Written on the Wind (The Blackstone Legacy #2)(54)
By the time the next batch of milk had cooled, she had a plan.
“I think we should go directly to Count Cassini at the Russian embassy,” she said. “Today, if possible.”
“Without Dr. Seaman?” Dimitri asked in surprise.
She nodded. “If I suggest the bank has misgivings about continued funding of the Trans-Siberian, he will fall over himself to accept an appointment with me.”
Dimitri shifted uneasily. “Count Cassini probably knows of my trial and public humiliation. I need more allies before he learns of my presence here.”
“He doesn’t need to know who you are,” she said. “I can introduce you by your patronym.” Like all Russian aristocrats, Dimitri had an impressively long name, a combination of his given name, his father’s name, and a collection of saint names, but there was no need to introduce him by that mouthful.
“My mother calls me Dimitri Mikhailovich when she is angry with me. It could work, but I still don’t like it.”
“Does Count Cassini speak English?” Poppy asked.
The innocent question seemed to make Dimitri wilt. He threw off the wet handkerchiefs and began pacing, flinging droplets of milk as he gestured.
“Count Cassini speaks English, French, German, Italian, and Chinese,” he said. “He is brilliant. It is said he has so many medals that when he stands beneath a chandelier, he glitters like the Milky Way. We don’t stand a chance of getting the better of him without more allies on our side.”
“We have the truth on our side,” Natalia said. She tossed him a towel to dry his arms. It was time to prepare for battle. “If Count Cassini is so intelligent, he will fear you more than you fear him. The czar and his imperial forces silenced you once, but you have come six thousand miles, most of it alone, hungry, and driven by nothing but your need to survive long enough to shout your story to the world. You had nothing and nobody on your side, but not anymore. You have powerful friends behind you, and today we begin backing Count Cassini into a corner and using him to turn the tide in our favor.”
Dimitri’s eyes gleamed with barely leashed energy. “Natalia, you are magnificent.”
The air felt electric. She beamed at him across the expanse of the hotel suite, breathless simply from looking at him.
“The two of you need to strive for a little decorum,” Poppy said, throwing ice water on them. “It’s embarrassing even to be in the same room with you.”
Natalia cleared her throat. It was mortifying to admit, but Poppy was right. Today wasn’t the time to indulge her infatuation with Dimitri. Today they needed to begin shifting the balance of power to Dimitri’s side in his battle against the czar.
Once again, Dimitri was impressed with Natalia’s instinct for business. Her prediction about Count Cassini’s willingness to accept her blunt demand for a meeting had been correct. They were told to arrive at the embassy at three o’clock for a private appointment with the ambassador to discuss funding for the Trans-Siberian Railway.
Poppy announced she was exhausted from the travel and refused to accompany them to the embassy, which was a relief. Dimitri didn’t want Poppy underfoot and happily agreed that she was entitled to a nap after the long journey.
It was an unusually balmy day for mid-April. They rode with the carriage top rolled down so he could see Washington, which looked much nicer than New York. The tree-lined avenues, the monuments, and the open public squares all reminded him of Saint Petersburg. The Russian embassy was in a palatial building set back from the street by a wide lawn. The front doors were lavishly embellished, and everything carried a whiff of typical Russian grandeur.
What wasn’t typical was their hostess. Countess Cassini was only eighteen years old. The coldly beautiful girl wore a loose gown of green silk that barely clung to respectability, but her jewels were appalling. A thick choker of Byzantine gold encircled her neck, and matching chandelier earrings dangled on each side of her gamine face.
“My uncle will be with us shortly,” she said in heavily accented English as she led them to a tea table in the parlor. The girl waited for a footman to pull out a chair before she lowered herself onto it, her back as straight as a yardstick. A copper samovar heavily embellished with gemstones graced the center of the table. “Count Cassini likes for me to meet his visitors first. He believes everyone should have a nice tea before enduring diplomatic toil.”
So the rumors were true. Count Cassini had elevated this brassy child to be his hostess. The American secretary of state claimed that despite the Cassini family’s Italian origin, they were as Russian as borscht and lied with fabulous virtuosity. So far, Dimitri concurred. Titles in Russia were sometimes loosely distributed, but even so, it was odd to have a girl this young serve as a hostess. Nevertheless, he played along. He wasn’t here to judge the count’s strange relationship with this young woman but to force acknowledgment of what happened at the Amur River.
The countess poured the tea with a perfect display of grace, but she cast furtive glances at Natalia throughout. The two women could not be more different. While the countess dressed with theatrical abandon, Natalia wore one of her painfully restrictive business suits, cinched in at the waist and sporting a slim necktie tucked into a silk vest.
“You have business with my uncle?” the countess asked as she handed a teacup to Natalia.
Natalia nodded as she accepted the cup. “I handle the Russian investments for the Blackstone Bank. There are several issues the ambassador should know about.”