When Love Commands

by Jennifer Wilde

  I was puzzled. “Upset him?”

  “Bryan frequently gives an impression of irresponsible frivolity, but he is actually a very serious young man.”

  “I’m well aware of that.”

  “He’s also quite sensitive—and deeply caring. After trifling with the affections of any number of foolish young women, he’s fallen in love at last, and he’s taken her letter very hard.”

  “Letter?” I said.

  “Surely you’re aware that Lucie Orlov wrote to him, Miss Danver. She informed him that she no longer wished to see him and requested that he make no further effort to contact her.”

  “When—when did he receive this letter?”

  “Almost two weeks ago, I believe. He had been to visit her at the Marble Palace and returned raving about the girl, how wonderful she was, how beautiful, how bright. A servant delivered her letter the next morning. My son was demolished.”

  “I’m sure he was,” I said. My voice was flat.

  “Naturally I would have preferred for him to have fallen in love with an English girl, someone with a similar background, but one can’t regulate these matters. The Orlov brothers are—uh—not held in the highest esteem by our government, or by the people of Russia, for that matter, but a seventeen-year-old girl can’t be held responsible for the sins of her father and uncles. I was prepared to accept the match.”

  Someone else wasn’t I thought. I felt very, very cold.

  “I’ll have to confess I felt a twinge of relief when the letter arrived, but it was far outweighed by concern over my boy. His pain is quite genuine, and I would do anything I could to alleviate it. You can see now why I prefer not to give you his address.”

  “Quite,” I said.

  “Unless there’s something else—” He indicated the papers on his desk, eager to be rid of me.

  “I’ve taken up far too much of your time as it is. Thank you for seeing me.”

  “I’ll show you out.”

  “You needn’t bother, Sir Reginald. I can find my own way.”

  Sir Reginald insisted. Somehow I managed to maintain a semblance of poise as he led me back to the reception room. I thanked him again, and he nodded politely, wearily, and I stepped outside and Vanya climbed out and opened the door of the carriage for me and we were soon on our way back toward the Nevsky Prospekt.

  “It goes well?” Vanya inquired. “You speak to Lucie’s young man?”

  “He wasn’t there,” I said, distracted.

  Vanya sensed I didn’t care to talk about it, and he asked no more questions. Bryan had never seen Lucie’s handwriting before. The letter had undoubtedly been written on a piece of her personal stationery, and he would have no way of knowing she hadn’t penned it herself. Gregory had never particularly cared for the youth, but neither had he seemed to object to Lucie seeing him. Why had he done it? Why had he deliberately destroyed their happiness? Couldn’t he see what it had done to Lucie? Didn’t he care?

  The carriage stopped on the side street, near the entrance to the alleyway. I changed cloaks again, pulling the ermine hood up over my head. Vanya helped me out of the carriage and led me down the alley, one hand holding my elbow, the other on the hilt of his dagger. His expression was fierce as he searched the shadows, prepared to plunge the dagger into the heart of anyone who dared accost me. The old woman was gone. So was the bag of coins. We stopped before the back door to Maitlev’s, and Vanya banged on it loudly with his fist and scowled savagely as Maitlev opened it and peeked out. The poor man almost fainted when he saw the cossack.

  “That will be all, Vanya,” I said.

  I stepped inside. Maitlev’s hands trembled as they turned the lock and shoved the bolt back into place. I felt rather sorry for him, and I thanked him graciously for his cooperation and told him I would be eternally grateful. Some of his normal color returned, and by the time we returned to the front of the shop he was relatively composed. Glancing at the clock, I was dismayed to see that well over an hour had passed since I entered the shop. Vladimir would be growing more and more suspicious. I plucked a diamond and sapphire bracelet from one of the artificial tree limbs.

  “I’ll take this,” I said.

  “And earrings to match?” Maitlev inquired.

  “Of course.”

  “We have several lovely pairs over here in this case. Let me show them to you.”

