Oh, she wished the coach would move. If she had to go home, she wanted to get it over.
“Can’t you have your men open a path for us, Mitya?” she asked finally. “So much inconvenience, just to cross a stupid intersection.”
“There is no hurry.” He didn’t look at her as he answered. “We do not sail until tomorrow, and we do not leave the townhouse this evening. There will be no scandals here in London to greet the Tzar when he visits the English Queen this summer.”
She fumed at the warning, meant entirely for her. It was the first she had heard that Tzar Nicholas was coming to England. And she had indeed thought to go out tonight, possibly her last night of freedom for a long time to come.
“But Mitya, this coach is stifling. We’ve been sitting here—”
“Not even five minutes.” He cut her off tersely. “Do stop complaining.”
She glared at him, then was amazed to hear him suddenly chuckle. But he was still staring at something out the window, so she wasn’t offended, just furious.
“I’m glad to see you’re enjoying this boring ride,” she quipped sarcastically. But when she got no response, she snapped, “Well, what is so amusing?”
“This wench fending off an admirer. She’s a fierce little thing.”
Dimitri was intrigued, but he wasn’t sure why. She had a pleasing enough figure, but unremarkable. Full breasts pushing against a too-tight bodice, a small waist, rather narrow hips, all encased in an unbecoming black dress. He saw her face for only the briefest moment, and that at some distance, for she was on the opposite corner across the street. No beauty, but a certain character, huge eyes in a small face, a determined little chin.
If not for that swinging reticule, he would never have noticed her. She was not the type of woman who usually caught his interest. She was too petite, almost childlike, except for those thrusting breasts. But she amused him. Such haughty indignation in such a little package. And when was the last time a woman had actually amused him?
Sheer impulse had him call Vladimir to the window. His man of all jobs, indispensable to him, Vladimir saw to Dimitri’s comfort in all things. He didn’t ask questions, he didn’t pass judgment. He obeyed to the letter any and all requests.
A few words to the trusted servant, and Vladimir was off. A few moments later, and the coach was again moving.
“I don’t believe it,” Anastasia said from the opposite side of the coach, well aware of what he had just done. “Procuring whores right off the street now? She must have been exceptionally pretty.”
Dimitri ignored her sardonic tone. “Not particularly. Let us say my vanity was piqued. I like to succeed where others have failed.”
“But from the street, Mitya? She could be diseased or worse.”
“You would like that, wouldn’t you, my dear?” he replied drily.
“At the moment, yes.”
Her rancor got her only a bland smile.
Across the street, Vladimir was met with the difficulty of securing a carriage and at the same time keeping an eye on the little figure in black moving steadily up Regent Street. There were no carriages in the vicinity to hire, his English was not so good, and his French not well understood. But money solved most problems and this one as well. After several tries he was able to induce the driver of a small, enclosed private carriage to desert his post, where he was waiting for his employer. What amounted to nearly a year in wages was well worth the risk to his job.
Now to catch up with the woman. Clearly the carriage could not overtake her on such a crowded street. The driver was told to follow behind Vladimir as quickly as he was able. The driver just shook his head at the eccentricities of the wealthy, which he assumed the bloke to be, to hire a carriage and then not make use of it. But with so much money in his pocket, who was he to disagree?
Vladimir caught up with the woman near the end of the street, but only because she had stopped, and for no apparent reason. She just stood in the middle of the walk, staring straight ahead.
“Mademoiselle?”
“Oui?” she said in some distraction, barely glancing up at him.
Excellent. She spoke French. Most of the English peasants did not, and he had been afraid he would have difficulty communicating with this one.
“Attend me, please, miss. My master, Prince Alexandrov, would like to hire your services for the evening.”
The mention of Dimitri’s title was usually all that was required to conclude transactions such as this. Therefore Vladimir was surprised when all he got was a look of annoyance from the woman. And seeing her face clearly now surprised him further. She was not at all to Dimitri’s taste. What could the Prince be thinking of, to want this little wren in his bed tonight?
Katherine was indeed annoyed to be bothered again, and for employment this time, a party or gathering, no doubt, that required extra servants. But to hire them right off the street? She had never heard of such a thing. But the fellow was a foreigner, so she had to make allowances.
Nor did she dismiss him out of hand, as she had that other fellow. She had realized her mistake there. She was disguised as a servant. She needed to at least try to act the part. By not doing so earlier, she had come close to creating a disturbance with her thoughtless attack on that other man. Causing a scene in which she might be recognized by one of her acquaintances was out of the question, yet she had foolishly nearly done so before.
One thing Katherine would never allow was scandal attached to her name. She prided herself on the most impeccable behavior, far above reproach. So what was she doing here? She could only blame that nasty headache for fogging her thinking. Clear-headed, she would have come up with a better plan than to masquerade as a servant.
