Scandalous Deception

by Rosemary Rogers

Too easy.

  “Good God, Edmond, my mother ruined my life in her quest for excitement,” she managed to mutter. “Do you truly believe I would want to walk in her path?”

  His hands trailed down to softly cup the curve of her back, his tongue circling the shell of her ear.

  “Your mother was a vain, weak woman who indulged her selfish whims without regard to who she might hurt. You could never be like her.” He gave her lobe a sharp nip. “You possess courage.” His lips trailed over her cheek. “Intelligence.” He nibbled the corner of her lips. “Strength.”

  Brianna fiercely ignored the flutters in the pit of her stomach. She desperately wanted to close her eyes and allow herself to drown in the heat that Edmond offered, but the mere mention of her mother was enough to harden her resolve. She would not be ruled by her passions.

  Not ever.

  “Edmond.”

  His tongue teased her mouth, urging her lips to part. “Mmm?”

  Brianna planted her hands on his chest and arched away from him.

  “You said we would be leaving for Russia,” she said, seeking the first distraction that came to mind. “Why?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Of course it does.” For the first time since Edmond had casually tossed out the information that he intended to haul her to Russia, she actually considered the ramifications of such a trip. She frowned at the realization of how her presence would be perceived in society. “I will not be pranced through the Czar’s Court as your mistress.”

  “Why not?” He appeared genuinely curious. “If you are determined to shun marriage and live in solitary splendor, then what does it matter if the world knows that I have taken you as my lover?”

  Her blood froze at the mere thought of the whispers and finger-pointing that would forever follow in her wake. It was bad enough that she would inevitably be known as the woman jilted by the Duke of Huntley. To add the notion that she had been tossed aside by Stefan to end up in the bed of his younger brother…

  She would be as notorious as Lady Caroline Lamb.

  No. She pressed a hand to her tightly clenched stomach. She could not bear it.

  “Being a lady of independence does not necessarily mean a tart with no morals. I should like to maintain a shred of respect among society.” She stiffened as his low chuckle filled the carriage. By God, satisfying this stupid bout of lust was not worth sacrificing her last shred of dignity. She would remain at Meadowland before she would return to being a source of mockery to others. “Edmond, I am quite serious. I have already endured the shame of being related to Thomas Wade, I could not…”

  “No one will even know you are in my company.” He abruptly grimaced. “Well, perhaps Alexander Pavlovich, if he returns to St. Petersburg while we are there. He has become increasingly suspicious of others, and he does not take kindly to those who keep secrets from him, no matter how harmless they might be. I cannot afford to stir his ire during such dangerous times.”

  She ignored the unnerving thought of being introduced to the Imperial Highness as well as Edmond’s reference to dangerous times. Instead, she concentrated upon the ridiculous notion that she could somehow become invisible.

  “And how do you intend to hide my presence?”

  “Quite simple. We shall both travel in disguise.”

  “Disguise?”

  “I am to be a wealthy merchant and you will be my devoted wife.”

  “You a wealthy merchant?” She gave a short, disbelieving laugh. Edmond was a nobleman, from the top of his glossy curls to the tips of his champagne polished boots. He could be attired in rags, and no one would believe he was anything less than an aristocrat.

  “This is absurd. You cannot travel about in disguise…” Her words trailed away as she was struck with a sudden thought. This had nothing to do with protecting her honor and everything to do with his mysterious determination to rid himself of her presence three days earlier. She had known that there was something afoot. “Oh, of course. What the devil are you scheming?” She narrowed her gaze as his lips parted to deny her question. “And do not try to convince me that you are willing to risk traveling about in disguise simply to have me with you. There is something you are hiding.”

  His lips twitched as he reached out to part her cloak so he could run a teasing finger along the neckline of her French gray carriage dress.

  “I am willing to bare all my secrets if you are.”

