“Perhaps it’s my chef’s incomparable menus, Madame Vevay,” Nikki softly said. “I fear he’s been outdoing himself since my cousin has been in residence.”
Madame Vevay stood back, arms akimbo, and closely surveyed the blushing Alisa. With eyes narrowed, she replied coyly, “Monsieur and Madame, if the chef continues to outdo himself, perhaps I should put additional darts in the waistline which could be taken out as needed.”
“Excellent idea, Madame Vevay,” Nikki heartily responded. “Please do that on all the remaining gowns and we’ll cause no further delay in their construction. Is that all right with you, my dear?” he asked Alisa politely.
“Yes, that will be fine,” Alisa answered faintly, wishing she could disappear into the floor rather than continue being the object of Madame Vevay’s comprehending speculative gaze.
As they were driving back home in the carriage, Alisa fretted over the humiliation of Madame Vevay’s shrewd scrutiny. “She knows. Did you see how she looked at me?”
Nikki took her hand in his. “How can it matter if she knows or not?” he said with a negligent shrug, squeezing her fingers lightly, soothing her dismay. “Don’t give her a second thought, love. I’ll protect you from any more knowing looks if they bother you. Motherhood is eminently natural, and one should never be ashamed of such a state. However, if you’re disturbed, I shall determinedly stare down or set to anyone in the future who attempts to disconcert you. I confess”—his eyes gleamed wickedly—“I’ve quite a notorious reputation in that regard. Should we advance dinner by two hours today and allow Katelina to join us? Would you like that?” he asked with unwonted cajolery, hoping to distract Alisa from her wounded pride and rueful musings.
“Am I being foolish?” she said with a small sigh.
He exhaled a sigh too, wondering how much or how little to say. “Honestly?” he inquired.
“Of course, honestly,” she replied.
He was struck afresh by her naïveté; the world he knew was so different.
“Well, honestly, then, darling, you can’t give a damn what people say.”
“I must learn that, then.”
“If you live with me,” he said with a grin, “it would be wise.”
She took a moment to consider, and then her smile appeared. “You must remind me at times.”
“Good. Now, do we eat early or not?” Uncomfortable with emotional issues, he preferred activity. “And can we bring Katelina down from the nursery?”
“Oh, Nikki, that would be lovely!” Alisa beamed.
“Let’s talk to Pierre when we return. He could concoct some suitable dish with which to surprise Katelina.”
“That’s a marvelous idea. She is inordinately fond of rice pudding and—”
“Strawberries and cake,” Nikki interposed obligingly.
“And also petits fours …”
The rest of the journey passed with the lovers holding hands and comparing notes on the dishes most enjoyed by themselves as children.
It pleased him to please her.
The following morning Alisa and Katelina were in the study, working on Katelina’s lessons, which had been neglected during their round of sight-seeing, when a tall, erect, gray-haired man abruptly walked into the sunlit room and treated them to a lowering scowl.
His glance altered approvingly upon noting the fashionable elegance of Alisa’s jonquil-yellow morning dress which set off her trim form and red coiffure to perfection, and determined with a practiced eye that it was not surprising that Nikki was behaving so uncharacteristically. After seeing the dazzlingly lovely, well-bred young woman, Prince Mikhail understood why Nikki had committed the indiscretion of ensconcing his mistress in his own palace. Thank God she’s a lady, he observed, and quickly took in the young child at the woman’s side.
“You must be Alisa,” the old Prince said bluntly.
Alisa rose in confusion, immediately recognizing the unmistakable resemblance to Nikki, the same imperious air of one born to command. She colored becomingly and bowed deeply, her eyes demurely downcast. Katelina, with a glance from her mother, quickly rose and bobbed a curtsey.
“Yes, Monsieur, I am, and this is my daughter, Katelina.”
“Nikki’s newest paramour, eh? Quite unlike him, you know, to settle for one woman. Had to come myself and see what she was like,” Nikki’s father uttered with perfect equanimity.
Alisa’s emotions were thrown into complete confusion, tumultuously rushing and tumbling one over the other. Her first panic-stricken thought was to send Katelina from the room.
