A Sister's Quest

by Ferguson, Jo Ann

  “Mayhap you should.”

  “Alexei!”

  “There is no reason to keep prattling about it, is there? I worked hard tonight. I did not have a German autocrat playing court on me.”

  “Mayhap if you are as short-tempered with everyone else as you are with me, no one would want to speak with you.”

  He gave her the superior smile she despised. “Trust me, Liebchen. I had plenty who were willing to speak with me.”

  Trust Alexei? She would rather trust a hungry bear. Michelle clenched her hands in her lap. Vowing this would be the last time she would let him twist her heart, she stared out at the storm.

  Tonight had taught her one thing: she did not need Alexei. Although she would continue to work for him as she had agreed, she would find her own friends. She need not be dependent on a boorish Russian.

  That was what she should do. So why was it impossible to imagine doing the sensible thing and putting him out of her life? Mayhap because Alexei could be the kindest, most tender man she had ever met. If only she could find a way to reach that Alexei, she might salvage her heart.

  That, she feared, was impossible.

  Chapter Nine

  Alexei knew he was late. Michelle was going to be vexed at him. That would be no different from any day for the past week. Since she had attended that party at Prince Bartholomew’s house, nothing had gone right.

  Not that he could blame her, for he had barely said two words to her except to give orders. Reminding her and himself that they were here to do a job rather than to engage in a flirtation had been the smartest thing he had ever done. And the most frustrating. When he saw her eyes dim each time he spoke coolly to her, he wanted to tell her why he was insisting on nothing but business between them. He could not, for many reasons—not the least one being that he was not sure why himself.

  He sighed. Vienna was one of the most romantic cities in Europe, and he was living with a beautiful, sensual woman who responded with such fervor to his kisses. Yet he was pushing her out of his arms. Calling himself insane in every language he knew, he quickened his pace. It did not help. He could not escape his own thoughts.

  Mayhap if this meeting had gone as he had hoped, he might have a more positive outlook on his other problems. He had wasted the whole afternoon. If LaTulippe was in Vienna, the man had covered his tracks far too well. None of Alexei’s allies—and none of LaTulippe’s enemies—had offered even a hint to where the man might be.

  His steps slowed as he came around the corner by Frau Lepper’s shop to see Michelle in animated conversation with an old man who leaned on a cane. His incredible shock of hair sprang in every direction, and a rusty black coat drooped from his reed-thin shoulders.

  Who was she talking to now? For the daughter of a woman who had kept her counsel from everyone, Michelle had an irritating habit of talking to everybody. She looked past the old man, and Alexei could see her flinch. What mischief was she getting into now?

  At least you don’t have to worry about this old man seducing her. Alexei clenched his teeth at the thought he wanted to ignore. Let her flirt with Prince Bartholomew! It would be an easy solution to a problem he did not have time to deal with just now.

  The old man must have noticed Michelle’s reaction, for he looked over his shoulder as Alexei neared. A wisp of a smile appeared beneath the old man’s bushy mustache. “Good day, Fraulein.” With a tip of his hat, he strolled down the street like a spry troll.

  “Who was that?” Alexei asked.

  Michelle spun to face him. “Are you worried that I might leave you for a man who does not make me wait for hours?”

  “It has not been hours,” he corrected, not wanting her to guess how closely she had assessed his thoughts. As the clock on the corner began to chime, he grinned. “An hour. No more.” Reaching past her, he opened the carriage door. “Shall we argue in private, Liebchen?”

  “Yes!”

  The arch of a single eyebrow was his only response. When he put his hand under her elbow to assist her into the carriage, she started to shake it off. His fingers tightened. She scowled at him, but he took care that his cheerful expression did not change as he handed her in.

  “Aren’t you coming?” Michelle called as Alexei turned to Rusak. She did not understand how he and Rusak communicated, but she wanted to speak to Alexei before Rusak revealed what she had been talking to Herr Professor Waldstein about.

  “Don’t be a shrew.” He swung into the carriage and sat, propping one leg across the opposite knee.

