Scoundrel's Honor. Rosemary Rogers
Chinese vase, Emma was relieved by the sudden appearance of a strikingly beautiful woman with silver hair and a tall, curvaceous form attired in a morning dress of lavender silk.
“At last. I was becoming quite concerned,” Vanya murmured, a hint of worry in her pale blue eyes.
“I am sorry.” Emma removed her scarf and tossed it aside. “The impossible man kept me waiting for near two hours. As if he were royalty rather than a common criminal.”
Taking Emma’s hand, Vanya led her up a curved staircase. “I should never consider Dimitri Tipova common,” she said with a small sigh. “He is sinfully handsome, is he not?”
A dangerous sensation fluttered in the pit of her stomach. “I suppose he is handsome enough, although that does not compensate for his utter lack of civility. He is the rudest man I have ever encountered.”
Vanya allowed a mysterious smile to curve her lips as she led Emma into a private salon with emerald wall panels and gilt cornices. The furniture was a dark mahogany with gold velvet cushions and the wooden floor covered by an Oriental rug. The overall atmosphere was one of rich sensuality.
A perfect setting for Vanya.
“Odd.” Vanya settled on the sofa and pulled Emma down next to her. “I have always thought him to be surprisingly gracious.”
“You are well acquainted?”
Leaning forward, Vanya poured two cups of tea from the tray left on the low table, adding a generous amount of milk and sugar before handing a cup to Emma and leaning back into the cushions.
“He performed a great service for a dear friend of mine,” she explained, sipping her hot tea. “I consider myself in his debt.”
Emma hastily tempered her words, far too polite to insult a man her hostess held in high esteem.
“No doubt it is my fault.” She took a reviving sip of tea, hoping it would help the lies tumble from her lips. “He did mention that I stir his more primitive nature.”
“Did he?” Vanya’s smile widened. “How very intriguing.”
Intriguing? Emma found it utterly vexing. As if she were to blame for his irritating lack of manners.
“Let us hope our time together is of short duration.”
“Did he agree to assist you in your search for poor Anya?”
“Yes.”
“Thank goodness.” The older woman reached to pat Emma’s arm. “Whatever your opinion of Dimitri there is no gentleman more suited to helping you.”
Emma battled the urge to roll her eyes. “So he has told me.”
Vanya’s smile faded, her fingers gently squeezing Emma’s arm.
“Emma, do you prefer that I find another to lend you assistance?”
Her lips parted with a cowardly urge to agree to Vanya’s suggestion. Dimitri Tipova was arrogant and provoking and…
Dangerously attractive.
Then, she hastily swallowed the ridiculous words. If both Herrick and Vanya considered Dimitri Tipova the most suitable man to help her rescue Anya, then she would be inexcusably selfish to turn him away just because she…what? Feared him?
“No, of course not,” she said, her tone brisk. “Indeed, I need your help to prepare for the evening.”
“You have made plans?”
“I am to accompany Dimitri Tipova to several of his gambling establishments in the hopes I will recognize the gentlemen who lured Anya to St. Petersburg.”
If she was shocked by Emma’s revelation, then Vanya hid it well. Indeed, she nodded as if it were perfectly reasonable for a young, innocent maiden to allow herself to be escorted by a renowned criminal to his wicked clubs.
“Ah.”
“I shall need a means to disguise myself,” she firmly insisted. “I cannot risk being recognized. Who can say what the odious creatures will do to Anya if they realize I have followed them?”
“Do not fear, my dear.” A gleam that Emma did not entirely trust sparkled in Vanya’s blue eyes. “I shall ensure that not even your sister will recognize you.”
CHAPTER FOUR
THE SUNKEN ROSE GARDEN was thankfully wrapped in shadows as Dimitri strolled past the Italian sculptures and marble fountains. Despite his connections among the most elite members of the Russian court, he was still a bastard. Which meant he entered the fine homes by the servants’ entrance.
He was moving toward the narrow door at the back of the garden when his instincts prickled and he turned to discover a statuesque woman stepping into the garden from the French windows.
“Dimitri.”
Hiding a smile at Vanya Petrova’s imperious tone, Dimitri followed the flagstone path to halt before the older woman and perform a deep bow.
Vanya was one of the few aristocrats he truly admired.
“Vanya, as beautiful as ever,” he murmured. “I trust Richard Monroe appreciates just how fortunate he is to have captured your fair hand?”
A warm smile curved her lips at the mention of the Englishman who had been her devoted suitor for the past twenty years. Much to the surprise of St. Petersburg, Vanya had at last agreed to Monroe’s proposal.
“I presume he does.” She touched the large strand of pearls that encircled her neck. “The wedding is less than a month away and he has not yet bolted.”
“If I were not a dedicated bachelor I would attempt to steal you away.”
Vanya allowed her gaze to roam over his jacket in a pale blue-and-silver waistcoat that he had matched with black knee breeches. She smiled, almost as if she suspected he had taken particular pains with his attire.
“Every gentleman is a dedicated bachelor until he encounters the perfect woman.”
He clicked his tongue. “I did not expect such a predictable response from such a delightfully unconventional lady.”
“I intend to be even more predictable when I warn you that I am depending upon you to protect my young and decidedly innocent guest.”
“You have no need to fear. I promise that Emma Linley-Kirov will not leave my side.”
Vanya narrowed her eyes. “That does not entirely relieve my unease.”
Dimitri frowned, pretending that he had not spent an inordinate amount of time dwelling on his encounter with the bothersome female.
“For all my sins I am no debaucher of the innocent. Especially not when that innocence is wrapped in such a prickly package.”
“Do not allow her indomitable spirit to deceive you. Emma has taken on responsibilities that would have broken a lesser woman,” Vanya chastised. “Underneath all her pretense of courage, however, she is a young maiden who is terrified for her sister.”
His expression hardened. He was unaccustomed to being lectured as if he were a school lad. Not even the most cutthroat villain dared to question him.
“I will attempt to keep that in mind.”
There was the sound of footsteps and they both turned to watch Emma step from the house.
“Ah, here she is,” Vanya murmured.
Briefly caught in the candlelight from the house, Emma’s honey curls tumbled freely about her shoulders, but Vanya had cleverly hidden the young maiden’s face with a charming hat made of gold feathers and a diamond-encrusted veil that ended just above Emma’s lush lips. It added a hint of provocative mystery that would stir a man to investigate more. With the same masterful touch, Vanya had wrapped Emma’s slender