From Governess to Countess (Matches Made in Scandal #1)(18)
‘My apologies, I was detained, interminably as ever, on estate business.’
Aleksei had changed into a burgundy tailcoat with a black collar and cuffs. A burgundy waistcoat, black pantaloons and top boots, and a pristine white shirt with a neatly tied cravat completed this plain but extremely well-cut ensemble, the tailoring making the most of the breadth of his shoulders and chest, Allison thought, eyeing him appreciatively.
He made a bow over her hand, the look in his eyes making it very clear that the appreciation was reciprocated. ‘You look quite ravishing.’ Aleksei frowned at the table setting. ‘I must presume that Michael and Elizaveta preferred not to talk when dining alone,’ he said, ringing the bell. ‘Miss Galbraith will sit by my right,’ he instructed when the footman answered his summons. He had not been responsible for the slightly frosty seating arrangement, then.
It took ten minutes, three footmen and one butler to pour the wine, rearrange the table and lay out a vast array of silver-covered salvers. ‘Thank you,’ Aleksei said, when the butler made to lift the lid on the first of those, ‘we will serve ourselves.’ Adding firmly when the outraged butler would have protested, ‘I will ring if I need you.’
‘Poor man, he’s probably gone to weep in his pantry,’ Allison said, as Aleksei took his seat beside her. ‘Not only have you broken with protocol by dining alone with a lowly governess, you have had the audacity to feed yourself.’
Aleksei chuckled. ‘I’m already in the bad books for refusing to allow Michael’s valet to shave me or dress me. Now,’ he said, lifting the lids on the nearest salvers, ‘would you like me to help you to some food, or do you prefer to serve yourself? The chef is French, and very good. Here we have consommé, and this looks like lobster in some sort of sauce. A blanquette de veau, choux farcis, a white fish—I think that must be carp—or an omelette fines herbes, artichokes, carrots...’
‘Thank you, that is more than sufficient.’ Allison surveyed the remaining covered dishes. ‘Is this what you would call a small informal dinner?’
Aleksei laughed. ‘By Derevenko Palace standards, certainly. I am accustomed to much more basic fayre, cooked in one pot over a campfire, usually.’
Allison, momentarily distracted by the delicious lobster, drew him a sceptical look. ‘During campaigns perhaps, but you are an officer, and no doubt dined like this in mess every evening.’
‘Not every evening, and not for some time. One aspect of army life I don’t miss. I am very glad to avoid the endless dinners being held in Paris to celebrate peace.’
‘May I ask, what rank you are?’
‘Polkovnik. Your equivalent of a colonel, and as such I was a great disappointment to my brother.’ Aleksei grimaced. ‘As the son of a duke, it was always expected that my family name would be my passport to rapid promotion. If I’d wanted to, I could be a full general at least, perhaps even an adjutant general.’
‘But you don’t wish?’
‘I prefer to earn the respect of my men on merit.’
Having finished her portion of stuffed cabbage, Allison opted for some veal. ‘You have also earned the respect of your fellow officers. That much was obvious at the Winter Palace ball.’
‘Oh, that. Between ourselves, the respect of most of that fawning crowd means little to me. Their experience of war, with a few notable exceptions, is confined to watching battle from the side lines, for which I am very grateful, given their ineptitude.’
Allison smiled, raising her champagne glass. ‘A toast! To succeeding on your own terms.’ There was a trace of bitterness in her voice that she had not meant to express. She set her glass down. ‘So, what does the future hold for you now that there are no more wars to fight, Polkovnik?’
‘Unfortunately we live in a world where there will always be more wars to fight.’ He was silent for a moment, concentrating on his food, and she hoped that he hadn’t picked up on her tone. She was wrong. ‘You have had to make compromises in your life?’
Allison attempted one of Aleksei’s indifferent shrugs. ‘I’m a woman in a man’s world.’
He laid his fingers on her arm. ‘I’m interested, if you’re willing to talk about it.’
No one had ever asked her before. No one, not even Robert, had ever shown any interest. ‘You touched on it yourself, when we met yesterday,’ Allison said. ‘My appearance works against me.’
His eyebrows shot up. ‘In my opinion, your appearance is very much to your advantage.’
Though she smiled, it was dismissive. ‘Not when one is trying...’ She sighed, shaking her head. ‘Imagine, if you can,’ she began, frowning, ‘that you are a woman, a skilled herbalist, and an experienced healer. You have worked tirelessly for seven years to establish yourself in society. You have proven results, sound methods, have become sought after by women in particular, to deal with feminine complaints, and with the illnesses which beset their children.’
‘I remember the doctor who attended us when we were little. We called him the Raven, though his cures—to be honest, I’m astonished he didn’t kill us with his harsh treatments.’
The shadow of the past fluttered over her, and Allison shuddered. Resolutely, she quashed the memory, slipping her hand free from Aleksei’s clasp to take a sip of champagne. ‘Bleeding, cupping, purges—I agree they can all be extremely unpleasant, but in the majority of cases they do no major harm.’