Philippa drew a deep breath and headed downstairs. The parlour had been one of the first she’d redone. She just hadn’t planned on using it so soon to receive callers. Soft voices in a language she didn’t recognise drifted out into the hall. Philippa was struck with a fresh thought. She hoped the woman hadn’t come to tempt Valerian with any more treasonous activity. Philippa checked her thoughts and amended them. Assuming he’d already been tempted before.
‘Good morning, Miss Stefanov.’ Philippa swept into the room. ‘Viscount St Just is not at home right now, but perhaps I can assist you.’ She was the consummate polite hostess.
The woman on the new yellow striped sofa rose, smiling her relief. ‘You are too kind to receive us.’ The boy beside her stood stiffly at her urging. ‘This is Constantine.’
‘How do you do, Constantine?’ Philippa greeted him. The poor boy was terribly uncomfortable, trying hard not to fidget in his suit of clothes. He was a handsome boy with thick, dark hair and dark eyes. She judged him to be seven or eight years of age. He was old enough to be Valerian’s son, a child fathered a few years into his tour abroad. But the girl didn’t seem old enough to be the boy’s mother.
‘Please, be seated. A tea tray will be here shortly and you can refresh yourselves. Have you been in England long?’
The girl, for that was what she was now that Philippa had a moment to study her, shook her head. ‘We arrived two days ago. We came straight here. We know no one else in this country.’
The tray arrived and Philippa used the time to assess the girl while the servants laid out the tea things. She looked to be in her mid-teens and uncommonly beautiful. Like the boy, she had ink-black hair. She wore it twisted up in a tasteful hairstyle with a pretty jewelled comb to fasten it. Her skin had a slight olive cast and was flawlessly smooth. And her clothes were well made. These two were not country peasants. Wherever they hailed from, they were people of means.
The boy was delighted with the milk and sugar biscuits. The girl smiled her thanks at the thoughtful gesture. ‘Our journey has been long and we have not eaten as well as we should.’
She was brave and proud, Philippa thought, watching her over the rim of the tea cup. ‘Where are you from? Your English is very good, but I detect an accent.’
The girl blushed. ‘Please call me Lilya.’
‘Is that a Russian name?’
‘No.’ There was a hint of defiance in her ‘no’. Philippa wondered where that came from. ‘It’s a Balkan name, a Macedonian name.’
Philippa maintained her smile, but a slow coldness began to spread through her. She could guess where this girl was from. ‘I don’t know terribly much about the Balkan region.’
A shadow of sadness passed over the girl’s face. ‘I am from a village that doesn’t exist any more. It was called Negush, but it was destroyed. Since then, I’ve lived wherever there was peace.’
Philippa started at the mention of the village. She recognised it from Lucien’s letter. Her stomach lurched. Was Valerian in true danger from something that had happened there? Was Lucien serious about what he’d uncovered? A thousand questions rioted through her mind. It took a large amount of self-control to keep from quizzing the girl. The truth about Lucien’s claims likely sat across from her. Her curiosity raged. Philippa tamped it down, opting instead to be selfless. The girl had undergone a difficult journey and was now in foreign surroundings. She needed empathy, not an inquest.
‘I’m sorry.’ Philippa offered quietly. In spite of her concerns for Valerian, she felt her heart go out to the girl. Her phrase, ‘I’ve lived wherever there was peace’, spoke volumes about her struggles. Philippa could hardly begin to comprehend what that must have been like. She’d grown up during the wars with Napoleon, but that was different. The war hadn’t been fought, thank God, on English soil. She’d been able to remain insulated from a first-hand encounter with the terrors of war.
Philippa set down her tea cup. ‘I confess, I have a thousand questions for you.’
‘Please, you may ask us anything,’ Lilya said. ‘But first, would you tell me your name?’
Philippa had the good grace to laugh at her oversight. She’d been so worried—still was worried—about what these newcomers would mean to Valerian. ‘I’m the Dowager Duchess of Cambourne, but you may call me Philippa.’
Lilya’s eyes widened with something akin to excitement. ‘You’re the one who has the brother, Beldon.’
