“My sympathies, Miss Alexander,” the Comtesse murmured formally.
Nicholas inclined his head. “So you elected to wait to announce your betrothal until your period of mourning had passed,” he suggested.
“Well, yes. But there was also the matter of money to contend with. You see, for my parents to attain the level of status and prestige they enjoyed, it was necessary for them to cultivate a distinguished audience. Moving in such esteemed circles is not inexpensive, but they deemed it necessary. Generally the strategy paid off quite well, for they were sought after by the best theater managers in Europe.”
“Generally?”
“They died before they were able to recoup their investment. I inherited their debts; debts which William and I found staggering. Hardly the best foundation upon which to build our domestic future.”
A look of naked disdain crossed Nicholas’s features. “So he abandoned you to your parents’ debts and broke off your engagement.”
“Of course not,” Katya objected hotly. “William would never do such a thing. He’s kind and principled and forthright. Everything a man should be.”
“Ah. A true paragon of virtue. That explains why you left him behind.”
The sarcasm in his voice was not lost on her. “We determined—actually, I determined, but William concurred—that our wisest course was for me to assume my parents’ contract and perform in their stead. When I return, my debts will be settled, leaving William and I to resume the natural course of our relationship.”
“No wonder you agreed so readily to my offer,” Nicholas said. “At triple Monsieur Remy’s compensation, you’ll be able to race back to the arms of your beloved that much sooner.”
“Yes. Your fee will serve that purpose quite nicely.”
“I imagine so,” he returned dryly. “How fortunate for us both that our paths crossed.”
“Well, then,” the Comtesse said. “It appears we have reached an understanding. Is that acceptable to you, Nicholas?”
“Of course. My only role in this affair is removing the financial burden that has kept these impetuous lovers apart.”
Katya bristled. “I am three and twenty. William is nearly in his third decade. We are not giddy, impetuous children who cannot restrain our passion. Ours is a more stable affair.”
“I see,” the Comtesse said, studying her intently. “How very… sensible of you.”
Nicholas’s gaze shifted to the doorway. “Edward,” he called to his secretary, “You may instruct Melinda to settle Miss Alexander’s personal belongings in the peach room.” He turned toward Katya. The subtle smile that curved his lips was just short of patronizing. “That is, if the arrangement meets with Miss Alexander’s approval.”
Katya lifted her cup and took a sip of tea, regarding him in thoughtful silence. He was obviously giving her an opportunity to decline the arrangement and have her possessions transferred back to her room at the inn. Now that the heat of her anger had faded somewhat, she considered that option. In truth, while she still didn’t care for the arrogant manner in which he had taken control earlier that morning, she realized that she had little to gain by running back to the shelter of the boardinghouse. If her intent in uniting with Nicholas Duvall was to search for the scroll, she would be in a much better position to do so if she were well established within his household.
“I believe that arrangement will be satisfactory,” she replied.
A hint of triumph showed in Nicholas’s eyes. Keeping his gaze fastened on Katya, he said, “You may see to it, Edward. You may also have the family jewelry brought down from the vault.” He thought for a moment, then added, “The lesser jewels, I think. No need to make a show of it on our first night out.”
As the door closed behind the man, silence once again filled the room. Katya chose the opportunity to excuse herself, badly needing a little privacy to compose her thoughts. Ingrained politeness brought Nicholas to his feet as well, but Katya waved him off. “I suppose I should see to my things,” she said.
He nodded. “We have an engagement this evening,” he said. “A small gathering. Dinner, dancing, that sort of thing. An appropriate debut, I thought.”
“Very well. What time should I be ready?”
“I’ll instruct the groomsman to have the carriage ready at nine.”
She nodded and turned to leave, but the Comtesse’s voice stopped her. “I do hope you won’t disappoint us, Miss Alexander.”
The anxiousness in her voice was as unexpected as it was unmistakable. Uncertain how to reply, Katya responded simply, “I shall do my best.”
“See that you do.”
Nicholas watched her leave. Setting aside his untouched tea, he strode to a corner cabinet, withdrew a crystal decanter and splashed a generous amount of bourbon into a matching crystal tumbler. He swirled the liquor absently for a moment and then took a deep swallow. As he lowered his glass, he found his aunt studying him intently.
“I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything…” she ventured.
Nicholas shook his head.
She let out a deep sigh. “Silly of me, isn’t it? I was so certain that once you arrived Richard would make himself known to you. But there’s been nothing?”
“Nothing.”
She nodded and stiffened her spine, absorbing the news as though a physical blow. “I refuse to believe he’s gone, Nicholas. I will not believe it. We simply must persevere until we discover what happened.” Her gaze shifted to the doorway through which Katya had exited. “Are you certain it was wise to involve the girl?”
Nicholas took another swallow. “Wise, no. Expedient, yes. Time is of the essence. The sooner we discover with whom we are dealing, the better prepared we will be to force matters to a head. I can think of no one who can serve our purposes better than her.”
“I suppose that’s true.” The Comtesse studied her tea. “Have you mentioned any of the recent unpleasantness to her?”
