From Governess to Countess (Matches Made in Scandal)

by Marguerite Kaye

  * * *

  The children returned to the fountain with empty purses and full stomachs. ‘When I am big, I am going to have a market stall and sell sweetmeats,’ Nikki announced, and for once neither of his sisters reminded him that he was a duke.

  Catiche had bought prettily wrapped sweetmeats for Nyanya, while Elena’s gift was for Ortipo. Having, to their delight and astonishment, obtained Aleksei’s permission to bring the famous bulldog on an expedition to meet their new friend Tatyana in the park a few days hence, they were subdued on the way home, though profuse in their thanks for the adventure, when they arrived back at the palace. ‘Even though Papa would never have permitted us to set foot in such a place, I am glad you did, Uncle Aleksei,’ Catiche said. ‘You were right, it was fun.’

  Watching them charge up the stairs in search of their nanny, Allison surrendered to the melancholy which had settled on her at the market. She began to walk away in the direction of her dispensary, but Aleksei followed her.

  ‘What is wrong?’

  ‘Seeing the reaction to the children at the market reminded me that they are only one step removed from royalty. As are you, Your Illustrious Highness.’ A lump rose in her throat. ‘I’m sorry. It simply struck me forcibly, how very different we are, that is all.’

  ‘It is precisely because you are so very different from anyone I’ve ever known that I like you so much.’

  ‘You do?’

  He caught her in his arms. ‘How can you doubt it?’

  Her heart kicked up a beat. She forgot all about their different social stations, and remembered only how they merged and morphed, one into the other, when they kissed. And when they made love.

  ‘Only two nights ago,’ Aleksei said, as if he read her thoughts. ‘So much has happened. And, no,’ he added hastily, ‘I do not want to revisit it or think about it.’ He pulled her closer. ‘Do you know what I have found to be the perfect way to stop thinking?’

  Allison twined her arms around his neck. ‘No, but I hope you might have stumbled on the same solution as me.’ She kissed him.

  ‘Identical,’ he said, kissing her back, a deep, hungry kiss that unlike yesterday’s kisses would not be sated simply with more kisses.

  ‘Will you come to me tonight in my quarters?’

  Aleksei exhaled sharply. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Certain. She kissed him again, just to make sure he knew that she was.

  * * *

  Allison waited in her sitting room, where she had taken her dinner alone, for Aleksei had another engagement. The confidence with which she had issued the invitation had turned to fluttering nerves as she waited, still in her day dress, but with her hair down. But when he arrived, knocking softly on the door, the nerves dissipated instantly, for he pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply, and Allison stopped thinking.

  The first time they made love, it had been an urgent satisfying of a hunger. The second time, they had made a banquet of each other. This time it was different again. Their touch was more confident. Their kisses measured out the pace, from the slow fire which had been smouldering since their kisses this morning, to the stoking of that fire as they touched each other, as their clothes dropped to the floor, as they sucked and licked and stroked and cupped, hurtling toward the urgent need for completion.

  Naked, in front of the sitting-room fire, they knelt facing each other, still kissing, their breathing ragged. When he slipped his hand between her legs, stroking into her, she took his shaft in her hand, stroking too. He fell back on to the rug, taking her with him. When she leaned over to kiss him, her breasts brushed his chest and he shuddered, so she did it again, relishing the shivering, delicious, dragging response in her nipples. But it was not enough.

  She needed him inside her. She had to have him inside her. As she took him in, his thick, hard, satin length, she tightened around him, watching her arousal reflected on his face, feeling him thicken. She sat back, pushing him higher, and he groaned, cupping her bottom with his hands, though she needed no encouragement to move, to lift herself, to thrust. She tightened around him, wanting to savour that twisting, throbbing, tension that preceded her climax. But she could not stop, did not want to stop. Harder, faster, she moved, lost in a rhythm that was theirs, only theirs, until she was thrown, out of control, could hear herself crying out her pleasure, pulsing around him, barely aware that he had lifted her free to spend himself, falling against the breadth of his chest with a sob, and finding his mouth for one last, deeply satisfied kiss.

