From Governess to Countess (Matches Made in Scandal #1)(33)

The study looked out over the formal gardens at the rear of the palace. It was a lovely day outside, the early autumn sunshine giving no hint of the harsh winter to come. He opened the window, and a burst of laughter alerted him to the presence of his wards. They were throwing a stick for that dog of theirs, and the rotund animal was lumbering after it. They probably fed it sweetmeats. He should have a word with them, put an end to that.

Elena was wrestling the stick from the dog now, falling on her bottom when it wouldn’t let go. Aleksei waited for the wail which routinely preceded her tears, but instead the little girl laughed as the bulldog licked her face and Nikki started to tickle her. There was such sheer joy in the sound of their unbridled laughter, he couldn’t help but smile.

Allison, who must have been watching on from one of the benches just out of view, now appeared, engaged in conversation with Catiche. What were they talking about? Aleksei felt oddly left out, like a stranger looking down on a tableau which he was permitted to view, but not to participate in. There had been a dog when he was Nikki’s age, he recalled suddenly. Not a bulldog, something much larger and long-haired, a hunting hound big enough to carry him on its back—or so he’d thought. Michael had acted as the mounting block, crouched down on all fours when he had failed to help Aleksei up using his cupped hands as he’d seen the stable hands do. He couldn’t recall the dog’s name or what had become of it.

Were the children unhappy, as Allison alleged? They didn’t seem to be. A week ago, she’d claimed they hadn’t warmed to her either, but either her expectations were high, or there had been a recent thawing, for there were Nikki and Elena shouting to her now to throw the stick for the dog, laughing at her paltry attempt to do so. Catiche, who had been hanging back, had decided that the game of tickling wasn’t beneath her dignity after all, and was now joining in.

Thirteen, an age which hovered between childhood and adulthood. She’d be expected to embrace society soon. Catiche and Elena were destined to follow in their mother’s footsteps, just as Nikki couldn’t escape following in Michael’s. It was how it was, how it had always been. Aleksei couldn’t change that.

His own solution had been to join the army to escape his predetermined fate. ‘And look where that has got me,’ he muttered to no one in particular. Ought he to stay here, sacrifice his freedom for those three children out there? Was that what Michael expected of him, when he wrote that damned will? And if so, why the devil hadn’t he discussed it with him?

Outside, Allison was attempting to restore order. He smiled, remembering their midnight row. A whole week ago, and they had barely spoken since, while he endured seven days and nights of tedium playing the aristocrat. How Michael put up with it was beyond him. Tonight he was engaged to dine at the Winter Palace again, but he could see it far enough.

As he watched Allison swoop down to catch Nikki up, swinging him around in the air, Aleksei felt something approaching a physical shifting inside him. Elena was pleading to be swung too. Catiche tried to pick her up, staggering backwards with her sister’s weight until they both fell on to the grass. They rolled over, leaning on their elbows, looking expectantly at Allison, who set Nikki down and joined them. What was she saying? Her hands were clasped together. He remembered the way she’d recounted the tale of the seal husband, that same teasing, smile on her face. She must be telling them a fairy tale. The only tale he could recall being told as a child was the legend of the Derevenko dynasty, and a more tedious tale he could not imagine. Whatever tale Allison was telling, judging from his wards’ entranced faces, it was not tedious.

To hell with it, he deserved a break. Closing the window, he gathered the papers together and stuffed them into a drawer of the desk. He locked it and put the key in his pocket, before making his way out into the gardens.

To his consternation, his arrival made all three of his wards jump up into awkward curtsies and bows. Strange to feel uncomfortable with this formality, when it was what he’d required of them.

‘Miss Galbraith was telling us a story,’ Elena informed him, ‘but it’s finished now. You are too late.’

‘Not too late to help you exercise that dog of yours though, I hope. He is too fat.’ Aleksei picked up the stick. ‘You need to make him run a bit further than the end of his nose.’ He bent down, putting the stick in the little girl’s hand, gently angling her arm to maximise the throw. ‘Now, you take first turn, and then we’ll see which of the three of you can make Ortipo run the furthest.’

*

‘So, while I could now write a thesis on who is bedding who,’ Aleksei concluded some time later, as he sat with Allison in the herb garden, ‘I have been unable to uncover any plausible motive for Michael’s murder. Which, ironically, is the one thing people are not speculating about.’

Allison studied him from under her lashes. He looked tired and unusually despondent. ‘Did you encounter your cousin Felix during any of your socialising?’

Aleksei rolled his eyes. ‘It has been four months since Michael died, yet Felix still avoids company.’

‘I know. The children have been asking for him. It seems he used to be a regular visitor here.’

‘I called on him at home. He all but fell on my shoulder and wept like a widow when I tried to talk of Michael. Of course they could be crocodile tears, but I really don’t think so.’ Aleksei cursed under his breath in Russian. ‘In all honesty, I can’t believe Felix is guilty of anything more serious than a predilection for mawkishness.’