From Governess to Countess (Matches Made in Scandal)

by Marguerite Kaye

  ‘No. Yes. No. Do you think it’s a good idea? Could you do it?’

  ‘I think it is genius. I think it could be done, if...’ She bit her lip, but now was not the time for holding back. ‘Aleksei, what about you? You need a purpose too.’

  ‘Oh, I shall transform Nikki’s estates for him.’

  ‘That is already in hand, you told me.’

  ‘Yes, but only on a very small scale so far. Nikki, my love, has some very, very large estates.’

  ‘Big enough to need dispensaries for the servants?’

  He gave a shout of laughter. ‘Big enough to need some huge dispensaries.’

  ‘So you won’t be spending all your time in St Petersburg?’

  ‘No, but I am not proposing to travel alone. We will all go. It will be good for Nikki, young as he is, to understand exactly what it is he’s going to inherit.’

  Allison sighed. ‘You make it all sound so—so easy. And so wonderful. Do you think it can work?’

  Aleksei shrugged, laughed, shook his head, smiled. ‘I wish I could promise you it will, but we don’t lie to each other, do we? I think we would be mad not to try. Now will you marry me?’

  She was so very tempted. But it was such a huge risk, and there were so many other uncertainties. ‘A year,’ Allison said. ‘In a year’s time, if we are happy here, truly happy, and we can see a future that will keep us all happy, then ask me again.’

  Aleksei checked his watch. ‘Fair enough. A year exactly from today. I will expect you here, in the Square Room, with a yes on your lips.’

  ‘Provided we are...’

  ‘Allison, do you doubt that we will be happy?’

  ‘No. But I doubt...’

  ‘Have faith, my darling, because you are destined to be Countess Derevenko.’

  The way he looked at her made her believe they could do anything together. The way he looked at her made her heart leap, made her pulses flutter, made her want to cast all her doubts aside and say that she would marry him now, become that impossible-to-imagine creature, the Countess Derevenko. But she couldn’t. She needed proof that they could find a way to be happy, and though he might not realise it, he needed it too. ‘A year,’ she said, wrapping her arms around his waist. ‘It is a great deal to achieve in a year.’

  ‘And a very long time to wait before I can call you my wife.’

  He smiled down at her, tucking an escaped curl behind her ear. ‘My heart says damn the consequences and marry the woman now. My head tells me that there are too many uncertainties for us to follow our hearts just yet. We think the same, you see. That is why I know it will work.’

  ‘I love you so much, Aleksei.’ She smiled up at him. ‘You know I’m not suggesting that we—that we discontinue our—our—I mean I’m not suggesting that we refrain, for a year...’

  He gave a shout of laughter. ‘Miss Galbraith, are you propositioning me?’

  She pursed her lips, pretending to consider this. ‘Count Derevenko, I do believe I am.’

  Epilogue

  St Petersburg—December 1816

  Allison gazed at her reflection in the long mirror. Her hair was in one of Natalya’s deceptively simple coiffures, elegantly high on her head, with artful curls permitted to fall seemingly at random. Diamonds glittered in the myriad of hairpins—her one concession, save for the gown, to her new status.

  Natalya had offered pearls as a compromise to Allison’s usual plain pins, but pearls, Seanmhair had always claimed, were for tears, if worn at a wedding. Allison was determined there would be no tears. Not even happy ones.

  She touched her locket. What on earth would her grandmother make of today’s events? Ordinary is for life’s passengers, hadn’t she always said? Allison smiled to herself. She couldn’t think of anything more extraordinary than the fact that she was about to become a countess. As long as she didn’t get too big for her boots in the process, she reckoned Seanmhair would approve.

  Unlike some of St Petersburg’s society. There were many who had come round to acceptance, to recognise Allison’s honorary status earned by dint of her reputation as a pioneer and crusader for the provision of medical care for ordinary Russians. The poor called her a saint. The court was cynical enough to bask in reflected glory by endorsing her. She and Aleksei had not attempted to make St Petersburg their own, but they had succeeded in making their own St Petersburg.

  Though none of society, accepting or no, would be here today. Only the children, the Derevenko household, and Grigory Fyodorovski would attend. Which, when you counted all the household mind you, amounted to a great many pairs of eyes. But they would all be sympathetic and they would all highly approve.

  Allison gave a final twirl in front of the mirror. Her gown of cream silk had long sleeves and a high collar with an overdress of specially woven cream lace as fine as a spider’s web. Tiny flowers of gold thread were embroidered on the cuffs and hem. There was a cream, fur-lined cloak to match, and a huge fur muff too, to keep her warm on the journey they would make later. Under her gown, the spider’s web lace trimmed her chemise and her garters. Silk undergarments, which rustled seductively as she walked, and which she knew Aleksei would take great delight in discovering and uncovering.

  A blush stole over her cheeks. Her eyes in the mirror lit up. Aleksei. ‘Lyubov moy,’ she whispered. My love.