  * * *

  But later, after they had lain communing silently in front of the fire for hours, lying alone in her bed, the hazy, floaty aftermath burst like a bubble, leaving Allison anxious. There had been so few words, because they had needed none. Their touch had been so sure, for lovers who barely knew each other. How many more days did they have together? How many nights? How many more times would they make love? Not enough, that much was certain. Not nearly enough.

  The future beckoned. The future she had come here longing to grasp was within her reach now. She wanted it. She did want it. But just—just not yet.

  * * *

  Aleksei watched the children at play in the garden from Michael’s study the next day. Grigory had just stopped by, en route to Finland once more, at the Tsar’s behest. Aleksei had no problem in keeping silent on the matter of Elizaveta, having a very strong desire to draw a veil over the whole affair. If Grigory was in blissful ignorance of his sister’s perfidy, let the poor man remain so. There was nothing to be gained by shattering his illusions.

  ‘I will be gone for a considerable period,’ Grigory had informed him. ‘As for you, dear boy, it is time you stopped burying your head in the sand and accepted what you must have known in your heart from the moment the contents of Michael’s will were made known to you. Your army career is over. Your future lies here, with those children.’

  Grigory had left with a jaunty wave, leaving Aleksei silently fuming. How dare the man dictate his life. How dare he presume to know what was best for Aleksei. And for his wards. Dammit, how dare he!

  Over and over again, he’d asked himself why Michael had excluded Felix from his will. It occurred to him then, that the more salient question was why he had written Aleksei in? It didn’t matter why Michael didn’t want Felix, what mattered was that he wanted Aleksei.

  Deep down, he realised with a sinking feeling, he must have known this. It explained why he had been so reluctant to agree with Allison when she’d pointed out that he was now free to do what he’d planned to do all along, and reverse Michael’s decision.

  Wearily, Aleksei put his cup down, leaned his head back on the wing chair, and closed his eyes, trying desperately to talk himself out of this most unwelcome insight. Felix was the perfect guardian. He knew the ways of the court, the ways of the city, the ways of tradition. Felix would ensure that the girls made excellent marriages. He’d ensure that Nikki made a conscientious duke. He would ensure that the Derevenko dynasty continued as it always had, using its sons and daughters to spread its influence, increase its wealth. Exactly what Michael wanted.

  Until he changed his will.

  He jumped to his feet, cursing. Michael was under no illusions about Aleksei’s views on the subject of dynasty and power and influence. But on the other hand, he also knew that Aleksei had a very strong sense of duty. Michael would expect Aleksei to see that things were done as Michael wished them to be done. He would not expect Aleksei to change things. Would he?

  Outside, the children were screaming with laughter at Ortipo, who had once again jumped into the fountain after a stick. Aleksei smiled as the dog clambered out, shaking water all over a delighted Nikki. He would miss them, but it wasn’t as if he’d never see them again, once they were in Felix’s care. He could visit them. Send them presents from whatever part of the world he ended up in, doing whatever he ended up doing.

  Which would be what, precisely? Was Grigory right? Was his future here in St Petersburg with those chi
ldren?

  No! He had come to care for them, he couldn’t deny it, but to make them the centre of his life? No, it was not what he wanted. He would resent them in the end. He would blame them for the sacrifices he’d made on their account. None of them would be happy. Not the children. Certainly not Aleksei. And not the wife he’d be obliged to take in order to complete the picture-perfect family. If he’d wanted a wife and family, he’d have married and had children of his own. But he’d never wanted either. He was married to his career. Just like Allison.

  She was not in the garden, Nyanya was supervising them. Aleksei checked his watch. She would be holding her dispensary for the servants.

  It struck me forcibly, in the market, how very different we are.

  She was right. They were from radically different worlds. And soon she would return to hers. That odd feeling returned, a tightening in his chest, that was becoming familiar each time he thought of her leaving.

  Whatever it was it would pass quickly enough once she was half a world away. Aleksei nodded to himself, reassured. Yes, it would pass.

