The Midwife of St. Petersburg (8 page)

Rasputin mumbled something Alex couldn’t hear, and then his voice trailed off, as though he’d forgotten what he was saying. He reached for another dessert cake, and three people vied for the privilege of handing it to him.

General Viktor eased up beside Alex. “Russia is in a pretty mess,” he said in a low voice.

Alex followed the general’s sober gaze. Rasputin was dropping crumbs on the Persian rug. He poured his tea onto the chinaware saucer and slurped it up.

“If I did that,” the general growled, “Zofia would send me to the kitchen.”

Alex smiled. The contradiction was obvious. If Rasputin were a middle-class shopkeeper rather than a peasant boasting mystic powers from heaven, the finely bred ladies would have revolted at his lack of etiquette. Such was not the case. They watched with thrilled gazes. Rasputin’s unpolished behavior was thought childlike and innocent, accentuating his availability to God. Alex had heard that this characteristic was one that especially appealed to the czar and czarina.

General Roskov finished his refreshment and set the glass down with a rap of impatience. “Look at my daughter. Something must be done
about this, Alex. I’ll not have her joining a group of silly women who’ve become this charlatan’s disciples.”

“Agreed, sir, but as long as the czarina acclaims him, it will be difficult to convince Tatiana that he is unworthy.”

“Yes, I realize that. He claims he’s been called to St. Petersburg to serve as the czarina’s personal starets.”

“Just so, General. It’s bound to bring more division at a time when we need to speak with one voice to the enemy.”

“Some in the Duma worry over the czarina’s dependence on him. You heard him say he answers her questions by putting them under his pillow? What if those questions begin to involve choosing men for cabinet posts or the direction of battles? It will lead to disaster. Questions on paper under his pillow,” the general snorted. “Isn’t that a pile of poppycock? Can you imagine the confusion?”

“Surely Czar Nicholas won’t permit him that kind of power, sir.”

“Czar Nicholas is a courageous man, but the czarina holds great sway over his heart. He’s a devout family man. He’ll not deny her. The young Prince Alexei’s disease puts much stress on both of them, and she is convinced their son will live only as long as Rasputin is there to keep him alive. The czar will not send the man away.”

“An incredible tragedy, sir.”

Alex watched Rasputin take Tatiana’s hand in his. Her docile compliance angered Alex. She was looking at Rasputin as though he were the great apostle Paul.

“Are you going to permit that, General?”

“Look at my wife, and then tell me to stop it.”

Madame Zofia stood beside her daughter, one hand on her shoulder, a look of humored kindness on her face as she watched Rasputin.

“When I stated that something must be done, I meant it,” General Roskov murmured. “The question is what? I’ll tell you this—there will be
a secret meeting in September. We must convince Czar Nicholas to send Rasputin back to Siberia. Now that you’re in the Okhrana, Alex, you may be called upon to play a part. In the meantime, try to talk sense to Tatiana.”

“I’ll do what I can, sir. Your daughter has ambitions to please the czarina that are not easily turned aside.”

“Yes, it’s the same with her mother. Sometimes I envy my brother-in-law, Josef Peshkov. He lives a quiet life, growing wheat for the czar and teaching history at a local college. And look at his daughters. Both have sound heads on their shoulders. Do you see them over there gaping at Rasputin?”

“No sir.” Alex looked over at Karena. She was talking to her sister. A moment later, they both slipped away.

“Perhaps I could also have your niece speak to Tatiana about Rasputin.”

“Yes, a good idea.” He clapped Alex on the shoulder and then left the room.

Alex scowled to himself. He went out onto the cool terrace to think. The general’s words returned:
“Now that you’re in the Okhrana, Alex, you may be called upon to play a part.”

F
lowers lined the flagstone walkway to the Roskov summerhouse where colored-glass lamps glowed, dangling over the porch. Inside, the candles gleamed in golden sconces. As the orchestra played, dancers moved gracefully across the polished floor of the ballroom, the rainbow of gowns complementing the black-and-white finery of the men.

