Written on the Wind (The Blackstone Legacy #2)(72)

“Really? I find myself in love with that mannish woman.”

Poppy rolled her eyes. “You just feel sorry for her. Trust me, Natalia is unnatural, and it’s going to take all my skills to fix her reputation.”

The specter of how Poppy might foist herself on Natalia to “fix” her gave Dimitri the chills. He didn’t know much about New York high society, but no man of honor would stand aside to let his woman be torn to pieces, whether it was metaphorically in the press or in person from the claws of Countess Cassini. This was no mosquito bite; this was the ruination of everything Natalia had hoped to achieve with her life.

And there was likely more to come. The bombshells in the New York press had been set in motion days ago, but the ambassador’s threat the night of the reception indicated he had additional plans to attack Natalia should Dimitri prove difficult.

He dabbed the corners of his mouth with the napkin. “Is there a telephone in this house?” he asked Poppy.

Ten minutes later, he had been installed in Oscar Blackstone’s private study. Unlike the rest of the marble splendor in the Blackstone home, the wood-paneled office was designed for business, not to impress. Beside the desk was a table set up with a telegraph machine and a stock ticker.

Dimitri stood beside the telephone mounted on the wall, listening through the telephone earpiece as his call was patched through a series of switchboards from Manhattan to Philadelphia, then Baltimore, then Washington, and finally to the Russian embassy. It took several more minutes for Count Cassini to be summoned to the telephone, but when he came on the line, it sounded like he had been expecting Dimitri’s call.

“How are you finding the climate in New York?” the ambassador asked in a silky tone.

Dimitri would not pretend a cordial tone. “What other information do you intend to release about Miss Blackstone?”

“That depends on you,” Count Cassini said. “When we came to our agreement, you indicated that you would proclaim the czar’s complete innocence in the matter. You had every opportunity to do so at the gala I hosted in Washington, but you failed. It was disappointing.”

Dimitri clenched his fists but kept his voice calm. “I repeat. What additional slander do you plan to release about Miss Blackstone?”

“Slander? That is an inflammatory word. Everything I have on Miss Blackstone was passed along by a knowledgeable source from inside the Blackstone Bank.”

“Who?” Dimitri demanded.

“Mr. Silas Conner,” the count replied. “He had some interesting observations about how Miss Blackstone purchased only a single first-class sleeping compartment for the two of you on a five-night journey from San Francisco to New York.”

Heat began to build. It didn’t matter that Dimitri spent five nights sleeping in a berth that was little better than a coffin. A woman’s reputation could be shattered so easily, and he should have suspected this would be the tactic Count Cassini would use, since it was both true and carried a seedy undercurrent. What he didn’t suspect was what came next.

“San Francisco is notorious for its opium dens,” the ambassador continued. “Perhaps it is little wonder that the person overseeing the Trans-Siberian account was sloppy in her duties, since she was known to dabble in that terrible vice and just got back from several days in San Francisco.”

It was a complete lie, but it sounded as if it could be true. Dimitri braced his hand on the wall, his gaze trailing out the window to the glamor of Fifth Avenue. It was a gloomy day, with storm clouds scuttling across the sky and well-heeled ladies scurrying to get inside ahead of the coming rain. Natalia would never be able to hold her head up among this fusty crowd once Count Cassini was done with her.

Dimitri waited the space of ten heartbeats before responding. Count Cassini was not without his own vulnerabilities.

“Sir, we are men of honor,” Dimitri said. “We do not make war on women. You would not like to see Countess Cassini subjected to the same sort of slander Miss Blackstone is currently enduring.”

Count Cassini’s voice slashed out like a whip. “If you dare insult my niece, there will be consequences.”

The violence of the ambassador’s reaction confirmed what Natalia had reported about the likelihood of the young girl being the ambassador’s illegitimate child with his housekeeper. This conversation was vile, but Dimitri was going to use everything in his arsenal to protect Natalia.

“I never threatened to denigrate the young countess,” Dimitri replied. “I do not attack the young and blameless, but your housekeeper is neither. Countess Cassini would not like seeing her mother dragged through the muck of scandal, as is currently happening to Miss Blackstone. Can you assure me that no additional stories will emerge from Washington, DC?”

There was a long pause on the other end of the telephone. They had each other over a barrel, and the ambassador knew it. In the end, Dimitri agreed to leave the czar out of any additional discussion about the Amur, and the count would sheathe his claws regarding Natalia.

After concluding the distasteful telephone call, Dimitri took a carriage to the bank and headed up to Natalia’s office. He was surprised to see several unfamiliar men boxing up papers from the delicate rolltop desk that once belonged to Galina.

“Where is Miss Blackstone?” he asked a man wearing coveralls.

“She doesn’t work here anymore,” the man replied. “She wants this desk sent to her house.”