Chapter Thirty-four
“My lady?” Marusia stuck her head in at the door. “A messenger has finally come from the Prince. We are to leave immediately to join him in the city.”
“Moscow?”
“No, St. Petersburg.”
“Do come in, Marusia, and close the door. You’re letting in a draft,” Katherine said, pulling her shawl closer about her shoulders. “Now, why St. Petersburg? I thought Dimitri was still in Moscow?”
“No, not for some time. He has been to Austria on business and has only just returned.”
Typical, Katherine thought. Why should she be told he had left the country? Why should she be told anything? He just stuck her in the country for months and forgot about her.
“Has the Tzar returned at last? Is that why we go to St. Petersburg?”
“I don’t know, my lady. The messenger just said we were to hurry.”
“Why? Blast it, Marusia, I’m not budging until I know what to expect,” Katherine said irritably.
“I imagine that if the Tzar has returned and the Prince plans to send you home, it would have to be done soon, before the Neva freezes and closes the harbor.”
“Oh.” Katherine slumped back in her chair by the fire. “Yes, that would explain the hurry,” she added quietly.
Where did that leave her? Arriving home with a stomach ballooned with pregnancy and no husband to show for it. Not if she had anything to say about it. She couldn’t do that to her father. Disappear for half a year and then bring home an even worse scandal? No and no again.
She had planned to tell Dimitri about her condition when he returned to Novii Domik. She had planned to demand that he marry her. But it had been nearly three months since she had seen him. Summer had vanished quickly. Autumn was gone as well. She hadn’t planned to spend the winter in Russia, but she was not going home without a husband. If Dimitri thought he was going to stick her on a ship and have done with her, he was crazy.
“Very well, Marusia, I can be ready to leave tomorrow,” Katherine conceded. “But as for rushing, you can forget it. No more flying carriages for me, thank you, and you can tell your husband I said so.”
“We won’t be able to return as quickly as we got here anyway, my lady, now that the nights are longer.”
“That can’t be helped, but I was referring to the daytime traveling. No more than twenty or twenty-five miles a day. That should assure us a more comfortable ride.”
“But that will take twice as long.”
“I’m not going to argue about this, Marusia. That river can surely wait a few more days before it freezes over.” She hoped not, but then that was the whole point of delaying her arrival in St. Petersburg, that and making sure her baby wasn’t jostled about by the mad Russian drivers.
Dimitri had a fit when he got Vladimir’s message. Katherine insisted on traveling at a snail’s pace. They probably wouldn’t arrive for nearly a week yet. Damn, this was not supposed to happen.
His idea of stranding her in Russia because of the weather had had its drawbacks from the beginning, mainly that he would have to forego seeing her for several months, until winter arrived. But he had known that once summer ended, she would be constantly demanding to know when she could leave. So he had had to avoid her, to avoid her questions, to get through autumn and hope winter would come early this year.
Sitting it out in St. Petersburg had been a long and depressing wait, especially through the cold and damp of autumn. And he hadn’t even had a wedding to plan for his sister which could have kept him occupied. As soon as he arrived, she had informed him that that particular young man wouldn’t do after all. Dimitri had nothing to do but attend to normal business, which he had grossly neglected of late, the proof being in the account books Katherine had sent on to him, revealing not four companies nearing ruin but five. There were a few friends to visit, but most avoided the city in autumn as well as summer, and were only just returning now for the winter season. Natalia had finally shown up last week and had promised to give his problem of who to choose for a bride immediate thought, even if he didn’t care to think about it himself.
The most irritating, depressing, and outrageous thing about this time he had deliberately stayed away from Katherine was that he had remained celibate—he, who had never gone three nights without a woman when it wasn’t necessary. And it wasn’t necessary. There were women wherever he went who made it quite clear they were available. But they weren’t Katherine, and he was still in the throes of his obsession with his little English rose. Until he got her out of his system, no one else would do.
The very minute the ice started forming on the Neva, Dimitri sent for her. After all this time, he was madly impatient to see her again. So what did she do? She deliberately delayed her arrival! So like her. Anything to defy and aggravate him. Vladimir was so right. She had returned wholeheartedly to her normal contrariness. But that was certainly preferable to the silent contempt she had treated him to when they last parted. Anything was preferable to that.
So Dimitri waited again, but took advantage of the time to perfect the excuses he planned to offer Katherine for not getting her out of Russia in time. She was going to be furious, but he hoped it wouldn’t take her too long to accept the inevitable.
Katherine was thinking exactly the same thing as the carriages rolled along the one-hundred-foot-wide streets of St. Petersburg six days later. Dimitri was going to be furious with her, and rightly so, for missing her ship. The best way to get around his anger, she had found, was to attack on some different front. She had a store of grievances to choose from, all insignificant in light of her condition and what she now wanted, but all ready weapons she could make use of.
The vast openness of St. Petersburg was an amazing sight for someone used to the congestion of London. Katherine enjoyed her first real look at Russia’s window on the western world, for she hadn’t really seen anything on her whirlwind arrival here.
