Romancing Lady Stone (A School of Gallantry Novella)

by Delilah Marvelle

  Grabbing that scarred hand, Konstantin pressed the ring back into it hard, closing that hand around it. He shook it and leaned in to the duc. “I appreciate your generosity, but this ring represents what is yours. Not mine, but yours. Fight for her. Win her back. I know you can.”

  The duc glanced up at him through his own haze. “How do you know I can?”

  Konstantin shook that hand one last time in assurance. “Destiny. We Russians know these things.”

  3:07 p.m.

  The Stone residence

  Cecilia nervously glanced toward the sunlit parlor window from where she sat and arranged her lace morning gown for the third time. It was like waiting for the King to call.

  Giselle, Juliet and Abigail primly sat elbow to elbow on the upholstered couch, their dark pinned curls piled in ringlets and white satin matching ribbons they had all insisted on. Whilst Juliet and Abigail both wore white dresses and white slippers, as was proper given their age, Giselle, who sat between them, opted for a regal pale blue gown and red satin slippers.

  Juliet pressed her gloved hands together tighter. “He is seven minutes late, Mama.”

  Giselle perused the French clock on the marble mantelpiece of the hearth that was a few feet away from where they sat. “A gentleman is supposed to be aware of the time.”

  Abigail picked at the fabric of her cotton gown. “I think he realized the amount of responsibility involved and left for Russia.”

  A breath escaped Cecilia. “Cease fussing. Just because he is a few minutes late doesn’t mean he left for Russia. I’m quite certain he—”

  The calling bell chimed through the corridor announcing a visitor.

  They all jumped to their feet as the butler strode toward the door.

  Abigail and Juliet grabbed each other’s arms.

  Giselle frantically smoothed her skirts.

  Cecilia felt her entire face grow hot remembering what she and Konstantin had done last night against a wall and then the floor. She needed a glass of wine. Desperately.

  Booted steps approached. The butler paused in the doorway and announced, “Lord Gunther is calling, Lady Stone. Are you receiving?”

  Cecilia felt all of the blood leave her head. It was her cousin. The one whose father used to humiliate her parents when she and her family had been dependent on Lord Gunther’s family for finances. Before Cecilia married well and ended her cousin’s advances by providing her parents with everything herself. In their youth, Gunther had repeatedly tried to do more than kiss her. He eventually married and had children of his own and kept to himself, but whenever their paths crossed, she always panicked and ensured she was never alone. She didn’t trust him.

  Cecilia glanced toward her daughters, who gaped at her wide-eyed.

  They knew the story about her cousin all too well.

  She set her chin. “I am not receiving anyone but Mr. Levin. Please turn him away.”

  “Yes, my lady.” The butler inclined his head and departed to dismiss their unannounced guest.

  Giselle hurried over to Cecilia and whispered, “He called several times and kept asking to see you. The governess was quite annoyed with him given he wanted to know when you would return. He hasn’t associated with us before. Knowing how he used to treat you in your youth, his intentions scare me, Mama.”

  Cecilia let out a shaky breath knowing it. “His intentions have no bearing on us. He will be turned away every time.”

  A shout from the butler caused them all to pause.

  Lord Gunther walked into the room, his grey satin trimmed morning coat announcing the extravagance that had always followed the man. His greying, blond hair was meticulously brushed and parted.

  He’d worn his hair the same since 1808.

  Hazel eyes briefly met her gaze. He inclined his head. “You look well for yourself, cousin.” Turning to the girls, he smiled and lowered his shaven chin against his silk cravat. “I am certain you are all pleased to have your mother return from her travels abroad after so many months away.”

  Cecilia tried not to panic knowing he was in her house and talking to her girls. She grabbed up a vase from a side table and made her way toward him. “Gunther, I ask that you not speak to my girls. Get out.” She held up the vase in warning.

  He held out a hand toward the vase. “Please. I need to speak to you.”

