“There were no atrocities,” Count Cassini insisted. “If your bank decides to withdraw from one of the most profitable investments in the world, we can go to the Rothschilds or J.P. Morgan.”
Natalia did not soften. “Yes, but my father is known for his voracious desire to make money. If he pulls out of the Trans-Siberian amidst rumors of atrocities, it will send a clarion call to the world thatsomethinghappened out there in those remote territories. Banks will be reluctant to dive in where others have pulled out.”
Count Cassini’s eyes crackled with fire. “I do not conduct business with women,” he said tightly. “Come, Mr. Mikhailovich.Let us go to my study where we may discuss the railway in cooler tones and leave the ladies to their tea.”
Natalia blanched, but Dimitri sent her a warning shake of his head, praying she would understand. Count Cassini’s chauvinism was too ingrained to permit a reprimand from a woman.
“I will join you when our business is concluded,” he told Natalia, hating the need to cave in to the count’s boorishness. Today they needed to play by Russian rules.
Natalia understood and had the dignity of a saint as she nodded her consent. Dimitri paused for a moment, locking eyes with her. How easily they understood each other, and he couldn’t be prouder of how gracefully she stepped aside to let him take the lead.
Dimitri followed the ambassador through marble corridors until they reached a private office. Count Cassini ushered Dimitri inside the book-lined study, where an enormous standing globe dominated one corner of the room and the other featured a telescope pointing out a window.
The door closed behind them, and the count took his seat behind a desk that was as wide and impressive as the prow of a ship. He opened the lid on a box of cigars and offered Dimitri one. “I admire your patience, Mr. Mikhailovich. It must be maddening to report to a woman.”
Dimitri declined the cigar but answered the count’s question. “I have found Miss Blackstone to be a woman of remarkable good sense in the years I have worked with her.”
Count Cassini clipped the end of his cigar and leaned forward to light it from a jeweled table lighter that looked like it had come from the Fabergé studio. He took a series of rapid puffs on the cigar to ensure a proper light before leaning back in his chair to peer at Dimitri through the cloud of smoke.
“She may be a woman of good sense, but she is mistaken about what happened in Manchuria. The Russian army is entitled to maintain peace along the route of the Trans-Siberian. There were no atrocities or broken treaties.”
“We both know there were witnesses,” Dimitri said. “Russian witnesses who are willing to come forward. Dr. Seaman gave you one such report that you have already dismissed, but there will be others.”
Count Cassini drew a long pull on his cigar and blew a stream directly into Dimitri’s face. “And will that come from you, Count Sokolov?”
Dimitri tried not to let his surprise show but failed. Count Cassini was matter-of-fact as he continued speaking.
“I knew that Count Sokolov had escaped his prison sentence and assumed he’d try to find his way to the Blackstones if he made it out of the wilderness. Your instinct for survival is commendable. Given the way Miss Blackstone looks at you with her heart in her face, it appears you have her in the palm of your hand.”
Dimitri ignored the implied insult and went on the offensive. “It must be an embarrassment that the treaty you were honor-bound to enforce was so wantonly ignored by the army.”
Count Cassini shrugged. “I was on the other side of the world when it happened.Ifit happened,” he amended quickly.
“We both know it did.”
“If it did, there is nothing you or I can do about it now.”
Anger began to simmer, but Dimitri restrained it. “I lost everything by refusing to ignore what happened that day. Everything except my honor.”
His words did not cause a flicker of regret on the count’s face. “And I intend to savemyhonor by protecting the czar. No one will know what treaties might have been violated unless Russian officials acknowledge it, and I can assure you that will never happen.”
“I’ve only just arrived in America. The Blackstones know about the massacre and will support my allegation.”
“Ah yes, the Blackstones. Tell me, is Natalia your mistress?” The count spoke casually, and Dimitri bristled as he replied.
“Miss Blackstone is a woman of impeccable character, both in public and in private.”
“I saw the way you looked at each other. The unspoken communication you share is generally something that takes years to develop.”
“It is true that we have worked together for years. We were on opposite sides of the world, but we have always been of one mind. One heart.”
“Then marry her,” Count Cassini said. “Build a new life here. America is a wonderful country, and you can never go back to Russia, can you?”
The statement felt like the slash of a saber, all the more painful because it was true. Dimitri would never see Mirosa or his mother again. The unquenchable longing for home welled up inside him, but he wouldn’t indulge it while locked in battle with a man determined to defend the czar.
He spoke with the steely determination forged during thousands of miles of deprivation. “You are correct that the past cannot be changed, but I will fight to ensure it never happens again. Will you honor the 1858 treaty that guarantees the rights of the Chinese settlers north of the river?”
“Myself? Of course I shall! It is already in the books, and I would never do anything to tarnish its sterling reputation.”