He shook his head. “Her task is to uncover the person responsible for stealing the scroll. Nothing more, nothing less. Burdening her with more information than necessary would only be a distraction.” He paused, shrugging. “We can make adjustments as we progress, but for now I thought it best to give her a single focus for her efforts.”
“She will be safe?”
Nicholas’s stomach tightened. “Naturally, I will do everything within my power to ensure it.”
“Is that why you had her removed from the boardinghouse and installed here?”
“Of course. How am I to keep an eye on her if she’s living on the other side of town?”
“True. But she still didn’t like it.”
An image of Katya storming into his study, her eyes flashing fire, her cheeks flushed with rage, sprang unbidden to his mind. “She’s being amply paid to compensate for my high-handed manner, as she called it.”
“The girl is spirited.”
Nicholas nodded. His image of Katya shifted, this time to a rain-soaked girl perched on a cliff, risking her life to save a team of panicked horses.
His aunt studied him speculatively. “She’s also quite attractive.”
“Yes. She has that advantage.”
“I wonder though,” the Comtesse continued, “if her attachment to this William person will interfere with this scheme of yours. Difficult to pretend to be one man’s mistress when another man claims her affections.”
He straightened, bringing his thoughts back to the task at hand. “I’ve seen her onstage. She’s a gifted enough actress to overcome any difficulties that might present.”
“She did seem quite attached to the gentleman.”
Nicholas arched a dark brow and finished the last of his drink. “Kind and principled and forthright. If my paramour were to describe me thus, I would promptly hang myself from the nearest tree.”
“I thought you said it didn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t,” he replied curtly. “This is a business arrangement, nothing more. If she is attache
d, all the better. There will be no complications, no emotional entanglements.”
For the first time since Richard’s disappearance, a ghost of a smile flashed across the Comtesse’s face. “If you say so, Nicholas.”
CHAPTER SIX
At precisely nine o’clock that evening, the seventeenth-century Louis XIV mantelpiece clock began to toll. Katya gave her reflection one final inspection. After some debate, she had selected the indigo silk from among the gowns her parents had placed in storage for her. Lavender satin roses and long streamers of midnight-blue velvet ribbon decorated the bodice and brought out the intense color of her eyes. The décolletage was cut low and trimmed with creamy lace, offering a tantalizing glimpse of her breasts. The intricate bustle softly swayed with her every movement, drawing attention to her hips and derriere. Despite the striking, sensual appeal of her attire, the gown itself was well within the bounds of fashion—modest, in fact, compared to some she had seen.
Her flowing ebony hair had been pulled up and secured at the crown, leaving just a few loose curls to cascade along the nape of her neck. The diamond and sapphire necklace Nicholas had sent to her room earlier that evening adorned her throat. All in all, Katya decided, she would do.
She retrieved her reticule and made her way downstairs, where she found Nicholas waiting her. They stood for a moment in awkward silence, regarding one another like two strangers on a train, brought together only because they were traveling to the same destination.
Belatedly realizing that she was waiting for some sort of comment from him, Nicholas collected himself and said, “You look lovely.”
“Thank you.”
“I trust you found your room satisfactory.”
“Quite.”
“If there’s anything else you need, let one of the servants know.”
“Very well.”
The stilted conversation mercifully ground to a swift and dull close. He inclined his head. “If you’re ready,” he said, “the groomsmen are waiting with the coach.”
She nodded her assent. They moved silently through the villa and stepped outside into the balmy night air. A full moon glowed softly overhead, illuminating the inky black sky. Nicholas assisted her into the coach then took a seat opposite her. The driver eased the team to a gentle start, rolling smoothly down the hillside toward Monte Carlo. As the coach gently rocked and swayed, Katya pushed aside the heavy curtains that blocked the window and studied the passing countryside.
“Say my name.”
She turned toward him and arched one dark brow in cool surprise. “I beg your pardon?”
“My name. Say it.”
She gave a light shrug. “Lord Barrington.”
“Nicholas,” he corrected.
“Nicholas.”
“Say it again.”
“Is this really necessary?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want it to sound awkward on your tongue. If you are to play the part of my mistress, you should seem perfectly comfortable saying my name—rather than looking as though you had just bitten into something you couldn’t wait to spit out.”
“Nicholas. Nicholas. Nicholas.”
A small smile tugged the corners of his mouth. “Very good. Sour fruit, perhaps, but palatable nonetheless.”
His teasing grin, combined with the tight confines of the coach, sent a fluttery tremble through her stomach, not unlike a case of opening-night nerves. She took a moment to compose herself, idly adjusting the buttons on her long silk gloves. “You needn’t worry about me, I’ll manage,” she finally said. “I assume there are dozens of petty thieves available for hire in Monaco. If you are confident enough in my abilities to select me over anyone else, I suppose that should signify for something.”
“It wasn’t merely your sleight-of-hand that impressed me. In order for this little ruse to work, I also needed someone who could pose as my mistress.” His gaze traveled briefly over her form. “You suit that role far more than I could have hoped.”
