Although he knew she was doing it to remove Fawcett from his path, he couldn’t be comfortable with it, not least because of the humiliation it offered Jane. And the fact that he had no intention of marrying Jane any more, even if she begged him. And so, when the guests began to leave, he lingered to speak to Dunya.
The Fawcett party was one of the last to depart, partly because Fawcett himself appeared to find it hard to tear himself away from Dunya, but also because Mrs. Fawcett, his aunt, seemed very fond of Vanya and his wife. But at last, they were ready to go. Using the license of his supposed engagement to Dunya, Trelawny strolled up to join her and her family as they bade farewell to the Fawcetts and Jane.
Dunya, smiling brightly, didn’t touch him. Yet somehow, she felt brittle beside him, as if she would snap if anyone even said her name. So he didn’t, merely stood beside her and bowed to the departing guests. Almost to his surprise, Jane offered him her hand and when he took it, she gave it a little squeeze.
“Call on me,” she murmured under her breath. “Please.”
“Of course.” He’d had every intention of doing so in any case.
“Trelawny,” Vanya said, thumping him on the back. “A last brandy.”
Trelawny hesitated, but since Dunya was surrounded by the rest of her family, he shrugged and followed Vanya into the supper room, where the Russian poured two hefty glasses of brandy from a crystal decanter and pushed one toward Trelawny.
“I’ve been asking around about you,” Vanya told him, clinking glasses. “You’re in a fighting regiment, not a show-piece.”
Trelawny smiled faintly and took a mouthful of brandy. “Not everyone has the opportunity to be both.”
Vanya let out a crack of laughter. “You mean my Cossacks? They’re show-offs which is slightly different. But they’re definitely wild fighters. Why are you engaged to Dunya, Captain?”
“Because I hold her in the utmost respect and affection,” Trelawny said at once. Although he felt slightly uncomfortable, this was Dunya’s secret to break, not his.
“Poppycock,” Vanya said without heat. “You hadn’t known her twenty-four hours when you rolled up here claiming to be engaged. I don’t see that you could hold her in the utmost anything in that time.” He waved his glass. “As an honorable man, at least,” he added.
Trelawny drew his brows together. “I hope you don’t mean to imply otherwise.”
“Actually, no.” Vanya threw himself into a chair and sprawled back, stretching out his long legs. He glanced up at Trelawny somewhat provocatively. “I could think of several reasons for your engagement, but I ruled out fortune-hunting before you could even discover she has no fortune. And her manner to you told me at once that you hadn’t harmed her in any way. To be honest, my original thought was that she’d wrapped you round her little finger for reasons of her own. It’s still the likeliest reason in my book. Are you wrapped around her finger, Captain?”
Trelawny took another drink and smiled. “Entirely.”
“Hmm. I don’t know that you are. She’ll behave badly, you know. We all do. Except for Anastasia since her marriage, apparently. But there’s no harm in Dunya, only a great deal of affection. She can’t help flirting, but it doesn’t change her loyalties.”
Trelawny sat down across the table from him, regarding him with fascination. “Are you telling me you approve of my engagement to your sister?”
“I’m telling you I don’t disapprove. Yet. I could wish you were richer, but I’d rather she was happy than wealthy. I don’t think she needs both.” Vanya smiled lazily. “That doesn’t mean I won’t slit your throat if you let her down or harm her in any way.”
Trelawny swirled the brandy around his glass. “Are you acquainted with Etienne de la Tour?”
Vanya scowled. “The French émigré who stayed with my family in Russia? Was it him you saved her from?”
“Not then,” Trelawny said. “But I have several suspicions about him.”
“We should talk to Lizzie. She has friends at the French embassy.” Vanya threw back the last of his brandy, set down his glass, and stood, stretching. “Come and see us tomorrow. We have an attic in the Marktgasse.”
By the time Trelawny followed him from the room, the hall was empty. Below, the front door clicked shut. Trelawny turned and stopped a sleepy looking footman.
