Sergei snorted, stopped arguing, and withdrew his head. In his estimation all English were crazy. They were like babies in some ways, always speaking the truth and always rushing around doing tasks that could be done just as well the next day or even the next month. In other ways they were even stranger. They never cried or even laughed with open, hearty roars. Of course, Perce was the only Englishman Sergei really knew, but he assumed they were all alike. He felt a fierce devotion to his gently imbecilic master, a need to protect him because of his innocence and childlike gullibility. If not for him, Sergei told himself, his master would have been robbed of everything and be fooled by every little man in Russia.
He sent Perce’s current French valet to him and went to saddle the horse himself. There were many French body servants in the cities of Russia. They had long been favored by the nobility and were hired and dismissed erratically because of the volatility of many Russian personalities. Sergei did not in the least resent the valet, whom he looked down upon for not “belonging” to Perce. The Frenchman might starch a neckcloth to perfection but he did not dare speak to the master in the way Sergei spoke, and he would be dismissed when Perce rejoined the army. Sergei could not be dismissed. He “belonged”.
Perce rode as quickly as he could to the house Lord Elvan had rented. Fortunately the ice layer that covered the snow on the main streets had already been broken by sleighs of farmers or purveyors of firewood and coal or peat. Still, a sober trot was the fastest pace that was safe. And it was cold! Perce had adopted the Russian fashion in outerwear, a necessity if one wished to stay alive, but his nose and cheekbones stung with cold and his fingers and toes felt stiff inside his furred boots and gloves.
A muzhik ran from some scanty shelter to hold his horse at the steps of Lord Elvan’s house. He was as round as a barrel, with layer upon layer of rags topped by a filthy sheepskin, his feet shapeless blobs under similar wrappings. Even so Perce wondered why the man did not freeze to death. He was barely keeping himself from shivering under his furs, and he had been riding, the muzhik had most likely been sitting still. Perce told the man to keep the horse moving but not to go far. If he found Elvan and their conversation lasted more than a few minutes, the animal would have to be stabled.
As he came up the stairs the door was flung wide. This was quite common, Perce had discovered. Most large households had one or more serfs who did nothing but watch for visitors. The reason was readily comprehensible. It was not practical or hospitable to keep a visitor standing outside in the winter weather of St. Petersburg while a footman came from somewhere to answer the bell. It was in the entry hall that one gave one’s name and stated one’s business. If the host was at home and wished to see his visitor, he was led to a reception room to remove his outer garments and then to a drawing room or saloon or office as appropriate.
Perce, however, was not kept waiting at all. As soon as he gave his name he was led inside, the footman chattering volubly, as was customary with Russian servants, explaining that word had been left by Lord Elvan that Lord Kevern was to be admitted at once any time he came. Perce smiled grimly. That order was not likely to stand very long. He did not listen to the remainder of the servant’s chatter, being too intent on honing his speech to make it sufficiently explicit and insulting. And if Elvan chose to take offense, so much the better! There was no law against dueling in Russia.
Perce took a deep breath, wondering if it would be possible to goad Elvan into a duel deliberately. No! It would be murder. Sabrina would not tolerate that, and it would make endless trouble for his father. Besides, Elvan was no fool. He might get angry, but he would be most unlikely to challenge Perce no matter what he said, particularly as he might know Perce was very handy with both sword and pistols.
The door to the breakfast room opened. Perce stepped forward on the heels of the servant who was announcing him. His mouth opened to begin his elegantly nasty speech, and just hung. Sabrina was getting up from her chair with an expression of anxiety on her face.
“Perce! At this hour? Is something wrong?”
The servant had left, closing the door behind him. Perce cast a single, haunted glance at it before he could subdue the cowardly impulse to take to his heels and avoid the confrontation.
“I didn’t expect to see you,” he said when he hooked up his jaw. “I came to speak to Elvan.”