  Her nipples hardened in anticipation as his finger slipped beneath the Brussels lace that edged her camisole. Oh, the man had surely bewitched her. How else could he manage to make her melt while they were rattling over the rutted road in a freezing carriage?

  “No, I will not be distracted.” She reached to tug his fingers from her aching breasts. “Tell me why we are going to Russia.”

  He heaved an exaggerated sigh. “You are a hard woman, Brianna Quinn.”

  “Tell me.”

  TOSSING HIMSELF BACK INTO the soft leather seat, Edmond grudgingly accepted he would have to confess at least a portion of the truth.

  With a minimum of fuss, he revealed what he had discovered over the past few days and his plans to follow Viktor Kazakov back to Russia. Brianna listened in silence, but even in the fading light, Edmond did not miss the scowl that marred her brow. Predictable, of course. He could never be so fortunate as to have her simply fall in with his plans without questions or complaints.

  “I understand your need to warn the Czar of his danger,” she said slowly, as if still sorting through his unexpected confession. “It is the duty of any citizen to protect their monarch. But why do you consider it your responsibility to put your life at risk by actually following this Viktor? Surely there are authorities that would be better suited to take command of the situation?”

  Edmond grimaced. “There are an endless horde of authorities, ma souris. Unfortunately, Russian officials tend to be plodding, unimaginative souls who would not accept that there was a traitor in their midst, unless they actually witnessed the Czar being murdered.”

  “Then what of the Emperor’s guards?”

  “Those that are trustworthy are at his side as he travels to Prussia. Unfortunately, it is far more likely that the traitors will attempt to stir up trouble in St. Petersburg, where Alexander Pavlovich’s ministers are not quite so loyal as one would hope.”

  “Good lord.”

  He smiled wryly at her naive shock. How many years had it been since he believed that those in power were noble, self-sacrificing creatures who were blessed by God to protect the masses and that all who surrounded them were loyal to the death?

  “Politics is a treacherous business that is practiced behind closed doors, ma souris. What the public is allowed to witness is a well-staged show that is orchestrated by powers that prefer the shadows,” he admitted. “And in truth, there are times when the Russian Court is embarrassingly similar to a nursery filled with vain, boorish, squabbling children.”

  Her magnificent eyes were suddenly lit with an unnerving glitter of comprehension. “And you are one of those shadowy powers?”

  Wondering why she looked like someone who had just grasped the answer to a particularly perplexing puzzle, Edmond shrugged.

  “I have earned a place in Alexander Pavlovich’s most trusted circle because I have developed a vast number of associates who keep me informed of those who would desire to topple the Russian government,” he revealed, surprising himself. He never discussed his secretive work for the Czar. Not even with Stefan.

  “Are there so many traitors, then?”

  “Every country has its share of traitors. The radicals, the power-hungry, and those who are simply mad.” He gave a slow shake of his head. He was honest enough to admit Russia’s numerous faults, but it did nothing to diminish his love for his mother’s homeland. Or his determination to thwart those who would see it destroyed. “Russia, however, is in a state of transition between those who would keep it locked in ancient tradition and those who are determined
to see it forcibly altered to resemble its European neighbors. The state of upheaval offers ample opportunity for treachery.”

  She tugged her cloak tighter with a small shiver. “It hardly sounds a comfortable place to choose for your home. Why not remain in England?”

  He reached out to flick a finger over her pale cheek. Mon dieu, she was a beautiful creature. Even in the gathering dusk, her hair glowed with an astonishing fire, a handful of curls framing her delicate ivory face.

  “Like you, I possess a love for adventure. I could not bear the placid life my brother holds so dear, nor could I spend my days prancing about London,” he murmured, his finger shifting to touch the corner of her full mouth. “Besides, I am half Russian. My mother would be pleased to know that her son is dedicated to the welfare of her homeland.”

  Her expression abruptly softened. “That is why you put yourself at risk. For your mother.”

  Edmond stiffened, belatedly realizing he had revealed far more than he intended.

