Ukraine Province, Russia, 1836 #3
Anna would have to remember that. “Simeon never confessed a great love for his wife,” he explained. “Theirs was an arranged marriage.”
Anna gave him a pointed look. “Which is exactly what you’re trying to foist on his unsuspecting son—an arranged marriage.
Do you honestly expect the son to be any more faithful than the father, or for Alex to stand for anything less than complete faithfulness, considering how possessive she is of what’s hers? ”
Constantin flushed bright red. “Dammit, Anna, it’s not at all the same. What I expect, or rather hope for, is that these children will find love together. If Simeon had loved his wife even a little, he would have been faithful to her. I expect no less from his son.”
“But therein lies the crux of the matter. If. You are putting all your hope on an ‘if,’ when you have never even met this young man. And for that matter, he’s not all that young if he’s about six years older than Alex. He would be thirty-one, more than likely already married—”
“He’s not.”
“How do you know?”
“Bohdan came through Cardinia on his way back from delivering the filly the Austrian duke requested. Bohdan knew I would appreciate word of the Petroffs.”
She conceded that point with a shrug. “So he’s not married, but you can’t deny he’s old enough to know his own mind and make his own decisions.
What makes you think he will accept a betrothal to a woman he doesn’t know just because his father might have arranged it?
He’s no longer a child who must do his father’s bidding, even if his father were still alive.
And another thing—won’t the Petroffs wonder why they did not find a copy of this contract in Simeon’s papers after he died? ”
“Possibly, but I have a copy to show the young count when he arrives. He won’t doubt his father’s signature.”
“You forged it?”
“It wasn’t difficult, with a little practice. As for the count and Alex accepting the betrothal—” Constantin paused, then added almost bleakly, “It comes down to honor. Though I have misplaced mine, they will be trapped by it.”
“What if your Cardinian has none?”
“He is Simeon’s son,” Constantin said, as if that were enough to explain his confidence.
Anna sighed. It was becoming quite obvious that nothing she said was going to make a difference. That damn Rubliov stubbornness. They all possessed it, but none so much as the father—and the youngest daughter. Once invoked, it was unshakable.
Even though Constantin was sick with guilt over what he’d done, he would cling tenaciously to his reason for doing it. He wanted his daughter to find happiness.
Anna couldn’t fault him for wanting what all parents wanted for their children, but happiness could be defined in a hundred different ways.
After the eight years they had spent together, and the dozens of times she had turned down his proposals, he should have realized by now that marriage was not every woman’s fondest desire.
She placed a hand gently on his arm, determined to try to make him understand that at least. “Perhaps you haven’t noticed that Alex isn’t exactly unhappy.
She enjoys the freedom you allow her. She enjoys working with the horses, which a husband would never permit her to do.
She has friends here. And she adores you—when you two are not fighting.
Frankly, I think she even enjoys your arguments.
Have you ever considered that Alex just wasn’t meant to marry?
Marriage would more than likely constrain her, might even stifle her—unless she can meet a man who doesn’t give a damn for convention any more than she does, a rarity—”
“Or one who loves her enough to allow her certain freedoms,” he cut in, “but also is capable of denying her those in which she risks her damn neck.”
He sounded so exasperated with that statement, Anna almost laughed. “Is that one of your motives? You really think a husband will be able to control Alex’s reckless nature even though you have failed?”
That got her a glower. “Perhaps not, but keeping her pregnant certainly will.”
She couldn’t argue with that. Motherhood would make a difference in Alexandra’s life.
At the very least it would keep her from racing her horses so energetically.
And Alexandra was very good with children.
Though she had never said so, she probably did want some of her own.
And she had been willing to marry that Englishman, in fact had desired it greatly, so she was not opposed to marriage.
Anna sighed. If she wasn’t careful, she would be applauding what Constantin had done.
“We have gotten away from the point,” she said.
“What you are doing is forcing Alex and Simeon’s son into a marriage that neither one was expecting.
It’s likely that they will both protest it, but I am absolutely certain that Alex will.
And what happens if they don’t take to each other?
If they are both against the marriage, they won’t exactly meet under the best of terms. Alex could end up hating the man, which would hardly produce the happy life you envision for her. ”
“Purely suppositions, Anna.”
“But more likely than those you anticipate.”
“The truth will be clear when they meet,” he replied stubbornly.
“And if I am right?”
“If it’s obvious that they won’t suit, then of course I will release them from the betrothal and compensate the count for his trouble in coming here.”
“Well, thank God you’re not going to be pigheaded about this to the very end.”
He flinched at her sarcasm and retaliated by saying, “Actually, I’m feeling much better about it, now that you’ve raised issues that hadn’t occurred to me and I have successfully put them aside.”
She was about to reply quite scathingly to that remark when the front door slammed, and a moment later, Alexandra appeared in the doorway.
She didn’t notice them yet, as she was busy slapping dust from her sleeves with her equally dusty fur cap, spreading a fine coating of it on the floor at her feet where her Borzoi was making a bigger cloud of it with his wagging tail.
A single lock of ash-blond hair had escaped her coiffure and fell over her shoulder to her waist.
She looked like a Cossack, a male Cossack, in her baggy pants which were tucked into knee-high boots, her bright red sash tied around her narrow waist, her no-longer-white shirt with the fine blue embroidery down the front, and her knee-length coat with the wide skirt.
This was her customary dress for riding and working with the horses.
Her bedraggled and filthy appearance was nothing new to her family.
“Much, much better,” Constantin said in a soft whisper that only Anna could hear, a reiteration of what he had said moments before. “And fortunate it is that a man with a new wife will lay down the laws early in their marriage and see that they are obeyed.”
Anna’s nostrils flared wide as she gritted her teeth.
But because of Alexandra’s present, she couldn’t address that statement in the manner that it so richly deserved, so she picked up Constantin’s second glass of vodka, which still had enough liquid in it for her purpose, and without the slightest hesitation tipped it over his head.
Witnessing only the dunking and her father’s sputtering, Alexandra laughed delightedly. “Anna? You have given in to temper? But then, I told you I would be a bad influence on you eventually, didn’t I?”
“Indeed, darling—and you know where to find the bucket and mop, don’t you?”
Glancing down at the trail of dust she had tracked into the hall, Alexandra was still grinning when she asked, “Before or after Bojik and I bathe?”
With visions of the disaster that the Russian wolfhound was going to leave in the bathhouse, Anna said, “I don’t believe it matters.”
Alexandra flashed one of the smiles that could so easily turn grown men into mush if she only knew how to utilize it, and marched off toward the kitchen, Bojik following at her heels as usual.
It had been unnecessary to mention the mop and bucket.
The girl always cleaned up after herself—and her overlarge pet.
They might have a dozen servants on hand to wait on her, but she rarely made use of them.
“Anna?”
The word came softly for all that it was a growl—as if she could forget the undoubtedly furious man standing behind her reeking of vodka. She cringed inwardly at what she’d done. Never, ever, had she stooped to such a low level of behavior. It simply wasn’t in her nature.
“Shall I pour you another glass?” she offered without looking around.
She heard a snort. “Will I get to drink it?”
After a moment’s thought, Anna said, “Probably not,” and marched out of the room herself.