Written on the Wind (The Blackstone Legacy #2)(57)

Besides, perhaps she could take this opportunity to glean something from Count Cassini’s “niece.” At this point, it was impossible to tell if the young woman’s rudeness was calculated or simply stupid.

“Come meet my other dogs,” the girl said the moment they finished their tea. “They’re French spaniels, and I love them more than anything on earth.”

Natalia followed the countess through several twisting corridors, all of them lavishly decorated. Unsmiling Russian icons in gilt frames blanketed the wall of one hallway. Another was laden with antique firearms, battle-axes, and swords raised to form an archway down the hall. At last they entered a room at the back of the embassy covered entirely in blue-delft tiles where a cluster of yapping dogs climbed over each other in their eagerness for attention.

“My darlings!” the countess exclaimed as she dropped to her knees, letting the dogs swarm around her. They were small, each less than a foot high, and covered in long, silky white fur. Natalia slid toward the nearest wall. She didn’t mind dogs but had little experience with them.

The countess scooped one into her arms, kissed its snout, then rose to show it to Natalia. “Isn’t he precious? I find dogs so much more interesting than people, don’t you?”

Natalia silently wondered if the girl was meeting the right sort of people, but she smiled anyway. “They certainly seem to adore you.”

“Yes, they do!” the girl enthused. “They need to be taken outside for a walk. Let’s go.”

She opened a door leading to a walled courtyard, and the dogs bounded for freedom. A profusion of roses and viburnum shrubs lined the enclosed garden, but the ground was littered with dog waste and spots where they’d dug up the soil. Even now, one of them was joyously scratching at the ground and flinging sprays of dirt in Natalia’s direction.

“Stop that, Apollo.” Countess Cassini laughed but made no move to restrain the dog. She scooped up another dog to jostle like a child as she paced in the garden.

Natalia tried to initiate a discussion about life at the embassy, but the girl wouldn’t even look at her as she coddled her dogs.

“Ahem.”

Natalia turned to see an attractive middle-aged woman standing in the doorway. She wore a fine gown of indigo bombazine, but the apron tied around her waist indicated she was probably a servant.

“Yes, Mrs. Betz?” the countess asked.

“You are needed to approve the menu for the reception honoring the wives of the diplomatic corps.”

The countess sighed and set down her dog. “Must I? Those women are so tedious.” She turned to Natalia. “You should see the wife of the French ambassador. Last week she wore a gown so small it made the rolls of her neck look like a stack of sausages.” She proceeded to describe the rest of the woman’s appearance with savage delight. It took the intervention of the housekeeper to call the malicious commentary to a halt.

“Ma’am, the menu needs to be approved before we submit a list to the grocer.”

“Oh, very well,” the girl said in exasperation. She turned to look Natalia in the face for the first time since they’d left the tea table. “Not all the dogs are finished with their business, so you’ll stay and watch them, won’t you?”

She didn’t wait for a reply before following Mrs. Betz inside, the door slamming behind her.

Natalia was left alone with the dogs. She plopped onto a garden chair. Never had she been so thoroughly disrespected by two different people, all within the space of a few minutes. Although Natalia had been born into a similar level of opulence, her mother raised her to be respectful toward everybody. Galina was a gentle soul who had been born into poverty, and perhaps that was why she took such care to insist that Natalia see humanity in everyone, no matter their station in life. In the coming years, Natalia intended to do the same for little Alexander because she doubted Poppy would.

A light mist began falling, and it soon turned into a drizzle. The dogs were done with their business, and Natalia didn’t intend to let the rain ruin her perfectly styled chignon. She opened the door and gestured for the dogs to come inside. They didn’t like the rain either and scrambled back into the blue-tiled room, their yips and scrabbling claws sounding harsh in the otherwise empty room.

What now? She let herself out of the blue-tiled room and into the dim silence of the embassy, following the same route of decorated corridors so she could wait for Dimitri in the front lobby.

She paused in the hall filled with antique weaponry to admire a heavily embellished battle-ax. All was quiet, but from down the hall came the muffled voice of the countess speaking to the older servant.

Natalia wandered closer to hear. The door was open, and Mrs. Betz sat at a modest desk. Was it the housekeeper’s office? Natalia was about to continue to the main room when she overheard her name and came to a halt.

“They say she is the daughter of some rich banker,” the girl said, and the housekeeper replied too faintly for Natalia to hear.

She ought to feel guilty for eavesdropping, but she leaned in closer, taking cover behind a suit of armor.

“I don’t care how rich she is,” Countess Cassini continued. “She speaks Russian like a peasant. She has a gutter accent, like she belongs pulling potatoes out of the dirt instead of visiting embassies.”

“Shh,” the housekeeper scolded. “It is said her mother was a famous ballerina from Moscow.”