The Brigadier's Daughter

by Catherine March

  By the end of May the weather had greatly improved, the sky turning from sullen wintry clouds to a clear blue, quite unlike an English sky in its intensity. On one afternoon she and Reid went riding in one of the many vast parks, and he confided in her that he had heard the Reverend Jones had returned and he would endeavour to visit him as soon as possible.

  Holding the reins of her horse in one hand, elegantly attired in a green riding habit and top hat with black-spotted veil, Sasha glanced at him with a smile and mischievous light in her eyes. ‘Does that mean we will be able to sleep together?’

  Reid laughed, ‘Why, yes, I think it would. Isn’t that what a husband and wife usually do?’

  ‘I don’t know, I’ve never been married before. Not properly.’

  Reid laughed. Glancing at her as she sat side-saddle, the teasing note in her voice and smile, Reid felt a flush of hot desire rush through him and he leaned over, pulling both her own and his horse to a halt. He deftly lifted the veil from her face and kissed her with passionate force. ‘Is that what you want, Sasha?’ His face was very close to her own as he looked into her eyes. ‘To sleep with me?’

  She blushed, but she did not look away as she nodded and lifted her mouth to his for another kiss. He obliged, and then forced himself to let her go, moving his horse as he resisted the temptation to gallop away with Sasha into the trees and find a secluded spot to make love to her. They must wait, but the waiting was sweet agony!

  They rode back to the house and in the heat of the moment Reid agreed to Sasha’s plea that he would go with her to her cousin’s for luncheon. He could very well do without the complication of Irena Sletovskaya in their lives, but if it made Sasha happy, then just the once would surely do no harm. It would give him the opportunity to have a quiet word with the woman, and make it clear that henceforth he expected her to keep her distance from a young and impressionable Sasha.

  They went on Saturday, Reid generally not expected to attend the office, although Sir Stanley had warned that all manner of things cropped up at odd and inconvenient hours and not to expect too much of a routine. Most Saturdays Lady Cronin demanded them to dance attendance on whatever social activities she had planned, but this weekend they had to themselves, as following a visit to Tsarkoe Selo in the pouring rain she had been laid low with a cold and all had been cancelled. Reid resolved to attend Reverend Jones’s service on Sunday morning and ascertain whether he was to be trusted with the secretive and sensitive task of joining himself and Sasha in holy matrimony.

  At exactly twelve noon he knocked on Sasha’s bedroom door and she called for him to enter. He opened it and stood on the threshold, watching as she settled a small pink hat atop her head, a few feathers and bits of ribbon dancing to one side. ‘Shall I call for the carriage?’ he asked, his eyes skimming over the slenderness of her figure, a memory stirring in his mind of how she had felt sleeping next to him and their pillow talk, and how much he missed both.

  ‘Oh, no,’ Sasha replied, picking up her gloves and reticule from the bed. ‘Let’s walk.’

  He frowned. ‘I don’t think so, it’s safer—’

  ‘Nonsense, I often walk, it’s only around the corner and it’s such a lovely day, do let’s.’

  His frown deepened a little, and he realised suddenly that he actually had no idea what she did all day, alone, while he was at the Embassy, or out and about attending to his own affairs. It might well be prudent to keep a better eye on Sasha and her movements in future.

  They set off down the wide street, a soft breeze blowing, fresh yet not biting, and Sasha walked happily with her arm slipped through the crook of Reid’s elbow. It felt wonderful to be out of the house, just the two of them alone, together. In the last few weeks she had sensed that Reid was quite tense from the pressures of work. She chattered lightly, glad to see the smile return to his eyes as he walked at her side and responding in that steady, even tone of voice that she admired so much, at one point reaching with his left hand to squeeze one of her hands clasped about his arm. They were both smiling and relaxed by the time they reached the imposing white enamel-and-gilt portico of the Sletovskaya palace. As they mounted the steps Reid glanced up at the rows of brightly lit windows and marble columns, his eyebrows raised at the impressive opulence, but he kept any comments about how Irena had acquired her riches to himself, reluctant to spoil Sasha’s naïve enjoyment. The door opened as soon as he rang the bell, and a liveried footman took their coats, hats and gloves. Sasha led the way up the curving staircase and they were met on the landing by her cousin.

