From Governess to Countess (Matches Made in Scandal) Read online

  ‘Aside from the legacy to myself, there are no other significant beneficiaries. Michael left everything to his children, as indeed, did Elizaveta, which leaves my nieces and nephew extremely wealthy indeed, but I think we can rule them out.’

  ‘Aleksei!’

  ‘A poor joke,’ he said with an apologetic smile. ‘The children’s guardian has the most to gain, for he has their vast assets and their malleable minds entirely at his disposal.’

  ‘But you are their guardian.’

  ‘Which brings me to the root cause of my suspicions. Michael changed his will about a week before he died. According to his man of business, the change was to be kept under wraps until such time as Michael chose to inform the relevant parties. I’ve no idea if he informed Elizaveta, but as you know, I was in the dark, as was my first cousin, Felix Golitsyn, who until the change was the nominee of long standing.’

  Aleksei drummed his fingers on his thigh, frowning off into the distance. ‘Felix was the first person to call on me to pay his condolences, though he was so grief-stricken himself, it was I who consoled him in the end. Michael’s man of business had fetched him from Peterhof Palace, some distance down river of here, where he had been staying when my brother died. It fell to my cousin, as Michael’s nearest male relative, to take charge of the funeral arrangements in my absence. Felix fully expected to take custody of the children too, and when he was informed of the change of guardianship it came as quite a shock.’

  ‘But if your logic is correct,’ Allison said, clearly struggling to keep track, ‘if this cousin did not know your brother had changed his will, then surely that makes him the prime suspect?’

  ‘Aside from the Orlova woman, you mean? Yes, I’m afraid that it does,’ he agreed heavily. ‘I find it very hard to believe, but as you point out, the logic is inescapable. I would give almost anything to prove his innocence, however.’

  ‘You must care a great deal for your cousin.’

  ‘The truth is I care more for what my cousin can do for me,’ Aleksei replied, ‘which is take my wards off my hands. Felix understands the workings of the palace and the court, and he’s much more familiar with the family estates than I am.’

  ‘Yet your brother clearly thought he was no longer suitable.’

  ‘I know, dammit. But until I find out why he changed his mind I cannot discount the possibility that it is somehow connected with his death.’

  Allison was toying with one of her hairpins, absentmindedly bending it to form a circle. ‘Do you suspect anyone else?’

  ‘No one.’ Aleksei grimaced. ‘And everyone. I have gone through Michael’s accounts with a fine toothcomb and found no evidence of extortion, of shady dealings, property transactions or unusual payments or deposits. The political posts he held were much coveted but they now lie within Nikki’s gift—or mine, at the moment. No, if it was murder, and if it was not committed by either the Orlova woman or Felix, then the field is wide open. Assuming that we rule out a crime of passion which, believe me, knowing my brother, we can, the motive could be anything—revenge, a personal vendetta. Michael would have been privy to any number of potentially explosive secrets. Was he killed to silence him? Who knows?’

  ‘My head hurts,’ Allison said, screwing up her eyes.

  Aleksei threw himself back heavily in the flimsy chair. ‘A disappearing governess, an ambiguous doctor’s report, a late change to my brother’s will. I know, it is not much to go on. I’ve had weeks of enforced incarceration in this great barrack of a place to reason it out, to tell myself that I’m being illogical, that everything is exactly as it seems, but I simply can’t bring myself to believe it. What it comes down to is that my gut is telling me something is not right, and I owe it to Michael to establish the true facts surrounding his death, no matter what that turns out to be. Can you help me get to the truth?’

  * * *

  She wanted to, very much. Aleksei might not have been close to his brother, but he was an honourable man who wanted to honour his brother’s memory, and a desperate man. She was entirely unprepared for the impossible task he had thrown at her, but what was it The Procurer had said, something about making the impossible possible? That mysterious woman had believed in her when all of London scorned her. And Aleksei believed in her too. So Allison had better start believing in herself.

  She stared down at the hairpin which she didn’t remember mutilating. ‘Let me get this straight. You want me to establish whether or not your brother could have been poisoned?’

  Aleksei nodded encouragingly. ‘And if he was, what was used, and how was it administered.’