“Has Countess Dunya retired?” he asked him.
“No, I don’t think so, sir. I saw her go into the drawing room. That is, the ballroom. We won’t clear it up until the morning, now.”
Trelawny nodded his thanks and wandered into the seemingly deserted drawing room. It seemed huge and bare now, with the revelers gone and most of the furniture still absent. He almost didn’t see Dunya—a little heap of white muslin on the floor by the empty fireplace, staring into the cold coals.
He walked across the floor and crouched down beside her.
“I’ve behaved badly,” she said to the coals. “And I can’t even apologize for it without making it worse.”
“What were you doing?” he asked casually. “Clearing my path to Jane?”
She considered. “If I thought at all, that’s how I justified it to myself. In fact, I was just angry and wanted to hurt her.”
“Did she lecture you?”
Dunya turned her head at last, brows raised in surprise. “How…?”
“I’ve known her a long time. It was always one of her less endearing habits.”
She searched his eyes. “It wasn’t endearing at all. And of course, she couldn’t know it was the worst possible thing to do with me.”
“So you lashed out and caught poor Fawcett. What will you do with him?”
“I could marry him,” she said in a hard voice. “Isn’t that how things are done?”
“You probably could. Would that make you happy?”
She closed her eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever be happy again,” she whispered. “I feel the darkness closing in, smothering me. I could just slip into it and drown.”
Her words struck a chord of shame and understanding in him. There was more, far more to this girl than he’d seen… Or had he guessed all along the troubled spirit beneath the relentless gaiety? Perhaps it was even the root of the connection he’d felt the moment he’d gazed into her eyes in his bedchamber back at the inn.
She was a sheltered child of the aristocracy who’d lived through the brutal invasion of her country. God knew what she’d suffered.
“You won’t slip,” he said gently. “I won’t let you. How could I when it was you who pulled me out of the same darkness?”
Her eyes opened. “Did I? Jenkins told me you’d seen too much death to care much for your own.”
“Maybe. There certainly didn’t seem much reason not to let the wound or the operation finish me off. Until you entered my life like a whirlwind and made me see the sunrise.”
Her eyes widened. “From the carriage,” she remembered, with awe. “It was a beautiful sunrise.”
Slowly, he reached out and took her hand. Her fingers closed around his convulsively. “I forget sometimes,” she whispered. “I forget the good and the beauty because the darkness is there in all of us. I saw it… Etienne—” She broke off, swallowing hard.
With difficulty, he held his tongue and kept his body still, waiting.
“Etienne does not love me,” she gasped. A tear escaped the corner of her eye and rolled slowly down her cheek “I don’t think now he ever did, even in Russia. If I’d been a peasant, or a married lady, he’d have seduced me to pass the time. If I’d been rich, he’d have married me, but he’d never have loved me.”
Trelawny raised their joined hands to her cheek in silent sympathy. She leaned into his hand and then, with another gasp, fell against his shoulder, clinging to him hard. “He was my talisman,” she sobbed, and then it all came pouring out.
Her family’s flight from their estate after the Russian defeat at Borodino, the dreadful wounds of the retreating soldiers they’d helped on the
way. One step ahead—or sometimes just to one side—of the advancing French, they’d witnessed atrocities committed not just by the invaders but sometimes also by the terrified, fleeing Russian soldiers.
Trelawny, remembering his own introduction to the realities of war, could imagine the effect on her sheltered, pampered family. But it seemed it had been worst for Dunya, because from natural curiosity and compassion, she couldn’t stay away. She’d had to help where she could, and not just by sending her servants. She’d seen the best and the worst of men in extremis, and had known to fear it. She’d glimpsed the darkness, had held it at bay only by clinging to memories of happiness that last spring with her family, and her burgeoning love for Etienne.
“I knew somehow that if I let go of Etienne, of love, there was only blackness. What I felt for him was the last good, new thing I’d known. It was so strong for me, I couldn’t believe he didn’t feel it, too.”
