From Governess to Countess (Matches Made in Scandal #1)(46)

She frowned at this notion. Since coming to St Petersburg, she had not only regained her shattered confidence, she had become ever more sure of herself. Increasingly certain, in fact, that she would and could make a new, better life for herself, and she didn’t need Aleksei for that. So it was this other creature then, who craved him?

She rolled her eyes. This fanciful piece of imagining was not at all like her. But last night—oh, last night had been so very different from anything...

Which brought her back full circle, just as the object of her thoughts appeared, making his way towards her at a run. ‘You will never believe this,’ he said, waving a letter at her. ‘Look what Catiche has just shown me.’

*

The next day, Allison paced the floor of the chamber she now knew as the Square Room, awaiting Aleksei’s return. What was keeping him?

She considered making herself a cup of tea but, daunted by the complicated process, she instead pulled the letter from her pocket and scanned the contents one more time. With every reading—and this was at least the seventh—she became more convinced that she was not looking at the words of a murderer. Anna Orlova’s script was elegant, flowing across the page in impeccably straight lines. The hand of an educated woman. A well-born woman, who wrote in grammatically perfect English. A woman whose care and love for the recipient shone through in every gentle reminder to Catiche to tend to her lessons, in every entreaty that she look after her little brother and sister.

Very soon you will be attending your first children’s ball, little one. Have you chosen the fabric for your gown? Gold, the colour of your hair, or blue the colour of your eyes would suit you best. I hope that my replacement will guide you wisely.

You will have a dancing master, I expect. I wish that I could be with you to practise your steps.

Catiche had however, in her own inimitably contrary fashion, insisted on a pink gown. She had been a very unwilling pupil for the dancing master too, though Allison had put this down to a natural reluctance to attend the event after the tragic turn in her fortunes. Or perhaps she simply didn’t want to attend with Allison.

Though the question of the upcoming ball was hardly the most important point of the letter she was holding. Catiche had sought Aleksei out, so excited had she been to finally receive word from her beloved governess, the missive having been delivered by some unknown intermediary to Nyanya.

‘May I write back, as Madame Orlova requests, Uncle Aleksei,’ she had asked, utterly unaware of the potentially life-changing nature of the letter she held. It was to Aleksei’s credit, Allison thought, that he had refrained from snatching it from her. Instead, containing his excitement, he calmly informed Catiche that he was honoured she’d consulted him, and that he wished to do justice to her request by reading the letter carefully. He promised her an answer on his return from urgent business.

Which he had not returned from. Where on earth was he? Allison was consulting one of the three clocks in the Square Room yet again, when the doors were thrown open, and Aleksei appeared, a petite, cloaked figure in his wake.

‘Ensure we are not disturbed, under any circumstances,’ he commanded the footman, before closing the doors firmly behind him.

*

The governess, Anna Orlova, looked to be somewhere between thirty-five and forty. She had the kind of gentle countenance, with brown eyes set under a mop of soft brown curls, which would have placated any fractious child, were it not for the fact that her complexion was ashen, and she was, quite clearly, terrified. She wore a white cap over her hair, the kind of everyday cap a woman would wear when she was not expecting visitors. Whatever had delayed Aleksei, it had not been waiting for the erstwhile governess to change into travelling clothes.

‘We lost a wheel from the carriage, we had to wait two hours while it was repaired,’ Aleksei said brusquely. ‘Now, Madame Orlova,’ he said, ushering the woman towards a chair, ‘you will oblige me by repeating this improbable tale of yours to Miss Galbraith.’

Aleksei began to deal efficiently with the samovar, while Madame Orlova stared helplessly at Allison. ‘My apologies, I am somewhat—I was not expecting His Illustrious Highness, though I should have—it was both wrong and ill judged to write to Catiche on impulse as I did, I know that. I promised Her Serene Highness I would not—and I swear, Miss Galbraith on my honour and my life, the letter is the first and only time that I have broken my solemn vow. But His Illustrious Highness has every right to be angry.’

‘His Illustrious Highness is not so much angry as still trying to make sense of what you told him,’ Aleksei said, handing Madame Orlova a cup of tea, ‘and Miss Galbraith must be thoroughly confused already. Please start at the beginning,’ he added more gently as he sat down. ‘Recount to us exactly what transpired on the morning of your dismissal.’

Madame Orlova took a dainty sip of tea. ‘Nikki had been sick in the night, and would not settle, he kept calling over and over for his mama. Nyanya was staying with her sister for a few days, so I took it upon myself to fetch Her Serene Highness. It was very late—or early, I suppose, about three in the morning, so I was astonished to find that she was not in her bedchamber. But at that point my only concern was Nikki, and so I returned to comfort the child.’

Madame Orlova smiled tenderly. ‘Poor little mite, he had quite worn himself out with crying and was soon asleep. I slept in a truckle bed in his room to keep watch over him. When he woke, his temperature was almost back to normal, so I dressed and went to find Her Serene Highness, to reassure her...’