4.2

“Oh?”

Aleksei’s dark brows jutted sharply upward as he awaited the cleric’s explanation.

“The princess has wisely prescribed a daily tutoring of your new charge.”

“What?”

The single word came unbidden from Synnovea’s lips, and she turned to stare aghast at Anna, unnerved by Ivan’s announcement.

“You don’t mean to say that you’ve engaged this…this…”

“Synnovea!”

Anna snapped sharply, halting the insults that threatened to rush forth from the astonished woman.

“Remember your place!”

Synnovea drew herself up in rigid silence, daring no further utterance while she bristled in outrage, but her mind ranged far afield, already searching for some avenue of escape.

Coping with Ivan on a diurnal basis was not a situation she was capable of enduring.

Their journey to Moscow had convinced her of that!

Anna smiled at the younger woman, demonstrating a cool reserve that bordered on frigidity.

“The fact that you’ve been sent to me for instruction will eventually lead to your advantage, Synnovea.

You were indubitably coddled by your father and allowed to nurture unpleasant tendencies.

That will cease, of course.

I’ll not tolerate boorish manners…or an argumentative disposition.

If you’re wise, my dear, you’ll learn to curb those inclinations.

Do you understand?”

It was readily apparent to Synnovea that any objections she offered would be considered of a quarrelsome nature.

Being thus warned against speaking her mind, she held her tongue, yet inwardly she still stewed.

Ivan’s pleased smirk evidenced his own satisfaction with what he considered a well-deserved subjugation of the countess.

He was not above heaping burning coals upon the hapless victim.

“You may trust that my directions will be thorough.

Princess.

I’ll address myself with careful diligence to polishing your ward’s manners.”

Aleksei seemed immensely pained by such a prospect.

“Surely this is some kind of jest, Anna.

Synnovea has no need of more tutoring.

She has been enlightened by some of the best scholars in the country.

You can’t possibly mean to prolong this arduous climb to knowledge.”

“The girl needs instruction in the rigors of life and conventional decorums,”

Anna stated obstinately, daring anyone to challenge her decision.

“Damned nuisance, if you ask me!”

her husband retorted.

Slamming down his glass, he turned with a harsh scowl and, offering no excuse or explanation, stalked to the pair of doors leading into the hall and threw them open.

“Where are you going?”

Anna demanded, sensing that she was about to be denied his company for yet another evening.

“ OUT! ”

Prince Aleksei flung back over his shoulder.

Halting in the hall, he braced his arms akimbo and bellowed at the top of his lungs.

“ BORIS! ”

Rushing footsteps were heard in the hush that followed the master’s summons.

A moment later, the white-haired steward breathlessly made an appearance.

“Here I am, Your Highness.”

Facing the man, Aleksei continued in a lower commanding tone.

“Hie yourself out to the stable and tell Orlov to ready my drozhki with my fastest horses.

I’ll be going out this evening.”

“Immediately, sir?”

“Would I urge you to make haste if I had the patience to wait for our guests to dine?”

Aleksei barked sharply.

“Of course I mean immediately!”

“As you wish, sir.”

Synnovea lifted her gaze to find Anna staring rigidly toward the place where, only a moment ago, her husband had stood.

The typically pale cheeks were now imbued with a vibrant shade of red, and except for a small tick at the corner of her mouth, she appeared to have taken on the quality of stone.

Ivan dared no further comment, and the meal was soon entered into and stoically endured.

Synnovea was completely distraught over the idea of Ivan becoming her tutor, and though under normal circumstances she would have savored each course, the roasted grouse with its cranberry sauce seemed as tasteless to her as the flaky pastry stuffed with steamed vegetables and dressed with a light sauce.

Ivan was profuse with his compliments to the cook and devoured every morsel with gusto, totally amazing Synnovea.

His slight frame seemed much too frail to handle the amount he consumed, and she could only wonder how he accomplished such a feat without bursting open.

When the meal came thankfully to an end, the two guests retreated to their respective chambers.

Anna was left to make her own way to a suite of rooms she shared far too infrequently with Aleksei.

Even their arguments were more tolerable than the loneliness that greeted her and the wild imaginings of her mind that placed her husband in the arms of another woman.

The night proved as wearisome for Synnovea as the journey she had just endured.

She found nothing within the stuffy shadows of her bedchamber to assuage her apprehensions, for she could foresee only doom descending upon her in the days and weeks ahead.

How in the world would she be able to maintain a quiet, gentle manner under such conditions? She’d be defeated before she even began, for if there was one thing that Ivan seemed proficient at, it was provoking her temper.

Synnovea tossed restlessly upon her bed.

unable to sleep while her mind raged on in a state of turmoil.

It was only when her thoughts drifted unbidden to Colonel Rycroft and the moment wherein he had held her close against his sleek, manly body that she was strangely lulled into a peaceful slumber.

The heat of the night was oppressive, holding the land in a stagnant vise until the morning sun lifted its burning face above the horizon and unleashed its sweltering rays far beyond the vales and hillocks that surrounded the city.

Even at an early hour, the dusty roads seemed to shimmer in undulating waves beneath the full light of the heavenly fireball.

Those who could, took shelter where they could find it, whether in grand houses or beneath lackluster trees that struggled for survival.

Oblivious to the insidious warmth creeping through the house, Ali arose from her tiny cot, much refreshed after a lengthy night’s sleep.

She busied herself in the narrow room, bathing, dressing, and unpacking her belongings until sounds of movement finally came from the larger chamber.

