From Governess to Countess (Matches Made in Scandal #1)(9)
‘You presume because The Procurer wasn’t specific?’
Allison nodded, her brow furrowed. ‘Was I mistaken?’
‘Miss Galbraith, this is hardly the time or place for such a discussion.’
‘Which confirms that there is a discussion to be had.’
He acknowledged this hit with a small smile. ‘You have a sharp mind.’
‘Yes, I do, so don’t attempt to pull the wool over my eyes.’ She treated him to her best Take your medicine or else, young man face. It didn’t work on this particular patient. He laughed. His eyes crinkled when he laughed. She bit her lip, determined not to soften her stance. ‘Well?’
‘Not here. No, please spare me another of your schoolmistress glares.’
‘The glare of a herbalist who wishes her patient to take his pill, actually.’
‘Does it work?’
‘Almost every time. And I should warn you, Count Derevenko, I’m an expert at detecting procrastination.’
‘I’m not procrastinating.’ They shuffled up two more steps. The Count pulled her closer, placing his lips disconcertingly close to her ear. ‘The truth is,’ he whispered, ‘that I cannot trust anyone in St Petersburg. I need an outsider...someone I can be sure has no connections to the court.’
They mounted another step. ‘Well, I certainly fit the bill on that score, but...’
Two more steps. ‘This really is not the time. Look, I promise that I’ll explain everything in due course. Trust me.’
‘Trust has to operate in both directions.’
He smiled enigmatically. ‘You can have no idea of the amount of trust I am about to invest in you, but for now, let us concentrate on making a success of your introduction into polite society.’ Count Derevenko ushered her up the final two shallow steps. ‘Your audience awaits, Miss Galbraith.’
*
She had enjoyed their verbal sparring, even if the Count had once again avoided answering her questions, but as they approached the wide-open double doors at the entrance to the ballroom, Allison’s confidence faltered, her stomach became queasy with nerves. She had never had cause to attend any ball, let alone a royal ball, but she was damned if she would fail at this, the very first challenge. A deep breath, a straightening of her shoulders and her nausea subsided.
As they stepped across the threshold, she realised how large a gathering she was about to face, and just how awe-inspiring the setting. The formal staircase was but an amuse-bouche, a mere taster for the magnificence of this ballroom, so elongated that Allison struggled to see where it ended. Two tiers of windows, one tall and arched, one square, faced each other across the expanse of dance floor, with massive marble Corinthian pillars spaced between each set. The walls themselves were plain, but the ornate, gilded and corniced ceiling was reflected in the intricate pattern of the parquet flooring. Light flooded the chamber from innumerable glittering chandeliers, and from the branches of candles which stood at each window. Aside from a few flimsy-looking gilded chairs upon which no one sat, the room was empty of furnishings and filled to the rafters with milling people.
People who glittered with diamonds and jewels in many forms and incarnations—ornate tiaras, necklaces, opulent rings, bracelets and bangles, military and ceremonial orders and medals. It was no wonder, she thought, resisting the urge to touch her grandmother’s simple gold locket, that Natalya had been horrified at her lack of baubles. She need not have worried about being overdressed. The gown, which she had thought so fussy, was almost puritan compared to most here, encrusted as they were with pearls and embellished with gold thread. And the men! Most were garbed in magnificent dress uniforms, tassels and sashes, boots so polished they reflected the light. ‘Is the entire Russian army present?’
She spoke flippantly, but Count Derevenko’s smile tightened. ‘The real soldiers, the ones who did the fighting, would be lucky to be given bread at the kitchen door, if General Arakcheev has his way. That’s him over there.’ He nodded at a tall, gaunt man with heavy brows and even heavier gold epaulettes. ‘The Emperor’s second in command. They refer to him as the Vampire for his bloodlust, though in the field, we nicknamed him the Ape in Uniform. A man who punishes every slight, real or intended, with ever more inventive barbarity. Come, we may as well get the ordeal over with.’
*
‘Aleksei. Out of mourning at last, I see. And cementing our entente with the English with an alliance of your own, too. Or should that be dalliance?’
Allison repressed a shudder as a claw-like hand brushed hers, and a pair of soulless brown eyes under hooded lids glanced indifferently over her. The Vampire was aptly named. A man who would take pleasure in sucking the lifeblood from his enemies.
‘Miss Galbraith is the new governess,’ the Count answered haughtily, ‘here to help my wards perfect their English.’
‘And to give you French lessons, no doubt,’ General Arakcheev responded, making his double entendre clear with a lascivious look in Allison’s direction, noting her shocked countenance with a small, satisfied smile before returning his attention to the Count. ‘You will find many of your comrades are present tonight, anxious to celebrate the end of your emergence from mourning. It seems you were quite the hero at Waterloo. I grow weary of hearing your exploits recounted.’
‘Perhaps if you had deigned to make an appearance on the front line you would have spared yourself that tedium.’