Everything was so monumental in this city of grandeur. The Winter Palace, a Russian baroque edifice of some four hundred rooms, was perhaps the most impressive sight, but there were so many palaces and other buildings of immense size, so many public squares. And the nearly three-mile-long Nevsky Prospeckt, the city’s main street, with its many stores and restaurants. She had a glimpse too of the Peter and Paul Fortress across the river, the prison where Peter the Great had sent his own son to his death.
The open-air market held the most interest for Katherine, distracting her enough to forget for a few moments her final destination. Great piles of frozen animals were brought here on sleds from all over the country. All manner of things frozen were used to preserve freshness for the cows, sheep, hogs and fowls, butter, eggs, fish.
And the delightful oddities. Bearded merchants in robelike caftans of drab colors next to their gaily dressed wives in brocaded smocks and tall, brightly colored headdresses that formed a shawl nearly touching the ground. Befurred Bashkirs. Turbaned Tartars. Holy men in their ankle-length tunics, with long, flowing beards. Katherine was able to distinguish some of the many different nationalities that comprised the Russian people.
Here were housewives carting away their purchases on little sleds, while street musicians in long coats and fur hats entertained them with a gusli or a dudka, and street vendors hawking kalachi, twisted loaves of bread made from the finest flour, tried to tempt them to part with a few more kopecks.
This was the Russia she had seen so little of, the people, the differences, the beauty of so many cultures that all blended together. Katherine made a mental note to have Dimitri bring her here when there would be time to see everything instead of just riding slowly past—but then she was reminded again of where she was going.
She could have recognized Dimitri’s palace as they drew near, but it wasn’t necessary to try. He was outside on the steps, which had been brushed clean of the falling snow, and at the carriage the moment it stopped, opening the door, reaching in to take her hand.
Kathe
rine had been extremely nervous on this last leg of the journey as they neared the city. After all, she had been particularly unkind and unforgiving when they were last together, refusing to listen to anything Dimitri had to say, letting her hurt develop into one of the worst pouts she had ever indulged in. Now her nervousness brought her defenses to the surface. Not that she wasn’t stunned by the sight of him, so dazzling in his splendid Russian uniform that her heart was racing at double time. But she no longer had just herself to think of. Her senses might be devastated, but her mind was quite ready for battle.
He drew her forward and lifted her to the ground. “Welcome to St. Petersburg.”
“I’ve been here before, Dimitri.”
“Yes, but for too short a time.”
“You’re right. Being whisked through a place doesn’t give one time to appreciate it. My arrival, slow and leisurely as it was, was much more pleasant than my departure.”
“Am I to apologize for that too, when I have so much more to apologize for?”
“Oh? You don’t mean to tell me you have done something to apologize for? Not you, surely.”
“Katya, please. If you want to cut me up into little pieces, can it at least wait until we go inside? If you haven’t noticed, it’s snowing.”
How could she not notice when her eyes were fascinated watching each little white flake melt on his face? And why wasn’t he screaming at her for taking her sweet time in getting here? He seemed to be making an extreme effort to be pleasant, too pleasant, when she had been expecting the worst. Hadn’t the river frozen over yet? Was she too early after all?
“Of course, Dimitri, lead the way. I am at your disposal, as usual.”
Dimitri flinched at her tone. Katherine’s mood was worse than he had expected, and she hadn’t even been told she was stranded yet. What then could he expect when she learned of her new situation?
He took her elbow and ushered her up the steps. The large double doors opened as they reached them and closed immediately after they had stepped inside, opening again a moment later to admit Vladimir and the others carrying in some of the baggage, closing again immediately. This opening and closing of doors, as if she didn’t have hands of her own to do it, had annoyed Katherine before, but not since the cold arrived, for the quickness of the footmen certainly kept cold drafts down to a minimum.
Used to the quiet elegance of Novii Domik, Katherine was momentarily amazed by the opulence of Dimitri’s city residence. Polished parquet floors, wide marble stairs thickly carpeted, paintings in gilt frames, a mammoth chandelier of crystal suspended in the center of this enormous room, and this was just the entry hall.
Katherine said nothing, but waited until Dimitri led her into another overlarge room, the drawing room, scattered with furniture in marble, rosewood, and mahogany, the chairs and sofas upholstered in silk and velvet in muted shades of rose and gold, blending well with the Persian rugs.
A large fire was crackling in the hearth, surprisingly wanning the entire room. Katherine settled herself in a chair big enough only for one, a defensive move noted by Dimitri. Sitting, she untied the heavy cape Marusia had lent her and tossed it back over the chair. Nothing that Dimitri had bought her in England was fit for a Russian winter. That would quickly be rectified. Her winter wardrobe was ordered and nearly finished. A servant had already been instructed to take a dress to the dressmaker for adjustments to the measurements as soon as her luggage was unpacked.
“Would you care for a brandy to warm you?” Dimitri asked, taking the seat opposite her.
“Is that a Russian cure-all too?”
“Vodka is more appropriate here.”
“I’ve tried your vodka, thank you, and didn’t particularly care for it. I’ll have tea, if you don’t mind.”
Dimitri waved a hand, and Katherine glanced up to see one of two footmen standing by the door turn and leave the room.
