Valentina Luellen Read online

  Anya was putting the finishing touches to her mistress' hair when Natasha came into the room, clutching an envelope in one hand. She looked flushed and excited.

  "Alexa, you have made a conquest already." She handed it to her sister, her eyes bright with amusement. "A messenger brought it not ten minutes ago. He came from the palace."

  "The palace? But I know no one there." Puzzledly, Alexandreya extracted a small white card from the envelope. Natasha leaned forward, trying to read the writing on one side.

  "Who is it from? Alexa, tell me, don't tease." Alexandreya turned pale. Her eyes had darted first to the signature and she was astounded - indeed horrified to see it was signed by the last person she wanted to encounter. "Dmitri Varanov." In a bold hand he had written: "In repayment for your generous hospitality at the inn, please dine with me this evening." Somehow it sounded more like an order than a request.

  "How dare he?" She thrust the card out for her sister to read and saw Natasha's mouth gape.

  "Dmitri - where did you meet him?"

  "So you know him?"

  "Why, yes, I have met him once or twice." Natasha laughed and clapped her hands excitedly. "Alexa, what a conquest you have made! He is an important man in the palace, the Empress herself dotes on him."

  "I detest him." Alexandreya tore the card into tiny pieces and dropped them on to the floor.

  "You are joking, surely - he is the most eligible man at court, despite his reputation." Natasha peered down into her sister's colourless cheeks. "I believe you are serious. The very mention of his name has frightened you. Alexa, this inn - you met him there?"

  "Yes, the night before last. It was full and he gave up his room for me. We dined together."

  "And that is the hospitality he mentions on the card?"

  "You may go, Anya." Alexandreya had forgotten her maid's presence and quickly dismissed her. As the door closed she turned to Natasha.

  "He repaid me by trying to make love to me. Because I am your sister, he seemed to think I would not object to his advances."

  "Oh, no." A look of horror crossed Natasha's face. "He spoke to you of me?"

  "No - only that he knew you and Vladimir. What could he tell me? Does he know you that well?"

  Natasha sank down on to the bed, her face in her hands. All the pretence had been for nothing. "It is time you knew the truth," she said quietly. "It was foolish of me to hide it."

  She did not look at Alexandreya as she spoke of her disastrous marriage, of the beatings and the humiliation she had endured and of the lovers she had taken to try and compensate for the long, dull days and lonely nights - she was afraid of the contempt she might see there.

  "Tasha, oh, my poor darling, why didn't you tell me all this before, years ago when it first began? You could have come home."

  "No, I couldn't. Even if I had possessed the courage to face father, Vladimir would have sent men to bring me back, as he did before."

  "But not this time. Come back with me to Bratz, start a new life. It will not be as exciting in the country, but you will be safe."

  "That was my intention when I first wrote to you, but things are different now. I have met someone." Slowly Natasha raised her head. "I am in love, Alexa, really and truly in love. No, don't reprove me, I know I said that four years ago when I married. This is different. This is love, not infatuation."

  "And the man is Colonel Varanov?"

  "Dmitri? Good heavens, no. His name is Andre Bruck­ner. He is a lieutenant in the Czar's Holstein Guards, one of Vladimir's junior officers, in fact. You will like him, he is kind and gentle. When I am with him I feel a woman, not an unwanted ornament."

  "And the Colonel?"

  "I was never his mistress, Alexa, although everyone thinks I was. I entertained a great deal last year and Dmitri came several times with the Grand Duchess. He is attrac­tive and I was bored and lonely. It was a flirtation, nothing more. With Dmitri, it is not wise to commit oneself com­pletely. It appears you have taken his fancy - be careful, he is dangerous, both as a man and a lover."

  "I have no interest in either," Alexandreya answered quickly. So quickly, in fact, that she found Natasha star­ing at her intently.