  I tried to hide my impatience as Maitlev pulled out a tray of dazzlingly beautiful earrings, the diamonds flashing brilliantly, the sapphires burning with shimmery blue fires. The other customers were intrigued and made no effort to conceal their interest as I hastily selected a stunning pair that perfectly matched the bracelet. Maitlev insisted I try them on. I snapped the bracelet onto my wrist and, stepping over to a mirror, fastened the earrings onto my lobes. I didn’t ask what they cost. It wasn’t important. I told him I was delighted, told him to send the bill to Count Orlov and left the shop, still wearing the jewels. I could hear a buzz of excited chatter as I closed the door behind me.

  Vladimir was leaning against the wall outside, and he gave me a sullen, suspicious look as he straightened up. I stared at him icily, daring him to say anything. He gave me an insolent nod and walked over to his horse. The footman opened the door for me, and I climbed in, adjusting folds of ermine, smoothing down my blue silk skirt.

  I stared out the window, but I saw none of the shops, none of the gawking pedestrians. I had not remained in St. Petersburg because of the money, even though that was the reason I gave. In fairness to myself, I knew that the only reason I wasn’t now on board a ship leaving Russia was that pained look in Lucie’s eyes. I had stayed because of her, because I couldn’t bear to leave while she was so miserable. I was extremely fond of her, and I felt a curious responsibility for her. I wasn’t going to stand by and let her uncle destroy what was perhaps her one chance for happiness. She and Bryan were young, true, but they were very much in love. Lucie needed someone like him, and I suspected he needed her as well.

  I would contact him. There couldn’t be too many student hostels in St. Petersburg. I couldn’t check them out myself, of course, not without giving myself away, but I could have Vanya do it. He could come and go freely, and he would locate Bryan for me and … and somehow I would arrange a secret meeting and tell him what had happened and see that he and Lucie got together again. I would be risking the wrath of her uncle but that wasn’t going to deter me. Calmly, I made my plans as the carriage took me back to the Marble Palace.

  I did something I rarely did when I returned. After removing the cloak, I sought him out, finally locating him in the spacious study. Orlov was sitting at the rosewood desk, beaming as he studied the creamy white card in his hand. He hadn’t heard me come in, and I studied him for a moment, noticing the way a ray of sunlight burnished his tawny hair, noticing the soft, curiously sensual roll of flesh under his chin, noticing the way his loose white silk shirt clung to the musculature of his broad shoulders and back. Oh yes, the allure was as potent as ever, but I was totally immune to it now, and the thought of our making love again was abhorrent to me.

  I coughed. He looked up, surprised. He got to his feet, grinning like a boy. He was wearing soft white leather knee boots and clinging white kidskin breeches, the thin white shirt tucked carelessly into the waistband, the full bell sleeves gathered at the wrists, and yes, he did look like a mature Adonis. I was unmoved. I knew what was beneath that radiant facade. I smiled nevertheless, a polite, perfunctory smile.

  “You are back!” he exclaimed. “You buy the nice jewelry?”

  I held out my wrist, displaying the bracelet. “I bought this, and these earrings as well. I’m afraid they were very expensive.”

  “This does not matter.” He sauntered toward me. “Ah, yes, they are nice jewels. The diamonds have a special sparkle. The sapphires are the color of your eyes.”

  “Everyone stared,” I said, knowing it would please him. “I’m sure half of St. Petersburg will know I was at Maitlev’s by this ev
ening. They’ll probably know what I bought and how much it cost as well.”

  “The ladies gossip. This cannot be helped.”

  “I felt like I was on display the whole time,” I told him, “but I managed. Maitlev was very helpful. He’s a nice little man.”

  “I will give him the nice bonus.”

  “He certainly earned it,” I said wryly.

  Orlov smiled. He was certainly in a good mood this afternoon. There was a youthful exuberance about him, a new vitality that seemed to charge the air with vibrations. I had the feeling he wanted to seize me in a mighty hug and swing me around in sheer excess of joy.

  “You do a very good job in your role,” he said. “Orlov is very pleased with you.”

  “I’m being well paid.”

  “Every man in St. Petersburg envies me my good fortune. Maybe I give you the nice bonus, too.”

  “That would be lovely.”