In great agitation she whispered to her daughter, “Run along, dear, and find Rakeli. She’ll take you out in the garden.”
As Katelina skipped out of the room after a curious look at the formidable old man, Alisa drew herself as erect as her slight frame would allow and, looking the old Prince directly in the eye, said with asperity, “Have you had an edifying look, sir, for if you have, perhaps you’ll excuse me.”
“Now, now, my child, don’t take issue at my bluntness. I’m just not one to stand on ceremony,” Prince Mikhail said kindly, the heavy brows relaxing somewhat from their normal severe expression. “Undeniably exquisite, Nikki’s choice, if I do say so myself,” he continued with a faint smile. “Come now, I shan’t eat you. Do sit down. I’ll ring for tea and sherry and we can become acquainted.”
Within minutes a flustered servant brought in tea and sherry and set them on a low malachite table between the two settees where Alisa and Prince Mikhail faced each other. The Prince chatted with Alisa in his wonderfully open, relaxed way and entranced her quite as easily as his son had. Nikki’s unfailing charm was most decidedly inherited, Alisa observed.
The prince, in turn, studied Alisa, which was his reason for visiting the palace. After hearing the first smatterings of rumor concerning Nikki’s newest paramour, the old Prince had immediately sent his barristers a message requesting a thorough investigation of this new “cousin.”
The malicious letter sent by Countess Amalienborg had been unnecessary, as Prince Mikhail was never far removed from the pulse of gossip, but appreciated by its recipient for reasons not intended by its sender. Nikki had obviously renounced that slut after all these years. This fact was a great relief to Mikhail Kuzan, who had been fearful that perhaps in a rash moment some drunken night, Nikki might offer her more than an affair, and while the old Prince would indulgently allow his only child to commit almost every indiscretion, that one he would not have allowed. Prince Mikhail had never intended to have Sophie Amalienborg for a daughter-in-law.
Then the startling news that Alisa was Valdemar Forseus’s wife had required further inquiries in the Viipuri area. After three weeks the old Prince was fully informed and in control of an entire dossier on Alisa, her parents, the marriage to Forseus (which in itself raised a few questions), and her new “friendship” with his son, Nikki. He kept this information to himself as he drew the young lady gently into conversation, wanting to discover for himself just what sort of woman his son was enamored of. And enamored Nikki certainly was, to have her openly living in his palace, plus, the old Prince understood with astonishment, deserting the gaming tables and keeping himself home every night.
“Tell me about your daughter,” he said pleasantly when they’d explored the subject of Petersburg’s museums and architecture. And Alisa went on in the doting way of mothers, describing her precocious daughter with obvious pleasure.
After beholding this striking beauty before him, in the course of their conversation, Nikki’s extremely curious behavior was no longer baffling, Mikhail Kuzan reflected wryly. You had to give the boy credit for good sense. If Nikki was becoming serious about a woman after all these years of casual amours, he couldn’t have selected a more delightful creature. Alisa’s marital state was of little importance to Mikhail Kuzan. His thorough investigation had revealed the magnitude and frequency of Forseus’s debauchery and his abuse of his young wife. Although Prince Mikhail was not unfamiliar with
brutality in human behavior, Forseus had turned out to be a master of the craft and he felt no compunction to restore this young girl to that beast. A discreet word from the Emperor and the problem of divorce would be resolved.
The Prince sipped steadily on the sherry, emptying half the bottle in the course of their conversation. Soon they were getting along famously and Alisa had lost some of her awe and shyness. Alisa drank her sherry slowly, and after having her glass filled the second time began feeling nauseated. Her color waned and a thin film of perspiration broke out on her forehead and upper lip. After gallantly attempting to control the waves of sickness for several minutes, Alisa, desperate that she would embarrass herself in front of Nikki’s father, asked in a faint voice if she could be excused and rose carefully from her seat opposite the Prince.
After observing his wife through five pregnancies, the prince was well aware of the obvious symptoms of an unsettled stomach in the morning.
