Chapter 30
KATHERINE—ATTACK OF THEAUNTIES
Rushing to the lower level of Anya House, I hear roaring laughter. A footman positions himself outside the parlor like one of the guards at the Winter Palace.
My toes ache like I’m cold in St. Petersburg. The hall’s decor feels so much like the past that I’m frightened of being turned away again.
But the urns have roses and pink and white hibiscus. “No mums.”
Mr. Steele eases from the corridor. He hands me a letter with horrid familiar writing. “Sorry to bring bad news today.”
I shove the letter into my reticule. “I like the flowers.”
“Yes, ma’am. But when the duke learned of your aversion to them, he ordered chrysanthemums removed from the house. It’s a shame that the pride of St. Petersburg causes such angst.”
He gave them up for me. I only assumed he did that for my room. “The duke’s willing to change for me.”
The trusted steward gives me the look like Scarlett had. STUPID.
My sisters come down. Georgina has Lada. She offers the basket to Mr. Steele, and the silver-haired man beams. “Good, the three of you can go and toss out those matchmaking mamas.They’re inside interrogating His Grace. How dare they put the Duke of Torrance under such scrutiny? Don’t they know who he is?”
I admire Mr. Steele’s unshakeable loyalty.
“They don’t,” Scarlett says. “These are the lionesses of Mayfair and Cheapside. In their own right, they are formidable.”
“Lady Lydia’s not inside?” I ask the footman.
He shakes his head. “No, ma’am. She and the princess left as soon as these women started arriving. The duke sent them on a special excursion with Lord Livingston.”
Disappointment whips through me. Why would Jahleel send that drunken, lecherous earl with his mother and daughter? A bad feeling crawls into my stomach. I’m nauseous, wondering if Jahleel has picked the earl to marry me. “Why Livingston?”
“He came earlier to look at the space where Mr. Thom’s surgery will occur,” Scarlett says. “Stephen showed him the special room inside the duke’s study.”
“There’s a special room where?”
Mr. Steele looks like Scarlett has said too much, but he mentions, “Livingston seemed quite interested in the ophthalmological surgery.”
Sheer panic numbs my fingers. Jahleel can’t be thinking of a drunk, a known womanizer who practically lives in Madame Rosebud’s brothel, as the man for me.
“Ma’am, you’re shaking,” Steele says. “Perhaps you should go lie down.” He looks at Lada and rubs her ear. “On second thought, I don’t think His Grace would want you to hear the disgraceful things said in this meeting.”
“Yes, he would.” Georgina opens the door. “No coddling for anyone.”
Laughter roars. I hear Jahleel’s voice, but I can’t make out his words.
“Go in and save him, Katherine,” Scarlett says. “Even dear Stephen can’t always quiet the aunties.”
Hackles up, I nod to my sister and slip into the parlor. For amoment, I’m in the past, making my way through the crowded corridors of the Winter Palace, except I’m not on Jahleel’s arm. Alone, I see peers and the Blackamoor dignitaries of Cheapside.
Jahleel’s rich laughter captures me. Over a sea of bonnets—some cream or floral, others bright blue, ruby, or purple with feathers—I see him.
Near the fireplace, he sits like Moses the Moor with a carved staff in his hand. To his left and right are vibrant red roses and pink hibiscus. The mood seems festive. Not a drop of shame or mourning exists.
His accent sounds deeper as he offers them another quip about the waters of St. Petersburg. The women around lean forward in their chairs or the floral settees, mesmerized by his every word. Seems Steele sent me in here for nothing. The duke doesn’t need saving, not when he’s charming London.
“A winter in my city is nothing like Town. The Neva River freezes so solidly that one can skate across with sleighs.”
One lady, dressed in rich peacock blue and a matching turban, stands. I hear a familiar groan from the back of the room.