  Christ. He should hire the woman to become one of his spies. She could seduce the secrets from the most hardened scoundrel.

  “Do not endow me with any sense of nobility, ma souris, you will only be disappointed,” he deliberately mocked, ignoring the pang of regret as her expression swiftly hardened and she pulled back from his lingering touch.

  “So we are to follow the traitor to Russia and then what?” she demanded, ice coating the words.

  He shoved his fingers impatiently through his hair. It was that, or grabbing Brianna and hauling her onto his lap so he could soothe her wounded sensibilities in the only manner he felt comfortable with. In this moment, she would no doubt reward him with nothing more than a slap to the face.

  “Eventually he must meet with his associates,” he said, restlessly shifting on the seat. He did not want to be discussing Viktor Kazakov or traitorous plots or even their upcoming journey to Russia. “Once I am convinced that we have identified the majority of the villains, I will turn them over to Alexander Pavlovich and allow him to bring them to justice.”

  “Somehow, I doubt it will be quite so simple as you make it sound.”

  His lips twisted at her tart tone. “There is no need to be frightened, ma souris. I will keep you safe.”

  “I am not frightened, but I am confused.”

  “Confused about what?”

  “Why do you insist that I accompany you?” she demanded. “I have no experience in hunting traitors.”

  His brows arched at her ridiculous question. She could not be that naive.

  “I cannot hunt traitors every moment,” he pointed out.

  “So I am to be a bit of fun when you have the time to spare? Lovely.”

  Edmond stilled, startled by the edge of bitterness in her voice. “Are you suggesting that you desire to be more than my mistress?” He reached out to grasp her chin and forced her to meet his searching gaze. “Brianna?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then what do you want from me?”

  “Nothing.”

  On this occasion, Edmond refused to be put off by her instinctive retreat.

  “Liar.” He leaned close enough that her swift, unsteady breaths brushed his cheek. “I have promised you will not be a source of scandal among society. What else could trouble you?”

  “I…” Her tongue peeked out to wet her lips, sending a raw flare of heat through his body. “I am simply surprised that you do not already have a mistress awaiting your return to St. Petersburg. Or perhaps you do.”

  Edmond was genuinely astonished by her accusation. “You think I would be spending time with another woman when I have you waiting in my bed?”

  The green eyes flashed. “It would not be the first occasion.”

  “What the devil is that supposed to mean?” he snapped, his fingers tightening on her chin as she attempted to duck her head. “Oh, no, ma souris, I will have an answer.”

  Her expression settled in stubborn lines, but when Edmond refused to allow her to escape his piercing gaze, she heaved an aggravated sigh.

  “I am well aware that you visited La Russa while we were in London.”

  “Mon dieu,” he breathed in shock. “How could you…” He halted his words and gave a shake of his head. What did it matter how she had discovered his brief visit to the famous opera singer? All that truly mattered was the realization that Brianna was clearly disturbed at the thought of him spending time with another woman. The restless tension that gripped him began to fade beneath a flare of startling satisfaction. His fingers eased their tight grip to stroke up her cheek. “Brianna, I am no saint, but I do not keep a string of mistresses. Not only are they expensive, but I do have responsibilities beyond the bedchamber.”

  “You can say whatever you like, Edmond. I saw your carriage parked in front of her house.”

  He chuckled softly. “I begin to understand why you were so cold that night. Well, until I managed to thaw your frosty temper. You were jealous!”

  He felt her skin warm beneath his caressing fingers…whether from anger or embarrassed memory of their heated coupling against the wall of her bedchamber was impossible to know.

  “I most certainly was not.”

  His hand cupped the back of her head as he gently tugged her closer. “Do not fear, Brianna. My visit to La Russa’s was purely one of business.”

  Her nose flared with distaste, but she made no effort to pull away. Indeed, her body quite readily arched closer to his aching body.

  “I am well aware of La Russa’s business.”