  My lack of enthusiasm was apparent. He tilted his head to one side and peered at me, a slight crease above the bridge of his nose.

  “You do not look happy today,” he said.

  “I’m worried about Lucie, Gregory.”

  “Lucie? She stays in her room. She broods. This is not unusual. Lucie is always a moody girl.”

  “She’s very upset about Bryan Lloyd,” I said.

  I wanted to make absolutely certain. His expression altered, the slight frown becoming a scowl.

  “This boy is not good for her,” he told me.

  “He hasn’t come to see her in two weeks now, nor has he sent a message or made any effort to communicate with her. She—she’s extremely fond of him. I believe she may even be in love with him.”

  “She will get over this nonsense soon enough,” he said.

  “You think so?”

  “She will meet a fine Russian man with a title and land. Orlov will find him for her. She will become the mistress of a fine estate, and she will forget all about this gawky English boy who has the scattered brains and the empty pockets.”

  “I see.”

  Orlov shrugged, as though to rid himself of a trivial subject. “This is not important. I have the great news to tell you.”

  “Oh?”

  He beamed again, the exuberance returning in full force. He bounded over to the desk and picked up the creamy white card he had been studying and waved it in triumph.

  “It has happened!” he exclaimed.

  I was silent. He waved the card again.

  “Tomorrow night there is to be a reception for the Turkish ambassador at the Winter Palace. It is a very important affair. The invitations are delivered by hand! Count Gregory Orlov and Miss Marietta Danver are requested to attend. Catherine can wait no longer. I bait the hook very carefully. She bites at last!”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Although I was naturally curious, I wasn’t at all excited about going to the Winter Palace. I had seen enough aristocratic Russian splendor to last me a lifetime, knowing as I did how the rest of the country lived. Orlov was excited enough for both of us, I thought, touching one of the coppery red waves Monsieur André had so painstakingly arranged. All day long Gregory had been full of excited anticipation. I wondered if Catherine was really as easy to manipulate as he thought. Somehow I doubted it. At any rate, we were going to see her at last and he was confident he would soon be occupying his old apartment at the palace.

  I was ready to play my part. The French hairdresser Orlov had summoned had spent over two hours doing my hair, pulling it back sleekly from my face and sculpting the waves in back, leaving a dozen long ringlets to spill down between my shoulder blades. He had affixed a delicate platinum spray over the right side of my head, in front of the waves. It curled from my temple halfway across my crown, the fragile wire tendrils shimmering with two dozen magnificent diamonds. I hadn’t the rank to wear a tiara, but I doubted there would be a tiara in the palace more stunning than this superb ornament, which complemented my coiffure and emphasized its artistry.

  Monsieur André had wanted to help me with my makeup as well, but I had firmly refused. The Russian ladies I had seen wore far too much, their faces obviously painted, and I preferred a more natural look. The Frenchman wrung his hands and insisted I would look pale as a ghost, but as I studied the results in the mirror, I knew I had made the right choice. I needed no coat of powder, no crimson rouge, no black satin beauty patches.

  Stepping back a few paces, I turned this way and that, giving the gown a final inspection. The gorgeous light tan brocade had a rich metallic sheen and was lavishly embroidered with exquisite flowers in orange, brown, bronze, and thread of gold. It had cost the equivalent of two hundred English pounds a yard and was the richest, most sumptuous material I had ever seen. The unusually full skirt swelled over a dozen bronze gauze underskirts, and with its elbow-length bell sleeves that dropped off the shoulder, its daringly low-cut heart-shaped bodice and snug waist, the gown was a masterpiece, no flounces, no ruffles, no garlands of ribbon to distract from the incredibly luxurious cloth.

  Well, Marietta, I told myself, if you’re going to make an Empress jealous you’re certainly dressed for it.

  Leaving my rooms, I walked down the hall and slowly descended the curving white staircase, the extremely full skirts swaying, rustling with a crisp, crackling noise. Gregory was waiting for me downstairs, and the look in those deep navy blue eyes told me he was more than pleased. He looked splendid himself in dark brown brocade breeches and frock coat and a cream satin waistcoat embroidered with gold and brown floral designs, pale cream lace dripping from his cuffs and spilling from his throat.

