“You shall be hailed as a great designer.”
The countess laughed and turned to greet the next visitor.
Lieutenant Galkin stood at the end of the line. He bowed. “Miss Malboeuf, I am pleased to see you here tonight.”
“Good evening, Lieutenant. Your prediction about the updates to the embassy was correct. It is exquisite.” Catherine silently cursed the cap sleeves and thin silk of her gown that did nothing to keep the cold at bay. Goose flesh showed on her arms.
“Are you familiar with the Russian samovar?”
“I’m afraid I am not.”
“Please, allow me to acquaint you with a remarkable Russian invention.” He led her into the ballroom. Though a formal dinner was to be held later in the evening, a refreshment table of sorts was set up on the far wall. A large copper urn with a teapot resting at the top sat upon the table.
The lieutenant held out his hand. “This is the samovar. It makes the water bubble for tea.”
Catherine nodded. “The water boils inside the samovar?
“Yes, it boils. There is a chimney inside to heat the water. Would you care for tea?”
“Yes, thank you. It is rather cold this evening.”
“That is why the countess thought it a good night to bring this out.” He picked up a teacup, poured a bit of tea from the pot on top of the samovar, then added hot water from the spigot at the bottom of the samovar. “The tea in the pot is very strong so you add water from the samovar and it remains available for many people.”
“It is an ingenious design.”
The lieutenant looked out toward the receiving line. “Please excuse me, Miss Malboeuf. I am needed elsewhere. You will save me a dance?”
“Yes, of course. Thank you for demonstrating the samovar for me.”
Catherine added a spoonful of sugar to the tea the lieutenant had prepared and sipped it while she searched the ballroom for familiar faces. As expected, Jane was with Lord Cavanaugh. Lord Tregony was also in attendance. She would take care to avoid him. Between his rejection and her estrangement with Nick, her prospects for dance partners were severely limited.
She set her empty cup on a tray, then shivered and decided to get another cup of tea. Dmitri removed cups from a tray and placed them on the table. It wasn’t the first time she had seen him again, but since their initial awkward meeting, she had avoided him.
“Miss Malboeuf, may I speak with you? It is a matter of some urgency regarding my employment.”
She set down her cup. “Of course, Dmitri.” Perhaps he wished to return to the ship and wanted her to put in a word for him with Captain Joubert.
He beckoned her toward a corridor behind the room. “We can be private here.”
The corridor was unusually dark. When she stopped to allow her eyes to adjust, a cold steel blade pressed against her neck. “Walk to the left down the corridor. I will not hesitate to cut you if you attempt to attract attention.”
Catherine’s pulse leapt. Curse the social conventions that prevented her from carrying her cutlass. With a blade pressed against her neck, she could not make a grab for the knife strapped to her calf. “Why are you doing this? My father will gladly rehire you if you are unhappy here.”
“I don’t want to work for your father. Be quiet and keep walking.” He was not the man who had attempted to abduct her outside the theater. She would have recognized his voice, and he was much taller than that man had been.
She stopped when they reached a junction with another corridor.
“Go up the staircase.”
She lifted her skirts and carried out his order. Perhaps if she appeared to be cooperating he would relax so she could get more information from him. She stopped at the first landing.
He waved his hand. “Keep climbing. We are going to the top.”
Her knees buckled and she scrambled to grasp the stair rail. The top floor usually housed the servant’s quarters and would be deserted because all of the servants were helping with the ball.
The muscles in her legs tightened as they continued their climb. Once they reached the next landing, she considered trying to run from him, but her gown would limit her speed and there was unlikely to be anyone to help. Surely he wouldn’t harm her—he knew her father would hunt him down and kill him if he did. She halted at the top of the staircase and waited for his next instruction.
“We are going to that chamber.” He shoved her to the right. The chamber appeared to be unoccupied. The room held a small bed and an open wardrobe cabinet with nothing inside. No wash basin or chamber pot.