  ‘Ah, at last!’ Irena threw up her hands in a dramatic gesture as she greeted them. ‘You have brought your husband to me!’ She moved with a rustle of gold silk and stood before Reid, quite obviously perusing him from head to toe, and then she winked at Sasha and held out her hand to him. ‘I am delighted to meet you, Major Bowen.’

  He leaned forwards and took her hand in his, pressing a light kiss upon the smooth, scented skin, but he refrained from the obvious courtesy of inviting her to call him by his first name. Instead, he bowed, and replied, ‘Countess Irena Sletovskaya.’

  Sasha glanced at him from the corner of her eye, suddenly wondering at the wisdom of this meeting. She had never known Reid to be deliberately rude to anyone; though his manner was polite and civil and was far from being rude, it was not as warm and cordial as she would wish from her husband towards a close member of her family.

  Irena appeared unperturbed and linked arms with both of them as she led them along the carpeted corridor.

  ‘You are looking lovely today.’ Irena smiled at her. ‘I do like the way you wear your hair, so natural. Don’t you think so, Major Bowen?’

  Reid nodded. ‘Quite charming.’

  ‘Of course, you are young, my dear, and it suits you, but if you wish my coiffeuse to show you some more sophisticated styles, she is at your disposal.’

  Sasha smiled, delighted that Irena should take such an interest in her, but Reid had other views on the subject and he politely but firmly replied, ‘That is very kind of you, Countess, but I like my wife’s hair just the way it is.’

  An awkward moment was avoided as they turned into a room to the rear of the palace, overlooking the formal and beautiful gardens just beginning to flower with the promise of spring. A fire flickered in the grate, surrounded by an ornate onyx hearth, the mantelpiece topped with silver-framed photographs and ornaments. A large black chesterfield was placed squarely in front of the hearth and Sasha and Reid seated themselves on this, while Irena sat in a gilt Louis XVI armchair beside the fireplace, facing them and the focus of their attention. A hovering servant offered glasses of champagne from a silver tray and several others busied themselves with making the final preparations to a square table, set with snow-white linen, silver cutlery and crystal glasses, the room richly scented by a centrepiece of lilies and orchids.

  Sasha sipped from her glass and glanced away from watching Reid conversing with Irena to the table set for just three people. She had never known Irena to entertain less than a dozen to luncheon before, and she realised that they were to be the only guests. She lifted her eyes then to Irena and to Reid, who was twirling his glass between his spread knees as he sat on the edge of the sofa, while Irena talked about how much she had heard about him and how wonderful it was to finally meet him. She asked many questions about Reid’s life almost from the time he was born, and these he politely if vaguely answered, while Sasha sat quietly at his side, hoping that Reid would soon thaw and show Irena his good nature that she herself found so charming. She observed the slender curve of her cousin’s neck, the pale buttermilk glow of her perfect and unflawed skin, the ruby redness of her full, wide mouth, the dark glossy coils of her hair wound about her head in intricate and very becoming curls. Her voice was so soft and light, just a little husky, her scent almost as erotic as the flowers on the table. She was very beautiful, Sasha realised with a pang. No, she was more than that, more than just beautiful, she was… Sasha
searched her mind for the right word and could not think of any that adequately described the mesmerising womanliness of Irena. How could anyone not admire her?

  At Irena’s urging they rose from the sofa and moved across the room to the dining table. They paused for a moment while she showed them a view of the garden from one of the three long windows, an elegant vista of terraced lawns, fountains, topiaries and lush shrub-filled borders. Then they seated themselves, with Irena at the head of the table, Reid to her left, the light shining on him, and Sasha to her right, with her back to the window. Once Reid had finished pulling out the ladies’ chairs and they were all seated comfortably, the first course was served by servants who came and went with discreet silence. Sasha bent her head and stirred her spoon through the steaming chicken-and-noodle soup, watching Irena from the corner of her eye and copying the way she so elegantly ladled and sipped her soup.

  ‘My dear—’ Irena laid cool, slender fingers on her arm ‘—how is the esteemed Lady Cronin?’

