Diamond Dreams

by Sandra Heath

  Athan looked at him with loathing. “You are a dishonorable man, Andreyev, and one lacking the backbone to face me when you were caught without your breeches.”

  “Have a care, sir, for you are in my land now, and if you provoke me to a duel, be assured that all the petty little rules so cherished by the British do not apply here.”

  “And you, sir, can be assured that I would not bring those rules with me!” Athan snapped.

  Ellie caught his arm uneasily. “Ignore him, Athan.”

  Valentin looked at her again. “I wondered what your potter’s niece would be like, my lord, and confess I am a little disappointed. She is charming enough, I suppose, but hardly in the same class as Miss Tudor.”

  “And what would you know of class?” Athan inquired lightly.

  Valentin’s mocking smile was extinguished. “I have rank, and that is all that matters.” His dark eyes swung to John. “See that the tureen is sent without delay to me at the Dalmatsky Palace.” He waited, obviously hoping to see a dismayed reaction on hearing the name Dalmatsky.

  But John merely nodded. “As you wish.”

  “You do not seem surprised to be reminded of my uncle.”

  “I am not so much a fool that I have not long since sniffed his stench,” John replied.

  “And still you have come here? You are either very brave, or a fool, and since I now understand you were once rash enough to dabble with Nikolai Trepov, I think you are the latter.”

  John held his eyes. “And what of you, Prince Valentin? How foolish are you to allow yourself to be dragged into your uncle’s affairs? I don’t know what carrot he held before you, but you may be sure that the moment you took a nibble of it, you became a donkey.”

  Valentin scowled. “Just see the tureen is sent without delay!” he snapped.

  “What then?” John inquired. “I take it I will not be permitted to leave St. Petersburg without first confronting your uncle?”

  “You will await his pleasure,” Valentin replied, then flicked his whip and flung the four horses forward again. The vehicle leapt away from a standstill, scattering stones and dust as it disappeared in the direction of the Winter Palace.

  Ellie shivered. “What a horrible man,” she said with considerable understatement.

  Athan nodded. “But he will soon learn the error of his ways.”

  “I hope so.” She glanced up at him. “How does he know you and I are married? Surely he had left Britain before we were even betrothed?”

  “Russia may be a vast land, but it has a network of spies that is second to none,” Athan replied. “If someone of interest sneezes in Siberia, it is soon known in St. Petersburg. Dalmatsky has his creatures everywhere, and the Good Intent called at Riga, where he keeps his yacht. Spies make it their business to inquire about passengers on all foreign vessels, so the presence of a Lord and Lady Griffin would have been relayed to the Dalmatsky Palace. And the presence of a Mr. John Bailey,” he added.

  John gazed after the vanishing vehicle. “I do hope Andreyev and Dalmatsky enjoy the walnut when they share it,” he murmured dryly, but although he gave the others a brave grin, inside he was very nervous indeed. This was Dalmatsky’s territory, where only the very unwise trod without infinite care. “And in the meantime I simply wait to hear from Dalmatsky,” he added heavily.

  Athan drew Ellie’s hand over his arm and they proceeded across the street toward the house with the blue door and bronze lion knocker. A huge Russian manservant with a black beard and white gloves, wearing a blue smock with a fringed red sash, admitted them to a spacious entrance hall with an inlaid wooden floor, blue and cream silk on the walls, a lofty golden ceiling, and handsome chandeliers. There were vases of flowers everywhere, both hothouse and garden, and a number of mirrors that gave the illusion of even more space.

  Hardly had the weary trio stepped over the threshold, than Athan’s sister Louise came hurtling down the elegant curved staircase at the far end of the hall. She was small and dainty, her long dark hair worn à la Russe in a braid that was twisted on top of her head, but her red-and-gold gown was all that was western and stylish.

  That she was Athan’s sister could not be doubted, for she had the same eyes and coloring, and even the same way of laughing. Her face was alight with joy, and she flung herself into her brother’s arms with such forceful delight that he was hard put to keep his balance.

  “Steady on, sweeting, for I still have sea legs,” he laughed, and kissed her warmly on the forehead.