Alex was late in attending. He’d returned to his room in a hopeless mood. He must end the growing attraction between Karena and himself. It could not be allowed to drag on, not if he was to please General Roskov and move on to the life he had chosen for himself.

“This is absurd!”

“What is, sir?” Konni asked.

“How a woman—a complete stranger—breaks suddenly upon the scene like a storm and leaves a man’s plans in ruin!”

“Just so.”

“Well, it’s not going to be that way, Konni. Reason is going to conquer emotion. I’ve made up my mind. My plans are settled. I’m going through with them. Besides, the general has informed me of how much protection Miss Tatiana needs. If I abandon her now, it would be worse
than going through with the engagement. She needs someone to look after her.”

“If you say so, sir. But it seems to me, you should select the best situation for your own life. It’s not all that fair for General Roskov to hand his daughter over to your care if you’re not in love with her. He’s taking advantage of your honor, sir, and your sense of duty. Duty to Miss Tatiana isn’t the same thing as true love. If you’ve got a heart for Miss Red Hat, then she might be the right one for you.”

“Life doesn’t work so easily, Konni. Duty and honor play integral roles in one’s decisions. I can’t just turn my back and walk away because a pretty face comes along.”

“No sir, and if I may take the liberty, that’s not what this is about. You’ve seen many pretty faces recently besides Miss Peshkova’s. I hate to see you walk away before you understand why this one seems different.”

“I can’t play with fire. It’s time to end it. I have my work to do …” He gestured to the pristine uniform laid out on his bed. “How did you get the wine out?”

“I wasn’t able to wash it out, sir. Your jacket is hanging in the wardrobe, a testimony to the arrogance of Captain Yevgenyev. This one was delivered this afternoon by Madame Zofia.”

“Does it fit?” Alex frowned at the dress jacket. If there was anything he despised, it was a jacket too tight across the shoulders.

“It is precise, sir. I measured twice. How she came up with this one, Madame did not explain.”

“As long as it fits,” Alex repeated firmly.

“Try it on, sir. You had best make speed. You’ve two women waiting for you.”

Alex gave him a scowl as Konni’s mouth twitched with restrained humor.

Alex fastened the brass buttons on the white dress military jacket and reluctantly departed for the ball.

At the bottom landing, he looked across the entranceway to the ballroom, where the glittering chandelier cast its radiance upon the dance floor awhirl with color.

He stood near the wide arch leading into the ballroom and saw Tatiana, who had added a net of pearls to her blue-black hair. The orchestra was playing a composition by the great Tchaikovsky. Tatiana was waltzing with Fyodor and smiling with enough charm to tantalize the calf-eyed medical student into revisiting his dreams of conquest. Alex remembered her wish to lead off the dancing with him.

If she breaks her word to me and asks him about his mother’s jewelry …

He turned away and scanned the floor for Karena. She was dancing with the count’s son.

Karena noticed Alex’s arrival. She’d been covertly glancing about for the last twenty minutes. Now that he’d entered and was looking in her direction, she tried to calm her beating heart.

“I think I shall sit this waltz out, Count Philipov …”

“Some refreshment perhaps, Miss Peshkova?”

She raised her fan and, lowering her lashes, was able to steal a glance to the side of the room.
Alex is coming
. He’d entered the palmed arch and was edging his way around the perimeter of the floor toward her.

“Um … yes, a lemon water will do wonderfully, thank you.”

Count Philipov left, and Karena swished her fan as Alex bowed, straightened, and smiled. “This is my dance, Miss Peshkova, I believe.”

She accepted his hand, and he led her onto the floor. As his arm went around her waist and his hand closed about hers, her heart beat rapidly. For a few minutes, he was hers. If Tatiana were watching with a hard look of jealousy, it did not matter while the music played and they danced in perfect harmony.

“The moment I laid eyes on you, I knew it would mean trouble,” he whispered.