“Lie on the bed,” he barked.
She crossed her arms. “I will not. Tell me what you want from me.”
“I want you to get on the bed.” He jerked his head toward the bed, as if that would convince her to do it.
“My father will seek revenge if you harm me.”
“He’d have to find me first. I would have at least six months to disappear before he would receive notification of your death and sail to London. Besides, there is no reason for him to suspect me.”
A shiver shot up her spine. He was correct. “Lord and Lady Hartley will soon note my absence and have the embassy searched. And you know as well as I do that my father would eventually find you.”
She saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “What we have planned won’t take long. We will be gone before they realize you are missing.”
He stepped in front her and put his face inches from hers. “Get on the bed. Now. Or I will truss you up like a hog and put you there myself.”
After studying the knife in his hand, she decided not to try to fight him. The odds were in his favor, and she couldn’t believe he would actually hurt her. Someone else had to be behind this. She climbed onto the bed and rolled onto her back.
Dmitri shoved her onto her side and tied her hands behind her back, then bound her feet tightly together and tied them to the bedpost. Then he left without a word, locking the door behind him.
When the sound of his retreating footsteps could no longer be heard, she tested her restraints. Her wrists were tied so tightly her hands tingled. It wouldn’t be long before she would be unable to use them at all. She jerked her feet against the rope holding her to the bedpost, but it was no use. Tears formed in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Lord and Lady Hartley would soon notice that she was missing, and in the meantime, she would try to loosen the ropes around her hands so she could reach the knife strapped to her calf. This must have been Dmitri’s first attempt at kidnapping. Otherwise he would have known to search her before tying her up.
She turned onto her side and wiggled her hands, but there was no give to the rope. It hadn’t loosened at all. Arching her back, she tried to slide her hands toward her calf. She ended up in a half-moon shape with her hands nowhere near hear calf. Damnation. If only he had tied her hands in the front. Perhaps Dmitri wasn’t as inexperienced as she thought. It didn’t matter that she had a knife since she couldn’t reach it. Maybe Nick would attend the ball. He might already be downstairs searching for her. After severing contract with him it was a futile hope, but it was all she had.
She was still in the awkward, arched position when rapid footsteps sounded from the corridor.
She untwisted herself into a somewhat normal position and focused her attention on the door. Her heart thundered and skipped a beat. A key clicked in the lock and the door sprung open.
Letting out her pent up breath, she said, “Oh, thank goodness. I am so glad to see you, Lieutenant Galkin. Please untie my hands first.”
“I think not.”
Her stomach dropped as she comprehended his meaning. “What is going on?” She fought to keep her fear from showing in her voice.
“I want the journal.”
How could he know about it? “What journal?”
“Do not play me for a fool. The one written by your great-grandmother.”
“How do you know about that?”
“The less you know, the more
likely we are to let you live.” He stared at her. How had she not noticed the ice in his eyes? A shiver coursed through her that had nothing to do with the cold.
“Where is the journal?”
“I…I no longer have it.”
“Let’s try this a different way, then. Where is the tiara?”
“I don’t understand. What tiara?”
He leaned down so his face was only inches from hers. “I do not have time for your games. I must return to the ball, or I will be missed.” She cringed as flecks of spit hit her face. “You will produce either the journal or the tiara, or I shall slit your throat and throw your body in the Thames. It is your choice.”
He pushed at the sleeve of his uniform jacket and she caught a glimpse of white bandage. “It was you! You tried to abduct me at the theater.”
“I must return downstairs.” His eyes flicked to the wardrobe. “I understand you are not fond of enclosed spaces.”
“H…how do you know that?”
“You didn’t think your clandestine meeting with the Duke of Boulstridge went unnoticed, did you? Until that point I had thought to join forces with you to locate the tiara, but once I realized you were panting after the duke, I knew we would have to kidnap you.” He pulled a knife from the pocket of his jacket. She cringed as he swung the knife at her feet, severing the rope from the bedpost. He jerked her off the bed and she barely saved herself from toppling over when her mostly numb feet hit the floor. He yanked her toward the wardrobe.