  Away and boil your heid, ya tumchie, was how her grandmother would have responded, but Allison did not have that luxury. Start from the basics, she told herself. ‘Is there a physic garden here at the palace?’

  ‘I know there is a herb garden, if that is what you mean?’

  ‘It could serve. I need to understand what plants grow locally, and whether they are different from what is available at home. But I’ll also need to know what can be purchased from an apothecary. I can easily visit a few, under the guise of stocking up my own herb chest.’

  ‘But surely apothecaries sell medicines not poisons?’

  ‘Some can act as both. Arsenic, for example, is used in many treatments including a whitening powder for the skin, though that is one of the most common poisons we can dismiss, because the symptoms don’t match. I shall compile a list, once I have studied the doctor’s report in more detail.’ She frowned. ‘How any poison could have been administered is a much more complicated question. I take it no one else in the palace displayed any symptoms similar to your brother?’

  ‘No. So if it was something he ate, only he alone ate it.’

  ‘There are other methods—but that is for me to investigate.’

  ‘Excellent!’ Aleksei clapped his hands together. ‘Which brings us to the second part of your duties, which is to take charge of my wards while I try to locate the missing governess. I plan to start with a visit to her family home, which is about three days’ travel from here. I have no idea how long I will be gone, a few weeks at most. I will have it put about that I’m touring the Derevenko estates, which are numerous and far flung. Don’t worry, I’ve made arrangements—’

  He broke off, scowling as the grandfather clock in the corner chimed the hour. ‘Talking of which, I have another appointment with Michael’s—Nikki’s—man of business which is bound to take up the rest of the day. Join me for dinner tonight,’ he said. ‘We can talk. Not about murders and poison. I’ve been starved of company for an age. And you, Allison Galbraith, are unexpectedly delightful company. I’d like to get to know you better.’

  It didn’t cross her mind to turn down his offer. Hadn’t she too been starved of company? And wasn’t Aleksei also unexpectedly delightful company? ‘I’d like that.’

  He smiled then, that smile that made her think of kissing, and she couldn’t help smile back at him, just as she had done last night. And just as he had done last night, he inhaled sharply. And then, unlike last night, he kissed her. Not a real kiss. Just the merest brush of his lips. Enough for her to smell the citrusy lemon tang of his soap, feel the almost-smooth skin of his freshly shaved cheek, the silk of his waistcoat, the warmth of his body, a flare of desire. And then it was over. For which she should be thankful. Though thankful was very far from the emotion she was feeling.

  Chapter Four

  Allison’s only evening gown had been a gift from a very grateful mother whose child she had successfully treated, a woman who apparently laboured under the misapprehension that herbalists had any number of functions to attend which required a lavish silk robe. Tonight would be its first and likely its only outing.

  The gown was olive-green and, compared to those on display at the Winter Palace last night, a simple affair, the decoration confined to one pleated ruffle around the hem and some intricate smocking in the short puffed sleeves. But the skirt, below the narrow sash was composed
of acres of silk, and the quality of the fabric itself infinitely superior to anything else that Allison had ever owned.

  She wore silk slippers on her feet. Her best silk stockings were held up by garters tied with green ribbons. The many layers of petticoats under her gown rustled with every step she took. Though Natalya had protested that her corsets were too loosely laced, Allison was convinced they were too tight. The décolleté of her gown was modest, but she was conscious of the quivering of her exposed cleavage, the way her locket nestled in the valley between her breasts. Natalya had piled her hair high on top of her head, threading it through with ribbon and an extraordinary number of pins, allowing one long curl to fall artlessly over her bare shoulder, achieving an elegant, deceptively simple coiffure that Allison could never have attempted and which made her look considerably more sophisticated than she felt.

  ‘Parfait, mademoiselle.’ Natalya fastened the buttons at the wrist of Allison’s long evening gloves. ‘I hope you have a pleasant dinner.’

  Madame Orlova had habitually dined alone in her private sitting room, Allison knew, because Natalya had outlined the domestic arrangements to her yesterday. Yes, Natalya had admitted, there were occasions when Madame Orlova had attended a dinner with their Serene Highnesses in order to make up the numbers, Madame Orlova being sufficiently high born not to lower the tone of a duke and duchess’s table.