  They both chuckled at the private joke, as Irena always asked the question and usually Sasha would relieve her frustrations and angst by pouring out all her woes as far as Lady Cronin was concerned, but today, in front of Reid, she hesitated, glancing at him across the table. She replied with some reserve, ‘I have not seen her this week, I believe she is abed with a cold.’

  ‘Ah.’ Irena dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a fine linen napkin. ‘Please do give her my commiserations. She really should not go gadding about the countryside in inclement weather.’

  ‘You are well informed.’ Reid glanced keenly at his hostess, his soup spoon idle in the golden liquid, a thread of steel in his voice. ‘I think it’s admirable of Lady Cronin to make the effort to see as much of Russia as possible.’

  ‘Of course,’ Irena murmured, exchanging a glance with Sasha at his defence of a woman who only went where royalty and the British Embassy were best served.

  For the main course they had beef fillets, accompanied by fine-shredded sautéed cabbage and light, fluffy dumplings. The food was delicious, cooked to perfection, and served with impeccable timing.

  ‘My compliments to your chef,’ commented Reid, as he cut into a tender piece of beef, darkly roasted on the outside, and pink in the middle, ‘but I must confess that I am surprised by the menu, Countess. It’s very much simple fare. No caviar or fancy French dishes, as I know the Russians do enjoy.’

  Irena laughed, reaching for her glass of wine as she took a sip and eyed him over the rim with her dark, seductive eyes. ‘Of course, Major, I always give my guests what they most enjoy and a man like you, a soldier, has simple yet robust tastes.’

  ‘Indeed?’ His reply was somewhat sardonic. He picked up his own wine glass, toying with the stem for a moment before taking a deep swallow of the rich red wine. ‘And how would you know what I enjoy?’

  ‘Oh, I have made it my business to find out!’

  ‘Really? And might I ask, from whom? I trust my wife has not been telling tales.’

  ‘Oh, no, not at all. But do tell me, Major Bowen, what was it like on the Hindu Kush and the Khyber Pass? Why, it sounds so romantic and very exciting!’

  Deftly Irena changed the subject, and Sasha could say and do nothing as she sat there, watching them play a game, the one so determined to impress the other, who was equally determined not to be impressed. It was all she could do to stop herself from kicking Reid on the shins underneath the table!

  Across the table Reid glanced at Sasha, and said gently, with all the concerned tones of a caring husband, ‘You are very quiet, my dear, are you quite all right?’

  Sasha felt the heat stain her neck as she flushed with her guilty thoughts, then she took a steadying breath, lifted her chin and replied, ‘I am quite well, thank you, darling.’

  His smiled broadened, for Sasha was not one to bandy about affectionate terms in public. He raised his glass to her. ‘I am glad. Is the food to your taste, dearest?’

  Sasha simply smiled, and inclined her head slightly, as though she could really find no comment worthy enough. Irena launched into a conversation about the merits of cavalry and infantry, and she spoke quite knowledgeably and intelligently about military affairs, yet still Reid failed to warm to her and would not be drawn into any discussion that Sasha knew he quite enjoyed.

  Dessert was served, a Charlotte Russe and quite delicious with its layers of mocha mousse, cake and cream. After the meal they retired to the sofa while coffee was served and Sasha could not help but glance at the ticking hands of the blue porcelain French ormolu clock on the mantelpiece. How soon could they politely depart? she wondered. Just as she was beginning to feel quite annoyed with Reid, Irena suggested they leave Reid to enjoy his port in peace.

  ‘Come and see the garden, I am sure Major Bowen has had quite enough of our female chatter.’ She placed her arm about Sasha’s waist and hugged her as they left the room.

  From the doorway Sasha glanced over her shoulder at Reid, with a frown and significant glare, but he only stared back wide-eyed and with a shrug of his shoulders, as if to say, ‘What?’

  Arm in arm they went downstairs, footmen waiting at the door with velvet cloaks to ward off any chill. They stepped out into the garden and the bright sunshine was very pleasant, shining on the marble terrace and stone tubs of glossy-leaved miniature magnolia trees, and below that the lawns neat and elaborate as they wandered along shingled paths. They came to a fountain, rippling into a quatrefoil marble basin, rose petals bobbing on the surface.

