35
Alexandra found another month of traveling a daunting prospect.
That was about how long it was going to take her to reach England.
Nor did she like riding unfamiliar horses on this trip.
They’d no sooner left Cardinia than she began to miss her own.
So she was as relieved as Nina was to meet up with Lady Beatrice Haversham in Warsaw and be invited to continue their journey in her carriage.
Lady Beatrice was in her mid-forties, was wide of girth, and still wore her blond hair in the fashion of her youth, which wasn’t as ridiculous-looking as it might have been, thanks to her laughing gray eyes.
Amazingly, she had recognized Alexandra from her one season in St. Petersburg.
The English lady and her husband, who was now deceased, had been visiting the city with friends at the time, and she had noted Alexandra at several functions, including Olga Romanovsky’s lavish dinner party, the disastrous one which had led to Alexandra’s unofficial ousting from St. Petersburg.
But it was that very party that was responsible for Lady Beatrice’s recognizing Alexandra.
To hear her say it, “I’ve never laughed so hard, my dear, and I hope you don’t mind, but I regaled all my friends at home with that story.
You were so wonderfully ingenious to sound so sincere when you told Princess Olga how she might lose some weight.
All my friends found it hilarious, and I do so love to make people laugh. ”
Alexandra didn’t bother to mention that she had been sincere in her suggestion, nor did she relate the repercussions that had followed.
And although she had no memory of the Englishwoman herself, she grew fond of her as they traveled to England together.
Beatrice really did love to laugh, and she found humor in just about everything.
She even mistook Alexandra’s frankness for a droll wit and claimed the ton was going to adore her.
And another benefit the lady supplied was that her presence put an end to, or at least subdued, all the complaints Alexandra had been receiving from Nina and her brothers about her decision to find Christopher, complaints she refused to listen to.
Beatrice only vaguely remembered meeting Christopher while in Russia, and didn’t know him personally.
Yet she assured Alexandra that she was acquainted with people who would know him; and as it happened, it took her only two days after they finally arrived in London to show up at Alexandra’s hotel with his address.
Checking with the embassy herself, since that was the only address he had ever used on his letters from England, had gained Alexandra nothing.
He was presently between assignments, was all she could get out of the harried clerk she’d spoken to, and no, they weren’t in the habit of handing out personal information about their diplomats.
Try the ton directory, like everyone else.
Thanks to Lady Beatrice, she didn’t have to deal with any more rude officials. And sooner than she might have expected, she was on her way to Christopher’s aunt’s home, where he was living, which was fortunately right there in London.
Nina had suggested she wait until the next morning to go, because it was evening by the time she was ready, but Alexandra couldn’t afford to wait.
Before they had left the Continent to sail for England—which had been a nightmare of sickness for her—she had known she was going to have Vasili’s baby.
And that baby needed a father. She would, of course, be honest about it with Christopher.
And although that might complicate things, she didn’t for a moment regret her condition.
She was, in fact, absolutely thrilled about it.
The aunt’s town house was ablaze with lights, and the numerous carriages dropping off their occupants indicated that some type of entertainment was going on, the fancy clothes suggesting something formal.
Alexandra had had several days to shop while waiting for their ship to sail, and had found three partial-made dresses to add to the few she had stuffed into her valise for the trip.
Nina had finished them on the voyage—her own sewing skills were atrocious.
One was a lovely evening gown in rose and navy silk.
She hadn’t thought she would need it tonight, however, and she was barely let in the door in her green wool dress, despite the sable fur trim on her coat.
The dress was suitable for visiting, but not for a ball, which was what the Leightons were giving. It got her stiffly escorted to an empty room away from the guests, a library by the looks of it, where she was told to wait.
And she waited. An hour passed and still she waited. But she didn’t mind. Now that she was about to see Christopher again after all these years, she wasn’t impatient. She wasn’t much of anything, actually, not nervous, not even excited.
She found that rather strange, but attributed it to the deep melancholy she had fallen into since leaving Cardinia, and she attributed that to having to leave her horses behind.
It certainly wasn’t because she missed Vasili, because she didn’t.
She rarely even thought of him more than a dozen times a day anymore.
