Written on the Wind (The Blackstone Legacy #2)(47)
Oscar continued talking as he stared out the window. “He used to be a sharp man of business, but he’s been getting sloppy, and it can no longer be ignored. He blamed you, of course. He started shooting off his mouth to anyone who would listen and refused to take responsibility for his slipshod handling of the account.”
“What did he say?”
Oscar waved a dismissive hand. “Nothing but rubbish that no sane person would believe. I’ve already threatened a slander suit if he persists, but you need to understand that you are not without enemies. I’ve put a muzzle on Silas Conner, but be on the lookout for anyone who will pounce if you dare set a foot wrong. Understood?”
She did, but figuring out how to influence events in Russia without causing a scandal to break out in America was going to be a high-wire act that might be impossible to accomplish.
Natalia shared a carriage with her father back to Fifth Avenue. Tension still simmered between them, but they both pretended a calmness they did not feel. She looked out the window and Oscar read a report as they bumped and jostled over the cobblestones on their way uptown. How she despised this traffic, but she couldn’t abandon Dimitri when her father was in a temper.
An overturned bread wagon at Canal Street caused no end of headaches, and they were late getting home. Natalia hurried inside, hoping Dimitri had not expired from boredom after enduring Poppy’s shallow company all day.
She rushed to the butler and handed him her wrap. “Where is Count Sokolov?”
“He and Mrs. Blackstone left early this morning,” Mr. Tyson replied. “They have not yet returned.”
That was odd. She and her father were almost an hour late, and Poppy had planned a lavish private dinner to impress Dimitri tonight.
Natalia joined her father in the parlor outside the dining room, where he settled into a deep leather chair and snapped open a newspaper. Perhaps she could talk him out of his mood by engaging in a business conversation.
“I’ve been working with Liam on his plan to restructure wages in the steel business,” she said. “Has he discussed any of this with you?”
Her father grunted behind the newspaper. “It’s a pipe dream.”
She initially thought so too, but Liam had been surprisingly effective in persuading a few other men on the board of directors to entertain his proposal.
“He’s putting his heart and soul into it. Of course, it would be better if he could put some convincing financial projections behind it, but you know Liam. He struggles when it comes to math.”
She was babbling, which sometimes happened when she was exhausted, but at last voices came from down the hall. For once in her life, she was relieved to see Poppy, who flung both doors open with abandon as she sashayed into the room, Dimitri close behind.
Dimitri looked spectacular in a new suit Natalia had never seen before, and the sight of his sartorial splendor reminded her of the gulf between them. Dimitri was a European aristocrat whose bank account dwarfed hers. It had been easy to forget when he wore birchbark shoes and she picked lice from his hair.
“You had a successful day?” her father asked, peering over the rim of the newspaper.
“Sir, your wife is spectacular,” Dimitri said. “She moves through the city like a Valkyrie, scanning the terrain, then swooping in to claim her next target with unerring accuracy. Tailors, butlers, old-guard society matrons at the Waldorf—all of them fell victim to her unerring instinct. I followed in her wake, watching with awe as she charmed or slayed lesser mortals, depending on her whim.”
Poppy would explode if Natalia ever spoke of her that way, but Poppy beamed and took Dimitri’s arm. “We made quite a pair, storming the gates at Senator Lansing’s townhouse, didn’t we?”
“Senator Lansing?” Natalia asked, mildly appalled. Such a man needed to be handled as carefully as a pipe bomb, not with Poppy’s frivolous social airs.
Poppy gave her a smug look. “Dimitri wanted to meet the senator, and I can deny him nothing. We had a splendid afternoon admiring the senator’s collection of antique revolvers.”
“Can I offer you a drink before dinner?” her father asked, but Dimitri declined with a good-natured grin.
“We’ve been imbibing at Senator Lansing’s house all afternoon. Probably over-imbibing,” he added with a wink at Poppy.
“Senator Lansing served the most delicious cocktail called a Flash of Lightning,” Poppy said. “I loved it, but what was that awful drink you were so enamored of, Dimitri?”
Natalia bristled at hearing Poppy so casually call Dimitri by his given name, but no one noticed as he laughingly relayed the ingredients of a revolting drink called a Flip, with brandy, sugar, and a raw egg all mixed together. It certainly sounded like he and Poppy had a marvelous time with Senator Lansing.
She called a halt to their hilarity. “Dinner is already overdue. The cook went out of her way to prepare roasted duck, and it will dry out if we linger much longer.”
Inside the dining room, the candles had been burning for a while, leaving drips trailing down the ivory columns. They used the smaller, more intimate table that was set with Wedgewood china and crystal goblets. Silverware clinked, and servants moved about silently as they filled glasses and set out warm bread. Her father waited until the watercress soup had been served before homing in on Dimitri.
“What exactly was your business with Senator Lansing?” he asked, his voice cool.