  Cecilia felt her throat tighten, remembering all too well how her poor papa would quietly accept funds from Gunther’s balding father who would casually point to items in their home and ask that it be taken in return for the funds received. And how Gunther himself, at eighteen, would corner her alone at fifteen and demand ‘kisses’ and other physical ‘favors’ as if it were his right. Merely because his father assisted in paying their debts. That was the sort of family they were. The Gunthers had always believed in making everyone crawl. Because of them, she had stupidly given up all of her dreams in her youth to pursue the wrong ones: financial ones.

  The calling bell rang.

  Her daughters’ faces flickered in panic.

  Cecilia, however, felt a lethal calm embrace her knowing it was Konstantin. It was like he was destined to be in her life to protect her and her girls. She lowered the vase and set it aside.

  Running steps approached and the butler appeared again. “Mr. Levin is calling, Lady Stone. Shall I call for the footmen and escort Lord Gunther out?”

  The footmen didn’t have the experience Konstantin did. “No. That won’t be necessary, Stanley. If Lord Gunther does not leave, Mr. Levin will escort him out.”

  Lord Gunther paused, his brows flickering. “Who is Mr. Levin?”

  Cecilia didn’t move. “A man you will regret meeting. I am not the fifteen-year- old girl you used to corner. Nor will I be intimidated in my own home.”

  His brows came together. “I know you have always thought the worst of me, and rightfully so, but I am not that boy anymore. I need to speak to you alone, Cecilia. Please.”

  Giselle, Juliet and Abigail rounded toward Cecilia and stood between them, announcing that they weren’t leaving the room.

  Cecilia stepped around them, refusing to let her girls anywhere near him. “You have long lost the privilege of my trust.”

  Gunther blinked rapidly. “I am calling you for reasons outside my own pride. I would not be here otherwise. I know how you despise me.”

  She paused, sensing his tone was genuine. “Why are you here?”

  “Can I speak to you alone?” he pressed.

  She shook her head, her skin crawling at remembering the way he always tried to touch her in their youth. “No.”

  He edged toward her. “I am not going to touch you! I am a married man. A happily married man, I assure you.”

  Her chest heaved. She couldn’t trust him. She couldn’t. “Leave.”

  Within moments, Konstantin strode in, wearing an expensive-looking beige morning coat and matching trousers, carrying two large wicker baskets in each grey-gloved hand. One basket was filled with orchids and the other was filled with a variety of small parcels carefully tied with bright pink ribbons. His black hair was dashingly swept back with tonic and his rugged shaven face as cheerful as his green eyes were well-amused and bright.

  He paused at seeing Lord Gunther, his features tightening. He eyed the girls and then Cecilia. “Is everything all right?” His voice indicated he knew it wasn’t.

  Cecilia almost felt faint at seeing him. “Mr. Levin, would you please escort Lord Gunther out? He is not welcome here.” Her voice trembled, despite her trying to remain calm. She couldn’t help it. There were too many years of angst buried within her. Every time she saw Gunther, she saw herself at fifteen, shoving away unwanted hands.

  Konstantin slowly set both baskets he was holding onto the floor, his demeanor and gaze darkening. He straightened to his full height. “Lord Gunther. I ask that you follow me out.”

  Gunther turned toward Konstantin. “I only wish to speak to her.”

  Konstantin removed his coat and
tossed it to the floor, his gaze never once leaving her cousin. “We are taking this outside.” His voice was ragged.

  Oh, Lord. Cecilia held out a quick hand, realizing Konstantin intended to fight him. “No, Konstantin. Don’t hurt him. He isn’t worth your good name. I just want him to leave.”

  Konstantin shifted his jaw. “If that is what you want.” He stalked toward Gunther. “You heard her. You need to leave. Now.”

  Gunther edged back and held up both hands. He slowly rounded Konstantin and made his way toward the door of the receiving room. He paused and turned back to Cecilia. Letting out a long breath, he finally said, “I need two thousand pounds. Or my wife and children go with me to debtor’s prison. I care nothing about myself, but I cannot have them reduced to such a hardship. I have sold everything I could. I would not have come here but my wife insisted given your vast donations to charities that you would show us kindness.”

