Midnight Angel (Stokehurst #1)(90)

Nikolas shook his head, still hiding his face. “No. He killed Misha. There is no doubt.”

Luke closed his eyes in relief. “Thank God,” he whispered.

Alerted to their presence, the coachman urged the Angelovsky carriage forward and stopped. Nikolas was oblivious to everything, occupied with his inner chaos. “I don't believe it. It was easier to think that Tasia was guilty…so much easier.”

“Now we'll go to the police,” Luke said.

Nikolas laughed bitterly. “You understand nothing about Russia! Perhaps in England it is different, but here no one in the government is ever guilty of anything. Especially a man who is close to the tsar. Too many things—reforms, policies—hinge on Shurikovsky's influence. If he falls, so will all the others who have attached themselves to him. You make a single noise about Shurikovsky, and you'll end up floating in the Neva with your throat slit. There is no justice here. I'd stake my life on the face that someone else knew about the governor's affair with Misha. I'll bet the minister of the interior was aware of it—he's made a career out of using others' dirty little secrets for his own advantage. But it was easier for everyone involved to mishandle the investigation and trial, and sacrifice Tasia for the ‘greater good.’”

Luke was outraged. “If you think I'll let my wife be executed in order to pacify your stinking government officials—”

“At the moment I can't think.” Nikolas gave him a baleful glance. His color was returning, and he seemed to be breathing easier.

“I'm getting Tasia out of this godforsaken country as soon as possible.”

Nikolas nodded jerkily. “On that we agree.”

Luke gave him a cynical smile. “Forgive me if I find this sudden turnaround hard to accept. A few minutes ago you were ready to execute her yourself.”

“From the beginning all I've wanted was the truth.”

“You could have looked a little harder for it.”

“How brilliant at hindsight you English are,” Nikolas sneered. “You always do the right thing the right way, don't you? All your bloodless rules and laws and documents…You respect nothing unless it's been made over in your image. You think only the English are civilized, and everyone else is a barbarian.”

“Of course this experience will convince me otherwise,” Luke said sarcastically.

Nikolas sighed and scratched his head, ruffling the sun-streaked locks. “Tasia's life here is finished. I can't change that. But I'll help you to return her safely to England. It's my fault she's in danger now.”

“And Shurikovsky?” Luke murmured.

Nikolas glanced at the nearby driver and dropped his voice to a whisper. “I'll take care of him. I'll have my justice.”

Luke stared at the vengeful young man and shook his head. “You can't murder him in cold blood.”

“It's the only way for it to be done. And I'm the one to do it.”

“The governor is obviously crumbling under the weight of his guilt. He'll finish himself off soon enough. Why not let time take care of it?”

“Could you stand by and do nothing if your brother had been murdered?”

“I don't have a brother.”

“Your little red-haired daughter, then. Wouldn't you seek revenge, if there was no other way for her murder to be punished?”

Luke stiffened and kept silent.

“Perhaps you believe a self-indulgent parasite like Misha isn't worth all this trouble,” Nikolas said softly. “You think he was no great loss to anyone. You may be right. But I'll never forget that once he was an innocent child. I want you to understand something—Misha was not to blame for the way he was. Our mother was a stupid peasant woman whose only skill was breeding children. Our father was a monster. He…” Nikolas swallowed audibly and continued without emotion. “Sometimes I would find my brother in a dark corner, or a closet, crying and bleeding. Everyone knew he was an object of my father's lust. I don't know why he chose to molest Misha and not me. No one dared to interfere. Once I tried to confront my father, and he didn't stop beating me until I was senseless. It's not a pleasant thing, to be at the mercy of a man who has none. Finally I was old enough to…convince my father to stay away from Misha. But by then it was too late. My brother was destroyed before he ever had chance at a decent life.” Nikolas's mouth twisted in a thin smile. “And so was I.”

Luke stared down the grand, melancholy street, at the foreign silhouette of an onion dome, at the buildings standing in a stalwart line along the river. He had never felt so uncomfortable, so out of place…so English. This beautiful, complex country would ruthlessly bend a man to her will whether he was proud or humble, rich or poor. “Mikhail's past—and his death—are no concern of mine,” he said tonelessly. “I don't care what you choose to do about it. All I want is to take my wife back to England.”

Tasia slept peacefully in her room. She had done as Luke had asked and lay down to rest as soon as he had left her. For the first time in days she was able to relax. Everything was out of her hands now. Luke had found her, and he was somewhere in the city, doing what he could for her. No matter what happened now, her conscience was clear. All self-doubt and blame were gone. She lay on her back, floating amid quiet dreams, her hair spread over the pillow.