Philippa was caught entirely off guard. That was the last thing she’d expected the girl to say. ‘Yes. How do you know about my brother?’
The girl seemed to relax for the first time. ‘Valerian used to tell us stories about the three of you.’
‘Valerian.’ She was quite free with his name. She did not call him by a title or his surname.
‘I hope the stories were all good,’ Philippa said wryly. ‘Perhaps we should start with how you came to know the viscount?’
The girl’s reserve was back and she sat straight as she told her tale. ‘The viscount was a regular visitor at my father’s house. We lived in the Negush district. We were Phanariots. Do you know the word?’
Philippa shook her head.
‘The Phanariots were high-ranking Christians in the Ottoman system. Our family held an important position in the government. I suppose you could say we were a type of ruling elite. We had wealth and power and we controlled huge portions of business, especially in the area of shipping.’
Philippa nodded her understanding, noting how the girl spoke of these Phanariots in the past tense.
‘Valerian came to our home to talk about British shipping and trade. He was a diplomat. He’d been charged to discover whether or not it would be profitable to establish a business relationship between us and the British government.’
The pieces were starting to come together. Philippa knew how valuable shipping routes were to the British government. But this charge seemed rather straightforward to carry out. It sounded as if the Phanariots had British sympathies.
‘Valerian visited us often. I’ve known him since I was a little girl. I would practice my English with him. Languages were important in our house.’ A wistful look passed over the girl’s face and Philippa could well imagine she was recalling a happier time.
‘Valerian befriended my father, Dimitri, and my Aunt Natasha. He stayed with us even after the negotiations proved to be unsatisfactory.’
‘Unsatisfactory? In what way?’ Philippa seized on the words.
‘I was only eight, as young as Constantine is now. I hardly know exactly. But my father was furious. I do remember him shouting, “By God, we have six hundred ships between the Black Sea and Venice!”’
‘But Valerian remained your family’s friend?’ Philippa pushed, wondering what would have caused him to pursue a personal tie.
‘Right until the end. He risked everything for us. We would have died without him that last night.’ Her face grew cloudy.
Philippa felt guilty for bringing it up. Perhaps she’d pushed too far on such short acquaintance. She wanted to ask more, but refrained. ‘You’re tired. Valerian won’t be back until later in the day. He’s gone to see an inventor with my brother. Perhaps you’d like to rest?’ She did a quick mental inventory of the bedchambers upstairs. One of them had just been completed a few days earlier with fresh linens and paint. She would have the day maids Valerian had hired open up the nursery wing for the boy. He might enjoy the chance to be the master of his domain.
Lilya looked relieved at the suggestion. ‘It has been an exhausting set of weeks.’
‘Do you have trunks or any baggage?’ Philippa inquired. No matter what this girl or boy were to Valerian, she could not send them away knowing they had nowhere else to go.
Lilya nodded. ‘I left them at the posting inn in the village.’
‘I’ll send a cart for them. You will have them by dinner. Until then, ask for anything you need,’ Philippa offered graciously, leading them up the stairs.
Th
e newly finished pale green room at the end of the hall was perfect for Lilya. A small sitting room opened on to a large, airy bedchamber that overlooked Valerian’s prized herb garden. Philippa threw the long windows open to let the scent of lavender waft up from below. Lilya was enchanted.
‘I’ll have the nursery wing ready for you, Master Constantine, in a few hours, if you’d like,’ Philippa said to the boy. Her curiosity was killing her. Was this solemn young boy with his dark hair and the beginnings of a broad-shouldered build Val’s son? If so, there were a hundred other questions burning in her mind, not the least being who and where was his mother?
He nodded his thanks and Lilya quickly explained that his English was not that good. She gave an elegant shrug. ‘I’ve taught him what I could, but…’ Her voice trailed off and Philippa suspected that life spent running away from war zones allowed little time for formal schooling. It also struck her that times had changed for this apparently ex-class of ruling elite. Speaking any language other than the local tongues might call unwanted attention to two people who had their own reasons perhaps for remaining inconspicuous.