“Of course, my dear, you’re excused. By the bye, when are you in the way of making my son a father?” he calmly inquired.
The shock of his knowledge eclipsed the nausea by sheer horror, and Alisa sat down heavily.
“How did you know, sir?” she whispered, fearful Madame Vevay’s tongue had run wild so rapidly.
“I’ve held my wife’s hand through five pregnancies, my dear, so I am well acquainted with that greenish look around the gills. The marked pallor of your complexion so early in the morning, coupled with your proximity to my son these few weeks past, prompted me to make a calculated guess as to the inevitable consequences,” he said dryly. “Prince Nikolai’s amatory exploits are rarely attended by any prudence. It was to be expected,” he said gently.
“Now, my dear, do you want him?” the old Prince asked flatly in his oddly abrupt conversational manner.
She seemed to ponder her reply. “It’s very complicated, sir. There are several reasons—”
“You want him,” he broke in quietly.
“You are very astute, Monsieur.”
“I have that reputation,” he concurred.
“Yes, I’m afraid I do,” Alisa sighed softly, then quickly rushing on in explanation. “But never, sir, if he does not want me.” She continued in a subdued voice. “Having lived through one disastrous marriage, I would never wish that on anyone. It’s much too terrible.”
“Spoken very forthrightly. I like that. Very well, my young lady, you shall have him,” Mikhail Kuzan declared with decisive, unruffled composure, with the usual Kuzan insensitivity to the delicate shades of human relationships. If Nikki couldn’t find this charming, delightful, unutterably beautiful young woman compatible, he obviously had no sense, and it was up to his father to mend his stupidity. The old gentleman surveyed her with distinct admiration.
“Please put your feet up on the settee and I’ll ring for a cool compress. My wife will be delighted to hear the news. She had quite despaired of Nikki ever finding anyone suitable. You’ll meet her later. She’s traveling more slowly, having insisted on bringing several servants and eighty pieces of luggage. Perhaps you would be more comfortable in bed?” he soothingly suggested as he noticed the unnerved appearance of the young woman.
“Yes, I should, I’m sure.”
“Allow me, my dear.” Prince Mikhail gallantly offered his arm and escorted Alisa up the stairway to her bedchamber.
Returning down the marble staircase, the Prince crisply informed the butler that he wished to see his son immediately when he set foot in the palace.
“I’ll be in the library. Bring me a light lunch and a bottle of brandy.”
“Very good, my Prince. May I say in behalf of myself and the staff, it’s a pleasure to see you once again in residence.” The old butler beamed happily, having served the old Prince since before his marriage.
“You’ll be seeing a great deal of us in the near future. It seems I must take a hand in my son’s affairs.” Prince Mikhail grinned familiarly at Sergei.
“We do what we can—eh, Monsieur?” Sergei responded, and winked.
• • •
Upon arriving home at his usual hour, Nikki was astonished to receive the sharp message from his father. Questioning Sergei accomplished little except to warn Nikki that his father had met Alisa. Nikki entered the library slightly annoyed at the peremptory order.
His father was seated behind the polished expanse of an André-Charles Boulle desk veneered in marquetry of tortoiseshell, natural colored woods, engraved pewter, brass, and ivory.
Father’s eyes met son’s. Both were cool and aloof, except the father’s held a touch of disdain as well.
With a resigned sigh and a casual gesture of his hand, Prince Mikhail offered a chair to Nikki.
Nikki ignored the courtesy and obstinately remained standing, leaning negligently against the Palladian window jamb, looking rebellious, angered at the curt summons from his father, resentful at being made to feel like a young cub about to be upbraided for some defiance of parental authority. However, because of the deep respect in which he held his father, Nikki was attempting to suppress his normally ungovernable temper. He set his teeth.
Silently, with maddening deliberation, Prince Mikhail regarded the tall, broad-shouldered, impeccably dressed figure of his only child. Under this scrutiny Nikki’s eyes lifted, met his father’s, and held for an instant before a lazy flicker turned his expression suddenly remote, but not before his father noted the sullen stubbornness and the barely concealed anger.
