From Governess to Countess (Matches Made in Scandal #1)(54)

Which would be what, precisely? Was Grigory right? Was his future here in St Petersburg with those children?

No! He had come to care for them, he couldn’t deny it, but to make them the centre of his life? No, it was not what he wanted. He would resent them in the end. He would blame them for the sacrifices he’d made on their account. None of them would be happy. Not the children. Certainly not Aleksei. And not the wife he’d be obliged to take in order to complete the picture-perfect family. If he’d wanted a wife and family, he’d have married and had children of his own. But he’d never wanted either. He was married to his career. Just like Allison.

She was not in the garden, Nyanya was supervising them. Aleksei checked his watch. She would be holding her dispensary for the servants.

It struck me forcibly, in the market, how very different we are.

She was right. They were from radically different worlds. And soon she would return to hers. That odd feeling returned, a tightening in his chest, that was becoming familiar each time he thought of her leaving.

Whatever it was it would pass quickly enough once she was half a world away. Aleksei nodded to himself, reassured. Yes, it would pass.

*

It was Catiche’s idea to ask her uncle to accompany them to the children’s ball two days later, and Uncle Aleksei had surprised both his niece and his niece’s governess by accepting with alacrity.

He arrived in the schoolroom to collect them wearing his uniform. In order to distract herself from a bout of lustful staring, Allison made a twirl. ‘Catiche is not quite ready yet,’ she informed him, ‘you know what young girls are like getting ready for a party.’

‘I don’t, but I am learning quickly,’ he said with a wry smile.

‘Pink is most definitely not my colour.’

Aleksei pretended to shade his eyes. ‘Salmon-pink, I believe. What on earth possessed you to select it? Wasn’t there mention in that letter from the Orlova woman of blue or gold? Either would have suited you very well.’

‘Thank you, kind sir, and may I commend your impeccable taste. But pink was Catiche’s choice, and since it is the tradition for mother and daughter to wear the same colour, then pink it must be. And actually, I take it as a compliment that she is happy for me to stand in for her mother. What I’m not clear about is the purpose of these children’s balls.’

Aleksei grimaced. ‘It is the custom here, a phased introduction into society which supposedly ensures a more confident debutante when the time comes to embrace court life.’

‘I thought it was simply a social occasion, a chance to make new friends,’ Allison said, somewhat aghast. ‘Catiche is only thirteen.’

‘As a Derevenko, she will be expected to attend court in as little as a year, two at the most. Michael and Elizaveta will have been planning her successful debut from the day she was born.’

‘A responsibility that falls to you now.’

‘For the time being,’ Aleksei said grimly. ‘And as a consequence I must set my personal views aside. If she doesn’t attend, she will miss out on—I don’t know, connections which may prove important in the future.’

‘You mean she will miss out on—oh, I don’t know, connections which may prove important to the future of the Derevenko dynasty,’ Allison threw at him.

‘That is it precisely.’ Aleksei ran his fingers through his hair. ‘It is unpalatable to me, but it is the truth, Allison. The Derevenko dynasty is one of the oldest and most influential in Russia. Marriage is a question of bloodline, of influence, and of suitable alliances. It is expected that Catiche play her part.’

‘By making a suitable marriage, you mean.’ Allison crossed her arms and glared. ‘You have, by your own admission, rejected all of the great Derevenko traditions. Yet you are perfectly happy to make your nephew and nieces endure them.’

‘Would you prefer that they become followers of Volkonsky? Shall I have the girls dress in peasant clothes and learn to play the balalaika? Nikki is a duke. As for Catiche and Elena, have you any idea of the size of their dowries? They will be able to command an alliance with the highest in the land. Or in England. Or any other land.’

‘How fortunate for them. Save that they won’t be the ones doing the commanding, will they? That will be your cousin Felix’s province.’

‘No. I mean, yes, it would be if I—look, it’s just a ball, for the love of heaven.’

Allison narrowed her eyes. ‘Have you changed your mind about Felix?’

‘I have not yet made up my mind. It’s not the same thing.’

He looked tired. And a little dejected. And she had been haranguing him like a fishwife. ‘A very different thing,’ Allison agreed. ‘I’m sorry. I’m a little nervous.’

‘You?’

‘Yes. Believe it or not, herbalists very rarely get the opportunity to attend a ball hosted by the Empress of Russia, standing in for a duchess, accompanied by a count.’

‘You manged to play the lady very well at the Winter Palace, and you have been living at this palace for weeks now.’

‘But aside from Peterhof, I have not been abroad much in polite society.’ Allison could feel the telltale colour at her throat. ‘I don’t want to let Catiche down.’

‘Catiche obviously doesn’t think that’s likely, since she’s asked you to stand in for her mother. And I certainly don’t think it’s possible, because I’ve never known you to let anyone down.’