Philippa left them in the chamber. She glanced at the clock. She couldn’t expect Beldon and Valerian for another two hours at the earliest. She felt a bit fatigued, too, after the interview with Lilya. She’d have liked to have lain down as well, but there was too much to do before Valerian returned.
She knew herself well enough to know that if she laid down she wouldn’t sleep at all. All the thoughts rolling through her mind would keep her awake. She would be better off keeping busy. Philippa concocted a mental list in her head.
She would check on the workmen in the music room and tell them to be done by four o’clock. She wanted all the peace she could find for Valerian’s return home. On that note, she stopped to report briefly to Steves and suggest he send a groom out to find Valerian. She penned a quick note to send with him. Valerian might appreciate being forewarned.
With that done, Philippa went to the kitchens to let Cook know there would be two more people for dinner. She left instructions for the table to be set with the best china and the good wine to be decanted for the occasion.
Finally, she went upstairs to see how the maids were progressing with the nursery. In hindsight, she’d wished she’d put the nursery wing higher up on the priority list for redecorating. But it had ended up one of the last, there being no hurry with it at the time.
Fortunately, it was not in bad shape. The paint was faded, but a good dusting and beeswax had made a lot of difference in a short time. Like most nurseries, this one contained a large centre room used for playing and for school work. Off the big room were a series of smaller bedrooms.
Philippa helped the maids remove the holland covers shrouding the chairs and tables in the playroom and then wandered on to take stock of the bedrooms. Some were empty, some were partially furnished. They’d probably never been completed. Valerian had been an only child. There’d been no need.
Philippa selected the largest of the four bedrooms for Constantine and called for a maid to help her move some furniture from the other rooms. When they finished, the room looked presentable, with a small chest of drawers and a bookcase to hold personal items.
The housekeeper brought fresh linens for the bed, and clucked appreciatively over the change in the quarters. ‘This used to be young Master Valerian’s room. You’ve done well in a short time. It looks very respectable.’
‘I didn’t know it was his room,’ Philippa said thoughtfully. By the time she’d known Valerian he’d moved out of the nursery and she was too old to be in the habit of visiting boys’ bedchambers. Thinking of Valerian playing here brought a smile to Philippa’s lips. It would have been a cheery but lonely nursery.
‘A sad thing it was too that there weren’t brothers and sisters to fill the other rooms,’ the housekeeper said briskly to cover the little catch in her voice. ‘But he found you and the young baron. You’ve done well for him.’
Philippa coloured a bit at the housekeeper’s praise. ‘Thank you.’
‘The viscount will be proud of what you’ve done today. It can’t have been easy to be so kind to those people. But you’ve done it anyways. It’s what the master would have wanted if he’d been home, I think.’
Philippa nodded. The staff was probably abuzz with speculation. Perhaps the housekeeper thought Philippa might share some information with her that she could take back to the staff. But Philippa knew no more than they did. Her own curiosity remained as unsatisfied as theirs.
Philippa went back out to the main room and turned about, studying their efforts. They had done well. Improvements could be made later, but, for now, the room was inhabitable. Still, she felt as if something was missing. Her eyes fell on the long window seat and the empty cupboards below. She knew what it was.
‘Mrs Wilcox, are there any of the viscount’s toys left somewhere?’
The housekeeper’s face brightened. ‘Yes. They’re packed away in the attic. I’ll send some footmen for them right away.’
Philippa was delighted with the crates brought to the nursery. She spent the remainder of the afternoon unpacking boxes, dusting off toy soldiers, a wooden chess set, and other myriad treasures for a boy Constantine’s age. Soon, the cupboard beneath the window seat was filled and a few books lined the small bookcase in the bedroom.
She’d left strict instructions that she was to be notified the moment Valerian and Beldon were sighted, but the nursery windows overlooked the front drive and she saw them coming long before a footman could race up the three flights of stairs to tell her.
Careless of her appearance, Philippa sprinted down the stairs. Her note had been short, saying only that two unannounced guests had arrived from far away.
Valerian came through the door in a rush with Beldon close behind, his face anxious and his hair wind-tossed, evidence that the groom had found them. ‘Is everything all right, Phil?’ He gripped her hands hard, searching her face.
