When they arrived at Nikki's palace on the Neva Quay, Katelina, Alisa's daughter from a previous marriage, two-year-old Alex and the new baby were all waiting with their nannies and descended on their parents with squeals of excitement. Katelina was eight now and poised in an engaging way that would shatter abruptly when Nikki teased her. Alex was a chubby toddler, testing his curiosity and independence with tugs on Lisaveta's skirt and questions of his own. He pronounced his baby brother's name in a charming two-year-old lisp, and Lisaveta thought how warm and loving the small family appeared. The children were allowed at the table for dinner, served unfashionably early to accommodate their bedtimes, and when the last child was tucked into bed, the three adults settled in the drawing room for tea and sherry.
The intervening years since they'd last met were discussed, Nikki and Lisaveta exchanging pertinent details of their lives. Nikki's new family, of course, was a more staggering alteration than Lisaveta's continuing research, and Lisaveta listened with interest to the story of Nikki and Alisa's courtship and marriage. She could see they were happy, and she found herself wishing her relationship with Stefan might have had the same fantasy ending. Stefan was apparently more immune to Cupid's arrows… an unfortunate circumstance when she had found herself so vulnerable.
Eventually, the reason for Lisaveta's visit to Saint Petersburg was spoken of.
"Uncle Felix is much revered by the Tsar," Nikki said, warming the glass of brandy he preferred drinking in his cupped hands. "This ceremony is more than the usual diplomatic dispersal of medals in a palace stateroom. A dinner is planned and a ball with a very select guest list."
Unaware of the reason for Alexander's unusual favors, Lisaveta said, "Papa did have a very special relationship with the Tsar. They corresponded for years, although their letters were mostly analyses of obscure translations or interpretations of particular stanzas. It was a bit," she added with a smile, "like playing chess through the mails."
"And you came to follow in your father's footsteps," Alisa said. "I suppose you've been asked countless times whether you find the field unusual."
Lisaveta nodded. "Hafiz seems very normal to me, raised as I was in the midst of his research. The exotic qualities of the topic elude me. It's rather like a comfortable old sweater."
Nikki smiled. "An uncommon metaphor for Hafiz, I'd warrant, but I understand. Mother's Romany blood may seem exotic to others, but their culture is prosaic and second nature to me. I may see it as interesting but certainly not exotic."
"Exactly," Lisaveta agreed warmly.
"Be warned, though," Nikki cautioned out of concern for his cousin's feelings, "some in society may see your interest in other terms."
"I understand," Lisaveta replied, her smile intact. "Papa was careful to apprise me of those possibilities years ago, and I've all the bland phrases readily available. I deflect the rabidly curious, politely correct the detractors, and I tell the mildly inquisitive that Hafiz was a troubadour of sorts, much like the medieval European ones. He composed love songs. It sounds all very innocent." She was composed, Stefan's pearls at her neck, a sherry in her hand, unintimidated by prurient interpretations of her work.
"Should you need a champion beyond the curiosity seekers, I'm at your disposal," Nikki offered, "and apparently the Tsar is, as well. Note was taken, you can be sure, of your arrival in a royal railcar."
"His special courtesy was very kind… I was wondering, perhaps, if Stefan had anything to do with it." She spoke moderately without inflection, and her golden eyes were guileless.
"Stefan?" Nikki carefully repeated, knowing only one Stefan that close to the Tsar, conscious as well of that Stefan's libertine reputation.
"Bariatinsky," Lisaveta supplied.
The Tsar's overture of hospitality was immediately crystal clear.
"You know Stefan?" Nikki asked casually. He and the Prince had been frequent compatriots in female amusements before his marriage, had in fact been friends from their days in the Corps of Pages.
"I met him by accident on the Plain of Kars," she said, and proceeded to describe her dramatic rescue, their journey to Tiflis and her meeting with Militza and Nadejda. She didn't, however, detail the exact chronology of these events, nor did she mention their two-week holiday in the mountains.
Nikki, though, knew the distance from the Plain of Kars to Tiflis. He also knew Stefan's propensity for beautiful women and knew Stefan had been actively involved in the siege of Kars for several months. Stefan would not let an opportunity like Lisaveta innocently pass, certainly not after being deprived of female companionship for so long.
"Princess Orbeliani is pleasant, is she not?" Alisa mentioned, having met Militza several times at Stefan's over the past few years.
"Utterly charming," Lisaveta declared with warmth. "Her candor is-"
"Much like Stefan's," Nikki finished.
"Yes," Lisaveta answered. "Both are without subterfuge." There had been times in the past few days as she traveled north when she had wished Stefan had been less bluntly frank. She would almost have wished to cling to the unreal hope that they would meet again rather than the reality of their parting. He had said a simple goodbye. And meant it. The sorrow she felt for a moment, knowing she would never see him again, was evident on her face.
"He's back to Kars, then?" Nikki inquired, aware of Stefan's habit of transient affairs. But this time, with a female relative of his involved, he viewed Stefan's amorous amusements with less tolerance. And Lisaveta was obviously despondent.
"As I understand it," Lisaveta replied, recovering from her futile grieving over Stefan with a ready logic she'd always commanded. Mourning his loss wouldn't recall him, and she was in Saint Petersburg for the first time in her life and about to be introduced into society. There was enjoyment in the prospect. "Apparently the Grand Duke is on some fact-finding junket," she added, able to smile again.
"Making trouble no doubt," Nikki snorted. "Will Stefan be coming up to Saint Petersburg soon?"
"I don't know."
And his question of Stefan's interest was answered. "We'll have to see you're introduced around," he said avuncularly, annoyed despite his own sexual adventuring that Stefan had preyed on his cousin. His sense of outrage surprised him momentarily-it must be a sign of domesticity. He smiled at Alisa. "Alisa will see to your gowns. Won't you, darling?"
"I'd love to." Since she knew many of Nikki's friends and their predilections she, too, had come to her own conclusions about Stefan Bariatinsky and the Countess. Lisaveta was very splendid, her disposition charming; Alisa understood what Stefan had found alluring. There were, however, scores of men less ruthless in amorous dalliance and she meant to see that Lisaveta enjoyed herself in Saint Petersburg. "Did you bring something for the ceremony? For the ball? Do you have a court dress?"
"No…on all counts, I'm afraid. My baggage was all left behind when the caravan was attacked, although it wouldn't have been adequate anyway, and while Stefan had a dressmaker at Aleksandropol repair my wardrobe deficiencies, it was a sketchy arrangement."
Nikki was not pleased to hear Stefan had clothed his cousin; he'd done the same too many times himself for the paramours in his past to misunderstand the nuances of the situation. "How many days do we have," he said in a crisp voice, "before the ceremony?"
Alisa looked sidelong at her husband as he sat beside her on the sofa. He was angry about Stefan. "Two days," she said, and added with a placating softness, "it's plenty of time, dear. Madame Drouet will manage."
Turning to her, he smiled an apology; he knew she was actually suggesting they would manage to repair the hurt caused by Stefan's philandering. "Of course, you're right." Of Lisaveta he asked, "Are you up to a day of standing and being measured and fitted?" It was obvious from his tone that he had taken on her protection in all things.