Written on the Wind (The Blackstone Legacy #2)(53)

The words landed like a fist in her gut. No other bank in the world would hire a female business analyst, especially one with a tainted reputation.

“I understand.” No matter how uncomfortable, she would swallow her pride and make peace with Poppy for as long as the trip to Washington lasted.





22





Once the decision had been made to go to Washington, Natalia’s plans fell into place quickly. Admiral McNally contacted the U.S. surgeon general’s office and arranged for a meeting with Dr. Seaman, a man with deep connections in both the military and the government. Dr. Seaman was a popular speaker on the lecture circuit and had a knack for explaining complicated issues to a skeptical audience. The press and the public loved him. If they could get the daring army doctor on their side, Natalia hoped he would use his connections to pressure the czar into paying heed to Dimitri.

Oscar insisted on the best for Poppy, so he arranged for his private railcar to take them to Washington. Once in the city, they were booked into the grand suite at the sumptuous Willard Hotel, located only two blocks from the White House.

“This feels like a palace,” Dimitri said as they entered the lobby of the hotel. The coffered ceiling was held aloft by towering columns of coral-colored marble. Potted palms and clusters of upholstered furniture in shades of garnet and sage green softened the grandeur.

“A letter has arrived for you, ma’am,” the clerk at the hotel’s front counter said as Natalia checked in.

She accepted the envelope, engraved with a return address from the Office of the U.S. Surgeon General, and read the enclosed message quickly. Her heart sank. “Dr. Seaman has been called away to deal with an emergency in Philadelphia. A cholera outbreak.”

Dimitri looked stricken, but Poppy was offended. “I think it’s very rude for Dr. Seaman to have waltzed away when he knew we wanted to meet with him. Couldn’t they have sent another doctor?”

Leave it to Poppy to feel like the aggrieved party. Dr. Seaman specialized in waterborne contagion and was the natural person for the government to send for such an outbreak, but his absence was a blow.

“What are we going to do now?” Dimitri’s whisper was harsh, but his eyes were panicked. According to the note, Dr. Seaman wouldn’t return to Washington for three days, and with each passing hour, the scandal of Dimitri’s humiliation might reach American shores.

Natalia shoved the note back into its envelope. “Let’s head to our suite and discuss it in private.”

It took three bellhops to wheel their luggage to the suite. Poppy had brought two steamer trunks for her day and evening gowns, plus ten hat boxes so that each gown had a coordinating hat.

Their suite was lavishly appointed with a parlor, a formal dining area, and a separate alcove for a tea table. They each had their own bedroom, but Natalia forced herself to sit with Poppy in the tea alcove while the bellhops and two ladies’ maids unpacked their clothing. Poppy chattered about the frumpy gown worn by a matron in the lobby while Natalia kept a worried eye trained on Dimitri as he paced before the windows. He wore a suit with a satin waistcoat and gold watch chain, looking every inch the European aristocrat, but she saw the vulnerability beneath the fine tailoring. He looked anxious as he rubbed his hands and adjusted the sleeves of his coat. His face twisted in disgust as he examined his wrists.

“Natalia, I don’t know the word in English for this, but I get them when I am nervous,” he said, pulling back his cuffs to expose red, inflamed skin.

“It looks like hives,” she replied. Dimitri was usually so flagrantly charming that it hurt to see him this anxious. “Try to quit scratching.”

“It hurts when I scratch, but it hurts more when I don’t.”

“Let me send for a bowl of warm milk,” she said. “Soaking might help.”

He brightened. “Excellent idea! I always feel better when you take care of me.” He shucked his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, revealing the red splotches tracking up his arm. In short order, a bellhop arrived with a pitcher of warmed milk, and Natalia dipped handkerchiefs in it to lay across Dimitri’s forearms.

“I worry that news of my disgrace will leak before Dr. Seaman returns,” Dimitri said. “It will be hard to claim an upper hand from such a position. Natalia, you missed a spot on my elbow.”

“I can do a better job,” Poppy said.

“No, no. It feels better when Natalia does it. I think I need a manicure, as well. My cuticles are bad again.”

Natalia fixed the handkerchief and rubbed oil into his nails while she thought. Dr. Seaman’s absence was a problem, but she was clever and could adjust their plan of attack. Dimitri was right. It would be harder to make progress if his reputation was in tatters.

“What if we released news of your disgrace to the press?” she suggested. “If we get ahead of the story, we can claim the moral high ground by revealing what happened.”

“Oh, please don’t!” Poppy gasped. “That would be a disaster. An embarrassment of epic proportions.”

Dimitri looked sick. “Look, my hives are getting worse even thinking about such a thing.”

It was true. Before her eyes, the red patches on Dimitri’s forearms darkened and grew larger. She sighed and dipped another handkerchief into the warmed milk to exchange it with a cooled cloth. She wouldn’t expose Dimitri without his consent, but she had to do something. She was a woman of status and connections. Surely she could use them to get the upper hand.