From Governess to Countess (Matches Made in Scandal #1)(42)
‘I was rather hoping you might be able to enlighten me.’
‘Really? I’m afraid I cannot. I suppose it’s possible my sister dismissed her.’ Grigory frowned. ‘But I had the distinct impression that Elizaveta thought the world of the woman, so I must assume that she left of her own accord.’
‘I don’t suppose you have heard where she may be now?’
‘You wish to reappoint her and replace that rather sumptuous Englishwoman? Are you sure?’ Grigory shook his head. ‘Well, I’m afraid I can’t help you, though I can say with certainty she has not taken up another position in St Petersburg,’ he added, puffing out his chest. ‘If a pantry mouse steals a piece of cheese in this city, I will know of it.’
Aleksei grinned. ‘And no doubt the name of the cheesemaker who made the cheese.’
Grigory opened his palms in a self-deprecatory manner. ‘You can’t really be wanting her back though, surely? Unless all is not well between you and that charming redhead? Forgive my bluntness, but I take it you know that the on dit is that she is your mistress?’
‘And I take it, Grigory, that you know I would not stoop to comment on scurrilous rumour?’ Aleksei retorted. ‘Tell me, how did you find your sister in the weeks before she died?’
‘Same as ever, dear boy. Doing her good works, minding her children, standing virtuously by Michael’s side when the occasion demanded. Our paths crossed less than you seem to think. My sister made great store of holding a very low opinion of me and my profligate ways.’ Grigory pursed his lips. ‘Very fond of taking the moral high ground, was our Elizaveta, and very proud of her position at its zenith.’
‘Straight as the Kryukova Canal.’
‘That is what they said.’ Grigory frowned, looking unusually serious. ‘But now she is gone, and life is for the living. It’s a damned difficult position circumstances have placed you in. A military man, without a wife, landed with three orphans. I know you cannot have welcomed the role, but it occurs to me that your brother might just have been thinking along the right lines in appointing you. Like Michael, you are that rare creature in St Petersburg, a man of honour and integrity. Although at the risk of causing offence, I have to tell you that I personally found your brother something of a bore. There is nothing more tedious than a paragon of virtue.’
He slapped Aleksei on the shoulder. ‘Not a charge that could be levelled at you. I’ll wager there’s a bit more devilment in you. And talking of devilment, why don’t I take the children off your hands for an hour or so, and allow you to enjoy the company of your feisty redhead instead.’
*
Allison, who had been watching the encounter through her lashes, had been unable to determine anything from Aleksei’s countenance. As soon as their uncle swept the three children away in search of ices and lemonade, he brought her up to date succinctly. ‘I drew a complete blank,’ he said. ‘He has no idea why Madame Orlova left and he doesn’t know where she might be. He could tell me nothing of interest about Elizaveta. And he confirmed what we already know, that my brother was as white as the driven snow.’
‘Which makes it unlikely that he was murdered to silence him, prevent him revealing some dark secret, I suppose,’ Allison said.
Aleksei laughed sardonically. ‘Let us call that progress then, and forget about it for today. Grigory is a very fond uncle and the children clearly adore him. It was good of him to take them off our hands. We should take advantage of the rare opportunity to spend time alone in public together.’
They walked arm in arm, making their way beyond the fa?ade of the palace to where the main gardens were situated. Cavalry officers in full dress uniform were allowing children to sit up beside them on their horses. They waved at Nikki, sitting astride a large black stallion in front of a very young ensign. A puppet theatre had been set up in one of the many pavilions. In the centre of one large lawn, was a strange contraption, a tall pole, in the centre of which a complicated set of wires and struts formed a hexagonal frame. At each point, suspended on a wire, hung a carved dragon painted in garish colours, and on the back of each dragon, clinging for dear life, sat a rider, including two ladies sitting precariously side-saddle.
‘It is a French design,’ Aleksei told her, ‘I saw one in the Tuileries Garden in Paris, they call it a jeu de bague. Watch, it is about to begin revolving.’
A muscular man in a leather waistcoat with the look of a Smiddy, approached the machine, and began to crank a long handle. With the creaking sound of sturdy oaks being blown in the wind, the hexagonal frame began to turn, sending the dragons and their riders spinning, slowly at first, but as they gained momentum the wires stretched taut and the dragons flew out, making everyone, riders and spectators, shriek with slightly hysterical delight.
A knot of men lolled on the grass in the lee of a tall hedge. Officers, Allison deduced from their uniforms, though they incongruously sported long, straggly beards, and were talking loudly in Russian. They were all somewhat the worse for wear, as evidenced by the many empty bottles, and she was not unduly surprised when two of them got to their feet and began to brawl, much to the delight of their comrades, who formed a jeering circle.
‘Followers of Volkonsky,’ Aleksei said, eyeing the group with distaste. ‘They eschew all things French, since Napoleon invaded Moscow. They drink the peasant gut-rot spirit, vodka, they grow beards and dress like serfs, and as a result all are banned from court. They claim to espouse the cause of the common man, though to no practical purpose.’