Katherine groaned miserably. “My—ah, my letter explaining everything must have been misplaced somehow. Oh, this is terrible!”
“Perhaps you should write your father another letter,” Dimitri said tightly, coming forward at last.
Katherine turned to see that he had recovered completely from his shock. In fact, if his current expression was any indication, it looked as if his famous temper was about to explode. Now what the devil didhehave to be angry about?
“Dimitri, my boy. That’s right, you know Lady Katherine St. John, don’t you? Saw you two dancing earlier.”
“Yes, Lady Katherine and I have met, and if you will excuse us, Ambassador, I would like a few words with her.”
He didn’t give anyone time to protest, least of all Katherine, as he literally dragged her out of the ballroom, and out of the house. On the stairs outside she caught her breath, but as she was about to upbraid him, she was pushed into a carriage, and Dimitri got the first word in.
“So it is all true! Every bit of it true! Do you know what you have done,LadyKatherine? Do you have any idea of the repercussions, the—”
“WhatIhave done?” she gasped incredulously. “What the devil are you raving about? I told you who I was. You are the blasted know-it-all who wouldn’t believe me.”
“You could have convinced me! You could have told me what an earl’s daughter was doing on the street, dressed in rags, alone.”
“But I did tell you. And those were not rags I was wearing, but my maid’s uniform. I told you!”
“You did not!”
“Of course I did. I told you I was in disguise so that I could follow my sister, because I thought she was eloping. And you see! Elisabeth did elope. And I could have prevented that if not for you!”
“Katya, you told me none of that.”
“I tell you I did. I must have.” At his continued glower, she snapped uneasily, “Well, what’s the difference? I gave you my name, my status. I even gave you a list of my accomplishments, some of which I have since proved nicely. But to this day, you were still too pigheaded to accept the obvious. Good Lord, Marusia was right. You Russians take top honors for inflexibility of first impressions.”
“Are you finished?”
“Yes, I believe I am,” she replied tightly.
“Very well. Tomorrow we will be married.”
“No.”
“No?” he shouted again. “Just yesterday you wanted to marry me. You were even furious when I explained that it wasn’t possible.”
“Exactly,” she retorted, her eyes glittering suspiciously with moisture. “Yesterday I wasn’t good enough for you. Today suddenly I am? Well, no thank you. I won’t marry you under any circumstances.”
He turned away, glaring murderously out the carriage window. Katherine did likewise. If she had known Dimitri better, even just a little bit, she would have realized that his anger wasn’t so much for her as for himself. But she didn’t know that. And she took his castigation to heart. How dare he blame her for this? How dare he offer to many hernow, when he didn’t love her, when it was only to satisfy some misplaced sense of atonement? She wouldn’t have it. She didn’t need his pity. She didn’t need a husband to marry her because he felt hehadto. She had more pride than that, by God.
Chapter Thirty-seven
The smooth blanket of snow, unmarked as far as the eye could see, gave an impression of a land untouched by man, empty of life, desolate, or reborn, washed clean of all the ravages of civilization. It was so blindingly beautiful, this scene—bushes turned into little hills with heavy white coats, naked birches thrusting dark fingers into the overcast sky—so silent, so peaceful to a troubled mind.
Dimitri stopped on the road, or what he assumed to be the road, for the snowstorm that had blown through this area had obliterated it as well as any landmarks that might tell him he was still on the right track. He had been warned by his host, Count Berdyaev, not to venture out this soon, that he should stay over another night just to be certain the storm had really passed. Dimitri had refused.
What had begun as the simple need to get off by himself for a while so he could think without Katherine’s distracting presence nearby, had turned into nearly a week’s absence from St. Petersburg. He had been on his way back from an aimless three-day ride when the storm arrived so unexpectedly, forcing him to spend several more days as the Count’s guest. Now he was in a welter of impatience to be home. Katherine had been left alone too long as it was, and his running off the very night of their argument didn’t help.
There was another incentive for his leaving Berdyaev’s as soon as the storm let up. Tatiana Ivanova had shown up there in a party of ten, which included Lysenko, needing shelter from the storm just as Dimitri had. The situation in the house was intolerable, made worse when he had the misfortune to witness Tatiana breaking her engagement to Lysenko. If looks could talk, the fellow obviously blamed Dimitri for this turn in events.
In the stillness, the report of a gun was deafening. Caught off guard, Dimitri tumbled backward as his horse reared. His landing was cushioned by a half-foot of snow, but the wind was knocked out of him for a moment. When he glanced up, it was to see his frightened horse disappearing into the distance, but that wasn’t what concerned him.
He rolled over into a crouch and scanned the forest behind him. He saw Lysenko immediately, for the man made no effort to hide himself. Dimitri’s heart stilled. He was in the process of raising his rifle for another shot—yet he hesitated. Their eyes met across the distance, and the anguish Dimitri saw gave him pause. Then Lysenko lowered the weapon and jerked his horse around, riding hellbent back the way he had come.
What devils could drive a man to do something like this? Dimitri was afraid he knew. Tatiana. Lysenko obviously thought Dimitri was responsible for his losing her.
“What’s wrong with you, Mitya? The man just tried to kill you, and you’re standing here making excuses for him.” He sighed disgustedly. “Sweet Christ, now I’m talking to myself like she does.”