It would be wise not to let him know she understood their attraction. Instead, she asked, “Because of Sergei?”

He lifted a brow. “Sergei?”

“My brother. Sergei Peshkov. You asked my cousin about my possible interest in the strike for the factory workers in St. Petersburg in May. Tatiana said you rode with the czar’s Cossacks and broke up the demonstration.”

“I knew you weren’t with your brother. I’d have remembered you. You are, Miss Peshkova, very memorable.”

She could have swooned. Instead, she lifted her brow. She was amazed at her own composure. “I know nothing of the sort, Colonel. And I hope you don’t think we’re Bolsheviks.”

“Are you?”

“I’m loyal to my czar and the Romanov family.”

“And your brother?”

She hesitated. Sergei was a dedicated socialist.

“I don’t speak for Sergei. If you knew him, you’d realize why. He doesn’t need any help articulating his beliefs.”

“Most Bolsheviks don’t. You can hardly get two of them together without a brawl.”

She narrowed her gaze. “Are you trying to provoke me, Colonel? You work for the secret police, and you ask me to incriminate my brother?”

“When I said you meant trouble, Miss Peshkova, I was not thinking of my commitment to the secret police.”

She tore her gaze from his. She wasn’t about to take the bait and inquire what he
did
mean.

“My cousin Tatiana, your fiancée, is exceedingly jealous of you,” she stated. “I’m afraid even this one waltz will upset her.”

“I am not officially engaged to her. Nor have I vowed my love and commitment. She’s assumed as much because she wants it that way.”

“And you do not?”

“I have my reasons for going with the tide. I admit the engagement is expected—by her and, more importantly, by General Roskov. Still, I’m not a prisoner unless I decide it’s what I want.”

“Is it his expectations, then, that mean more to you than Tatiana’s?”

“I’ve cooperated this past year with all of their expectations for reasons of my own. No one twisted my arm about Tatiana. Nor am I easily pressed into a marriage I don’t think will benefit my plans. Perhaps I am shocking you? I’m sorry, but I’m speaking the facts—hard, cold, and true. Would you care to hear the rest of my confession, Miss Peshkova?”

No, I would not
. She was dazed by his blunt assessment. Her emotions were in brutal conflict. In one heartbeat she had hoped he did not love Tatiana, and in the next, she was offended that he would consider marriage when he did not.

“No, it does not concern me, Colonel.”

“Oh, but it does, and I’m sure you realize it.”

She kept silent but felt herself blushing.

“I shall confess, regardless,” he said. “I’ve considered marriage to the general’s daughter because she
is
the general’s daughter. He can further my career in the military in the years to come.”

She looked at him, trying to meet his warm, brittle gaze with a steadiness that matched his own. “I didn’t take you for such a callous man, Colonel Kronstadt.”

“Callous?”

“Well, I can only think that a man who’d marry a woman he wasn’t in love with for military advancement must be wretchedly cold-hearted.”

“And terribly unfair to your sensitive cousin.”

“Yes, that too.”

A crooked smile lifted his mouth. “Anything else?”

“Need I say more? The music is ending, and I think we’d best conclude our conversation.”

“Without knowing why your poor cousin is willing to marry such a wretchedly cold man?”

“Well, it’s all quite obvious, isn’t it? You’ve deceived her. She’s in love with you, and you’ve taken advantage of her. She has my sympathy.”

His mouth tipped at one corner. “She is not the one who is beguiled. I think you should know why your cousin so wishes to marry me.”

“It’s none of my concern,” she said loftily.

“Nevertheless, I’ve begun an explanation and would like to finish it, please.”

She looked at him mutely. This was her first meeting with him that had romantic potential, and it had turned into a battleground. Idealistic thoughts had come crashing down upon her. The dashing Colonel Kronstadt was a cool, arrogant cad.

And yet—despite this realization, she was surprised with herself for continuing to talk with him.
Have I gone mad since I stepped off the steamer?