Written on the Wind (The Blackstone Legacy #2)(48)



“Senator Lansing has an interest in Russia,” Dimitri said. “He told me of the time he was in Moscow and saw Saint Basil’s Cathedral. He got lost in the old galleries!”

Poppy laughed. “We’ll be meeting him at tonight’s midnight performance of a string quartet in Central Park. It’s to kick off his reelection campaign and should be smashing fun, since all the best people will be there. I’m assuming the two of you won’t join us, since you get up so oppressively early in the morning.”

“Would you like to come, Natalia?” Dimitri asked courteously, almost like an afterthought.

The prospect of battling to stay awake until midnight made Natalia sag. Her first appointment was at nine o’clock tomorrow morning, and she still needed to prepare.

“I’m not up for it tonight,” she said.

“You see?” Poppy said with a look of triumph at Dimitri. “Natalia never likes doing anything fun, but I shall hold you to your promise to escort me on a gondola ride. There will be torches lining the shore and servants handing out warmed blankets.”

Poppy and Dimitri continued to carry the bulk of the conversation while Natalia met her father’s eyes across the table. Was he going to raise the topic of the Trans-Siberian? There had been plenty of opportunity, but still he said nothing.

By the cheese course, Natalia was struggling to keep her eyes open, and she still had a thirty-minute carriage ride to get home. She’d forgotten how rich the meals at her father’s house could be and begged off before the final course of brandied cherries served over ice cream, but she wouldn’t leave Dimitri entirely in Poppy’s clutches.

“Dimitri, will you escort me to the coach house?”

He looked surprised but obligingly rose and followed her. She felt her father’s eyes boring into her back the entire way down the hall.



Dimitri followed Natalia down a corridor and through a back door to the stable yard behind the house. The stiff way she moved indicated her ire over something, although its cause was a mystery. He liked the chilly air outside, but Natalia burrowed down into a coat she’d snatched from the hook outside the door.

“Natalia, I can see your displeasure. Tell me what has annoyed you.”

She met him with equal frankness. “I think you need to watch out for Poppy.”

“Do you? I found her to be splendid company.” Poppy was a snob but also frank and funny and smart.

Natalia did not reply as she knocked on a door of the coach house. It was answered by a sleepy young man shrugging into a coachman’s jacket, and Natalia requested a carriage to deliver her back to her townhouse. It would take at least ten minutes to harness the horses, and they headed to a walled garden beside the coach house to wait. The air smelled like damp earth mingled with the scent of leather and horses. Light from the stable lanterns made it easy to see the frustration on Natalia’s face in the cold night air.

“Dimitri, Senator Lansing is using you,” she said. “He is up for reelection soon and is looking to polish his image.”

“What is a reelection?”

He must have said something stupid because Natalia rolled her eyes in frustrated wonder. She supplied an answer, explaining how every six years men in the Senate needed to submit to the will of the voters, which Dimitri had heard about but never seen in action. In the year leading up to an election, men jockeyed for position, shoring up their weaknesses and pandering to people who might be able to help.

“Senator Lansing likes the glamour of having a Russian count at his midnight party,” she said. “He will string you along and tell you what he thinks you need to hear, but you mustn’t put your hopes in it.”

Dimitri sobered. “Things are very different in Russia. We are more honest and have no need of these troublesome ‘reelections.’”

“Senator Lansing wants the president to strengthen our ties with Japan. The Amur River cuts straight through Manchuria, and Japan thinks they can get a piece of it because China is weak. If the Japanese get a foothold in Manchuria, do you think they’ll be any kinder to the villagers than the Russians were?”

He shifted his weight, trying to process what she said. “And you think Senator Lansing has influence on this? If so, then it is essential I establish connections with him.”

Once again, she seemed frustrated. “Dimitri, you don’t know what you’re doing. I don’t have much experience in politics either, but I can assure you that relying on Poppy’s guidance would be a catastrophe. I am asking you to swallow back three hundred years of inbred, aristocratic arrogance and trust me to lead you to the right people.”

He frowned. Poppy was much smarter than Natalia had implied to him, but Natalia knew his heart, and he trusted she would act in his interest.

“What do you think I should do?”

“I think you should stick with the plan I told you about on the train. Admiral McNally has wide experience in foreign affairs,” she said. “Neither one of us knows what to do, but he can guide us.”

“Very well, let’s meet with Admiral McNally. Can you accompany me to meet him tomorrow?”

Apparently he had once again offended Natalia, because she looked thunderstruck. “I’ve been gone from the bank for three weeks. I have meetings all day tomorrow, a report due to my father by five o’clock, plus a stack of papers a foot high that need my attention.”

Elizabeth Camden's Books