“Sometimes I wonder if I should have followed him.”
Liam immediately knew who she spoke about and sent her a pained smile.
“I miss him,” she continued. “When we were together, it felt like we could fly. He was strong and funny and confident. No matter what, I always knew Dimitri would look out for me.”
Liam snickered. “Every time I saw him, he was pestering you for a manicure.”
She laughed because it was true, but what other people didn’t understand was that she and Dimitri took care of each other. They were equals, leaning on each other when needed, but usually their combined energy and talent made them soar.
And shelikedgiving him manicures. After all he had been through, Dimitri deserved a little pampering, and she’d been happy to provide it. Knowing that she might never again have the chance to do so triggered a physical ache in her chest. She looked at the moonlight on the water, wishing she could see all the way across the ocean, Europe, and straight to Saint Petersburg.
“I still wonder if I should go. Between a steamship and a train, I could be there in three weeks.”
“You don’t want to go to Russia.” Liam’s voice was unaccountably serious.
“Why not?”
“There’s trouble brewing in Russia. You won’t read about it in the newspapers because it’s simmering beneath the surface, but it’s been building up for years, like a valve about to blow. I still have union friends, the sketchy type who mingle with bomb-throwers and rabble-rousers. They have their ear to the ground in Russia, and it’s not going to be good for people like Count Sokolov.”
She stiffened. “Thank you, Liam, but I don’t need your advice about Russia.”
He frowned. “You don’t need to sound so snotty about it.”
“I’m heading to bed,” she said, reluctant to continue this conversation.
Because she feared Liam might be right.
33
Dimitri finally received an answer to his request for an audience with the czar, and the news wasn’t good. The family’s secretary personally delivered the message to Mirosa, and Dimitri went with Felix into his father’s old study to read the message.
This is not a matter for the Imperial Majesty, but you will be allotted fifteen minutes to present your concerns to Baron Freedericksz’s office on February 3rd at Tsarskoye Selo.
Dimitri wasn’t going to wait five months, especially since neither the baron nor the czar would be in Tsarskoye Selo in February. Everyone knew the entire royal family and its entourage would spend the winter in the Crimea.
Dimitri glanced up at his secretary. “They are hoping I have become seduced by my life of leisure here at Mirosa.”
“Have you?” Felix asked.
It wasn’t an irrational question. Dimitri looked around the careworn study brimming with old books, comfortable furniture, and a view over the valley. This was the only life he’d ever wanted, and if Natalia were here, it would be perfect.
“Yes,” he admitted. “I am enchanted with my life here. Sadlyfor Baron Freedericksz, I also remain committed to forcing a public reaffirmation of the Treaty of Aigun from the czar, and I have a plan to force his hand.”
He passed an old, battered volume filled with dry government reports to Felix. “I’ve always found that shining sunlight on inconvenient facts is the best ammunition,” he said, and quickly conveyed his scheme to Felix. After a few hours fleshing out the details, he sent Felix to Saint Petersburg to continue gathering research.
Then Dimitri joined his guests. It was the fifth day of his mother’s weeklong house party for their friends from the valley. The days were filled with card games, charades, and long hikes in the woods. They sang songs around the piano late into the evening. Tonight they planned a bonfire out back, and the local schoolmaster would recite a theatrical reading.
Dimitri loved the languid pace of life in the countryside. A few of the men had gone fishing, but most relaxed after a full luncheon in the gathering room. Dimitri settled into the corner table with a cup of tea. From here he could watch Olga by the fireplace as she chatted with his mother, because any man with a pulse found it easy to admire Olga Zaripova.
She no longer wore mourning clothes. Olga’s dark emerald gown looked spectacular against her blond hair, which was perfectly styled, as always. Olga was Count Ulyanov’s daughter, a good man who loved the valley as much as Dimitri did. They’d both been disappointed when the marriage was called off, but perhaps it was for the best. Olga had always preferred the city.
Count Ulyanov beckoned Dimitri over to join a game of dominoes with his wife and the young man who worked as the village tutor. While the tutor distributed the dominoes, Count Ulyanov used the break to retrieve a flask from his breast pocket and pour a splash of amber liquid into a tumbler.
“Applejack?” he offered. Dimitri declined with a slight shake of his head, but Count Ulyanov pressed. “Are you sure? It’s the best in the valley. I paid ten rubles for it.”
“Is it from Ilya Komarov?” the tutor asked.
“Indeed it is,” the count affirmed, and the tutor eagerly proffered his own glass.