  "Perhaps not at the moment, but he will not give up easily. He has ways of getting what he wants. He is a man of many moods, and I doubt if any woman will ever really know him. He loathes the aristocracy, as you have prob­ably realised by now. There is a rumour that he was once in love with a very rich widow who played him false. His revenge has been to amuse himself at the expense of any poor woman fool enough to look at him twice. Are you going to refuse the invitation?"

  "Of course. I shall write an answer at once, making it quite clear that I wish to have nothing more to do with him."

  "Very well, I'll despatch a messenger with it as soon as it is ready, but remember you will be making an enemy of a very powerful man. Would it not be better to invite him here to dine with us? It will give you both a chance to sort out this misunderstanding?"

  "No," Alexandreya said coldly. "It would not."

  Half an hour later, when the letter was written, Natasha rang for a servant and handed him the sealed message.

  "You are to deliver this to the palace, into the hands of Count Dmitri Varanov and no other," she instructed.

  "Yes, Madame."

  Natasha crossed to where Alexandreya stood by the french windows, and smiled at the surprise on her sister's face.

  "I see he did not tell you."

  "He made a point of telling me he was born of poor peasant stock, and that he took his pleasures where he found them."

  "I have no doubt of that. His father was Ataman Var­anov, a brave soldier. When he was killed, Dmitri assumed control of the Cossacks and came up through the ranks, much to everyone's disappointment at court; the men's, that is. The Empress Elizabeth took him under her wing and allowed private tutors to educate him. The rough diamond is now smoothly polished, and he revels in the fact his position at court as the Grand Duchess' per­sonal guard commander forces everyone to accept him, regardless of his birth. The Empress bestowed the tide on him after he had uncovered a plot on her life and killed two of the men responsible himself. He hardly ever uses it. She also gave him one of the hunting-lodges belonging to the palace at Peterhof. He spends a great deal of time there."

  "Entertaining?" Alexandreya asked dryly.

  "People love to gossip, Alexa. Perhaps he is what they say, an unscrupulous womaniser, but I have my doubts. I know most of the things they say about me are untrue. But that is enough about Dmitri if you have made up your mind! Let me show you over the house before we have lunch. This afternoon I shall introduce you to my dress­maker."

  Major Vladimir Krylenko returned home the following day. Alexandreya saw him from her bedroom window and her lip curled in disgust at the cruel way he boxed the ears of the stable-boy for not being on hand the moment he arrived. He was a stockily built man, with a thick bull neck and greying hair cut unusually short against his square head. Later in the study, when Natasha introduced them, Alexandreya was barely able to suppress a shudder at the small, snake-like eyes which darted over her.

  "Alexandreya, of course. You are far more beautiful than at our last meeting."

  "You are too kind, Major," Alexandreya said, and quickly withdrew her hand from his tight clasp.

  "And you are too formal, my dear, you must call me Vladimir. I hope Natasha has been looking after you. You both must have a lot to talk over after so long." His eyes were intent on her face, questioning, probing.

  Somehow Alexandreya managed to smile. "Unfortunately we have had no time so far. I must confess I was so tired after the journey that I have not stirred from my room since I arrived."

  "That must be rectified immediately. Tonight we will all dine together and you will eat the finest food in St. Petersburg. It will give Natasha a chance to show you her capabilities as a hostess." He threw a quick glance at his wife. "Will it not, my dear?"

  "Yes, Vladimi
r."

  "I think we will make an occasion of it - I will invite some fellow officers and their wives. Make arrangements for a dozen in all."

  "Very well."

  "It is settled then, good. I must return to the palace now, I have an audience with the Czar at eleven o'clock, but I will look forward to this evening. Alexandreya -" He pressed her fingers to his lips, nodded briefly in the direc­tion of his wife and left them.

  "He wants to show you to his friends," Natasha said, pulling on the bell-rope. "The master will not be at home for lunch," she told the servant. "The Countess and I will dine as soon as possible and we will be requiring the carriage at two o'clock. Instruct the cook there will be guests tonight. I will discuss the menu later with him. And now Alexa, you must have your maid lay out your finest gown and your most magnificent jewels - tonight you are going to be the most fascinating woman at the table."