  * * *

  It was Catiche’s idea to ask her uncle to accompany them to the children’s ball two days later, and Uncle Aleksei had surprised both his niece and his niece’s governess by accepting with alacrity.

  He arrived in the schoolroom to collect them wearing his uniform. In order to distract herself from a bout of lustful staring, Allison made a twirl. ‘Catiche is not quite ready yet,’ she informed him, ‘you know what young girls are like getting ready for a party.’

  ‘I don’t, but I am learning quickly,’ he said with a wry smile.

  ‘Pink is most definitely not my colour.’

  Aleksei pretended to shade his eyes. ‘Salmon-pink, I believe. What on earth possessed you to select it? Wasn’t there mention in that letter from the Orlova woman of blue or gold? Either would have suited you very well.’

  ‘Thank you, kind sir, and may I commend your impeccable taste. But pink was Catiche’s choice, and since it is the tradition for mother and daughter to wear the same colour, then pink it must be. And actually, I take it as a compliment that she is happy for me to stand in for her mother. What I’m not clear about is the purpose of these children’s balls.’

  Aleksei grimaced. ‘It is the custom here, a phased introduction into society which supposedly ensures a more confident debutante when the time comes to embrace court life.’

  ‘I thought it was simply a social occasion, a chance to make new friends,’ Allison said, somewhat aghast. ‘Catiche is only thirteen.’

  ‘As a Derevenko, she will be expected to attend court in as little as a year, two at the most. Michael and Elizaveta will have been planning her successful debut from the day she was born.’

  ‘A responsibility that falls to you now.’

  ‘For the time being,’ Aleksei said grimly. ‘And as a consequence I must set my personal views aside. If she doesn’t attend, she will miss out on—I don’t know, connections which may prove important in the future.’

  ‘You mean she will miss out on—oh, I don’t know, connections which may prove important to the future of the Derevenko dynasty,’ Allison threw at him.

  ‘That is it precisely.’ Aleksei ran his fingers through his hair. ‘It is unpalatable to me, but it is the truth, Allison. The Derevenko dynasty is one of the oldest and most influential in Russia. Marriage is a question of bloodline, of influence, and of suitable alliances. It is expected that Catiche play her part.’

  ‘By making a suitable marriage, you mean.’ Allison crossed her arms and glared. ‘You have, by your own admission, rejected all of the great Derevenko traditions. Yet you are perfectly happy to make your nephew and nieces endure them.’

  ‘Would you prefer that they become followers of Volkonsky? Shall I have the girls dress in peasant clothes and learn to play the balalaika? Nikki is a duke. As for Catiche and Elena, have you any idea of the size of their dowries? They will be able to command an alliance with the highest in the land. Or in England. Or any other land.’

  ‘How fortunate for them. Save that they won’t be the ones doing the commanding, will they? That will be your cousin Felix’s province.’

  ‘No. I mean, yes, it would be if I—look, it’s just a ball, for the love of heaven.’

  Allison narrowed her eyes. ‘Have you changed your mind about Felix?’

  ‘I have not yet made up my mind. It’s not the same thing.’

  He looked tired. And a little dejected. And she had been haranguing him like a fishwife. ‘A very different thing,’ Allison agreed. ‘I’m sorry. I’m a little nervous.’

  ‘You?’

  ‘Yes. Believe it or not, herbalists very rarely get the opportunity to attend a ball hosted by the Empress of Russia, standing in for a duchess, accompanied by a count.’

  ‘You manged to play the lady very well at the Winter Palace, and you have been living at this palace for weeks now.’

  ‘But aside from Peterhof, I have not been abroad much in polite society.’ Allison could feel the telltale colour at her throat. ‘I don’t want to let Catiche down.’

  ‘Catiche obviously doesn’t think that’s likely, since she’s asked you to stand in for her mother. And I certainly don’t think it’s possible, because I’ve never known you to let anyone down.’

  Save once, she thought. The familiar sadness laced with guilt was still there, but it was a faint echo of what it had been.