  “As you wish, Alexei.”

  “Why are you being so cooperative?”

  She smiled, unable to remain irritated at him when she had this news to share. “Alexei, the most wonderful thing just happened.”

  “That you agreed not to snarl at me in public? Not quite what I would deem wonderful, but—”

  “Hush!” When his eyes widened, she said, “That man I was talking to can help Rusak.”

  “Help him do what?”

  “Help him talk!”

  “Liebchen, are you feverish?” Putting his hand to her forehead, he laughed as she batted it away. “You must learn not to listen to charlatans on the streets. Did that old man claim that he could sew a new tongue into Rusak’s mouth?”

  “Be serious! Alexei, Herr Professor Waldstein is not a doctor. He is a teacher at a very special school. I learned about such schools while at St. Bernard’s.”

  The carriage stopped, but she put her hand on his sleeve to keep him from opening the door.

  “Liebchen, we are already too late for the reception we were to attend this afternoon,” he said. “Now we must get ready for this evening’s gathering. Can’t this wait?”

  “No, because I made an appointment with Herr Professor Waldstein for tomorrow afternoon for Rusak to begin to learn this manual language.”

  “You did what?”

  Michelle pulled the teacher’s card from her bag and handed it to Alexei. He stared at it, then gave it back to her. He started to speak, but clamped his lips shut when Rusak opened the carriage door, a quizzical look on his face.

  Rusak flashed Michelle a frown as they climbed the stairs to their apartment. As they entered, he motioned toward the back and made it clear he was going to his room.

  Alexei nodded and waited until he heard Rusak’s door close before he said, “A manual language? That sounds like quackery.”

  “Look at you. You use your hands to express yourself. We all do.” She laughed when she used gestures to emphasize her words. “See? Frau Herbart spoke of us learning this way to speak when a deaf child was registered at St. Bernard’s. The worsening of the war halted the child’s arrival, so we never did learn. But it works, Alexei.”

  “Are you mad?” he asked as he sat and pulled off his boots. “Rusak is not a schoolboy.”

  “I agree.” She refused to let his gaze daunt her. Sitting next to him, she boldly took his hands. “Alexei, he is your friend! Why would you deny him his best chance for a normal life?”

  He rose, crossing the room to look at the hearth, where a fire crackled. “Normal life? How can he have a normal life?”

  “What will become of him if something happens to you? Who will hire a man most people would call a freak?”

  “Michelle, lower your voice. It will carry into Rusak’s room.”

  “Do you think he does not hear the insults people speak?” She stood. “Please look at me.”

  Slowly he faced her, but said nothing. She saw his pain and guilt. But why? Alexei was Russian. He had not caused Rusak’s injury … had he?

  “Alexei,” she said softly, “give him the chance to try this. If he fails, you can tell me you were right. If he succeeds, you will have gained a better assistant.”

  For a long moment, he stared at her. Powerful emotions flared in his eyes. Wishing she could read them, she waited, unsure what else to say to persuade him. Although she had no idea what the manual language consisted of, if a child of six could learn it, Rusa
k could as well.

  “What do you want me to say, Michelle?” Alexei asked. “You have already made up your mind that Rusak should do this. Do you want my blessing on your little project?”

  “He will not listen to me.”

  “That is true.” He drew out his pipe and tapped it against the fireplace stones. When ashes fell onto the hearth, he kicked them into the fire. “So you want me to try to convince him?”

  She shook her head. “How could you possibly convince him to do something you believe is impossible? Just ask him to give this a chance.”

  “No, you ask him. I want nothing to do with this idiocy.”

  “Alexei!”

  He strode to the arch and called, “Rusak, come out here!” He smiled. “I never guessed you were aiming for sainthood.”

  “I am not!” Her chin rose in defiance, but she faltered when Rusak came into the room.

  Alexei said, “Michelle has something to tell you.”

  Rusak shook his head and turned to go back to his room.