  Cecilia swallowed. She had met the man’s wife once. A quiet woman who smiled at everything. Although she despised Gunther, and nothing would ever change that, she was not about to punish the woman or Gunther’s children for it. “I will ensure your debts are paid in full. All I ask is that you not call on me again.”

  Gunther searched her face, his eyes suddenly streaked with tears. “I regret hurting you. I really do. I was young and didn’t know how to go about showing my affection. I’m sorry. Truly. It is not who I am anymore. It isn’t.”

  It was the only apology she had ever received from him. And it was enough. “I will send the money to your wife. It will be delivered into her hands.”

  Konstantin made his way to Gunther. “I will pay for it.”

  Cecilia almost cried.

  Gunther sniffed hard. “Thank you for showing kindness, cousin. I…thank you.” He disappeared down the corridor.

  Konstantin disappeared after him.

  Cecilia held her breath, trying to listen. Low voices were exchanged but nothing more.

  The door eventually closed and Konstantin re-appeared. He held Cecilia’s gaze for a moment. “He knows not to call on you again.”

  She half-nodded.

  Coming up to her, he quickly tugged her toward himself, setting her head against his chest with a large gloved hand. “Are you all right?” he asked against her hair. “Please tell me you are.”

  Letting out a long breath, she leaned against him heavily and pushed away all thoughts of her cousin. She wasn’t about to let anything take this moment away from her. A moment of knowing that this man, this beautiful man was hers. All hers. “Yes,” she murmured against him. “Thank you.”

  “Was he the cousin you told me about in Russia?”

  He remembered. “Yes.” She pulled away from his embrace and forced a smile. “He appears to be a different man. Which I am glad for.” She turned and gestured toward her three girls who lingered in stunned silence. “Konstantin, I would like for you to meet Abigail, Juliet and Giselle. John sends his apologies for not being here. He had some estate business to tend to but promised to join us at supper which I am inviting you to. Can you join us at seven o’clock tonight?”

  Konstantin nodded. “I will be there.” He walked to the doorway and swiped up the two baskets he had earlier set aside. Turning back, he came to a halt before her girls, his gaze jumping from face to face. “Saint Peter. They all look like you, Cecilia. Every last one of them.”

  A much needed laugh escaped Cecilia. “The poor things.”

  Giselle set her chin. “You handled Lord Gunther beautifully, Mr. Levin. I was impressed you didn’t feel the need to showcase your fists.”

  Konstantin sighed. “I have showcased them enough in my life.”

  Juliet bit her lip and peered toward the large basket filled with parcels. “Is that for us?”

  Abigail kicked out a foot toward Juliet. “Cease being rude. We almost lost our lives and all you can think of is whether those parcels are for us?”

  Konstantin smiled, held out the basket filled with well over ten small parcels and leaned toward them, lowering his voice. “These are actually all for you. It is the reason why I am late.”

  Juliet side-glanced at her sister.

  Konstantin held out the basket and waggled its weight playfully toward each of them. “Would one of you ladies care to take this basket so I can deliver the orchids to your mother?”

  Juliet popped out her arms. “I will take it!”

  “Yes, thank you!” Abigail and Giselle chimed in unison.

  All three hurriedly took the basket and set it on the couch. Turning their backs to Mr. Levin, they commenced rummaging through it, excitedly pointing out that their names were on them.

  Konstantin swiveled on his booted heel toward Cecilia and quirked a brow, holding up the basket of orchids. “Are you supposed to come over here? Or am I supposed to come over there? How do respectable people do this?”

  Cecilia felt as if she might burst knowing this man was hers. She gathered her skirts and swept toward him, trying to create the illusion she was as regal as he made her feel. “Respectable people always meet halfway, Mr. Levin.”

  He held her gaze and rounded toward her.

  They paused before each other.

  He slowly turned the basket toward her, revealing an oval emerald ring carefully strung to one of the center orchids. He intently searched her face. “I tried to match the color of the emerald set you wore last night.”

  Cecilia pressed a hand to her throat and leaned in. “Konstantin. It’s beautiful.”

  The girls paused and frantically abandoned their gifts. One by one, they gathered around them, peering at the orchid display and the ring.