Sabrina laughed. “I could guess from your face you didn’t expect to see me.” Then she paused and frowned. “William left very early this morning. I have no idea why I didn’t catch him myself.” She was about to say he hadn’t told her he had to get to the embassy early, but he might have done so and she had not remembered. She had not been “all there” the previous night. “Is it business?” she went on. “If it’s important and you don’t want to go to the embassy, I can send a servant for him.”
“I don’t want to go to the embassy,” Perce said, repressing a shudder at the thought of having the discussion he planned in an office where anyone could walk in. “The matter isn’t urgent. It can wait until some other day.”
Sabrina stared at him, a flush rising under her delicate skin. “It isn’t urgent, but you arrived here before William should have finished breakfast? Yet you don’t want to go to the embassy. The matter couldn’t be personal, could it? Oh, no! And I’m sure it has nothing to do with me—has it?”
“I assure you I had no intention of discussing anything you told me. I’ll catch Elvan somewhere around the city. I’m sorry to have troubled you, Sabrina.”
Despite his fair skin, Perce almost never blushed. Sometimes his face flushed with repressed anger, but ordinarily his emotions were well under control. He had a very cool head and had not been embarrassed by any circumstance for years. Just now, however, he could feel his ears burning and was aware that his face was as red as a beet. He turned away quickly, reaching for the door.
“Don’t you dare run away, you coward,” Sabrina shrieked. “You come back here and sit down and explain yourself.”
“My horse,” Perce said desperately.”
“Sit!” Sabrina ordered, pointing to a chair. Then she called, “Sasha!” The door opened promptly, and Sabrina gave orders to stable Perce’s horse. When the door dosed again, she turned to Perce, who was still standing, and said, “Well?”
“Damn it, Brina, you can’t order me around like a slavey,” Perce exclaimed.
“I’m so sorry,” Sabrina said, sweetly poisonous. She dropped a curtsy. “Please, sir, pretty please, will you be so good as to sit and explain to me what the hell you think you’re doing?”
Laughing, Perce dropped into a chair “You can give me some breakfast. A condemned man always gets a last meal.”
“By all means.”
Sabrina took a plate and went to the sideboard, heaping smoked fish, grilled sausage, slices of ham, and eggs in various forms on it. She delivered this and poured a cup of tea, automatically adding cream and withholding sugar. She had poured a great many cups of tea for Perce over the years and did not need to ask how he liked it. When she had put the cup by his plate, she returned to her own seat. Perce said nothing, staring a little blankly at the food. Sabrina felt ashamed of herself. Naturally Perce would try to help her, and naturally the first thing he would think of was to warn William to behave himself.
“You look dreadful Perce,” she said quietly, “all blue around the eyes. I shouldn’t have run away from you last night. I was just surprised.”
“Why don’t you say ‘disgusted’. That’s what you mean. I know what it sounded like, Brina, as if I thought, oh, here’s another ripe one. But I swear it wasn’t that way at all. Damn it, Brina, you know I’m not in the petticoat line and never was. I just—” He closed his eyes. “I just didn’t expect to see you—just stupidity because I wasn’t thinking about your connection with the British embassy—and you looked so damned beautiful. And then you sprang that thing about wanting to be free of Elvan.” He opened his eyes again and looked directly
at her. “The words just came out before I thought.”
“I know. I should have known immediately. That’s why I said I shouldn’t have run away. But I figured it out after a while.” She smiled. “You’re far clever to come out with a stupid remark like that if you had intended—intended to seduce me. But, Perce, what are we going to do?”
“What do you mean—what are we going to do?” he asked, forcing the words through stiff lips. Could Sabrina mean she was going to take his confession of love seriously?
Tears came into Sabrina’s eyes, and she lowered them. “I don’t want to lose you, Perce, but—”
“You couldn’t ever lose me even if we never spoke another word to each other. Anything you want, any way you want it, it’s yours. Can you forget what I said? I’ll never say it again, or try… We can just be friends.”
There was a little silence. Neither of them seemed to be able to finish a sentence. Everything they wanted to say to each other was better left unsaid. Finally, Sabrina looked up. “Can we?’ she asked, doubt and hope mingling. “Won’t that…hurt you?”