  She stood back and inspected his face sternly, and then smiled again. “You are looking much better than when I last saw you. Marriage clearly suits you.” Her eyes moved to Ellie, warmly yet speculatively, clearly hoping to like her new sister-in-law.

  Athan hastened to effect the introduction. “Louise, this is my bride, Ellie. Ellie, my sister Louise.”

  Ellie didn’t quite know whether to incline her head, dip a curtsy, or extend her hand, but the decision was made for her by Louise’s welcoming hug. “I’m delighted to meet you, Ellie, and I know you and I will get on famously because you have wrought such a welcome change in my bear of a brother.”

  “I’m not a bear,” Athan protested.

  “Yes, you are. It’s long since time you had a wife.” Louise smiled at John. “And you, sir, must be Ellie’s uncle, Mr. Bailey.”

  “Mrs. Brasier.” John bowed gallantly over her little hand.

  “I cannot wait to see the famous tureen, and I am so proud to think I am now related to such a gifted gentleman.”

  John blushed. “You flatter me, I think,” he murmured diffidently, but Ellie knew he was pleased.

  “You must all forgive my husband, Charles,” Louise said, “for I fear he has been called away to Moscow on urgent business and will not return until next week. You will all have to put up with just me ... and”—she paused for dramatic effect—”your unborn niece or nephew.”

  Athan was delighted for her. “A child? After all this time? Louise, I couldn’t be happier for you and Charles! When is the baby due?”

  “At Christmas, so you will be home at Castle Griffin again, I fear.”

  “You’re looking very well,” he said, studying her again.

  “I feel well.” Louise turned, suddenly remembering something. “Ellie, those flowers there are for you.”

  “For me?” Surprised, Ellie followed Louise’s pointing finger to a particularly lavish arrangement of yellow and white lilies.

  “They were delivered about an hour ago, and are to congratulate upon your marriage, although I confess I would prefer there to have been an odd number of flowers. In Russia even numbers are usually only given at funerals or in commemoration. Yellow and white are not good colors either. I was almost of a mind to have them sent back.”

  “Odd, even, yellow, white, it was nevertheless a very kind thought. Thank you,” Ellie replied, naturally assuming they were from Louise and her husband.

  “Oh, do not thank me, for they are from our landlord, and one does not lightly offend Prince Paul Dalmatsky.”

  Ellie was dismayed. “I don’t want his flowers,” she said firmly.

  Athan put a calming hand on her arm. “No doubt it amused him to send them, so let him have his laugh, for it will be the last he enjoys in a long time.” He turned to Louise. “Sis, the crate containing the tureen is to be sent to Dalmatsky Island without delay. Can you see to it? Care must be taken, for it is very fragile.”

  “Yes, of course.” She beckoned the manservant, whose name was Vladimir, said something to him in Russian, and he hurried away.

  Athan looked at Louise again. “Is the czar in St. Petersburg?”

  “He and the court arrived yesterday from Tsarskoe Selo in readiness for the grand supper at the Dalmatsky Palace.”

  “Good, for I need an audience with him.”

  Louise’s jaw dropped. “And you think that is easily achieved? Athan, you may as well bay at the moon!”

  “He and I hit it off when last we met, a
nd I think his interest in both the horses and the increasingly likely British treaty will make him gracious. I also have a letter from Mr. Pitt which is sure to please him.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. He was very angry when the British press accused Russia of involvement in the theft of that diamond,” Louise warned.

  “I want a message to be sent to the Imperial Stables, not only advising them of the horses’ arrival, but also requesting them to see that the czar is informed. When I was fortunate enough to meet him before, he expressed a desire to accept the horses from me in person. I can only pray he remembers what he said.”

  Athan exchanged glances with Ellie and John, for the success of their entire plan hinged upon Alexander. Suddenly it was no longer easy to be brave and positive as they had been in Britain, because now the moment was actually upon them, their entire stratagem seemed uncomfortably flimsy.