“How nice,” she said tightly. “Now I get a chaperon. Rather late, don’t you think.”
Dimitri waved his hand again and the door closed, leaving them alone. “The servants are always so underfoot, after a while you don’t notice them.”
“Obviously I haven’t been here long enough then.” Katherine opened the door to what was on both their minds, but quickly, cowardly, closed it again. “So, Dimitri, how have you been?”
“I have missed you, Katya.”
That was not the turn the conversation was supposed to take. “Am I supposed to believe that, after you disappear for three months?”
“I had business—”
“Yes, in Austria,” she interrupted curtly. “I was told, but only after you sent for me. Before that, you could have been dead for all I knew.” Oh, God, her resentment over his long neglect was showing. She hadn’t meant him to know how much she had missed him too.
The tea arrived, obviously prepared ahead of time. Katherine was saved from making a further blunder and given time to get her thoughts back under control. She poured the tea herself, taking her time over the ritual. Brandy had been brought for Dimitri, but he didn’t touch it.
When Katherine remained quiet, sipping her tea, Dimitri realized she was done taking him to task for the moment. But he wanted the worst over.
“You were right, you know,” he said softly, drawing her eyes back to his. “I should have sent you word before I left for Austria. But as I said earlier, I have much to apologize for. I also should have left Austria sooner, but unfortunately the business took longer than I expected and… Katya, I’m sorry, but the harbor is now closed. There will be no sea travel from here until spring.”
“Then I can’t go home?”
He expected her to respond that the whole country couldn’t be closed off, and indeed it wasn’t. Dimitri had more lies ready to convince her that the open ports were not for her. Her simple question threw him, however.
“Why aren’t you upset?” he demanded.
Katherine realized her mistake. “Of course I’m upset, but I was afraid this would happen when it started snowing on the way here. I have had days to accept the idea already.”
Dimitri was so delighted that she was already resigned to staying that he nearly smiled, ruining the contrition he was supposed to be feeling. “Of course the southern ports are open, but a thousand miles away and a grueling trip this time of year even for a Russian used to the weather.”
“Well, that is certainly out of the question for me,” Katherine replied quickly. “I practically froze just coming here.”
“I wasn’t going to suggest it,” Dimitri assured her. “There is also the western route overland through to France.” He failed to mention all the open ports along the coasts between here and there, but then he was counting on her not thinking of that. “But again, it is not a trip recommended for winter.”
“I should think not,” Katherine replied. “I mean, if Napoleon’s undefeated army could be defeated by a Russian winter, what chance would I have? So where does this leave me?”
“Since this is my fault—after all, I did promise I would have you on a ship back to England before the river froze—I can only hope you will accept my hospitality until the ice melts in the spring.”
“In the same capacity?” she inquired. “As prisoner?”
“No, little one. You will be free to come and go as you like, to do as you like. You would be my guest, no more.”
“Then I suppose I have no choice but to accept,” she said, sighing. “But if I’m no longer to be watched and guarded as before, aren’t you afraid I’ll denounce you for a kidnapper to the first person I meet?”
Dimitri was flabbergasted. This was too easy. In all the hours he had spent going over his plan, imagining her reactions, this quick acceptance was not one of the responses he had anticipated. But he was not one to bemoan good fortune.
He grinned at her. “It will make a most romantic tale, don’t you think?”
Katherine blushed. Dimitri, seeing the warm color spread across her cheeks, recalled other time
s she had looked just so, times when she had been more receptive to him. He was so moved that he forgot his resolve to go slowly with her this time and immediately closed the space between them, proving that Katherine’s defensive tactic of sitting in a small chair so as to remain far apart from him was pointless. He lifted her, seated himself, and tugged her gently onto his lap.
“Dimitri!”
“Hush. You protest before you even know what my intentions are.”
“Your intentions have never failed to be improper,” she retorted.
“You see how well we suit, little one? You already know me so well.”
He was teasing her, and she didn’t know quite what to make of it. But there was nothing teasing about his hold on her. It was firm and intimate, one arm pressing her rightly to his chest, the other draped across her lap, the hand boldly caressing her hip. Warm feelings spread along her nerve endings. She hadn’t felt so alive in months. He had always been able to do this to her, always stirred her in a purely physical way…
“I think you had best let me up, Dimitri.”
“Why?”
“The servants might come in,” she offered lamely.
“If that is your only reason, it won’t do. No one will open that door on threat of death.”
“Be serious.”
“But I am, little heart, most serious. We will not be disturbed here, so come up with another reason, or better yet, don’t. Just let me hold you for a while—Sweet Christ!” he gasped. “Don’t wiggle around so much, Katya!”
“I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”
He groaned, settling her in a less crucial spot. “It’s nothing that you couldn’t take care of if you only would.”
“Dimitri!”
“Forgive me.” He grinned as the bright spots appeared on her cheeks again. “That was rather crude of me, wasn’t it? But then I never could think very clearly when you were near, and right now is no exception. Why do you look so surprised? You didn’t really think that I would stop wanting you just because I have been away from you these three months?”
Secret Fire Page 27