She brought up her chin. “Am I to be flattered by that?”
Nicholas gave a light shrug. “Either excessively flattered or excessively insulted, depending on who you ask.”
At his words, a kernel of unease took root and blossomed within her. “What exactly am I to expect tonight?”
“The party is being hosted by the Duke of Westerly and his new bride,” he answered directly. “I suspect we shall find a stuffy, crowded ballroom and an odd assortment of overdressed guests who have had far more to drink than good taste and common sense would allow. The music will be too loud and the conversation, if you can call it that, will center exclusively on gossip and the latest on dits. Ultimately, someone will insult someone else, either directly or indirectly. At least two couples will embark on shocking extramarital affairs. By one o’clock in the morning, the party should have waned enough for the hosts to gather the assembly and serve a ten-course, late-night supper consisting of nauseatingly rich sauces and fatted meats. As a final affront, we shall suffer an interminable wait of at least an hour in the early morning fog while the coachmen jostle each other for position in their frenzied rush to retrieve their charges. By tomorrow afternoon, the party shall be deemed a brilliant success.”
“You’re not serious.”
“I’m afraid I am.”
Katya made a face that clearly expressed her disapproval. She gazed out the window at the moonlit landscape in thoughtful silence, then said tightly, “I’m sorry that you choose your friends so ill.”
“My friends,” he echoed. A harsh laugh escaped his lips. “That limited circle of acquaintances, the men and women whom I truly trust and admire, remain back in London. What you are about to meet tonight is a gathering of elegant sycophants whose tolerance for me exists only because they covet my money, my possessions, and my title.”
“I suppose their opinion of you is as poor as yours of them?”
“Worse, given recent events.”
“I see.” An intriguing statement, but as his clipped tone made it clear he would not elaborate upon it, Katya tried another tact. “You mentioned earlier that the scroll was taken from your home in London. What makes you so certain that whoever has it is here in Monaco?”
Nicholas hesitated. “That requires a rather laborious answer,” he finally replied. “And you look far too lovely for me to bore you with all the petty details.”
A mocking smile curved her lips. “How very kind. Fortunately for both of us, the fact that I have attired myself in an elaborate evening gown and put up my hair will not impair my ability to comprehend your reply.”
He gave a short bark of laughter, then glanced out the window at the moonlit countryside. “Very well. It appears we have time.” He thought for a moment, settling comfortably back into his seat as he began, “Over six hundred years ago the ownership of this entire region—what is now the south of France—was fiercely contested. In an attempt to breed loyalty to the crown, the king decreed that two of the region’s most prominent families be joined. The eldest daughter of the lord of one clan was promised in marriage to the eldest son of the lord of another clan. In return for this act of loyalty to the crown, the king offered to double the size of their lands, and he promised that an even more formidable gift would be delivered on the morning of their betrothal.”
“And what was that gift?”
“A stone. More precisely, a glittering blue diamond rumored to be as large as a man’s fist, known as the Stone of Destiny.”
“I see.” Katya drew in a shallow, fluttery breath, striving to maintain an air of calm indifference. It was the very story her mother had told her so many years ago, the story that had framed her childhood. Only now she heard the tale through the lips of a DuValenti. Pushing that aside for the moment, she asked, “Did the king make good his promise?”
“Unfortunately he did.”
“Unfortunately?”
“The Stone is cursed. That’s why the king was able to demon
strate such largesse in giving it away.”
Her brows snapped together. “Cursed? I never heard anything—” She stopped short, abruptly recalling herself. “I never heard anything so preposterous.”
Nicholas lifted his shoulders in a light shrug. “Legend has it that the young bride and groom fell deeply in love during their courtship, despite the wariness that existed between their clans. The marriage was never consummated, however. On the morning of the wedding feast the bride was cruelly slain and the Stone was stolen.”
She thought for a moment, as though carefully weighing his words. “Should I assume that this Stone is somehow connected to the scroll stolen from your home?”
“It is. Following the bride’s death, a bitter and bloody feud erupted between the clans. The feud lasted for generations, with each side launching violent raids against the other in their fierce quest to regain possession of the Stone. Determined to put an end to the warring once and for all, the king dispatched a small army of knights to the region with instructions to capture the Stone and bring it, along with the leaders of both families, to a local abbey. The monks who resided at the abbey took the Stone into their own possession and secreted it away, preparing a scroll that detailed its location. Each family received one third of that scroll; the remaining third was held at the abbey. As decreed by the king, once the families overcame their bitterness and presented themselves at the abbey united and in peace, the monks would turn over the third portion of the scroll and the Stone would be recovered.”
“Did that ever happen?”
He shook his head. “After centuries of feuding, the families were too proud to reconcile. Time passed and a variety of events, ranging from famine and plague, to warfare and political upheaval, tore the region apart. The lure of the Stone waned with the passing of the years, and the clans drifted away in search of better lives. My ancestors eventually settled in England. As to the fate of the other clan,” he paused, lifting his shoulders in an eloquent shrug, “I believe they settled somewhere near Prussia—but that’s merely a guess.”
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