  Chapter Thirty

  The baroque green-and-white splendor of the Prince Paul’s palace rose like a diadem from the gardens that covered Dalmatsky Island, on the northern edge of the Neva delta. Like most Russian palaces, it had once been a single-story wooden dacha, or traditional country cottage. In the kitchens and cellars these more humble origins were still very evident, but outwardly it was now a palace in every sense of the word.

  At first glance it presented a gracious and tranquil countenance to the world, yet there was something brooding and dangerous about it—something unpleasant that would always be inextricably bound to the name Dalmatsky.

  The palace, gardens, and outbuildings covered every inch of the island. English grottoes nestled amid shady leaves; Chinese pavilions graced areas of lawn that were clipped so close they might have been green baize; and marble fountains of Dalmatian dogs with water spouting from their mouths were to be found on all the terraces.

  Jetties and boathouses dotted the shore, where the tideless Neva lapped gently during these balmy summer months, and where elegant pleasure boats were always in readiness. Beyond the island lay the bleak marshes from which St. Petersburg had been wrested in the time of Peter the Great.

  Tucked away on the northern shore were greenhouses, kennels, an aviary, kitchen gardens, and the large laundry that was necessary because Paul expected every sheet and towel in the palace to be changed daily, regardless of it having been used or not. At night it was quite usual to hear the sound of wheeled laundry baskets being trundled along the curving garden paths lined by Italian statues. Also tucked away on the northern shore of the island was a fine marble-fronted banya, or bathhouse. Bathhouses were essential to all Russians, and Paul had a special liking for them because they afforded him privacy in which to indulge his taste for handsome young men.

  When Valentin returned to the island to tell his uncle of his encounter with the British party, he was told that Paul was in the bathhouse and was expecting him. Valentin made his way there with great reluctance, for he had no stomach at all for his kinsman’s sexual preference. The path to the steps was flanked by pink, white, and crimson peonies, heavy blooms that seemed as sweet-scented and wanton as Paul Dalmatsky himself.

  Inside, the bathhouse resembled a Roman bath, with naked male statues in alcoves, and carved animals made of jade, amethyst, chalcedony, and topaz. A large bowl of pineapples and peaches stood upon a low table, together with a slender-necked gold jug containing Paul’s favorite Hungarian wine.

  There were three golden goblets beside it. In a corner, silent now but usually loud and raucous, was a bright green macaw on a silver perch. It had crafty eyes and a vicious curved beak that had left a scar on Valentin’s hand. He thought it was a detestable bird.

  Paul was lying naked and facedown on a marble bench, being ministered to by two rouged young men who wore the flimsiest white silk robes imaginable. They were rubbing lavender oil into his skin, and scowled jealously at each other. Like whores in a brothel, Valentin thought, at the same time noting that all his uncle’s catamites were slender, brown-eyed and olive-skinned, with long black curls that reached down their shoulders.

  Valentin had now learned that the first to possess these particular looks had been Nikolai Trepov, of whom he had learned much since his return from Britain, enough to begin to suspect that being avenged for the young man’s death had become Paul’s obsession. This suspicion rekindled the unease Valentin first felt, but ignored, when Paul had taken him to see the red diamond at the Winter Palace. Have you never heard the saying “as jealous as a Dalmatian”?

  Hearing his nephew’s unmistakably military tread ring on the floor, Paul turned over and leaned back on his elbows to look at him. “Well?”

  “The British travelers have arrived.”

  Paul nodded, then smiled up at the taller of the two young men. “Come to me in an hour, Bruno.”

  The young man beamed, while his companion looked close to tears. Paul reached out to caress the second man’s loins. “Another time, little one,” he said softly.

  Valentin looked away in disgust, only looking back again when the young men had gone.

  Paul smiled thinly. “You make your sanctimonious disapproval so obvious, my boy, yet you have never sampled what you condemn. An hour with Bruno would soon change your mind.”

  “I doubt it very much.”

  Paul reached for a towel, then rose from the marble to wrap it around his waist. “So the second diamond is in St. Petersburg at last, eh?”

  “And will soon be here on the island. I instructed Bailey to send it without delay.”

  Paul nodded. “And how is my good friend John? In good health, I trust?”

  “He knows you are involved.”

