by A. W. Exley
“Maybe Prince Albert has the right idea, you might scare the locals with the size of that,” she said from beneath lowered lashes.
He growled and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. His lips tasted the pulse at the base of her throat and she arched her neck to give him better access.
“I’m no eunuch, and I don’t care who knows it.” He breathed against her skin, feathering kisses up the column of her throat.
“I’m still mad at you,” she reminded him as she slipped from his grasp and out the door. They walked the narrow passageway between the bridge and the mess. Through the glass insert of the bridge doors, Cara saw Loki at the helm, yelling orders to his men. Nate led her out onto the small deck running along the side of the airship. A polished steel railing with mesh panelling was the only thing between them and a fatal fall. The wind tore at her clothing and she was grateful for the extra pins she stabbed through her hat, but wished her hair had more length to hold them secure.
The Hellcat cruised over the Gulf of Finland and made her approach to St. Petersburg. Cara gasped as the airship banked and the city came into view, tucked into the curve of the Neva River. Loki angled the Hellcat low and her keel met the water, slicing for several moments, sending up plumes of water, and terrifying the circling seagulls. With a plop and a slight backward pull, the vessel settled into the river’s deep embrace. They cruised toward the sea dock at the mouth of the river, the fierce airship turning into a sedate paddle steamer.
Cara stood on the deck, her eyes wide at the wondrous sight of St. Petersburg, her architecture so different than that of England. Sunlight glinted on gilded onion domes that rose above the stone buildings and gave the entire city a festive atmosphere. Trees in full riotous autumn colour bathed tracts of the city in jewel tones of carmine red, daisy yellow, and fiery orange.
They cruised to a fairy-tale land. Even the air smelled different; the tang of salt heavy, unlike the vague stench of rotting fish that rose off the Thames. The dock on the edge of Vasilyevsky Island swarmed with workers in thick wool tunics, wide leather belts, and flat hats pulled low over their ears. Unloading towers stood in the deep water, perched on tall metal spider legs with monstrous claws dangling underneath, ready to pluck cargo from waiting vessels. Dirty and battered mechanised carts roved the wharf, carrying their loads back and forth. Steam puffed from the older trolleys, their wide, flat decks perfect to receive the larger containers dropped from above. Several airships of varying sizes and types bobbed on the gentle current. As the Hellcat drew near to land, lines were thrown from the airship crew to those on shore and the metal ropes were tied around the mooring bollards. The sleek ship was secured in her allotted space and pulled close to the wharf.
Nate stood behind Cara with his arms wrapped arms around her waist as they watched the bustle of activity on the shore making the bobbing vessel secure. “Loki and Miguel will be staying with the Hellcat. You and I will relocate to a hotel in the city.”
“How long will we be here?” The city beyond beckoned, even though she knew they had a more pressing mission.
“It depends how difficult Sergei is to find. Nikolai will be circulating at the Winter Palace tonight and will be far easier to locate. Then it’s a matter of digging up what leads we can about Nolton. We’ll check into our hotel, but we have time to take in a few sights, if you wish?”
The familiar itch to explore a new city called to Cara. This is what she loved: new streets to roam, unusual foods to taste, strange sounds to wash over her ears. The only difference, this time she had someone who wanted to share the experience with her.
Once the Hellcat was restrained to Loki’s satisfaction, the workers wheeled over a metal gangplank with wooden rungs. Nate pulled open a portion of the railing that acted as a gate. The ramp swung over, and pushed into the opening and secured at either side with metal clips. Nate stood on the swaying bridge and turned, his hand extending to Cara. She picked up the green skirts in one hand, and placed her other in Nate’s palm. Together they walked to the dock.
The cry of numerous voices in Russian swirled around them. Cara didn’t understand the words, but she could understand the tone. Jokes flew between men, light hearted and tinged with laughter. Sharp reprimands carried clipped syllables and jerking hand gestures. Then there was the deeper, sultry tone of cat calls as she walked by in her skin tight jacket.
