The Mad, Bad Duke (Nvengaria #2)(16)
Meagan eyed him skeptically. “He flattened half the city?” she said, moving her hand from her mouth. “Just like that?”
“I do not lie, miss,” Nikolai said. “I was there. The Grand Duke sent in his men, and …” He flourished his hand and shivered. “Horrible days. I am Prince Damien’s man, miss, and I rejoice that Prince Damien has come home at last.”
Meagan knew from experience that Nvengarians liked dramatics, the more sturm und drang the better. Nikolai was probably exaggerating, but the core of truth would still be there—that Alexander, for whatever his reasons, had sent in men to rout part of the city.
“But do not worry, miss, I am here to look after you.” Nikolai gave Meagan a reassuring nod and came behind her to drape the mantle over her shoulders. “You wrap up in this and keep your face hidden. I have already put it about that you are ill and that a friend has taken you home. I suggested several names of your acquaintances as possibilities, one of whom has already departed, so that by the time all have unraveled that you were not with this one or that one, the incident will long be over.”
Meagan fastened the mantle and pulled up the hood. “And how will I truly get home?”
“His Grace’s carriage, miss, which is waiting a few steps down the street. When you reach your house, do not rouse your servants—creep upstairs ever so softly and undress by yourself. Wash yourself all over before you go to bed, then call your maid and pretend to be ill. Groaning a bit, I believe, helps. Let them make a fuss over you, and do not look too well the following morning.”
Meagan’s head was pounding, and she imagined she would not have to try very hard to feign illness. “You seem to know much about this, Nikolai. I suppose His Grace has you help a young miss home every week?”
Meagan’s heart burned as she spoke the words. She knew that her intimacy with Alexander was false, but she hated to think of him holding another young woman in his arms while he uttered the tender Nvengarian phrases to her.
Nikolai gave an emphatic shake of his head. “No, indeed, His Grace has ice water in his veins, so what has happened tonight is very unusual. But I worked for a baron in Nvengaria, and ay …” Nikolai put a pained hand to his forehead. “Every night a different lady, and my master was never discreet. I slept not at all in his service, and then he expected me to protect him with my body when his wife came at him with a knife. No, indeed, I stepped aside and let her do as she pleased.”
Meagan gaped, eyes widening. “Great heavens, did she kill him?”
“No, no, but she slashed the baron’s clothes to ribbons while she cursed him something horrible. It was a joy to watch. We passed wine around in the servants’ hall that night. But it was a relief to find a position in the palace. Prince Damien, he is a true gentleman and treats his wife so tenderly. She is a beautiful and fine princess. It is a joy to serve her.”
Emotions gripped Meagan, and her eyes stung. “Penelope is my dearest friend.”
“Which is why I am honored to be at your service, miss. If there is anything you need, at any time, in any place, I, Nikolai, will be at your side. It is the least I can do, for her sake.”
He thumped his hand to his chest and made another bow, his declaration sincere. Meagan recalled how Prince Damien’s entourage had become fanatically devoted to Penelope when Damien had come to woo her. Penelope had been startled by their enthusiasm, but Meagan wondered if her friend had experienced the sense of disorientation and dismay Meagan did now.
“That is kind of you, Nikolai,” Meagan managed to say. “For now, please get me home.”
“As you wish.” Nikolai gestured her toward the door. “Follow me, keep your face covered, and all will be well. Trust me, my lady—I am an expert at this.”
* * *
“Alexander.” Lady Anastasia frantically signaled to him from behind a gold and white pillar in an upper hall. “Where on earth have you been? We were to meet von Hohenzahl at midnight.”
Alexander halted his determined steps as Lady Anastasia swept out of the shadows at him.
Anastasia was a lovely woman, with a face and graceful figure that had Europe falling at her feet. Alexander knew the English ton supposed that her gown and tiara would adorn his floor tonight, but they supposed wrong.
Lady Anastasia Dimitri was the best information collector Alexander had ever known, and at present, she was feeding him important intelligence about the Austrian empire. Alexander, in turn passed this information to Damien. Alexander used Anastasia to keep his eye on Austria, and she used Alexander’s mistrust of the Austrians to fuel her games of revenge.
Anastasia spoke to him in Nvengarian, and Alexander answered her in the same language.
“I had something to take care of,” he said, keeping his voice mild.
“What, for heaven’s sake? It took weeks to convince von Hohenzahl to meet you informally, and now it has gone for nothing.” Anastasia’s anger, which she had learned to successfully hide behind her elegant facade, now burned in her eyes.
“It has not gone for nothing if you spoke to him,” Alexander said with patience. “What did he tell you?”
Anastasia took Alexander’s arm, and he watched her try to calm herself. “He said nothing very useful, although he did try to woo me to his bed.” She twisted her lips in disgust. “Then he babbled a bit about there being more dangers in the Nvengarian mountains than we could possibly imagine, and about something only he knew. He was gloating, and I did not like that.”