‘I think so. It’s hard to say,’ Philippa said slowly. ‘I’ve put her up in the green room and opened the nursery for the boy.’ Now that he was here, she wasn’t sure precisely what to say.
Valerian looked perplexed. ‘A girl? A boy? Do they have names?’
‘She says they’re from Negush, that you knew their father.’ Philippa cast about for the name. The girl had mentioned the man’s name. ‘Their name’s Stefanov. Dimitri, that was the man’s name. Yes, Dimitri Stefanov.’
‘My God, they’re here?’ Valerian looked unsteady. Philippa couldn’t tell if it was from genuine surprise or fear.
A young voice called out from the top of the stairs in blatant delight. ‘Valerian, we’ve come. Oh, thank heavens we’ve found you!’
Valerian looked beyond her shoulder, his eyes blazing with emotion, his grip quite shattering on her hand. ‘Lilya! Constantine! You’re safe. Thank God.’ He moved past Philippa, his throat working hard and his arms wide open. The pair flew down the stairs to meet him and he enfolded them in his embrace.
Philippa watched the teary reunion. She’d seldom seen Valerian so deeply moved and the sight of it caused her own eyes to blur. He held them tightly, then Lilya stepped back slightly and Valerian knelt down eye level with the boy, his hands on the boy’s shoulders. He was speaking the language Philippa had heard them speak in the receiving room earlier.
There was no mistaking the tears on Valerian’s cheeks for anything other than joy as he spoke to the boy. Seeing them together, Philippa was overcome by the sensation that she was watching a father being reunited with his son.
Chapter Sixteen
Valerian rose from his crouch to face Beldon and Philippa, an arm around each of the visitors. ‘I am pleased to introduce Beldon Stratten, Baron Pendennys, and Philippa Lytton, the Dowager Duchess of Cambourne.’
He was glad to see Lilya make a nice curtsy and that Constantine had manners enough to sketch a light bow. He gave Lilya credit for that. It was unbelievable that they w
ere here. Even with Lilya’s resourcefulness, the journey was an arduous one. For a young girl and a boy alone, the journey was almost beyond comprehension. They would not have had the means to travel easily in private coaches or the funds to stay at quality inns. He started to note how thin Lilya was, although it did not detract from her delicate beauty. It didn’t matter. They were here now and he would take care of everything for them from now on.
Valerian had to slow his mind down before plans ran away with him. He’d do well to finish his introductions. ‘Philippa, Beldon, this is Miss Lilya Stefanov and her brother, Constantine. They are my wards. Their father was one of my closest friends during my time in the Balkans.’ He knew he was beaming with ridiculous joy but it was completely overwhelming to know they were here after years of separation.
He watched Beldon and Philippa’s reactions. Beldon was normally a dab hand with manners, but he seemed quite tongue-tied as he greeted Lilya. Philippa’s response was harder to gauge. She seemed relieved? Shocked? Then her eyes met his above the exchange of pleasantries and a warm smile lit her face especially for him. Whatever worries she’d had would have to wait until they were alone. For now, there were questions to answer and stories to tell.
Beldon had already begun. ‘How did Valerian come to be your guardian?’ he was asking Lilya.
Lilya looked at him for direction and Valerian felt guilty for not having mentioned if before. ‘I am their guardian in the absence of any of their countless aunts and uncles,’ Valerian offered, glossing over the fear that had prompted Dimitri to place the children in his care. Dimitri had been afraid the Turks would wipe out the entire family, leaving the children orphans if they lived at all. And Valerian had known in that part of the world, orphans were as good as dead.
Lilya inserted herself into the conversation. ‘My aunts and uncles have generously taken us into their homes these last years, but now there is a new war between the Turks and the Russians. Nowhere is safe. This war won’t be the last and it won’t change anything. Not for people like us.’ She turned dark, pleading eyes on Valerian. ‘I know there is talk of peace, but upheaval takes many different forms. I had to try to make a better life for us.’ She gestured to the silent Constantine.
Bronwyn Scott's Sexy Regency Bundle Page 74