  He took my hand, helping me down the last two steps. The wide pink mouth curved in an appreciative smile.

  “Almost perfect,” he said.

  “Almost?”

  He tilted his head and looked at me with a mock frown. “Something is missing—ah, yes, diamonds. Not enough diamonds.”

  “The hair ornament is gorgeous, Gregory.”

  “I think you will like it when I purchase it for you. Still—come with me. We will see if we can make you perfect.”

  Still holding my hand, he led me into the drawing room and over to a table on which sat a long, flat case. He let go of my hand and looked at the case as though wondering how it got there. Very playful. Very boyish. He opened the case, his eyes widening in mock surprise. I watched him lift the necklace out of its bed of velvet. The diamonds seemed to drip from his fingers in a glittering cascade that flashed and sparkled in a shimmering white and gold blaze. He smiled. He held it out with both hands so that I could more properly appreciate its spectacular beauty.

  “This should do, yes?”

  The necklace was like an incredible web of diamonds, scalloped loops suspended from three interlocked strands. In the center of each and dangling at the bottom were amazing pale golden diamonds, the color of topaz but far more brilliant, each rare pear-shaped pendant larger than the largest grape, gleaming with fiery white-gold sparks. I had never seen its like.

  “It—it’s magnificent,” I said in awe.

  “It has a most interesting history,” he informed me, shaking the necklace so that the gems flashed and shimmered all the more. “Catherine is most jealous of this Marie Antoinette of France and wishes to outshine her, so she has Maitlev commission this necklace. Marie Antoinette’s own jeweler creates it and it is shipped to Maitlev, but there is a problem.”

  He moved behind me and lifted the long coppery red ringlets and fastened the necklace around my throat. It rested heavily against my skin, the gleaming jewels dripping in fiery loops, the pendants dangling, emphasizing the full swell of my breasts, which were half-exposed by the extreme décolletage.

  “When the necklace arrives, Catherine’s ministers are screaming and pulling their hair and saying she cannot possibly afford so fabulously expensive a necklace. She reluctantly agrees to economize and Maitlev is left with the necklace no one can afford until Orlov returns and buys it for you.”

  She�
��s going to love me, I thought wryly. If I’m lucky she’ll simply behead me.

  He stepped back around and, taking my hands, held me at arm’s length, admiring me as he might admire a work of art.

  “You are the most beautiful woman in Russia this night,” he said. “I think you are perhaps the most beautiful woman in the world.”

  Knowing him as I did, I was still touched, for I could tell that he was completely sincere. I thanked him quietly for the compliment and lowered my eyes demurely, and Gregory squeezed my hands, fetched our fur cloaks, and led me proudly out to the waiting carriage. My skirts were so full that it took some negotiating for me to get through the door. Once we were inside, Gregory had to sit across from me as the magnificent spread of embroidered brocade completely covered one seat. It was a relatively short drive, and both of us were silent, immersed in our own thoughts.

  I could sense Gregory’s excitement as he helped me out of the carriage, my skirts crackling as I manipulated them. It was a beautiful night with a thousand stars hanging in a soft black sky, and rays of moonlight bathed the Winter Palace. I had an impression of acres and acres of stately white marble columns supporting ornate porticos, the windows beyond aglow with golden light. Guardsmen in white uniforms lined either side of the stairway, holding torches aloft to light our way as we slowly climbed the steps, other couples moving ahead of us, more carriages arriving below. Our wraps were taken from us, and footmen in white satin knee breeches and gold-embroidered white satin frock coats and powdered wigs waited to escort us through a dazzling labyrinth of corridors and public rooms.

  Candles blazed, brightly illuminating the palace, and the splendor of it was impossible to absorb. It was like being inside a gigantic jewel box, I thought, each chamber more splendid than the last. We were finally led into a gold and white foyer and handed over to a stony faced chamberlain whose duty it was to announce us. The huge double doors were opened and the chamberlain moved forward, banging his long staff on the floor.