  Allison, whose blood was bright red and not remotely blue, would most certainly not have been invited. And in any case, she was not making up the numbers on this occasion, she was dining with the acting head of the Derevenko dynasty tête-à-tête. What Natalya made of this, she did not say, but Allison had no doubt it would be the main topic of conversation at another dinner, in the servants’ hall.

  Was it foolhardy and reckless? If so, it was too late to do anything about it. Besides, she didn’t want to cancel.

  ‘Mademoiselle? The footman is here to show you the way.’

  Allison took a final glance in the mirror. The woman who gazed back at her was not only elegant, she was a sultry creature, a vibrant one, the colour of her hair, her eyes, even her lips, enhanced by the gown. She looked, ironically, like the sophisticated twin of the harlot Allison depicted in the London gutter press. Those caricatures had shamed her. But this version of her—Allison smiled at herself—she liked what she saw.

  ‘You are ready, mademoiselle?’

  ‘Thank you, Natalya. I am more than ready.’

  * * *

  The Green Dining Room, Allison thought, as she entered the empty chamber, I have certainly dressed to match.

  The room was decorated in the classical style. Pale green walls were embellished with white moulding of various toga-clad figures and Etruscan vases, above which was an elaborate cornice of trailing vines, fruits, birds and cupids. A lion rampant propped up either side of the marble fireplace. Candles on the mantel and the table gave the room a soft glow, but the huge candelabra suspended from the ceiling was unlit.

  Two places had been set at the table, one at either end. Though this was, she presumed, one of the Derevenko Palace’s less formal dining rooms, the expanse of white linen, silver epergnes, and crested china plate between the settings would make conversation difficult. In fact they’d probably have to shout. Not exactly intimate then. Deliberately so?

  The kid soles of her slippers skidded slightly on the highly polished parquet flooring as she crossed to the tall French windows which took up most of one wall. Pulling aside the voile, she peered out, hoping to get a glimpse of the gardens, but it was too dark to make out anything save shadowy shrub-shaped silhouettes.

  ‘My apologies, I was detained, interminably as ever, on estate business.’

  Aleksei had changed into a burgundy tailcoat with a black collar and cuffs. A burgundy waistcoat, black pantaloons and top boots, and a pristine white shirt with a neatly tied cravat completed this plain but extremely well-cut ensemble, the tailoring making the most of the breadth of his shoulders and chest, Allison thought, eyeing him appreciatively.

  He made a bow over her hand, the look in his eyes making it very clear that the appreciation was reciprocated. ‘You look quite ravishing.’ Aleksei frowned at the table setting. ‘I must presume that Michael and Elizaveta preferred not to talk when dining alone,’ he said, ringing the bell. ‘Miss Galbraith will sit by my right,’ he instructed when the footman answered his summons. He had not been responsible for the slightly frosty seating arrangement, then.

  It took ten minutes, three footmen and one butler to pour the wine, rearrange the table and lay out a vast array of silver-covered salvers. ‘Thank you,’ Aleksei said, when the butler made to lift the lid on the first of those, ‘we will serve ourselves.’ Adding firmly when the outraged butler would have protested, ‘I will ring if I need you.’

  ‘Poor man, he’s probably gone to weep in his pantry,’ Allison said, as Aleksei took his seat beside her. ‘Not only have you broken with protocol by dining alone with a lowly governess, you have had the audacity to feed yourself.’

  Aleksei chuckled. ‘I’m already in the bad books for refusing to allow Michael’s valet to shave me or dress me. Now,’ he said, lifting the lids on the nearest salvers, ‘would you like me to help you to some food, or do you prefer to serve yourself? The chef is French, and very good. Here we have consommé, and this looks like lobster in some sort of sauce. A blanquette de veau, choux farcis, a white fish—I think that must be carp—or an omelette fines herbes, artichokes, carrots...’

  ‘Thank you, that is more than sufficient.’ Allison surveyed the remaining covered dishes. ‘Is this what you would call a small informal dinner?’