  “Listen to her!” Alexei ordered, amazing her because she could not mistake the tension in his tone. In spite of his words, he must be intrigued with what might be possible for Rusak.

  Michelle met Rusak’s vicious glare. “Rusak, that old man who spoke to me is a teacher. A very special kind of teacher. He would like to have you as a student.”

  He scowled, but she refused to let him intimidate her.

  Clasping her hands in front of her, she said, “Herr Professor Waldstein teaches deaf students.” Rage blistered his face into a deep shade of red, but she continued, “I know you are not deaf, but, like them, you cannot speak.” Capturing one of his rough hands, she held it between hers. “You use your hands to speak with already. So do I. So does Alexei. Why not learn to do it better?”

  When he pointed at her, she shook her head. “No, I do not know this manual language, but Herr Professor Waldstein is willing to take you as a student. You must be willing to learn. Of course, Alexei and I must learn it also. Are you interested?”

  Michelle was shocked when he put his other hand over hers and nodded eagerly. She smiled when he did. Looking past him to Alexei, she said, “Now we are in agreement, so we shall go to Rusak’s first lesson tomorrow at two.”

  “You have it all arranged, don’t you?”

  “Alexei!” She had thought he would be as pleased as she was with Rusak’s interest.

  His voice remained sharp. “Rusak, you need to get the carriage ready for us to leave as soon as Michelle changes.” When Rusak left with an unusual grin on his face, Alexei sighed. “You want to know why I am against this, don’t you?”

  “I don’t care why you want to deny him this.” She folded her arms. “You thought he would refuse, didn’t you? I am tired of your selfishness, Alexei Vatutin. If you could think of someone other than yourself and your work just once—”

  Grasping her by the shoulders, he pulled her up against him. She struggled to breathe, thrilled to be in his arms. Her delight vanished when he snapped, “You do not understand. The French attack on Rusak’s family was just the most recent horror he has suffered. How old do you think he is? Forty? Fifty?”

  “Probably closer to forty.”

  “He is barely thirty, Michelle.” When her eyes widened in astonishment, he said in a growl, “Life has aged him too quickly. You are right. He is my friend. My best friend, for we fought side by side. I shall not see him hurt again.”

  She put her hands up to frame his face. “I promise you, Alexei, I shall do all I can to see that he succeeds. You saw his face. He wants this opportunity. He wants it as desperately as I”—she hesitated before she blurted out her longing for Alexei’s kisses—“as desperately as I want him to succeed.”

  Again he stared at her for a long minute. She tried to guess what he was thinking. When his arm came up to slip around her waist, her heart thundered. She took a half step closer so that her legs were against his. With a groan, he caught her face in his other hand and tilted her mouth toward his.

  She gasped as he pushed her back, releasing her. He motioned toward the hallway and said, “You need to hurry, or we shall miss this reception altogether.”

  “Would it be so horrible if we did not go?” she whispered, reaching out to touch the buttons in the center of his waistcoat.

  “You need to go.”

  “Me?”

  He walked back to pick up his boots, so again his face was hidden from her. “Dress in your prettiest gown, Liebchen. I understand Prince Charming is going to be at the party we have to attend tonight.”

  “Prince Bartholomew?” All her delight at Alexei’s touch disappeared as anxiety twisted her stomach.

  He looked at her, a stiff grin on his face. “You knew you would see him eventually. You might as well see him at this reception and put it behind you.” He chuckled, but the sound was as false as his smile. “Mayhap you will find he truly is your Prince Charming.”

  Michelle lowered her eyes from his. She did not want to talk about Prince Bartholomew when she wanted to tell Alexei how she longed for him to tug her back to him and kiss her until her knees were weak. All she said was, “Thank you, Alexei, for persuading Rusak to listen.”

  His tight smile eased as he nodded. “You are welcome. Liebchen?”

  “Yes?” She paused in the doorway. Would he speak now of what was in her heart? Du lieber Gott, when had Alexei inveigled his way into her heart? She must be out of her mind.

  “I hope you prove me wrong about this teacher and Rusak.”