  Konstantin leaned in, setting his shaven chin on the handle of the

  basket. “We have an audience.”

  She smiled. “I noticed.” She reached out and delicately unbound the satin ribbon strung to the white orchid. She slipped the ring from the ribbon and held out the ring to her daughters so they could all admire the glint of the oval emerald. It was cut beautifully.

  Cecilia breathed out, “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  He leaned in and softly said, “If you feel your knees getting weak, let me know.”

  Her knees wobbled. “They feel weak.”

  All three girls and Konstantin grabbed for her.

  She let out a laugh. “They don’t feel that weak.”

  Konstantin set down the basket at their feet. Taking the ring and her left hand, he lowered both so everyone could see and slipped the ring onto her finger. Glancing toward each of the girls, he asked, “May I have your permission, ladies, to court this amazing woman until she is ready to honor me with more?”

  Cecilia swallowed. He wasn’t asking her. He was asking her girls.

  Abigail and Juliet beamed up at Konstantin as Giselle gushed, “We would be honored, Mr. Levin. All we ask is that you make her smile every day.”

  Overwhelmed, a tear unexpectedly spilled forth, trailing down her cheek.

  Konstantin paused. His voice softened. “Cecilia.”

  Everyone looked at her.

  She frantically brushed away the tear. “’Tis happiness, I assure you.”

  Konstantin edged toward her and grabbed both of her hands, squeezing them hard.

  Cecilia felt as if her girls were meeting the father they should have had all along.

  A year and a half later

  Saint Petersburg, Russia

  Cecilia smoothed the pudgy cheek of little Gérard who was looking up at her with green eyes and babbling, “Da, da, da.” She kissed his small head of soft, curling dark hair and switched him to her other hip, adjusting his white cotton ensemble.

  They were going to be late.

  She quickly rounded the last corner of the lavish house Konstantin had bought for them that overlooked the Neva River, and followed the giggling voices of her girls. She eventually found Giselle, Juliet and Abigail gathered around Konstantin.

  Konstantin was leisurely stretched out
on a chaise lounge with his leather boots crossed over his ankles. He angled a Russian leather-bound book toward himself and casually announced in English, “That was rather good, Juliet. Now Giselle, I ask that you say something about the Emperor in Russian.”

  Giselle smoothed her pale blue gown, glanced up toward the ceiling and pertly recited in broken Russian, “The Emperor is very well known for…passing idiotic laws that ought to be…castrated.”

  Konstantin snorted and scrambled to sit up on the chaise, saying in English, “Whilst that was incredibly good, Giselle, and I do mean that, the last word was supposed to be eliminated. Not castrated. Never use the word castration around Russian men. Unless you want them to panic.”

  Cecilia let out a laugh. Bless the man’s daily lessons with the girls. “I hate to interrupt yet another marvelous lesson, but we are late for our picnic out in the country. Two of our Russian neighbors will be joining us and therefore we cannot be rude and let them wait. The carriage and our food and baskets have already been sitting for well over twenty minutes.”

  Abigail and Juliet jumped up. Grabbing at each other’s arms, to keep the other from getting ahead, they darted out of the room, slippered feet scrambling.

  In between the scrambling, Juliet announced, “This time, I get the seat by Papa.”

  Abigail argued back. “But you always sit by Papa.”

  “That is because I am his favorite.”

  “You are not.”

  Cecilia bit back a smile and called out, “Cease needlessly arguing. There are no favorites in this house!”

  “Quite right, Mama. Quite right.” Giselle stood and sashayed past Cecilia in the only way an almost eighteen-year-old could. “Did you hear me speak? I am really quite good. My Russian is getting so good, in fact, I’ll be able to marry any Russian man I want.”

  Cecilia rolled her eyes and gestured toward the door. “In the meantime, we have a picnic. Try not to be late.”

  Giselle giggled, bit her lip, gathered her skirts and darted out of the room.

  Cecilia turned toward Konstantin and sighed. “The day hasn’t even started and yet I am exhausted. Thoroughly exhausted.”