  Aleksei laughed. ‘By Derevenko Palace standards, certainly. I am accustomed to much more basic fayre, cooked in one pot over a campfire, usually.’

  Allison, momentarily distracted by the delicious lobster, drew him a sceptical look. ‘During campaigns perhaps, but you are an officer, and no doubt dined like this in mess every evening.’

  ‘Not every evening, and not for some time. One aspect of army life I don’t miss. I am very glad to avoid the endless dinners being held in Paris to celebrate peace.’

  ‘May I ask, what rank you are?’

  ‘Polkovnik. Your equivalent of a colonel, and as such I was a great disappointment to my brother.’ Aleksei grimaced. ‘As the son of a duke, it was always expected that my family name would be my passport to rapid promotion. If I’d wanted to, I could be a full general at least, perhaps even an adjutant general.’

  ‘But you don’t wish?’

  ‘I prefer to earn the respect of my men on merit.’

  Having finished her portion of stuffed cabbage, Allison opted for some veal. ‘You have also earned the respect of your fellow officers. That much was obvious at the Winter Palace ball.’

  ‘Oh, that. Between ourselves, the respect of most of that fawning crowd means little to me. Their experience of war, with a few notable exceptions, is confined to watching battle from the side lines, for which I am very grateful, given their ineptitude.’

  Allison smiled, raising her champagne glass. ‘A toast! To succeeding on your own terms.’ There was a trace of bitterness in her voice that she had not meant to express. She set her glass down. ‘So, what does the future hold for you now that there are no more wars to fight, Polkovnik?’

  ‘Unfortunately we live in a world where there will always be more wars to fight.’ He was silent for a moment, concentrating on his food, and she hoped that he hadn’t picked up on her tone. She was wrong. ‘You have had to make compromises in your life?’

  Allison attempted one of Aleksei’s indifferent shrugs. ‘I’m a woman in a man’s world.’

  He laid his fingers on her arm. ‘I’m interested, if you’re willing to talk about it.’

  No one had ever asked her before. No one, not even Robert, had ever shown any interest. ‘You touched on it yourself, when we met yesterday,’ Allison said. ‘My appearance works against me.’

  His eye
brows shot up. ‘In my opinion, your appearance is very much to your advantage.’

  Though she smiled, it was dismissive. ‘Not when one is trying...’ She sighed, shaking her head. ‘Imagine, if you can,’ she began, frowning, ‘that you are a woman, a skilled herbalist, and an experienced healer. You have worked tirelessly for seven years to establish yourself in society. You have proven results, sound methods, have become sought after by women in particular, to deal with feminine complaints, and with the illnesses which beset their children.’

  ‘I remember the doctor who attended us when we were little. We called him the Raven, though his cures—to be honest, I’m astonished he didn’t kill us with his harsh treatments.’

  The shadow of the past fluttered over her, and Allison shuddered. Resolutely, she quashed the memory, slipping her hand free from Aleksei’s clasp to take a sip of champagne. ‘Bleeding, cupping, purges—I agree they can all be extremely unpleasant, but in the majority of cases they do no major harm.’

  ‘But you do not advocate their use?’

  ‘No, I do not, and that is part of the problem,’ she said, with a bitter smile. ‘My methods and my remedies are quite different from those prescribed by physicians and apothecaries. I do not claim they are always more successful, I do not claim to have the skills, for example of a surgeon, but I am an excellent healer. Yet despite that, my sex prevents me from being recognised by the exalted Society of Apothecaries, which means I have no legal right to practise. My clients turned a blind eye to that, but society viewed me differently.’ She felt herself colour. ‘My appearance and my vocation—men take me for a woman of—of loose virtue. No, let us be plain. Men assume I’m a harlot. It is but a short leap from herbalist to sorceress, you see, and there is something about me...’

  ‘There is, most definitely, something about you,’ Aleksei said with a rueful smile. ‘Though I suspect that is something you have heard too many times and have no wish to hear repeated.’

  ‘What I wish is to be judged on my skills as a herbalist and not my appearance. Such a simple ambition, you might think,’ Allison continued, almost to herself, ‘and so it would be, were I a man. But as a woman, I must not only prove my skills, I must prove myself a paragon of virtue.’