  “We shall.” She made the words a vow. “We shall.”

  “Nervous?” asked Alexei as he handed his hat to a servant.

  Michelle smiled wryly. “What an absurd question! The last time I called here, I insulted the prince by not recognizing him.”

  “True.” Alexei gave her a lopsided grin.

  “I shall be glad when this evening is over. Mayhap I can avoid him.”

  “Tonight is formal, Liebchen, so you shall meet Prince Charming in the reception line.”

  Her cheeks lost all color. Although she had known she must face this embarrassment, she had not expected it would be so public. She straightened her shoulders and let Alexei draw her hand into his arm. As they walked through the door to the grand parlor, she sensed the eyes of the many guests. They all were aimed at her. Heads bent toward each other as she passed.

  Self-consciously, she looked down at her gown, hoping to find something amiss. Then she could blame the stares on that. Her lacy glove smoothed her skirt, which was decorated with a trellis of white flowers. The narrow bodice clinging to her breasts was not too deep, for ruffles edged it. She was dressed perfectly, so she could not blame their stares on anything save her own thoughtless actions last time.

  Alexei’s hand covered her quivering one. Looking up, she met his surprisingly sympathetic smile. She had thought he would be crowing about her mistake. Had she misread him again? She had been so certain he would kiss her at the apartment, but she had been wrong about that, too.

  “Shall we?” he asked with the slightest motion of his head toward where a footman in fancy blue-and-gold livery stood to their right.

  She nodded. Fearful of speaking, she hoped this would be over quickly so she could fade into the background once more. How had a friendly conversation escalated into this?

  “Count Alexei Vatutin, Fraulein Michelle D’Orage,” announced the footman.

  Michelle waited for Alexei to step ahead of her, as he should as her employer. She sensed rather than heard the sharp intake of breath as she faced Prince Bartholomew. Hearing Alexei greet him politely, she wished words would form in her head.

  “Your Highness,” she said as she dropped into the deep curtsy she had learned during etiquette classes at St. Bernard’s.

  With a jovial laugh, Prince Bartholomew took her hand and drew her to her feet. “Now, Michelle, you were not at all like this last time we met.”

  “I must apologize, Your Hig
hness. I did not know—”

  “I know you did not know to whom you were speaking, and I liked it that way. You were pleasant because you liked Bartholomew, not because you felt obligated to be kind to the heir of Coxe-Saxony-Colburg.”

  Heir? She looked at Alexei, but he appeared not to notice as he talked with the dowager. She knew he had seen it because he missed little. Why had he failed to mention something as important as the fact that Prince Bartholomew would be the next ruler of his small state? Alexei must have a reason, but she could not guess what it might be.

  When she did not answer, Prince Bartholomew asked, “Will you grant me the boon of still calling me Bartholomew while I call you Michelle?”

  “If you wish, Your—Bartholomew,” she corrected herself when his smile dimmed.

  “Not if I wish it alone, for you must find this comfortable as well.”

  Although she was aware that every word she said was being listened to by Alexei and all the others who were unabashedly eavesdropping, she said, “To be honest, I find everything uncomfortable about this. You are the first prince beyond those in a storybook that I have ever met.”

  “You are so amusing.” He captured her gloved hands and pressed them to his lips. “May we talk later?”

  “Of course.” When she saw him glance at Alexei, she faltered. She could not forget that she had promised Alexei to portray his mistress. “I believe we can find some time to speak this evening.”

  “I believe you are right.”

  Alexei’s fingers cupped her elbow. She saw fury flicker through Bartholomew’s eyes when he looked at Alexei. She bit her lip to keep from laughing. How much more absurd could this get?

  Michelle walked past the people who stared at her openly. She had never felt so much like a leper. When a glass was pressed into her fingers, she raised it to her lips. Instead of wine, brandy cut through her.

  “You did fine,” Alexei said quietly.

  “I wish I was back at St. Bernard’s.”

  “And miss all this fun?” He smiled. “And me?”

  “Don’t jest with me now, Alexei, please.”