“When I speak Russian, do I have an accent?”
A spark of amusement flashed across his face. “Of course you do.”
“But I learned Russian at the same time I learned English, and my mother said I sounded as fluent as a native. So what kind of accent do I have?”
He shrugged and glanced around the carriage as though searching for an answer. “You sound like someone from Moscow,” he finally said. “Like your mother, I suppose.”
The carriage jostled and swayed over cobblestones, and the rain picked up speed, spattering against the windows. It sounded like he didn’t intend to say anything else, which meant she had to pry it out of him.
“I overheard that awful girl say I have a gutter accent. Do I?”
Dimitri’s eyes softened. “Dearest Natalia, you sound like the woman I adore. What else do you want me to say?”
“You can tell me the truth.”
“The truth is that yours is the dearest voice in the world to me,” he replied.
“Even with a gutter accent.”
He nodded, the hint of amusement back. “Yes, even with a gutter accent.”
She folded her arms and glared out the window, unaccountably upset. It shouldn’t matter, but she’d always been proud of her ability to speak Russian. That awful girl had spat on it. Spaton her mother too. Natalia liked to think of herself as a prim and efficient business analyst whose knowledge of Russia was a priceless asset to her father ... when in truth she showed her peasant heritage with every word she spoke.
Dimitri set a hand on her knee, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. When he spoke, his voice was gentle with affection.
“Natalia, it is only a mosquito bite.”
It felt like a ray of sunshine pierced the clouds. Why had she been letting the opinion of a vain, spoiled girl matter so much?
She beamed at Dimitri. “Thank you for that.”
He slid off his bench and rotated to fill the space beside her. With a thumb and forefinger, he tipped her chin to look at him.
“You do not have an elegant accent,” he said. “You sound like a woman of Russia, a strong woman who can be depended on to endure the longest winter and shoulder any burden. You traveled across the country because you feared someone was trying to impersonate me. You are strength and valor and compassion. If I was a composer, I would write a symphony to express how grand you are.”
His kiss both thrilled and reassured her, and she sank into it with abandon. Maybe they didn’t have a future, but they had today, and it was precious. When the carriage arrived at their hotel, Dimitri instructed the cabbie to drive around the block a few times, and they went back to kissing. Natalia settled into his arms and smiled against his mouth.
Could Dimitri be the one? Perhaps being a part of Alexander’s life would be enough for her. Or they could adopt a child of their own. Dimitri’s condition didn’t have to dictate her life. Over the past few years, she had wondered if she would ever find the right man. It would be the ultimate irony if she was already being courted by the love of her life from the other side of the world. Dimitri would forever miss his homeland, but perhaps the two of them could find a way to create a wonderful life for themselves here in America.
24
Natalia awoke the following morning in a fog of happiness, blissfully anticipating showing Dimitri the sights of Washington over the next few days while awaiting Dr. Seaman’s return. Today they would climb the Washington Monument so Dimitri could enjoy the panoramic view of the city, then visit the Smithsonian.
But, of course, Poppy had to ruin it all.
“You’re not to go sightseeing without a chaperone, young lady,” Poppy said from the breakfast table in their hotel suite.
“Poppy, you’re three months older than me,” Natalia pointed out. “I don’t think you’re in a position to wag your finger and call me a ‘young lady.’”
“You are both young ladies,” Dimitri said. “The three of us shall see the Washington Monument together, and all of society shall marvel at how I have managed to acquire a charming young lady for each arm.”
“Not because of Natalia,” Poppy said. “She was born old and stodgy. Natalia, sit down and stop making everyone nervous with that wretched pacing. The Washington Monument doesn’t even open to visitors for another hour.”
A copy ofRand McNally and Co.’s Handy Guide to Washingtonlay open on the table, and Natalia reluctantly joinedthem to skim the guidebook while Poppy continued to complain.
“Why must we go to the top of the monument anyway? It’s too much of a climb.”
Dimitri saved Natalia from answering. “It is imperative that I go to the top. I have walked across the Brooklyn Bridge and traversed the country from coast to coast. I must now scale the Washington Monument, or my life will never be complete.”