“No, please.”
“It is too late to cooperate now.” He shoved her into the wardrobe, slamming her head against the back wall, and closed the doors.
“Wait,” she cried. There was no response. “No! Please. I did as you asked.”
A key turned in the lock and the muffled sound of the window sliding open reached her. Arctic air seeped around the doors of the wardrobe, chilling her instantly. Galkin closed and locked the door. Her heart beat faster than a galloping horse. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths to calm herself. Nick would come. He would find her. She just had to survive until then.
Leaning against the back of the wardrobe, she slid down until her hands neared her calves. Cold sweat beaded on her brow and ran down her spine. Her fingers grazed the top of the knife handle, but she couldn’t wrap her fingers around it. She leaned to the left and managed to get her thumb and forefinger on either side of the handle. She pinched it tightly and pulled upward. It slid a few inches, then dropped back into the sheath. Shutting her eyes, she forced herself to take slow, deep breaths as she pictured the beach at Acklins, the sound of the waves hitting the sand, the soft breeze caressing her skin. She clasped the knife one more time and drew it from the sheath.
As quickly as she could, she cut through the rope around her ankles and sat down, her legs splayed before her. Sharp pain pricked in her fingers as her heart labored to force blood through the confines of the rope. Her teeth began to chatter. She had to act now, before all feeling left her hands. Before Galkin or Dmitri returned. Before she froze to death. Without thinking overmuch about what she was doing, she rotated the knife and began to saw through a layer of the rope, hoping she wouldn’t slit her wrist and bleed to death before she was found.
Chapter Seventeen
Despite his determination to get his life back on an even keel, he could not stop thinking of Catherine. The truth was, he missed her and her maddening habit of saying exactly what she was thinking with no fear of the consequences. He had to keep reminding himself that she had never had any interest in him. She was only interested in Walsley. And that blasted journal.
Instead of going to the ball at the Russian embassy as he had intended, Nick detoured to his mother’s house. Her butler let him in, and he found her in her library.
“Nick. Darling, what are you doing here?” She hugged him.
“I can’t visit my mother?” She had been ill from the bad food at the theater for longer than he would have liked. Her shoulder blades and ribs were more prominent than they should be.
“Of course, but shouldn’t you be out participating in some society event?” She let her eyes drop to his formal attire.
“Countess Lieven is expecting me at the embassy gala tonight.”
She dropped back into her chair and waved for him to sit across from her. “Something is bothering you.”
“My association with Miss Malboeuf has ended.”
“What did you do?”
Holding up his hands, he defended himself. “I haven’t done anything. It was her decision to end our relationship.”
“You must have played a role in her decision.”
“Perhaps a small role.” He shrugged.
She leaned toward him. “What do you intend to do to remedy the situation?”
He rubbed his palms against his thighs. “I have no plan. I’m not sure the situation is redeemable.”
“Surely nothing between you and Miss Leclerc could be beyond repair.”
“I don’t want to hurt… I can’t force her…”
She relaxed into her chair and took a sip of tea. “You were at school so you never knew, but when your father first began to take that woman into society, I refused to go out at all. I was so embarrassed and ashamed I stayed home for months. Nothing anyone said would convince me to endure the sort of ridicule I thought I would receive. But I finally realized that if I allowed him to dictate my behavior, I was letting him win. I had not done anything improper and had no reason to hide. He was the one who ought to have been ashamed of his behavior. Everyone gladly welcomed me, and he was eventually excluded from all good society.”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “But I am his son. His blood runs through my veins. What if I—”
She took his hand. “Nick, you are not your father and never will be. Let yourself be happy. You’ve been living in his shadow long enough.”