But considering the hopelessness she had experienced in Cardinia and the melancholy she was feeling now, it was no wonder she was drained of emotion.
Lady Beatrice had kept Alexandra’s sadness at bay with her gregarious good cheer, and so did Alexandra’s own thoughts of the baby. But not much else did. Yet the fact that she was about to see Christopher again should have given her such joy. Why didn’t it?
“Alexandra, is that really you?”
She hadn’t heard the door opening and closing behind her, but she turned to find Christopher coming toward her with open arms, his expression proclaiming his delight at seeing her again.
The years had barely changed him, though he would be thirty-five now.
And he was perhaps even more handsome than she remembered, the extra fullness in his face and body improving his appearance—he’d been too lean before.
He looked as distinguished as she recalled, with his dark brown hair and eyes, and his impeccable black evening attire.
But his height of five feet ten inches seemed not so tall to her now, and…
He was hugging her too tightly. And before she had caught her breath from that, he was kissing her, and all she wanted to do was push away from him.
What was wrong with her? This was Christopher, whom she loved, and apparently he was overjoyed that she had come to him, so everything was going to be all right.
Then why didn’t she feel as if it was? And she had always been thrilled by his kisses, yet nothing stirred within her, not even a flicker of the desire Vasili could spark.
But she wouldn’t think of him now—not now.
She managed to extricate her lips long enough to ask, “So you still love me?”
“Of course I still love you, darling. How could you doubt it?”
She could give a number of reasons, but decided sarcasm wasn’t called for. Her frankness was, however, and she asked the question that should have been asked years ago. “Then are you prepared to marry me?”
He let go of her in surprise, but then he laughed. “I see you haven’t changed. You still say exactly what’s on your mind, no matter the consequences.”
She could have told him that wasn’t exactly true anymore.
Some things she’d been managing to keep to herself recently.
The Razins didn’t know about the baby yet.
And Vasili never knew how she really felt about him—She was doing it again, letting him into her thoughts when he should be the farthest thing from her mind right now.
“You haven’t answered my question, Christopher.”
“But you can’t be serious,” he said in a gentle, though no less scoffing, tone. “I was hoping you were going to tell me you were married, so we could finally be together.”
Since that didn’t make the least bit of sense to her, she was forced to ask, “What exactly does that mean?”
“Come now, Alexandra, you know love and marriage are rarely compatible. And I learned firsthand how promiscuous and amoral you Russian ladies are. I had hoped you would marry so we could have an affair. I thought you understood we could only be lovers.”
She didn’t need him to clarify that, since it was perfectly clear, but the mild shock she experienced made her remark, “Actually, I expected us to marry.”
“Good God, you can’t be that stupid.”
She winced. “Oh, but I—was, obviously.”
“But, my dear, you must know you’re too unconventional. That habit you have of saying exactly what you think or feel would be ruinous to my career.”
“I must still be rather stupid, because I don’t understand why you continued to write me, to send me poetry and words of love.”
He had the grace to blush. “I don’t believe in burning my bridges, darling. I still hoped we would one day end up in bed together.”
Why wasn’t she furious, or slapping him, or crying? “You should have said so,” she replied flatly. “I probably would have been quite willing at the time.”
“But you were an innocent and I don’t—” He paused, and his expression changed to a curious, hopeful look. “Are you still?”
Alexandra decided a lie was appropriate at that point. “Yes.”
“A shame.” He sighed. “But tell me, what are you doing here in London? I hope you didn’t come all this way just to see me.”
Another lie, for her pride’s sake. “No, I didn’t. I just ended an engagement to a Cardinian count and decided to travel a while before returning home.”
“A Cardinian?” He was suddenly excited. “Is there no hope of patching that up?”
“Why?”
“Because that would be ideal for us, darling. I’ve just learned that I’m going to be assigned to the embassy in Cardinia in a few months. And if you’re there, and married—”
“That would be an excellent idea, Christopher, except…even if I did marry my Cardinian, and did find the need for a lover, which would, in fact, be likely”—she patted his cheek before ending—“I am absolutely certain that I wouldn’t choose you.
” And she walked out of the room with her pride intact, if a little bruised.