  Alexandreya laughed.

  "I shall never make the grade as a 'femme fatale', 'Tasha." A sudden thought struck her and she stared suspiciously at her sister. "Surely Vladimir would not invite Colonel Varanov? I was under the impression they did not like each other."

  "There is as much love between them as between Peter and Catherine. I would not dare put them in the same room alone together, let alone at the same table. It is the women I want you to stun as well as the men. I want the bitches to be jealous of you."

  The dinner party at the house that evening was the first of many. During the following weeks Vladimir Krylenko entertained often, introducing Alexandreya to the cream of society. She cared little for the over-dressed women, weighed down with jewels, or for the men, most of whom gave her the impression they considered their companions to be empty-headed coquettes, fit only to look attractive and to be seduced. Her strict upbringing forbade her to admit this to anyone except her sister.

  Natasha was beginning to look like the girl Alexandreya had known at Bratz. She used considerably less colouring on her cheeks and took more care in the choosing of new clothes, turning, as in the old days to her elder sister for advice. Before entertaining guests, or venturing out in the evening, she would present herself before Alexandreya for a last-minute inspection.

  "You have made me a new woman," Natasha whis­pered to her as they were entering the house one night. They had been to the opera and then to a supper party at the house of another Holstein officer which had lasted into the early hours. She was wearing a new gown in a beautiful shade of blue and around her neck sparkled a sapphire pendant, one of the many pieces from their mother's collection that Alexandreya had given her. She had never looked so radiant - a fact which did not escape the notice of her husband, and when the house was all in darkness, he paid an unexpected and unwelcomed visit to his wife's bedroom. It had been several months since she had last attracted him enough to warrant such an honour.

  In her own room Alexandreya awoke with a start and sat up, listening intently. Was it a scream she had heard, or had she been dreaming? The silence was broken by the chiming of a distant clock - that was all.

  Too much champagne and caviar, Alexandreya thought ruefully. Turning on her side, she went back to sleep, unaware of the humiliation her sister was being forced to endure in the room beyond.

  Natasha feigned ignorance the next morning at breakfast when Alexandreya questioned her about the strange noise which had disturbed her sleep. Luckily she was able to turn the conversation to another subject quite easily, for upon opening the post she discovered an invitation to an unusual kind of bal masque to be given at the palace by the Empress, and immediately she plunged into a lengthy discussion on what she should wear.

  "The whole court will be there - the Empress, the Grand Duchess, perhaps the Czar, everyone of impor­tance. You will enjoy it, Alexa. Just imagine, masks must be worn all evening."

  "Only until midnight, surely," Alexandreya said.

  Natasha smiled, thinking how pleasant it would be to dance with Andre, unrecognised by the gossip-mongers.

  "This is a bal masque with a difference, only the women are to be masked, and look, it is printed on the bottom of the invitation card. Masks must be worn for the duration of the evening. It is undoubtedly the Grand Duchess' idea. I have often heard her say it is a pity to spoil an interesting flirtation by revealing one's identity."

  "You are thinking of Lieutenant Bruckner," Alexan­dreya teased, and was surprised to see her sister look embarrassed. So he did mean something special to her after all, she thought, and silently vowed to do everything in her power to ensure that Natasha's bid for happiness was successful.

  "Oh, I almost forgot in all the excitement, there is another letter for you."

  She handed Alexandreya an envelope from beneath her plate with a knowing look.

  "Dare I guess who it is from?"

  "There is no need to guess," Alexandreya retorted with heightening colour. Again; there was just a single white card and on it were written the words. Supper at 10 p.m. this evening.

  "The impertinence of the man!" Alexandreya almost choked with rage. "I refuse to be hounded in this way. My letter made it quite clear that I wish never to see him again, and that I resent these invitations."

  "I warned you he does not give up easily. For goodness' sake dine with him and put me out of my misery," Natasha said, between mouthfuls of buttered toast.