  Mindful of Natalya’s dire warnings about crushing her gown, Allison rustled over to the window. Outside the garden was white, a velvet-soft carpet of snow. Aleksei had proposed in the Square Room precisely a year after he had promised he would, and precisely a year after she had promised a response, she had said yes.

  Such a year it had been. A year of sacrifice and compromise, just as they had known it would be, but one of such joy and happiness too. To be loved, unequivocally loved, was the most liberating feeling. To have someone always on your side, to have someone you could rely on always to tell you the truth, to tell you when you were right and when you were wrong, to counsel you on when to concede and when to stand strong, knowing that first and foremost they had your best interests at heart. Well, that had not been such an easy lesson to learn for either of them, now she thought of it. They were both so accustomed to making all their own decisions, taking advice as interference. They had disagreed. But slowly, as the months passed, the disagreements became discussions.

  They had not achieved everything, but they had made a start on all of it. Small dispensaries at five of Nikki’s transformed estates, as well as the main dispensary in the city, with an apprentice in each working under Allison’s supervision. It meant Aleksei had been away from St Petersburg a great deal, but sometimes she went with him, sometimes the children too. And when they did not, his homecomings were worth the time spent apart.

  She had three active and four reluctant patronesses for her dispensaries. When Allison’s name was mentioned at court, Grigory said, it was with a mixture of awe and astonishment. She knew, because she asked him, and he was a man who lied abysmally, that there was gossip. But it was, he assured her, more of a jealous nature than a disdainful one. For once her ancestry was in her favour. The Scots were commanding Russia’s navy, building the ships they sailed in, and Allison was one of a long line of Scots in the medical profession here in the city. She was part of a benign invasion, Grigory informed her with one of his hearty guffaws, the Scots’ latest weapon, in their plan to capture Mother Russia, by capturing the heart of one of the country’s most eligible bachelors.

  Grigory was incorrigible, but he had been a staunch supporter from the start, proving himself first and foremost a loving uncle, for he could see what others cared not to, that the union would be what was best for his nieces and nephew. Allison was hopeful that he would be proved right. Anna Orlova had been joined by extra tutors, in an attempt to counterbalance the governess’s highly inflated opinion of her charges’ heritage. History of all sorts other than the Derevenko one, was now taught to the children. The girls attended one of the bigger schools one day a week, and i
n the spring, Nikki would be permitted to attend military academy for a term. There would be no lessons in estate management until he was able to decide for himself that was what he wanted, Aleksei said. Choices, that was what he wanted for all of them. It was early days to speculate about what choices they might make. And besides, she had a great many other things to think about right now.

  Such as her wedding. She turned away from the window to survey her bedchamber, which she would leave for the last time today. The Count and Countess Derevenko had a new suite, in a different, distant part of the palace. But they would not be occupying it tonight. A soft rap on the door, and Natalya arrived, telling her to hurry. It was time. She wouldn’t want to keep His Illustrious Highness waiting.

  ‘No, but I know he will wait,’ Allison said, giving the maid a hug. ‘Wish me luck.’

  Natalya pinned the wispy laced veil to her hair. ‘You won’t need it.’

  * * *

  The Derevenko private chapel was clad entirely in marble. White and black in the form of the Derevenko crest on the floor. The walls, the high-arched ceiling, and the supporting pilasters were white, throwing into stark relief the stunning Byzantine images which adorned the ornate altar. But Allison had eyes only for the man waiting there for her. Aleksei wore blue and gold. A blue coat with gold buttons. A gold waistcoat. Blue pantaloons. Long black highly polished boots. Plain attire for a count. But this Count, Allison thought as she gazed at him down the short aisle of the Derevenko chapel, could have worn rags and still taken her breath away. He smiled, and her fluttering nerves vanished. She smiled back. A few short steps, and she would be his and he would be hers. Count and Countess, plain Mr and Mrs, she didn’t care a whit.

  ‘Ready?’ she asked of her escorts.

  Nikki nodded solemnly, taking up one side of the heavy gold casket which contained the rings. Catiche hurriedly grabbed the other, as it almost slipped from his grasp. They had been arguing for weeks over who was to have the privilege, and Aleksei had decreed that they decide for themselves. Where was Elena, though—was she sulking after being excluded? A yelp betrayed her arrival. Allison saw her own laughter reflected in Aleksei’s eyes, as she appeared with the bulldog on a silk leash. ‘Ortipo is a member of the family too,’ Elena said. ‘It is my duty to make sure he behaves himself impeccably.’

  ‘And a very important duty it is too,’ Allison said, nodding solemnly. For the first—and most likely the only—time in her life, she found herself extremely grateful for the bulldog’s presence.

  * * *

  It was a short, but emotional ceremony. The new Count and Countess Derevenko remained only for a brief champagne toast leaving their guests to celebrate the long-awaited nuptials by feasting and dancing, while the couple left to celebrate in their own way, alone. Aleksei drove them from the palace in his troika. It was twilight, the stars only just beginning to come out as they sped across the snow. Allison tucked into his side, watched breathlessly as he handled the three horses with seeming ease, the cold air stinging her cheeks, the glow inside her making her oblivious of the rapidly falling temperature.

