Written on the Wind (The Blackstone Legacy #2)(55)
“Ladies do not interfere with such things in Russia,” the girl replied with a hint of disdain, but she brightened when a little white spaniel came bounding into the room, yapping with fervor. She lifted the dog to cuddle on her lap. Dimitri wanted to toss the ill-mannered beast outside, but he was supposed to be nothing more than Natalia’s assistant, so he sat by obediently.
Count Cassini soon joined them. Dimitri and Natalia rose, but the girl remained in her seat, proud as a queen.
The count was a middle-aged man who wore his steel-gray hair ruthlessly groomed. A collection of medals glittered on his chest, and he greeted them with the utmost formality. He went directly to Natalia.
“Miss Blackstone?” he asked, and she held out her hand. The count took it and gave her a little bow.
“Thank you for meeting with us,” Natalia said with admirable ease, although it shouldn’t surprise Dimitri. Natalia had been raised since birth to be comfortable around robber barons, politicians, and dignitaries. “I have brought my consultant on Russian business, Mr. Dimitri Mikhailovich. We both have an interest in ensuring the success of the Trans-Siberian Railway, so I am grateful for the opportunity to discuss our concerns with you.”
The count’s face cooled a fraction. He gave a brusque nod to the countess, who prepared a cup of tea for him. He looked carefully at Dimitri but gave no sign of recognition as he accepted a teacup from the countess.
“The Blackstones should have no worries about the progress of the railroad,” Count Cassini said. “I gather its construction is surpassing all expectations.”
Natalia nodded. “So far, but I am concerned that there may be repercussions from the Boxer Rebellion in China.”
Count Cassini turned his attention to Dimitri. “Have you been telling her tales?” he asked in Russian.
Shifting into Russian in the middle of a conversation was astonishingly rude and surprising for a diplomat, but Dimitri answered in the same language. “Miss Blackstone is well read in international affairs, so I did not need to inform her of the Boxer Rebellion.”
“Tell her it had no impact on the railroad and we are progressing according to plan. I shall contact her father to seek reassurance that there will be no delay in his payments to the builders.”
“It is actually Miss Blackstone who is managing the railroad account. You should know that she is fluent in Russian and can understand everything we are saying.”
Count Cassini blanched but recovered quickly, sending a conciliatory glance toward Natalia. “My pardon, ma’am. The Russian people are grateful for our long and productive partnership with your father’s bank.”
“Thank you,” Natalia replied, continuing to speak in Russian. “I am concerned with the southern leg of the railroad that cuts through Manchuria. The treaty negotiated in 1858 grants the Chinese people who settled north of the river the right to live in peace.”
Count Cassini bristled. “Ma’am, having served as the ambassador to China for five years, I don’t need a tutorial from you on the Treaty of Aigun.”
Dimitri clenched his fists beneath the table. It was hard to calmly accept Count Cassini’s insulting tone, but he had to remember that for today he was not an aristocrat, only Natalia’s consultant. He swallowed back his ire as Natalia spoke.
“I cannot force you to acknowledge the massacre at the Amur River, but I can withdraw financial support for the railroad if we think more atrocities are likely to occur.”
“There were no atrocities,” Count Cassini insisted. “If your bank decides to withdraw from one of the most profitable investments in the world, we can go to the Rothschilds or J.P. Morgan.”
Natalia did not soften. “Yes, but my father is known for his voracious desire to make money. If he pulls out of the Trans-Siberian amidst rumors of atrocities, it will send a clarion call to the world that something happened out there in those remote territories. Banks will be reluctant to dive in where others have pulled out.”
Count Cassini’s eyes crackled with fire. “I do not conduct business with women,” he said tightly. “Come, Mr. Mikhailovich. Let us go to my study where we may discuss the railway in cooler tones and leave the ladies to their tea.”
Natalia blanched, but Dimitri sent her a warning shake of his head, praying she would understand. Count Cassini’s chauvinism was too ingrained to permit a reprimand from a woman.
“I will join you when our business is concluded,” he told Natalia, hating the need to cave in to the count’s boorishness. Today they needed to play by Russian rules.
Natalia understood and had the dignity of a saint as she nodded her consent. Dimitri paused for a moment, locking eyes with her. How easily they understood each other, and he couldn’t be prouder of how gracefully she stepped aside to let him take the lead.
Dimitri followed the ambassador through marble corridors until they reached a private office. Count Cassini ushered Dimitri inside the book-lined study, where an enormous standing globe dominated one corner of the room and the other featured a telescope pointing out a window.
The door closed behind them, and the count took his seat behind a desk that was as wide and impressive as the prow of a ship. He opened the lid on a box of cigars and offered Dimitri one. “I admire your patience, Mr. Mikhailovich. It must be maddening to report to a woman.”
Dimitri declined the cigar but answered the count’s question. “I have found Miss Blackstone to be a woman of remarkable good sense in the years I have worked with her.”