oh, this is beside the point. You—you didn’t bring this information to my father, did you?”

  “Whyever would I do that?”

  “To relieve his mind. For a while after I disappeared, he thought I was dead.”

  “You mean… I’m sorry, dear, I had no idea. I was aware of your absence from England but not that George had no clue to where you were. It was assumed you had gone on a tour of Europe. But wasn’t that rather thoughtless on your part? I realize Dimitri is quite the ladies’ man, but to just run off with him—”

  “I beg your pardon,” Katherine interrupted sharply, “but I didn’t happen to have a choice in the matter.”

  The Duchess actually blushed. “Then I truly am sorry, my dear. And it appears I have come here under the wrong impression. I thought—rather I assumed—that you had had an affair with my grandson and that the son you came home with might be his. You see, I have heard about the child, and I had hoped, actually I still do… What I mean to say—”

  “Alek is not Dimitri’s son!”

  Lenore sat back, surprised by the emphatic denial. “I didn’t mean to imply… Well, yes, I suppose I did. Forgive me. But considering most women find my grandson rather irresistible, it was natural to assume… Oh, dash it all, Kate, I would like to see the boy.”

  “No. I mean, he’s sleeping and—”

  “I don’t mind waiting.”

  “But he hasn’t been feeling well. I really don’t think it would be a good idea to disturb him.”

  “Why are you putting me off? This is my great-grandson we are talking about.”

  “He isn’t,” Katherine insisted angrily, not at all liking this corner she was backing into, but quite unable to think clearly in her anxiety. “I told you Dimitri isn’t his father. Why, he left me at Novii Domik for months. Do you know how many men there are at Novii Domik? Hundreds. Need I say more?”

  Lenore smiled. “All you needed to say, my dear, was that you had never been intimate with Dimitri, but you didn’t say that, did you? No, and you won’t convince me you are the type to go flitting from one man to another either, so don’t bother trying. The boy doesn’t know, does he? Is that what you’re afraid of?”

  “Your ladyship, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Katherine replied stonily.

  “Very well, my dear, you win for now.” Lenore’s voice was still pleasant. She didn’t succumb to emotion the way the young so often did. Yet she was quite firm in her added prediction. “But I’ll see your Alek eventually. I won’t be denied my first great-grandchild, even if I have to bring his father here to settle the matter.”

  “I wouldn’t advise that,” Katherine replied, exasperation taking over. “Do you realize how furious he would be if you brought him here for nothing. And it would be for nothing.”

  “Somehow I doubt that.”

  Chapter Forty

  “Well?” Dimitri demanded.

  Vladimir entered the dining room with considerable reluctance. “She wouldn’t accept the flowers, my lord, or your letter. Both were returned to me, the letter unopened.”

  Dimitri slammed his fist down, spilling his wine and knocking over the candelabrum in the center of the table. A footman rushed forward to grab it before a fire started. Dimitri didn’t even notice.

  “Why won’t she see me? What have I done that was so terrible? I asked her to marry me, didn’t I?”

  Vladimir said not a word. He knew the questions weren’t being asked of him. He had heard them asked a hundred times before. He had no answers anyway. He didn’t know what the Prince had done, unless it was the same thing he had done, and Sweet Mary, how often he had asked himself how he could have been so stupid, so blind, so incredibly perverse in his judgment. How Marusia had rubbed it in and gloated, because she had known all along, while he had doggedly stuck to his misconceptions about Lady Katherine.

  “Perhaps if you—”

  Vladimir got no further, the footman at the door interrupting with the announcement: “The Dowager Duchess—”

  That fellow got no further either, as Dimitri’s grandmother pushed him aside and entered the room. That she was quite out of sorts was obvious, though Dimitri, rising swiftly, didn’t notice in his surprise.

  “Babushka!”

  “Don’t you ‘Babushka’ me, you thoughtless, irresponsible man,” Lenore said tartly, slapping away the arms that tried to embrace her. “Do you realize what an embarrassment it was for me to be asked what you were doing back in London so soon when you had been here only a few months ago, and I didn’t know you were here now or then? What do you mean by coming to England and not paying me a visit, not even telling me you are here, not once, but twice?”

  Dimitri had the grace to flush. “I owe you an apology.”

  “You owe me more than that,” she retorted. “You owe me an explanation.”

  “Certainly, but sit down. Take a glass of wine with me.”

  “I’ll
sit, but no wine.”

  And she did, and immediately began drumming her fingers on the table, waiting, angry, impatient. Dimitri waved the servants away and returned to his seat, feeling quite put on the spot. What could he tell her? Certainly not the truth.

  “I was coming to see you, Babushka,” he began.

  “Three weeks late?”

  So she knew he had been here that long. He was just wondering what else she knew when she added, “I wrote you no more than a month ago, and I know very well you couldn’t have received my letter yet, so that isn’t why you’re here. Now, out with it. What are you doing here, and why must I be the last to know about it?”

  “You wrote me? Was it anything important?”

  “You’re not putting me off, Dimitri. I demand to know what you’re up to. Why, you have my own son keeping secrets from me. He must know you are here, or you wouldn’t be using the townhouse.”

  Dimitri sighed. “You mustn’t blame Uncle Thomas. I asked him to say nothing for the present, because I knew you would insist I join you in the country for a visit. But what I am doing is just too important… I have to stay in London, Babushka. I have to make sure she doesn’t disappear again.”

  “Who?”

  “The lady I want to marry.”

  Lenore’s brow shot up. “Oh? As I recall, you said you would be married by the end of last year. When that didn’t come about and when I received your news about your half-brother’s return from the dead, I assumed you were no longer in any great hurry to tie yourself to any one woman.”

  “That was before I met Katherine.”

  “Not Katherine St. John!” Lenore gasped.

  “How did you know? No, don’t tell me. I suppose I have made a complete fool of myself. With as many times as I have been turned away from her door, the whole town must know. And chasing her down Piccadilly was a piece of lunacy, especially when she managed to elude me anyway.”