As was usually the case, his mother was correct. He had allowed his father’s indiscretions to take over his life. How could he have spoken to Catherine like that? She had no more culpability in her upbringing than he had in his. But instead of turning into a prig like him, she had decided to embrace her life and not allow circumstances that were out of her control to dictate her happiness. He had insulted her in every way possible. No wonder she rebuffed him. He had to speak with her, to find out if there was still time to apologize.
He stood. “I need to get to the ball.”
She grinned and hugged him tight. “Go find Catherine and do whatever you have to do to make things right with her.”
…
There were so many people in attendance that Nick could barely find the space to slip into the ballroom. Moving in any direction was like swimming upriver against a strong current. Luckily he was taller than most everyone, so he was able to see across the room. He could not locate Catherine, but he did see Lady Jane waltzing with Lord Cavanaugh. He set off toward the dancers, hoping he could make his way through the sea of people before the dance ended and Jane disappeared into the crowd.
After attempting to be polite and making very little progress, he gave up and plowed his way through, calling out apologies as he went. He reached Jane just as the dance ended. “Lady Jane, I was hoping you could help me locate Miss Malboeuf.”
“I’m sorry Your Grace, but I haven’t seen her in some time. It wasn’t this much of a crush earlier.” Lord Cavanaugh whispered something in her ear, and she laughed.
A sense of unease slithered up his spine, and he set off to locate anyone who might know where Catherine was. He discovered Lord Hartley in the card room, where he had been for several hours, so he was of no help. Lady Hartley was nowhere to be found, so he sought out the countess, whom he spotted near the refreshment table.
She kissed his cheeks. “Nicky, darling, where have you been? I had begun to despair of you.”
“Apologies for my tardiness. I had a few matters to attend to.”
She patted his arm. “The important thing is that y
ou will be here for dinner.”
“You haven’t seen Miss Malboeuf recently, have you?”
“I’m afraid not, Nicky. Go find her and I will see you at dinner.” She turned to the man next to her. He executed a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn as he scoured the ballroom. Where was Catherine?
“Good evening, Your Grace.”
Just what he needed, that fop, Lord Tregony. He nodded. “Tregony.”
“If by chance you are searching for Miss Malboeuf, you will not find her here. I saw her with Lieutenant Galkin some time ago and have not seen her since.”
Nick turned and glared at him. At least the bloody coxcomb had the wherewithal to walk away from him. For what seemed the thousandth time, he cursed the impulse that had caused him to offer Catherine a wager for Walsley. Once Tregony lost interest in her, she may have felt that she had no other options. And Nick realized he was no better than Tregony. He had treated her the same way as Tregony from their first meeting, whereas the lieutenant had befriended her from the beginning without question. No wonder she had turned to him. If she had chosen Lieutenant Galkin, then he would respect, even understand, her decision, but he had to gamble on the chance that she may not have. And the more he thought about it, the man was a pompous braggart who may not even have been telling the truth about where Catherine was.
Just as he had determined that there was still no sign of Catherine, he saw a flash of green uniform jacket heading into the corridor behind the refreshment table. He hurried through the room and spotted the lieutenant marching up the staircase.
It was odd that he would leave when the gala was in full swing. With no time to alert anyone else to possible trouble, he decided to follow Galkin and if Catherine was not there, he would enlist his aid to locate her. He paused, impatiently waiting for the lieutenant to ascend two flights of the staircase before he followed. The man’s heavy footsteps echoed down the staircase, and Nick took care to muffle his own. He didn’t stop until he reached the top. While waiting on the landing, he peered down the corridor after him, making sure he didn’t lose track of him.
Galkin removed a key from his pocket and unlocked the door of the third chamber on the left side of the corridor. He crossed over the threshold and locked the door behind him. Nick sidled closer and listened intently. It would be unwise for him to rush in until he knew if Catherine was in there, especially since the man was wearing his sword, while he was unarmed.
How to Beguile a Duke (Entangled Scandalous) Page 19