“I expect he did in his own way,” Trelawny said. They sat now very close together, his arm around her shoulder, cradling her against his chest. “But some people just don’t seem to feel as deeply about some things.”
“You mean as I don’t care much for wealth, he doesn’t care much for love?”
“Different proportions, perhaps. Different priorities.”
Her head shifted on his shoulder, looking up at him. “I couldn’t be happy with a man like that, could I?”
“I don’t think so,” Trelawny said carefully.
She swallowed. “I’ve held onto it for so long, it’s hard to let go.”
“It won’t happen in a day. But you don’t need him. There’s other good, other love in the world.”
She straightened a little, but still didn’t remove herself from the circle of his arm. A smile trembled on her lips “You are the wisest man I know,”
He laughed. “There aren’t many people who’d agree with you! I think we just understand each other.”
“I like that,” she said simply. Unexpectedly, she reached up, her fingertips touching his cheek, and kissed his lips. A soft, brief kiss that, fortunately, took him too much by surprise for his natural reactions to surge. Crushing her to his chest and devouring her mouth would have been the wrong thing to do in the present situation. “Thank you, Richard.”
“For what?” he asked deprecatingly.
“I never… I’ve never told anyone these things before. I couldn’t put them into words.”
“I’m honored by your confidence.” And touched. Ridiculously touched.
For a long moment she held his gaze. He felt sudden tension rise and stretch between them. Her lips were too close, much too close and in his loose embrace, she felt so soft and warm and right. He was afraid to move, afraid at last to say the wrong thing. And yet he couldn’t look away.
Her breath caught. In one of her sudden movements, she sprang to her feet, and his arm flopped back to his side at last. She gave a funny little smile. “Good night!” she said breathlessly and hurried from the room.
Trelawny got up slowly and walked after her. His heart beat hard at the thought he might find her in the hall, waiting for him.
But of course, he didn’t. The hall was empty and the whole house quiet. He let himself out into the cold, closing the door behind him, and looked up at the sky. He smiled, because it was almost dawn.
Chapter Eleven
The one thing that irked Dunya about living in such cramped accommodation, was that she couldn’t barge in on her sister first thing in the morning. There was no room for civilized arrangements such as separate be chambers for husband and wife. So, she seized on Anastasia’s maid.
“Is your mistress awake and alone?”
“She isn’t here, mademoiselle,” the maid returned.
“But—” She was about to blurt that it was only ten o’clock in the morning following a ball and for Anastasia to be abroad at this hour was unprecedented. Fortunately, she closed her mouth in time. “Never mind, then,” she said, and went downstairs in search of breakfast.
She and Anastasia had had their differences, particularly since the wedding, but, curiously, her sister still seemed to be her first choice of confidante. Not that Dunya was perfectly sure what she wanted to confide, but she was aware of a nervous little knot of excitement in her stomach which was all to do with Captain Trelawny. And she’d never thought of herself as a fickle person before. Despite her behavior last night, when any observer must have seen her flirt with Trelawny, Etienne, and Fawcett in rapid succession.
Also, she needed her sister’s company to call on Jane Reid and apologize. It wasn’t an encounter she looked forward to, and Jane was bound to make it as difficult as possible. Dunya couldn’t blame her for that, but it still needed to be done.
Although the breakfast parlor was back to normal, the rest of the house seemed to be in uproar as the servants moved carpets and furniture back into the drawing room and rearranged the dining room. It didn’t make for a peaceful breakfast, though at least she ate it alone. She paused with a slice of toast between her teeth.
Where the devil could Anastasia have gone at this hour without her maid, footman, or husband?
She relaxed. To see Vanya, of course. Which was an excellent idea, for Vanya and Lizzie were both great friends of the Mrs. Fawcett. Either or both of them could take Dunya to call on Jane, and, providing Anastasia hadn’t taken the carriage, she could easily go to Vanya’s on her own without offending her mother’s sense of propriety.