The driver of an open landau, pulled by matching blood bays, hailed Nate. The horses were restless amongst the bustle and noise of the dock. The deep russet of the driver’s jacket a perfect match for the gleaming coats of the horses. A tall top hat perched on his head and a long driving whip in his gloved hand. He bowed as Nate approached, and gestured that he waited for them.
Cara stepped up into the carriage while their luggage was loaded into the back. She settled onto the brown leather seat and marvelled at how different travelling with Nate was compared to her previous adventures. She normally hit the docks on foot, swung a duffle over her shoulder, and disappeared amongst the locals.
The landau travelled along the outer edge of the island before turning onto Palace Bridge. Cara did not know which direction to look in first; her head spun with the sights, smells, and sounds of St. Petersburg.
Nate watched her with a glint in his eyes and a relaxed smile on his lips. “What do you think?” he asked as their carriage headed down Nevsky Prospekt.
She turned large eyes to him. “India was exotic and heady. St. Petersburg is magical like we have stepped into another world. I keep expecting to see a unicorn prancing down the road.”
Nate took her hand is his. “Let me show this world to you before you consider divorce.”
Opposite the magnificent curve of the Kazan Cathedral, the horses pulled left, down a smaller lane and stopped outside the ornate Hotel Alfonsino. Built in the 1820s, the hotel had reigned supreme in Europe for forty years as the most luxurious home away from home for the nobility.
The façade was of the palest stone with columns holding aloft a portico deep enough to shelter four carriages at a time. Ornate cornerstones and spouting, depicting mythological creatures, appeared to claw and scrabble their way over the building. Four stories high, an enormous glass and leadlight dome dominated the roofline.
Porters in uniforms of deepest green with white frogging rushed to assist. Two loaded their luggage onto a small gleaming black railcar, sitting above polished brass rails while the third held open the carriage door and took Cara’s hand.
She just had time to see their luggage chug away through a hole in the side of the building, before Nate tucked her hand into his arm and led her up the wide stairs and into the foyer. Light flooded the reception area, the high glass dome overhead allowing the sun to penetrate the large hotel as though it were open to the skies. An intricate pattern of green, cream, and amber marble tiles must have taken workers months to lay. Palms soared higher than in Nate’s conservatory back in London, having four stories to stretch their fronds instead of just two.
Women who had stepped from the latest Paris fashion plates glided across the floor. The newest Worth dresses, dripping expensive embellishments, moved alongside the free flowing, but just as pricey, artistic movement gowns. Cara smoothed a hand over the green wool outfit she chose to wear, grateful for Nate’s subtle hint to change. She would have felt like the pauper amongst these women in her usual pants and corset combination.
A double staircase caressed each side of the lobby, the railing an ornate confection of black wrought iron topped with a pristine brass hand rail, as the two sides merged at the first floor landing. Chandeliers the size and width of Shetland ponies hung every thirty feet, their arms dripping with crystals, waiting for dusk to throw their magical light over the guests below.
“Is this acceptable for our stay?” Nate’s voice, low in her ear, interrupted her wide eyed inspection.
Cara gulped. “I’ll manage, somehow.”
Hotel staff littered the foyer like autumn leaves, waitin
g to be of assistance to their wealthy patrons. One concierge in a grey pinstripe suit made a beeline for them and inclined his head in greeting. “Welcome to the Hotel Alfonsino. How may we help you today, sir?”
“Viscount Lyons and my wife. We have a suite booked.”
Cara wondered how he managed to book a Russian honeymoon while trapped in the Tower. Although knowing Nate, confinement wouldn’t have been much of an impediment to his plans.
“Of course, milord. One moment please.” The dapper man waved a hand at a second, younger employee, who scuttled over. A few brief words were exchanged and the younger man darted away at high speed on an unknown task.
“If you would follow me, milord, milady.”