  "I will not - nor will I answer this - this command. He can think what he likes about me," Alexandreya declared resolutely, "I don't care."

  During the next few days, she threw herself whole­heartedly into preparations for the forthcoming celebra­tions, in an attempt to push Dmitri Varanov out of her mind. But he invaded her thoughts constantly and the memory of his contempt for her haunted her dreams at night.

  The Winter Palace in St. Petersburg, a huge quadrilateral building containing many magnificent state rooms and banquet halls of enormous size, was the centre of court life. In an immense semi-circle behind it stood the tall, grey-stoned buildings of the General Staff, the Ministries of Finance and Foreign Affairs and the offices of the Governing Senate and the Holy Synod.

  From her bedroom window, Alexandreya surveyed the awe-inspiring scene with excited eyes. Tonight, the night of the bal masque, although snow was falling heavily and it was bitterly cold, coaches had been pulling into the court­yard for the past hour. She had watched hundreds of guests, among them ministers of state, high-ranking offic­ers from the army and navy and their womenfolk, hurry into the main entrance. Beside her Anya's nose puckered into a tiny frown of annoyance as her mistress moved for a., least the third time in as many minutes while she was trying to make a last-minute alteration to the ball-gown.

  "My lady, please be still."

  "Don't scold me, Anya, I am too excited to be still," Alexandreya laughed. "How do I look? Even from this distance some of the dresses look quite breathtaking. Natasha did the right thing in having a new gown made - I wish I had done so now."

  Anya stood back to allow Alexandreya a final look in the mirror. Apart from the emerald earrings dangling from her ears, she wore no other jewellery. She needed none to show off the alabaster whiteness of her skin. The jade-green satin gown, embroidered with an uncountable number of pearls, curved over a modest bosom and shapely hips.

  "My lady, no one will be able to hold a candle to you tonight," Anya said proudly, and her enthusiasm was shared by Natasha when she came into the room a few moments later.

  "Alexa, you look positively stunning. Masked or not, you will be one of the most attractive women there tonight." She pirouetted for her sister to inspect her own appearance.

  "Will I do?"

  "Andre will be overwhelmed. Blue suits your colour­ing, and I prefer your hair slightly higher too. Are we ready?"

  "Yes, Vladimir is having the carriage brought to the front door. Bring your cloak and mask and we can wait downstairs - if you can drag yourself away from the win­dow."

  With a laugh, Alexandreya picked up the black velvet mask which was to hide her id
entity for the evening, and drew it over her eyes. Even the wonderful balls her parents had given were nothing compared to the splendour she was about to witness. She took the warm cloak, luxuri­ously lined with fur, that Anya was holding out to her and followed Natasha downstairs.

  Her Imperial Highness, The Grand Duchess Catherine, stared the full length of the Banquet Hall, an impressive one hundred and twenty feet, watching the guests milling through the door at the far end of the room like a horde of angry bees.

  "I believe they have starved themselves for a week," she declared to the elegantly dressed officer beside her.

  Dmitri smiled. He could not have agreed more. The evening had hardly begun, yet already it had been neces­sary to bring a fresh supply of champagne from the cellars.

  "The Empress has excelled herself, this promises to be one of t,he most entertaining bah masqufo we have had for a long while," he answered in his usual quiet tones.

  Catherine's blue eyes sparkled with amusement through her mask.

  "Especially if your mysterious Countess appears," she murmured.

  Dmitri flushed. He did not discuss his private affairs with anyone, and Catherine's insatiable curiosity was at times both embarrassing and annoying. She knew every­thing that went on in her household, including which lady-in-waiting had slipped out of the army barracks in the early hours of the morning, thus avoiding discovery by a hair's-breadth - and every other choice titbit of gossip that was bandied from kitchen to state room.

  "I was not aware I had indulged in a new alliance," he challenged.

  "My source of information is most reliable. I am told she is beautiful, but cold, perhaps that is why she has so far eluded your bed."