“To what do I owe this unexpected visit? It’s been three years since you were last in the city.”
Nikki didn’t really expect an answer to this flippancy, and he wasn’t disappointed. With the exception of one ironically raised eyebrow, Prince Mikhail ignored the remark, his attention more significantly engaged in adjusting the ruffle on his shirt cuff. The ruffle suitably disposed, he once more lifted his eyes.
Prince Mikhail Kuzan enunciated evenly, the words clear and precise in the hushed stillness of the vast library.
“I have indulged you in every way, have I not, Nikki?”
“Yes, Father,” Nikki responded shortly, watching his father warily.
“Have I ever said you nay, or gainsaid you in any of your desires?”
“No, Father.” The words rapped out, sharp and decisive.
“I have overlooked all your numerous peccadilloes and reckless escapades these many years past, never interfered except to intercede when extenuating circumstances of your—ah—affairs have occasioned the need of a mollifying or palliating presence.”
Nikki stiffened at the reproach.
“I believe I have rather adequately conducted my own affairs, if you please,” he replied curtly. “I don’t recollect having had any need for your assistance.”
“You will allow me to point out your error, my boy. An example. Perhaps you recall the dark-haired child born to Countess Souvanieff last fall. Since she and her husband are both exceedingly fair and their other three children towheaded and blue-eyed, the conspicuous coloring of the last boy child did not go unremarked. Furthermore, if you remember, your pursuit of that fair lady was not in any way discreet. With your usual bland blindness to reason and prudence, your coach and lackeys were left waiting outside her door until dawn, time without number. That Adelaide blue brougham ornamented with silver, which you bought from the Duke of Devonshire after his state visit here, is one of a kind and elicits considerable attention, while your red and blue sledge is equally conspicuous with the golden bells and gilded, tasseled harness you affect.
“Even though I’m rarely in town, my sources of gossip are speedy and reliable. I expected, daily, to hear of yet another duel, and you know how those last few contests of honor (although how the term honor comes into a fight over some woman’s favors, I fail to discern) terrified your mother. I do not like to see your mother disturbed and unhappy,” Prince Mikhail intoned ominously.
After a deliberarte pause, he continued softly. “Since Count Souvanieff was out of
the country so often, it’s conceivable that he was ignorant of his wife’s affair, or perhaps your notorious reputation as a duelist may have dictated his caution. In any event, Count Souvanieff is not altogether a fool and was outraged at being cuckolded. Since you have a string of women constantly in your wake, he thought it ungenerous of you to turn your eye appreciatively on his wife. In this instance you incurred the indignant displeasure of a minister not without influence and power. You were remarkably close to being summarily cashiered out of the Chevaliers Gardes for that unheeding disregard for appearances.”
The old Prince heaved a small sigh.
“Fortunately my wealth and position bear some little consequence as well, and even while infrequently in town, my substantial connections prevail undiminished. In deference to our old and close friendship, the Emperor was persuaded there was no conclusive proof the child was yours.”
“It appears your—er—connections are to be commended. I owe you my belated thanks,” Nikki’s equable voice drawled as he gave a stiff bow in his father’s direction.
Prince Mikhail met his insolent glance squarely.
“Quite so. Now, enough of this sparring. What do you intend to do with Alisa?”
“Do? What am I expected to do?” Nikki inquired sardonically. “I’m well satisfied with the relationship. I find Alisa delightful and charming in spite of being overeducated for a woman. As you know, I have never been overly fond of clever women.”
“That fact has always been fairly obvious,” his father replied dryly. “I am informed that Alisa is carrying your child.”
“My compliments, sir, on the efficacy of your sources. I was informed but yesterday myself of the impending blessed event. May I make so bold as to inquire whether you’ve discovered if it’s to be a boy or a girl?”
“Very amusing, I’m sure,” said the old Prince with a slight lift of the brows. Prince Mikhail went on gelidly, his gray eyes snapping with contained fury at Nikki’s impudent disrespect. “Is the child yours?”
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