  ‘You have certainly not let me down, Allison.’ Aleksei held her at arm’s length to study her. ‘And you know, the more I look, the more I think that salmon-pink is your colour.’

  She chuckled. ‘You once told me that you never lied. Take that back, or your unblemished reputation will be in tatters.’

  ‘I won’t take it back. I think you look quite delectable.’ He closed the gap between them. ‘So delectable, that I think I might have to—’

  ‘Uncle Aleksei!’

  ‘Catiche.’ He whirled around. ‘I was just admiring Miss Galbraith’s dress. She tells me the colour was your choice. A most excellent one.’ He made a flourishing bow. ‘May I compliment you, Lady Catherine, on your attire. It is an honour to be escorting such a lovely young lady on her debut.’

  Chapter Eleven

  The ball was being held at the Catherine Palace at Tsarskoye Selo, the Village of the Tsar, situated in the countryside about two hours’ drive from St Petersburg.

  ‘Everyone thinks that the Catherine Palace was named for Catherine the Great,’ Catiche informed them as the carriage turned on to the driveway, ‘but it was actually Peter the Great who had it built for his wife, the Empress Catherine. Is that not so, Uncle Aleksei?’

  ‘I bow to your superior knowledge, Catiche.’

  ‘Madame Orlova’s superior knowledge,’ she said with a shy smile. ‘Madame knows everything about every Imperial palace in St Petersburg. This one, you must know, celebrates not only the first Empress Catherine but also the Empress Elizabeth, after whom Mama was named. If you look carefully, Miss Galbraith, you will see the initial “E” in the insignia. “E” for Elizabeth, and for Ekaterina. It is above many of the doors, Madame Orlova told me. We must look out for it.’

  Their carriage joined a slow procession of others. The palace they approached was baroque in style, painted blue though with the usual abundance of gilt and gold which Allison had come to expect of every royal palace, and an abundance of statuary lining the driveway and holding sentry along the entire frontage.

  ‘The wings are an extension to the original building,’ Catiche continued, obviously keen to show off her knowledge. ‘But when the Empress Elizabeth came to the throne, she decided that it was not luxurious enough, and so she employed the Italian, Count Rastrelli, to redesign the entire palace. Count Rastrelli and the Empress Elizabeth were very fond of gold. Madame Orlova said that if you took all the gold from the reception rooms it would weigh more than Papa.

  ‘Miss Galbraith,’ she continued in a very different t
one as the carriage steps were let down, ‘you will stay by my side, won’t you?’

  ‘Don’t fret, we are both here to support you,’ Aleksei said, taking her hand.

  They proceeded, flanking Catiche, through countless carved and gilded doorways, through endless corridors glittering with yet more gold, before joining a snaking queue of people at the entrance to what must be the ballroom. As they edged forward as each aristocratic family was announced, Catiche became paler, her posture more rigid, and Allison, recalling her own ordeal on her first public outing at the Winter Palace, could do nothing save smile reassuringly and pray to whoever watched over society children that Catiche would come through the occasion without mishap.

  As they reached the entrance to the Great Hall, Allison, who thought she had seen the most elaborate rooms St Petersburg had to offer, was struck dumb. The two longest walls seemed to consist entirely of glass. Daylight streamed through the windows, bouncing off the mirrors placed in between and off the highly polished parquet flooring, making the chamber seem as if it were made entirely of burnished gold. Lit by candlelight it would be quite dazzling.

  Catiche’s hand tightened on her own, and she saw they were at the head of the queue. The Derevenko name was announced. Catiche was handed a dance card, and claimed by an immense woman wearing a terrifying headdress that must have left at least one ostrich plucked clean. There was nothing more to be done but to watch nervously as her charge made her debut into society.

  * * *

  ‘She’s not happy,’ Aleksei said, two hours later.

  ‘She has danced every dance, and has not once lacked a partner.’

  He sighed irritably. ‘She’s a Derevenko, of course she’s not lacking willing partners. Look at her, though. She’s putting on a brave face, but it’s obvious to me that she’s miserable.’