  The troika turned up a long carriage way, gliding to a halt in front of a house built to resemble a Chinese pagoda. ‘What is this place?’ Allison asked.

  ‘Ours,’ he answered. ‘Do you like it?’

  ‘It is ridiculous. It is beautiful. I love it. Is it really ours?’

  ‘I thought we needed a retreat. Somewhere no one—not even the children—are permitted.’

  ‘I can’t wait to explore it.’

  ‘Later, my Countess.’ He leapt down from the carriage, pulling the furs aside, helping her down to the front step, where a carpet had been set out, the door waited ajar, and a groom appeared from nowhere to lead the horses away.

  ‘Aleksei.’ She looked up at him, a smile trembling on her lips. ‘I love you so much. I can’t quite believe that we are married.’

  He kissed her then, his lips icy from the journey. ‘Nor can I. I think we need proof, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’ Ridiculous to be nervous, this was Aleksei, but she was none the less. ‘Is it silly to say that it feels like the first time?’

  He kissed her again, pulling her tightly up against him. ‘It is the first time. Now I am truly yours, and you are truly mine. For always.’

  ‘Always.’ She reached up to smooth the rebellious kink in his hair. ‘It is a family trait, this little question mark,’ she said. ‘Your brother’s hair was the same. And Nikki’s too. I wonder...’ She bit her lip on the question she had been asking herself for months, but it felt—yes, it felt right to raise it on this most auspicious day. ‘Aleksei, it is not that we need anything else to make our love perfect, but...’

  ‘Lyubov moya.’ A smile dawned on him—one she had never seen before. ‘Are you telling me that you would like us to have a child of our own?’

  She nodded. ‘I’ve been thinking—wanting...’

  ‘Why did you not say?’

  ‘You’ve been thinking the same?’

  He nodded. ‘But you said that you had never...’

  ‘And you said you had never...’

  ‘Not until I met you.’

  Tears filled her eyes. Tears of joy. But she was not having tears on her wedding day. Allison blinked them away furiously. ‘I love you, Aleksei.’

  ‘And I love you, Your Illustrious Highness.’ Aleksei grinned at the shock on her face. He scooped her up into his arms, holding her high against his chest. ‘Let me show you just how much.’

  * * * * *

  If you enjoyed this story check out

  Marguerite Kaye’s

  HOT ARABIAN NIGHTS quartet

  THE WIDOW AND THE SHEIKH

  SHEIKH’S MAIL-ORDER BRIDE

  THE HARLOT AND THE SHEIKH

  CLAIMING HIS DESERT PRINCESS

  And don’t miss the next instalment of

  MATCHES MADE IN SCANDAL

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  Historical Note

  I’ve never visited St Petersburg, but after all the reading I’ve done researching this book I feel as if I have. If you’re interested in knowing more about the history of this hotbed of plotting and poison, intrigue, factions, sexual shenanigans and perversities, then I’d highly recommend Simon Sebag Montefiore’s wonderful book, The Romanovs.

  I have taken some liberties with real-life historical characters in my story.

  I couldn’t resist having Princess Katya Bagration—otherwise known as The Naked Angel, or The White Pussycat—visit the Winter Palace. In fact she was still in Vienna at the time, celebrating world peace post-Waterloo with her various lovers.

  As to General Arakcheev—I have no idea whether I’ve captured the essence of his personality. I confess I imagined him as a much more bloodthirsty version of another famous military man I’ve given a walk-on part in several of my books, his contemporary the Duke of Wellington.

  And the ballroom in the Winter Palace, which became known as the Nicholas Hall, was actually completed some time after Allison and Aleksei made their debut there.

  Tom Atkinson’s book, Napier’s History of Herbal Healing, Ancient and Modern, gave me an insight into the world of herbalism at the time when Allison practised. In this book I came across Albert Coffin, herbalist and entrepreneur. ‘Coffinism’, as it became known, borrowed its model from Albert Coffin’s mentor, the American Samuel Thomson. It was effectively a franchise of herbal dispensaries called Friendly Botanico-Medical Societies, established in poor industrial areas in the early part of the nineteenth century, and is obviously the inspiration for Allison and Aleksei’s dispensary chain.

  Though I’ve located the fictional Derevenko Palace on the site of the Marii
nski Palace, the interiors are a mish-mash of rooms from other Imperial palaces around the city. And as for the ducal barge—it’s actually Gloriana, the barge built for the ceremonial journey down the Thames made by Queen Elizabeth II on her Diamond Jubilee.

  As ever, there’s a wealth of research and reading I haven’t mentioned, but which I’d be more than happy to chat about on Facebook or Twitter or by email.

  Any mistakes or historical inaccuracies in this story are entirely my own.

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