She told the woman all of it, from the first moment she met Mikhail, to when he told her she was burying her talents by giving her journals to Richard, to when Richard fell off the logs, to when Mikhail pulled her from the river. She tried not to leave out a single thing—other than their kisses, but she had a feeling Evelina knew those happened too.
Others woke and headed to the kitchen as the sun rose higher in the sky. Yuri wrinkled his nose at the tea and brewed a pot of coffee, then sat down at the table to listen to her story while Sacha and Maggie wandered in and pulled out some teacakes to serve with the coffee and tea. Then Kate and Nathan came downstairs, and finally Alexei—who looked just as tired as Bryony and Evelina.
At one point Evelina asked her if she wanted to move to Alexei’s study, where their conversation would be more private, but everyone in his family was already seated around the large scarred table, listening to everything she had to say. And all of them seemed so utterly and completely kind that she couldn’t imagine leaving them.
Somewhere near the end of the interview, Kate and Maggie rose from the table and started making breakfast—flat Russian pancakes that filled the kitchen with the scent of flour and sugar.
“Is there anything else you’d like to add?” Evelina asked, recording a few more things in her notebook.
“I think I told you everything.” Bryony sipped on her steaming tea.
“Thank you so much.” Evelina reached across the table and clasped her hand, then sent her another one of those soft smiles.
“Will anything I said be able to help Mikhail?”
“Absolutely.” Evelina squeezed her hand. “Like I said last night, I’m hoping to get this case thrown out first thing Monday, before it even has a chance to go to trial.”
Bryony blew out a breath. “I hope you’re successful.”
The kitchen door banged open, and Ilya rushed in, his black eyes shining. “Sacha said you’re making blinis.” He rushed around the table, nearly knocking over a chair, and slid to a halt beside the stove.
“We might be making blinis, but you won’t be getting any if you race around the house like that.” Kate didn’t even try to look apologetic as she threatened to withhold the wonderful smelling food. “Where are your manners?”
The kitchen door banged open again, and two children with red hair rushed inside.
“It’s Tanksgiving, Maggie!” A boy of maybe five or six raced around the table and tugged on Maggie’s skirt.
She patted him on top of the head. “It sure is, Finnan. Now head on over to the table. Breakfast is almost ready.”
The girl who’d come in with him had gone straight to the hutch and started setting the table with Inessa.
They worked together as Maggie and Kate plated the food, and a few minutes later, the entire Amos clan was crowded around a table that was far too small for them, in a room that seemed equally too small for their boisterous voices.
But Bryony could only smile. She’d take the familiar, comforting chaos of the Amos household over the cold quietness of the Caldwell mansion any day.
After Alexei prayed for their food, the family started eating. She poked her fork at the thin pancake that had been filled with jam, then rolled up and sprinkled with powdered sugar.
“Just cut into it with your fork and take a bite.” Ilya spoke around a mouthful of food. “But you better hurry, because there’s not enough for everyone to have seconds. You gotta finish first for that.” The boy went back to shoveling food into his mouth.
Evelina shook her head. “We’ve tried to teach him manners, truly we have. Everything just goes out the window when he’s hungry.”
Bryony used the edge of her fork to cut off a bite, then raised it to her lips. Rich, sweet flavors exploded the second the food touched her tongue. She didn’t have to wonder why Ilya was inhaling his food.
A knock sounded from deeper inside the house.
“I’ll see who it is.” Alexei finished chewing, then wiped his face and left the room.
Bryony took another bite of her food, stifling a little moan. “I think this is the best breakfast I’ve ever had.” It was certainly better than anything the Caldwells’ fancy French chef had served them.
Kate paused, her own bite of food only a few inches from her mouth. “It’s our mother’s recipe. We make it on special occa?—”
“I demand to see my daughter immediately!” A booming voice carried into the kitchen.
Bryony stopped chewing, heat rushing to her cheeks. “Ah, excuse me. It sounds like the knock at the door was for me.”
She started to push her chair back from the table, but Yuri stopped her with a hand to her back. “Do you want to see him, luv? You don’t have to. Alexei’s perfectly capable of handling things.”
She didn’t want to see her father, no. She had a feeling Heath was at the door too, and she didn’t want to see him either, but it wasn’t very fair of her to expect a man she’d met only twelve hours ago to handle her problems for her.