“If it doesn’t hurt you, Brina, it won’t hurt me.”
That was a thumping lie. It would hurt like hell to be near and not be able to touch, but it would be bearable because he knew she didn’t love anyone else and the situation wasn’t hopeless. Besides, now that she knew how he felt, perhaps Brina might see him with different eyes. It wasn’t a very safe way to think, but if she really didn’t care for Elvan anymore and was thinking of separating, Perce wanted to be right there with open arms.
Sabrina continued to look at Perce somewhat doubtfully. She was not suspicious of what he had said. She believed that Perce would not express his love either verbally or physically. It was the statement that it would not hurt him that bothered her. Either it was a lie—and Perce had never lied to her before—or her second guess had been the correct one. He had said he was in love with her because he thought she needed to hear it to restore her self-respect after the blow William’s infidelity struck her.
There was a twinge of disappointment, which Sabrina repressed quickly. It was better that way. She would be a monster to desire that Perce really be in love with her. It would be torture for him if she couldn’t honestly return the love. Couldn’t she? He was eating now, rather eagerly, as if their conversation had restored his appetite. She was aware of the neat movements of his long-fingered hands and of the barely visible sparkles on his cheeks and chin where the light caught golden stubble as he chewed. He had come out so quickly he hadn’t bothered to shave.
Certainly no one would call Perce handsome. His face was what was considered “typically British”, long and thin with a broad forehead, a high-bridged nose, which made him look haughty, and a lantern jaw. His hair was his best feature, full and guinea-gold and softly curling. His eyes were nice too, when he didn’t make them glazed and blank—a lively gray that glinted when he laughed. He was tall, taller than William, and much slenderer. Sabrina had always thought of Perce as willowy, but now that she looked carefully, she realized that that, too, was a deliberate impression. His shoulders were broad enough so that his coats needed no padding to widen them.
It was ridiculous, but Perce did look different. Somehow there didn’t seem to be anything left of the boy she had played with so freely. If he loved her, would it really be impossible to love him back? Perce lifted his head to tilt his teacup and drain it. Sabrina felt oddly shy, as if she suddenly found herself with a stranger.
“I’ll get you some more tea,” she said hastily.
“That’s my girl,” Perce replied as he handed over his cup.
The words and gesture were blessedly familiar. Sabrina did not blush, as she had feared she would when he spoke. Nonetheless, it was a man, an interesting man, to whom Sabrina handed the refilled cup. Don’t be silly, she warned herself. There’s no question of could or couldn’t love him. He only said what he did to help you. He wouldn’t say “That’s my girl” to someone with whom he was in love. But wouldn’t he? He had just promised… Stop it, Sabrina ordered herself.
“Perce, what are you doing in Russia?’ she asked to break the round of unanswered and unanswerable questions.
Chapter Four
“I’m not quite sure,” Perce said.
Sabrina drew a sharp breath and spoke in a lowered voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know there was anything secret about it. Let’s talk about something else.”
“Whoa, now, I didn’t say there was anything secret about it, and it wouldn’t be secret from you in any case. You know how to hold your tongue, Brina. I was telling you the exact truth. I’m not sure whether I’m here because it’s necessary to watch which way the army will try to push Alexander or because my father thought it would be a good, interesting way of keeping me safe.”
“Safe? Austerlitz?”
A shadow passed over Perce’s face, followed by a mischievous smile. “I don’t think Fa planned on Austerlitz.” Then the smile faded. “I don’t think anyone, except maybe Bonaparte, planned on Austerlitz.”
“Perce begin at the beginning, please.”
“You can’t mean that,” Perce replied, smiling again “The beginning is pretty far back. Let’s skip the details and say that owing to both my younger brothers’ stubbornness about fighting Boney, they nagged Fa into letting them join the services.”
“Yes, so Robert’s in the army, and Fred’s in the navy. But what does that have to do with you being in Russia?”