  Sasha could not help but chew her lip as she pondered on her thoughts as they walked in silence. Irena was quick to pick up on her mood.

  ‘Have I bored you already, ma chérie?’

  Sasha looked up, and smiled at Irena. ‘No, of course not, it’s just that…’ She hesitated, reluctant to voice her disappointment with Reid; it seemed, somehow, disloyal. ‘Well,’ she murmured slowly, glancing shyly away, ‘I must apologise for Reid’s boorish behaviour.’

  ‘Such men can be difficult, very proud and rigid about rules and etiquette.’ Irena shrugged eloquently. ‘And they are not ones to express sweet words of love. It is more…physical…for them.’ She glanced at Sasha and smiled as her blush deepened. Then she stopped and turned Sasha to face her, with both hands on her shoulders. ‘My dear, I can no longer keep it a secret, but I must tell you that I have had a letter from your mother.’ She glanced about, and up at the windows of the palace, but they were quite alone in the garden. ‘I know the truth…Sasha.’

  At the mention of her name, Sasha’s head reared up and suddenly her face flushed and crumpled as relief and alarm brought a rush of tears. Irena tutted, and patted her shoulders as she hugged her tightly. ‘Now, dry your tears, enough of that nonsense.’ She held Sasha away from her, lifting her bowed head with her fingers under Sasha’s chin, her dark eyes holding an expression quite unlike any Sasha had seen on her before. ‘We are the same, my dear, you and I. We are mistresses.’

  Sasha gasped, suddenly realising the significance of her situation, and eager to make protest. She brushed the wetness from her eyes and cheeks. ‘Oh, no, I am not Reid’s mistress!’

  Irena laughed, in disbelief. ‘Well, you are not his wife. Do not be ashamed, my dear, sometimes it is far better to be a mistress than a wife. When you are bored with him and he no longer gives you pleasure and fine jewels, it is easy enough to move on to, shall we say, other delights.’

  Sasha was shocked, and shrugged away from her cousin, and in the heat of an emotional moment she blurted out, ‘I am not his mistress—indeed, I am still a virgin!’

  For a moment Irena was silent, and then her eyes narrowed for a moment in a way that Sasha found quite unnerving, but the look was gone in a second and she smiled, patting Sasha on the arm as she said gently, ‘Ah, I see. And now he is being noble and will not make love to you?’

  ‘I— I suppose so.’

  ‘And what will you do?’

  ‘I must leave.’

&nb
sp; ‘And pretend that nothing has happened? How very English!’ Irena gave Sasha an assessing glance. ‘No, my dear, you must bed him, as soon as possible. Mark my words, a man like that, if you do not make love with him, some other woman will.’ Her fingers stroked over the skin of Sasha’s delicate collarbone, her voice very soft and husky. ‘Perhaps I can be of help, I can teach you how to please a man, show you, show both of you—’

  ‘Whatever do you mean?’ Sasha stared at her, moving away from her just a fraction and feeling most uncomfortable.

  Irena smiled. ‘Silly child, you know nothing of men, of their desires. Why, what I mean is that every man has a secret fantasy to make love to two women at the same time.’ Her laughter was throaty and blatant. ‘It is quite enjoyable.’

  Sasha’s shock turned to disgust, and she stepped quickly back, staring at Irena as if suddenly she did not know her at all. Was Reid right in his judgement of her? Was her mother’s cousin more than just excitingly different and a little risqué, but perhaps immoral and wicked? Her first instinct was to pick up her skirts in both hands and run as fast as she could away from her, yet common sense and a keen instinct for survival reminded Sasha that Irena was party to knowledge of her circumstances that could bring disaster upon Reid. If the truth was made known about their relationship, he could be disgraced and dismissed from the Army. She could not afford to antagonise or alienate Irena, and so she said nothing, merely bowing her head and pretending her blush was one of embarrassment and not anger and disgust.

  Seeing her shock, Irena made haste to apologise, equally aware of the risk of causing offence with one so closely connected to the British Embassy. ‘My dear, I am sorry. It was inappropriate of me to speak of such things with such an innocent.’ Irena linked arms with her as they walked back to the house. ‘I am so glad we have had the chance to talk so frankly. At last the truth is out. It is so much better, do you not think?’