They approached a bank of four elevators at the back of the foyer. Their ornate doors each depicted different birds in full enamelled and coloured glory. The hotel employee selected the elevator behind a pair of peacocks. He held the gilded gate open and gestured for them to enter. Once happy that Cara’s short train was safety contained, he pulled the door shut. The male peacock held his tail high, each feather picked out and enamelled in colours that seemed to glow. His smaller peahen in lush shades of brown and so expertly worked, she appeared made of warm silk, not cold metal. Cara had to reach out a hand and stroke the bird. The concierge smiled at her indulgently as though guests petting the metal birds were a regular occurrence.
The elevator attendant waited his signal from the concierge, and then pulled a lever. With a jerk and whoosh, the elevator started to rise. Floors appeared; giving a brief glimpse of lavish wallpapered corridors, and then disappeared as the open cage kept rising. A bump heralded their arrival at the top floor and the door was pulled open, making the two peacocks vanish into the surrounding wall.
They stepped out onto a deep red carpet, complemented by red and gold wallpaper. Small occasional tables every twenty feet held floral arrangements in colours to blend with the main theme of the floor.
Their guide stopped at two panelled doors, the edges picked out in soft gold, a large brass number 42 straddling the join. Four on the left, two on the right, the numbers split apart as he pushed open the door.
“I hope this suite is satisfactory, milord,” he murmured to Nate as they entered the light and airy rooms with carpet of the deepest red. Floor to ceiling glass windows led out to a private balcony.
Like walking over dried blood, Cara thought. The walls and furnishings were tones of brown, cream, and taupe, blending and not competing with the red. Sofas and daybeds littered the room in small conversation areas. A large desk held a private aethergraph for their use. A table, large enough to seat ten sat in front of the window, sunlight spilling over its French polish surface.
She moved around the room, touching objects, picking up a cushion as Nate held a conversation with the manager. Their luggage arrived and he issued orders for its placement while she continued to explore. Pushing open the glass doors, she stepped out on to the balcony and peered down the street while evaluating how easily she could climb down the side if necessary.
Walking back inside and through another set of double doors, Cara found the largest bed she had ever seen. Posts ran to the high ceiling and held aloft the dark canopy. Fabric draped and swirled at each corner and could be pulled to give the occupants complete privacy.
Arms encircled her, warm breath tickled her ear. “We could have a lot of fun shut away in there.”
She ran an eye over the enormous mattress. “You’d have to find me first.”
“Oh, I would always hunt you down.”
He turned her in his arms, one hand cupping the base of her head as he brushed her lips in a leisurely kiss. She sighed against him as his tongue stroked over hers. Heat spread through her limbs as she gave herself up to him. He broke away and rested his forehead against hers. “What would you like to do this afternoon?”
Excitement and curiosity flared in her chest; a strange new city lay beyond the hotel steps, calling her name. “I want to explore. If we are only here for a few days I need to see everything.”
He laughed and then kissed her forehead. “Then why don’t you change into something suitable for walking? We can spend the afternoon exploring the city. When we return, they will send a maid up to help you bathe and change for tonight.” He gave her a wicked grin. “If I helped, you wouldn’t make it out of the bath.”
he maid placed the diamond encrusted comb in Cara’s hair, bobbed a polite curtsey, and retreated out the dressing room door. Cara brushed a hand over the grey silk chiffon gown, a fingertip lingering on one of the silver embellished stars scattered over the fabric. A small diamante twinkled in the centre of each star. Unconventional in design, the gown clung to her form and swept into a train at the back. She picked up a long velvet cape with a grey ermine edging, to keep out the evening chill.
Nate waited for her in the main room of their suite. A black evening coat with tails embraced his broad shoulders. Pants of the palest dove grey, paired with a waistcoat of the same tone as Cara’s dress complete with silver embroidery. With his strong jaw and deep blue eyes, he looked devilishly handsome in his formal clothes and ready to step amongst the elite of the Russian court.