He looked past her, his face going expressionless. “Fa’s in good shape, there wasn’t much for me to do on the estates. After Boney started the war again, I couldn’t bear it, Brina. To me it seemed as if I were the only one sitting on my hands and doing nothing.”
“But Perce—”
“I know why, damn it! I know I’m the eldest and the Moreton estates come to me, but I… Well, you know Fa; he’s a reasonable sort of person. Fond of me, too, even though he sometimes thought I was an idiot. Well, the less parents know, the better, usually. Anyway, he saw I was pining away.”
Sabrina snickered, and Perce grinned back at her. Nonetheless there was real sympathy in her eyes and acceptance of it in his. Sabrina understood very well the need to be in the action. That need was all that was holding her to William. If it had not been for her delight in being a diplomatic wife, she would have packed up and left William as soon as he began this latest affair.
“As I said,” Perce went on, “Fa’s reasonable and he knows I have this knack for languages. We were thinking of my going into the Foreign Office on the diplomatic end, and then this alliance between England and Russia came up. There was a question in the Lords because Alexander blew so hot and cold—”
“He always does.”
“Yes, but his closest friends and advisors didn’t seem to be in tune with the really powerful families. Well, you know what happened to Paul when he got too far out of step. He was murdered.”
“Yes, William was talking about that last night. But surely Alexander is in no danger. He’s a darling, even—” Her voice stopped.
“Even if he is a fool,” Perce finished. “Yes, perhaps. I don’t know him. No, I don’t think he is in any danger, at least not of being assassinated by the army. The truth is, Brina, that it’s the army that changes tsars in this country, and the diplomatic staff has virtually no contact with the army.”
“Lord Gower tries to—”
“Don’t be defensive,” Perce interrupted with a smile. “I know he tries, but no one on the general staff is going to say anything different from the official line to a foreign diplomat. They might drop a tidbit here and there, but not a brick like a prospective mutiny.”
“I suppose not, but I’m sure no one wants to be rid of Alexander.”
“No, its Czartoryski and his crowd they want to be rid of.”
“Yes that’s true. Lord Gower is worried because he doesn’t want the British involved in Czartoryski’s disgrace—
if he is disgraced. On the other hand, it’s Czartoryski who always wanted an alliance with England. Most of the others are pro-Prussian, and there are even quite a few who are pro-French.”
“Not in the army,” Perce said bitterly. “But to get back to my part in this. Fa talked to Roger, and Roger suggested that I come out as an idle young man with more money than brains—I can do that part hands down—and try to attach myself to the young men surrounding the generals. I was supposed to hang around the key regiments and see what information I could pick up and relay to the British Foreign Office.”
“But the Semeonovsky Regiment was stationed in St. Petersburg until…oh, Perce…“ She realized he had been avoiding her. Surely that meant he did love her, that he wasn’t only trying to make her feel better.
“I didn’t stay in St. Petersburg long, and I didn’t want to be connected with the embassy crowd,” Perce said quietly. “Besides, the officers of the Semeonovsky Regiment are too sophisticated, and they’re quite devoted to the tsar. He’s one of their officers—or was. I wouldn’t get worthwhile information from such a loyal group. Fortunately, I was able to get an introduction to one of Bagration’s aides-de-camp. We became pretty good friends, and I just went along when the army moved out.” He stopped and pushed away his plate, which was not quite empty.
There was a short pause. Sabrina’s mind skipped between the overt subject and Perce’s casual remark the embassy and the Semeonovsky Regiment. Perhaps he just hadn’t thought about her being in St. Petersburg. With that notion came a renewed awareness of how much had changed between them. Previously she would have cried, You beast! You never even thought I might want to see a familiar face. And he would have laughed and answered, Business before pleasure, my girl, or possibly even Pleasure before business. That kind of ease was gone. Sabrina missed it, but not as much as she would have expected, because the old comfort was replaced with a more enticing sensation. There was a tingling excitement in Perce’s company now that she had never experienced before.
The Kent Heiress Page 6