  “Brianna, I was at her town house for the sole purpose of meeting with a Bow Street Runner who was keeping watch on my worthless cousin,” he said, barely concentrating on his words as he wrapped his arm about her waist and shifted her onto his lap. “I do not need a courtesan to satisfy my pleasure. Not when I have a warm, spirited, exquisitely beautiful woman only too eager to please me.” He buried his face in the curve of her neck, breathing deeply of her sweet scent. A shudder wracked his body. How had he ever been so stupid as to believe he could leave her at Meadowland? This is where she belonged. Where she would always belong. “Allow me to prove my point.”

  Her arms encircled his neck as he planted heated kisses up the curve of her neck.

  “Edmond, we…”

  “Later,” he rudely interrupted, covering her mouth in a kiss that revealed the savage need pulsing through his blood. “We have all the time in the world.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  THE JOURNEY FROM LONDON TO St. Petersburg was made on a British two-decker that was constructed from sturdy timber and offered windows in the quarter galleries, as well as a wide deck for those who desired a refreshing stroll. The icy weather kept most passengers in their private cabins for the majority of the sea passage, and even on the few days that the North Sea was not churning with a vengeful fury, the incessant rain prevented nothing more than a hasty breath of fresh air.

  Following the grueling sea voyage were endless days traveling from the coast in a cramped carriage as they pursued Viktor Kazakov through the blinding snow storms.

  Brianna, however, had never ventured farther than from Surrey to London, and despite Edmond’s constant warnings that she was not to leave the carriage without a heavy veil to cover her face, discovered herself enjoying the unfamiliar surroundings. There was a sense of building anticipation as they raced through the foreign land.

  Or at least she convinced herself that it was anticipation that made her waken with a smile upon her lips and added a decided bounce to her steps. Otherwise, she would be forced to consider the notion that it was Edmond’s near constant presence that was responsible.

  She was quite prepared to accept that she craved his masterful touch during their long nights together. And was even developing a grudging respect for his quick wits and startling displays of humor. But she refused to concede that he was relentlessly creeping his way into her wary heart.

  That would be madness.

  Thankfully,
any unease at the strange, almost giddy sensations that plagued her was forgotten once they arrived in St. Petersburg.

  Barely more than a century old, the vast, beautiful city was built on the Neva River that fed into the Gulf of Finland.

  It was said that the numerous canals that sliced through the marshland had inspired Peter the Great to build his capital in the image of Venice, and that with ruthless disregard for the misery of his people, he had demanded that forty thousand peasants be sent every year to complete his masterpiece.

  And it was a masterpiece, she had to admit, as the carriage carried them down the Nevsky Prospect.

  She had never seen so many golden spires and domes glittering against a pure blue sky, all adding an exotic contrast to the bronzed statues and monuments to Peter the Great.

  She had only a passing glimpse of the sea-blue and white Winter Palace, with its profusion of columns and pilasters and its golden dome above the Palace Cathedral, before they were headed past the Kazan Cathedral with its exotic onion dome and onto a narrow street with a collection of small shops that Edmond informed her was Gostinny Dvor.

  The carriage at last slowed at the Fontanka Embankment, near the baroque palace known as Sheremetev House, then turned to the left, traveling the crescent street back toward the Neva.

  A frown touched her brow as they halted before a vast town house where a number of elegant guests appeared to be arriving despite the fact that it was decidedly early for callers.

  “What is this place?” she demanded.

  Edmond tugged his hat low onto his brow and pulled on his gloves. “It is the home of a friend.”

  There was an unmistakable hint of fondness in his voice, and Brianna clenched her teeth. “Is she beautiful?”

  “She is exquisite.” He chuckled softly as he watched her eyes narrow. “She also happens to be old enough to be my mother.”

  The sharp surge of relief was nearly as annoying as the smug glint in his eyes.

  “I thought you were intending to keep your arrival in St. Petersburg a secret?” she snapped, her gaze returning to the grand house that bustled with activity. “This hardly looks a clandestine setting.”