Written on the Wind (The Blackstone Legacy #2)(63)
His eyes gleamed. “Be careful, you are sounding very Russian.”
She laughed. “I am part Russian. I don’t entirely belong in America, but I certainly don’t belong over there either. But you, Dimitri. You are Russian all the way down to that big, generous, and overly dramatic heart of yours. I want the world for you, and that means I want you to have Mirosa back.”
He kissed her forehead, and they clung to each other, enjoying Dimitri’s triumph even though it meant the beginning of the end for them.
25
Dimitri had been invited to a gala celebration at the Russian embassy for his final night in Washington. The coveted invitation was a clear sign that Count Cassini was making good on his promise to rewrite the incident in Russia as an unfortunate misunderstanding. The white-tie affair would have dozens of guests from the military, foreign embassies, and even a handful of celebrities. Archbishop Raphael, the highest-ranking patriarch of the Russian Orthodox Church, would be in attendance, as would a famed opera diva, who would sing after dinner.
Dimitri eyed himself in the mirror as he adjusted the center knot of his snow-white tie, flawlessly starched and pressed by the staff at the hotel. Opal studs and cufflinks flashed as he adjusted his black cutaway jacket. A barber had been in earlier to trim his beard, clip his hair, and apply a slight sheen of Macassar oil. Dimitri looked every inch the aristocrat, down to his buffed nails and the patent-leather dress oxfords on his feet.
And yet, while he had been indulging in the luxury of a shave and a manicure, he wondered what Temujin was doing at this exact moment. How was he coping after the amputation of his foot? Had he succeeded in buying a farm? Their friendship felt like it belonged to another lifetime, but Temujin was one of those faraway people whose life would be affected by the czar’s reaffirmation of the treaty.
A knock sounded on his door. “Dimitri?” Natalia called from the other side. “The carriage is here.”
He opened the door and was nearly struck mute at seeing Natalia in a watered-silk gown of ice blue that gleamed in the candlelight. The silk was gathered at the shoulders like the dress of a Grecian goddess, then swept into a slight bustle before draping in graceful folds to the floor. At last he was seeing her dressed as a real woman, all soft and elegant. Instead of a sleek chignon, her hair was amassed at her crown and tumbled down her back in a spiral of ebony curls.
“That dress would make Helen of Troy envious,” he said.
A hint of color warmed her cheeks. “You exaggerate.”
The way he felt for her was no exaggeration. Natalia was his opposite and equal at the same time, and the mix was enthralling. He had sensed it from the other side of the world, and now that she stood within feet of him, the sensation was overwhelming.
“Exaggerate my feelings for you? Never! You look like a goddess.”
“Aren’t you going to say anything nice about me?” Poppy demanded from the front room of the suite.
Poppy’s nose had been out of joint ever since learning that Dimitri could only escort one lady to the Russian embassy and he’d chosen Natalia. Poppy still insisted on having her hair done and intended to treat herself to a five-course meal in the restaurant downstairs. Such behavior would be appalling for a woman in Russia’s conservative society, but things were obviously different here.
“I am only sorry I cannot escort you both,” he said gallantly. “With a beautiful lady on each arm, I would be the envy of the nation.”
It was twilight by the time their carriage arrived at the embassy, where torches illuminated the front staircase and portico. Guests mingled before the embassy, and to his amazement, Dimitri spotted a familiar young man with fair hair and a neatly groomed mustache. Johann Kuhn sported a few more lines around his eyes than the last time they’d been together, but his slim, athletic figure was the same.
“Johann!” Dimitri said as he lifted his hand in recognition.
His old school friend grinned. “Good to see you, Dimitri! When I heard you were the guest of honor, I finagled an invitation. How are you, my friend?”
He and Johann had attended boarding school in Zurich, where Dimitri had been sent to learn German and Johann was sent to keep him out of trouble. Their friendship flourished even though they couldn’t have been more different. Dimitri wanted nothing more than to return to the rustic comfort of Mirosa, while Johann wanted to open a bottle of champagne and seek out the nearest opera house. Now Johann had become a respectable envoy from Switzerland, so perhaps miracles really did happen.
“I’m doing well,” Dimitri said after returning a back-pounding hug. “Allow me to introduce Miss Natalia Blackstone. Natalia, my friend Johann is the man who helped me learn German and how to escape from a third-story dormitory room without detection.”
Johann’s eyes gleamed in masculine appreciation as he greeted Natalia. Dimitri watched her mingle easily with Johann and the other dignitaries on the portico. She socialized with ease, giving Dimitri confidence that she could flourish in Saint Petersburg as well. He was falling in love with her and refused to give up hope of a future for them in Russia.
“Let me introduce you to the king of Denmark,” Johann said. “You’ll like him. King Christian keeps ducks and pampers them like they are his children.”
The middle-aged Danish king stood on the far end of the portico, facing the lush gardens while surrounded by a circle of guests who watched him in fascination. The king had his hands cupped around his mouth and made surprisingly realistic bird calls as he tried to coax a mockingbird nestled in a nearby tree to return his tweet.