A carriage with mechanical horses awaited them outside the hotel. The metal equines were made entirely of steel with no other coloured metal used in their construction. They looked ethereal; their pale bodies glowing under the moonlight as they silently awaited their commands. Cara felt like Cinderella taking an enchanted ride to the ball with a wicked prince by her side. A shiver of anticipation ran through her body.
They only had a short ride to the Winter Palace. All too soon, they pulled under the middle of the triple arches and joined the queue of other carriages lining up in the cavernous courtyard to discharge their passengers. Nate kept his arm looped around her waist as though fearing she would disappear amongst the crowd, darting after a wisp of wherever her curiosity called.
They made their way through the gilded fairy-tale palace toward the Nicolas Hall. Cara paused at the entrance and gave a silent gasp, the opulence of the room staggering and stealing her breath. Chandeliers of monstrous size hung from the ceiling, each with three tiers terminating in strands of thousands of tiny crystals which formed a soft dome. The ceiling alone was a work of art, gilded frescoes of nymphs and angels cavorted across the white expanse. The room was double height; balconies on the second level gave people a view down into the ballroom. Ten thousand people could fit in the hall for the soiree and the press of people overwhelmed.
Still better than an underground tunnel. No obvious rats here.
Everywhere Cara turned a fortune in diamonds and precious gems glittered. The women did not just wear gems as jewellery; their gowns were adorned with priceless jewels sewn into the fabric, clothing them in dazzling armour. The Russian aristocracy wore their wealth in a lavish display as though the world outside the Palace did not exist.
In her exploration of the city earlier, Cara saw starving urchins with grubby faces, skeletal hands extended, begging for scraps of food. She made Nate empty his pockets, giving all their coins to the hungry children. A shudder ran down her spine at the stark contrast between the two faces of St. Petersburg.
Nate’s grip tightened round her waist as he followed her intent gaze. “You can’t steal their jewellery to feed the city’s children.”
She watched a four inch wide diamond collar glide past. “Well, I could actually. But I doubt we need trouble on two continents right now.”
Nate kissed her bare shoulder. “We’ll feed more children tomorrow, I promise.”
His eyes scanned the assembled nobles, sorting through hundreds of faces and uniforms before he located his target. He laced his fingers with Cara’s to lead her safely through the crowd. He approached a tall, broad man in his mid-forties with blond hair only faintly touched by grey, slicked back from his temples, and a square handsome face. Deep lines around his eyes showed he laughed often throughout his life. His black forma
l wear was relieved by the scarlet velvet waistcoat. He broke into a smile on seeing Nate and grasped his arm.
“Nate, you look remarkably well for a man languishing in the Tower of London awaiting execution,” he said in English with only the lightest touch of an accent.
Nate returned the handshake. “I couldn’t possibly stay there; terribly damp and I promised my wife I would show her beautiful St. Petersburg.”
“Wife? You kept that quiet.” Clear grey eyes swept over Cara.
Nate laid his hand on the naked small of her back. “Cara, this is an old friend and comrade, Count Nikolai Dushov.”
She held out her hand, and the count executed a small courtly bow and placed a kiss on the back of her hand. “Delighted. Although I am curious how a rogue like Nate managed to capture such a beauty.”
Cara bit her tongue, wondering how Nate would explain the marriage contract he bought from her father.
Nate didn’t miss a beat. “I did what you would expect, Nikolai, I stole my precious gem.”
“And he’ll pay for it later,” Cara murmured.
The count laughed, his eyes dancing. “I think we have similar taste in women, no?”
Nate inclined his head, his gaze scanning the aristocrats. “Speaking of our women, where is the luscious Natalie?”
From several feet away a brunette with red velvet draped over sensuous curves looked up as though hearing her name mentioned. She extracted her hand from a fawning general and went to Nikolai’s arm like a falcon returning from her hunt.
“Nate,” she murmured, reaching up to kiss his cheek before turning curious brown eyes to Cara.
Nate gave the woman one of his rare, wide smiles, causing a pang of jealously to cut through Cara. “Natalie, as gorgeous as ever, I see. May I present to you, Cara, my wife.”