Bound By Love. Rosemary Rogers
fawn-colored muslin gown from the bed, studying the double row of garnets stitched along the demure neckline. “I wish you would allow my modiste to make your gowns. One could easily be forgiven for mistaking you for a member of the tedious bourgeois rather than a young and beautiful member of Russian nobility. You must think of your position, Leonida.”
It was a familiar argument, and hardly one to lure her mother from her bed at such an early hour.
“As if I am ever allowed to forget,” Leonida muttered.
Nadia turned her dark gaze in Leonida’s direction. “What did you say?”
“I prefer my dressmaker, Mother,” Leonida said, her voice firm. On this subject she would not budge. “She comprehends that my tastes are more modest than other females’.”
“Modest.” Nadia heaved an impatient sigh, her gaze flicking over Leonida’s slender form, which would never possess the seductive softness that most men preferred. “How many occasions must I remind you that a woman in society has no power unless she is wise enough to use what few weapons God has given her?”
“My gown is a weapon?”
“When designed to tantalize a man’s hunger.”
“I prefer warmth to tantalizing,” Leonida retorted with unapologetic honesty. Despite the spring weather that had grudgingly arrived, there was a blazing fire in the white, gold-veined fireplace. She was always cold.
Nadia tossed the dress aside with a shake of her head. “Foolish child. I have done everything possible to ensure your future. You could have your pick of the most influential gentlemen in the empire. You could become a princess if only you would follow my lead.”
“I have told you I have no desire to become a princess. That is your ambition, not mine.”
Without warning, Nadia crossed to stand directly before Leonida, her expression hard.
“That is because you have never known what it is to be without wealth or an established position among society, Leonida. You may sneer at my ambition, but I assure you that your precious pride will swiftly be forgotten if you are impetuous enough to believe you can survive on love. There is nothing charming in being cold during the winter or darning your gowns to hide frayed hems.” Her eyes darkened with remembered pain. “Or being excluded from society.”
“Forgive me, Mother,” she said softly. “It is not that I do not appreciate the sacrifices you have made for me, but…”
“Do you?”
Leonida blinked in confusion at the abrupt interruption. “I beg your pardon?”
“Do you appreciate all I have done?”
“Of course.”
Nadia reached to take her hands in a tight grip. “Then you will agree to do what I must ask of you.”
Leonida hastily tugged her hands free. “I love you, Mother, but my appreciation is not without boundaries. I have told you that I will not accept Prince Orvoleski’s proposal. Not only is he old enough to be my father, but he reeks of onions.”
“This has nothing to do with the Prince.”
Leonida’s wariness deepened to outright anxiety. There was something in her mother’s expression that warned her that this was more than just another of the theatrical scenes Nadia adored.
“Something has happened.”
Nadia twisted her hands together, jeweled rings glinting in the morning light.
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
Instead of answering, Nadia drifted toward the window, the scent of expensive perfume drifting behind her.
“You know a small part of my childhood.”
Confused, Leonida turned to study her mother’s stiff back. Countess Karkoff never discussed her humble beginnings.
Never.
“You have told me that you were raised in Yaroslavl’ before coming to St. Petersburg,” she answered, her words tentative.
“My father possessed distant ties to the Romanovs, but after he argued with Emperor Paul he was too filled with stubborn pride to apologize and he was forever banished from court.” Nadia’s scornful laugh echoed through the room. “Stupid man. We lived in a frozen monstrosity of a house, miles from the nearest village, with only a handful of peasants to keep it from utter ruin. I was buried in the midst of savages with only my nurse to bear me company.”
Leonida’s heart softened with sympathy. This vivacious, extroverted, highly fashionable woman stuck alone in a gloomy old house? It must have seemed like hell to her.
“I cannot imagine you in such a setting,” she breathed.
Nadia shuddered, one hand lifting to stroke the diamond necklace around her neck, as if to reassure herself that her grim memories had not stolen it away.
“It was a misery, but it did teach me that I would do anything to escape,” she rasped harshly. “When my aunt decided it was her duty to invite me to her home, I ignored my father’s threat to disown me. What did he have to offer me beyond years of lonely isolation? Instead I sold my few pieces of jewelry and made my way to St. Petersburg alone.”
Leonida chuckled in admiration. Of course she had. Nothing would be allowed to stand between Nadia and her dreams.
“You are truly amazing, Mother,” she said. “There are few women who would have possessed such courage.”
Nadia slowly turned, a rueful smile touching her lips. “It was more desperation than courage and, had I known I was expected to be more a servant than a guest beneath my aunt’s roof, I am not entirely certain I would have been so eager to endure the grueling journey.”
“I am certain. You have never allowed anything to stand in the path of what you desire.”
Her mother shrugged. “True, but not even my considerable determination would have given me the opportunity to enter society without the assistance of Mira Toryski.”
It took a moment for Leonida to place the name. “The Duchess of Huntley?”
“Her family were neighbors of my aunt,” Nadia explained. “She was already a favorite among society, of course. How could she not be? She was beautiful, wealthy and yet astonishingly kind. I shall never understand why she took pity on me and convinced my aunt to allow me to attend a few of the smaller gatherings, but I shall forever be grateful.”
The Countess’s deep affection for her girlhood friend could not be mistaken. Strange, considering Nadia preferred to surround herself with handsome young officers rather than the ladies of society.
“That is when you met Alexander Pavlovich?”
“Yes.” The dark eyes softened as they always did at the mention of the Emperor. “He was so handsome and charming. I had only to glance at him to know he was a man destined for greatness.”
Leonida resisted the urge to prod for more details of her mother’s relationship with Alexander Pavlovich. There were some questions better not asked.
“This is all very fascinating, Mother, but I do not entirely comprehend what is troubling you.”
Nadia’s hands shook as she smoothed them over the gauze skirt. “I need you to understand my deep affection for Mira.”
“Why?”
“Not long after I came to St. Petersburg Mira was introduced to the Duke of Huntley. She, along with most of the women in society, lost her heart to the handsome Englishman and returned with him to London to be wed.” Nadia grimaced. “I was devastated by the loss of my dearest friend. She was…well, let us just say that my only comfort was exchanging letters so we could continue to be involved in one another’s lives.”
“Perfectly