  “Does he indeed?” Paul smiled at his reflection in a floor-standing glass. “Is that because you told him, my boy?”

  “I told him nothing. Tell me, Uncle, does my return to favor actually have any place in your stratagem? Or is it really just about Nikolai Trepov?”

  Paul turned sharply. “Do not utter that name!”

  “Very well, I won’t utter his precious name, but I ask you this, Uncle: Are your schemes likely to endanger my neck?”

  Paul met his gaze. “My boy, you are going to present Alexander with the second red diamond. How can that possibly endanger your pretty neck?”

  “I am not as sure as you that the czar’s desire to possess both diamonds outweighs his desire for a coalition with the British.”

  Paul raised an eyebrow. “Oh, how little faith you have in your dear old uncle. Has it not occurred to you that I have the czar’s ear in almost everything? I know that no matter what he may say in public about a British treaty, behind every word there lurks his dream of uniting the diamonds here in St. Petersburg. Trust me, my boy.”

  Valentin regarded him. Uncle or not, could he trust such a man?

  Paul came closer and put a loving hand to Valentin’s cheek. “Tomorrow night, in front of the entire court here on this island, you will present Alexander with the soup tureen that John Bailey has so lovingly created. You will tell His Imperial Highness that the second diamond is hidden in the tureen’s lid. Alexander will not believe you, so you will offer to prove it by breaking through the repairs and extracting the diamond in front of everyone. Your welcome back into the fold will be guaranteed.”

  Valentin gazed at him. “Have you any idea how delicate Bailey’s porcelain is?”

  “Porcelain is porcelain, my boy,” Paul replied dismissively, and returned to admiring himself in the mirror.

  “No, Uncle, Bailey’s porcelain is like the most delicate glass. I’ve seen it, I know.”

  Paul became irritated. “Confound it, boy, you are to do as I say. I have done all the work for you, and have seen to it that Alexander will be here on the island. My part in the acquisition of the diamond is at an end, because I am now more concerned with other things. All you have to do is give Alexander the damned tureen, grovel in your best fashion, and pray he is pleased with you. Don’t look to me for support if he isn’t, because I will save my own skin before I save yours. I
f anything goes wrong, believe me, I will point the finger at you, Valentin.”

  Valentin recoiled a little. “What are these ‘other things’ that concern you?”

  “Nothing I intend to confide.”

  A cold finger prodded Valentin’s spine. “It’s John Bailey, isn’t it? He is the reason for your decision to involve yourself in my disgrace! You want to punish him for Nikolai Trepov, and you’ve used me to get him here!”

  “I used you because I wish you to be restored to imperial favor. I could as easily have done it all without you, but I thought of your future and the restoration of your fortune and inheritance. If the czar learns of the great lengths to which you went in order to bring him the diamond, he will think more highly of you than he ever did before, and will once again welcome you into his coterie of close friends.

  “Valentin, nephew, my plan may have been a little involved, but not because I wished to make things difficult for you. On the contrary, it pleased me to be obtuse for entirely different reasons.” Paul turned sideways to see himself in the glass. “I have kept my figure, have I not? Mm?”

  Valentin watched, and for the first time began to wonder if Nikolai Trepov’s death had turned Paul Dalmatsky’s mind.

  * * *

  To Athan’s relief, the czar not only wished to accept the horses in person, but also without delay, and indicated that he would visit the Imperial Stables that very evening for Athan to present them. Thus a prompt private word with him was assured.

  Word of the rare white mare and colt from Wales had spread through the capital like wildfire, as had the fact that their lanky, redheaded groom seemed to be a horse magician. A vein of superstition ran deep through every Russian, and people gathered to watch as Gwilym escorted the horses brought ashore by the Imperial Stables on the Moika Canal.

  As fate would have it, the watching crowds were treated to an unforeseeable display of Gwilym’s powers. A large, black, and very restive stallion was just being ridden back to the stables by a groom whose attention was more on a pair of pretty young women than what he was supposed to be doing. The stallion swerved and brushed against a stack of wooden buckets that fell with a clatter that frightened the creature. It reared and whinnied, threatening to not only harm itself but unsettle the Griffin horses as well.