In fact, since no one was up and about to complain, she could simply take Maria and walk there. On that thought, she gulped down the rest of her toast and coffee and hurried back to her chamber to change into a more suitable gown for a morning call. Since the weather was frosty, she chose a high-necked velvet of sober hues. It wasn’t unflattering, but no one in their right minds would call it flirty. Let alone seductive. Matching it with her least frivolous bonnet, she also elected for a warm, sable-lined cloak over the elegance of her favorite pelisse, and sallied forth to Vanya’s attic. Maria followed cheerfully behind, happy no doubt at the prospect of some time with Misha.
Lizzie’s brother Michael opened the door to her with a grin before she even reached the top of the stairs. “We heard you coming.”
“I’m not surprised. You won’t get many surprise visitors!” She stepped past him into the attic’s main room and paused, her heart performing some curious summersault. Captain Trelawny sprawled on a pile of cushions, playing some card game with Lizzie’s sisters. He glanced up at her and his face broke into a spontaneous smile that seemed to melt her stomach. She couldn’t quite grasp the mixture of happiness and fear that surged through her before, fortunately, the dog launched himself at her and had to be wrestled to the floor to have his tummy well tickled.
“Dunya’s got the hang of him,” Georgiana approved.
“You clearly starve him of affection,” Dunya said with amusement.
“And food,” Vanya agreed. “Which begs the question, who ate last night’s supper?” Sprawled in a wooden rocking chair in his shirt sleeves with his hair awry, he looked as dissolute as ever. As she unfastened her cloak, his gaze swept over her. “Who died?” he asked flippantly.
“Cousin Ilya,” she admitted. “But it was six months ago. Mother made me buy this dress because it could be used on other occasions.”
“Such as visiting my sober family?”
“I have other calls to make,” Dunya said grandly.
“I like the gown,” Lizzie assured her. “Almost…regal.”
Dunya laughed. “I’ve never been called that before. Oh, and this is Maria, my new maid. I brought her to see Misha.”
Vanya twitched one eyebrow. “So, that’s what it was about! Misha!”
Misha emerged from what really did look like a cupboard. Slightly flushed but as gruff as ever, he muttered something to Vanya, received an impatient nod in return, and then offered his arm to Maria.
“I’ll bring her back in half an hour,” he said.
/> “If I’m not here, see her back to my mother’s?” Dunya asked his receding back.
Misha nodded but didn’t otherwise reply.
“Coffee?” Henrietta asked, already pouring a cup from the pot on the table beside Dunya.
Captain Trelawny, who’d already risen from his cushions, took the cup from Henrietta and brought it to her. She flopped onto the cushion next to Dog and accepted her coffee with thanks.
“Did you stay here?” she asked curiously.
“No,” he admitted, dropping down beside her. “I just called ridiculously early.”
“Which is why Vanya looks as if he’s only just come home,” she said, eyeing her brother with distaste.
“I have,” Vanya said serenely.
“No you haven’t,” Michael said. “You’ve just got out of bed. I know, because I’ve been up for hours.”
“So what brings you, little sister?” Vanya inquired, accepting a refilled cup from Henrietta. “Apart from the desire to exchange early morning insults? And further Misha’s rather unusual romance, of course.”
“I thought Anastasia might be here, but she isn’t, is she?”
“Not unless she’s under the cushions or in Michael’s box room.”
Dunya frowned. “I wonder where she went, then? It isn’t like her to vanish.”
“More your style,” Vanya agreed. “Did you ask Nikolai?”
“Well no, I could hear him snoring when I spoke to her maid.”
Vanya looked at her thoughtfully but only made a neutral hmm sound.
Dunya, very aware of Trelawny beside her, took a deep breath. “I also wanted to ask you to escort me to Mrs. Fawcett’s house. I’m not going to cause trouble,” she added hastily.
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