With a quick knock and a cheery smile, she bustled into the adjoining room, but halted in sharp surprise as she espied her mistress sitting in bed with an elbow braced upon a knee, staring listlessly across the room.

Her mistress’s solemn countenance hinted of a troubled spirit, and Ali gently laid a consoling hand upon the slender arm, thinking she understood the reason for the countess’s dismay.

“Ah, me lamb, be ye mournin’ again for yer pa?”

Though Synnovea braved a smile, the sparkle of tears in her eyes readily evidenced her pensive mood.

Wistfully she sighed.

“If I had been wise, Ali, I would’ve eagerly sought marriage while Papa was still alive.

Then I wouldn’t be here now, contending with the dictates of strangers.”

Ali hadn’t been with her mistress all these many years without learning to keenly perceive the young woman’s moods.

Something dire had happened.

“Me lamb, have the Taraslovs been unkind ta ye?”

Synnovea dared not reveal the full extent of her concerns.

The maid was too loyal to keep still about a lecher spying on her.

Nor would Ali take kindly to Ivan being engaged as her tutor, but that fact couldn’t be hidden like the other, for it was about to become part of her daily routine.

“I was in error, Ali, when I thought we’d soon be parted from Ivan.”

Synnovea saw the servant’s brows lift sharply in suspicion, and with a small shrug, she added, “He’s to instruct me while I’m here.

Anna has declared it so.”

“Ye don’t say!”

The diminutive woman settled her fists firmly on her narrow hips and snorted in contempt.

“An’ what would the li’l weasel be teachin’ ye, pray tell? How ta hide from yer left hand what yer right one be doin’? Aaarrgghh!”

She shook her head in acute disgust.

“I’ve had a bad feelin’ in me bones ’bout that warty li’l toad since he first hopped onta yer stoop.”

“Nevertheless, Ali, we must keep silent about his faults lest we antagonize the princess.

I fear she dotes upon the man.”

A darkly winged brow was raised in question as Synnovea met the tiny woman’s gaze.

“Do you understand?”

“Aye, that I do, me lovely.

Still, if the Princess Anna is imposin’ his teachin’ on ye, what must she be thinkin’ herself? He’s not so hard ta see through if’n a body be carin’ ta take a close look.

Ta be sure, if he’s a man o’ God, then I’m the butcher’s uncle.

Makes me wonder if the princess has all her wits ’bout her.”

“Perhaps we’ll understand in time what Anna sees in him.

Until then, give her no cause to take us to task.

I’ve a feeling she’s well acquainted with devising punishments for actions she considers offensive.

As for me, I must keep my own wits about me and refrain from angering Ivan overmuch.”

A long moment passed before the corners of Synnovea’s lips lifted puckishly and a mischievous gleam brightened her eyes.

She arched a meaningful brow toward the servant.

“Still, I might plead a few days’ rest before my studies begin.”

Catching her intent, Ali responded with a gleeful cackle.

“Ta be sure, me lovely! Ye’re deservin’ o’ that much, what wit’ travelin’ from Nizhni Novgorod in such a dither an’ bein’ attacked by thieves ta boot! Why, ’tis a wonder ye’ve lasted this long wit’out faintin’ clean away.”

And so the two plotted to confound the schemes of Princess Anna, at least for the day.

When assured that the household was up and moving about, Synnovea sent the Irish maid down to convey the message that she was temporarily indisposed with a painful headache and would be unable to address her attention to Ivan’s instructions.

It was certainly no lie Synnovea had concocted, for every time she thought of being forced to study the scholar’s views, she suffered a deep revulsion and her head began to throb.

Anna had to accept the excuse or confront Synnovea openly and accuse her of falsehood.

Though tempted to march up to her new charge’s chambers and express her suspicions, upon further consideration Anna decided to bide her time to see what the girl’s manner would be on the morrow.

It would indeed be a miracle if the girl managed to tolerate her chambers the whole day long.

Ensconced upstairs, Synnovea remained oblivious to just how narrowly she had escaped Anna’s interrogation.

By midafternoon, however, she had started questioning her own wisdom in avoiding Ivan’s lectures.

She couldn’t be entirely certain if someone with a vicious bent had deliberately planned her torture or if the location of her rooms had never been considered, but Synnovea soon became convinced that there wasn’t another chamber in the whole manse as unbearable as her own.

Situated on the west side of the house, the rooms became a sweltering oven soon after the daystar reached its zenith.

In determining her alternatives, Synnovea realized there was none she cared to exercise.

She couldn’t escape from her chambers without drawing some inquiry or challenging remark from Anna, and she refused to give the woman that satisfaction.

Thus, in an effort to cope with the heat, she lounged about in a thin shift that soon became a transparent film over her perspiring skin.

Ali closed the heavy draperies on the west side to shade the chambers and pushed the windows wide on the front of the house, allowing the sultry breezes to flow through the room.

Still, the cruel flaming tongues of the summer sun proved unrelenting, and Synnovea sweltered in the heat.

Seeking a way to combat her mistress’s distress, the maid went down to the kitchen and asked Elisaveta’s permission to fetch ice from the supply stored in the cellar.

She brought back a large chunk to the upper rooms and, after breaking it into smaller pieces, wrapped them in a linen towel.

Synnovea heaved a grateful sigh as she rubbed the cooling towel over her bare skin, leaving refreshing wet trails in its wake, but as the afternoon wore on, she found herself unable to bear the stuffiness of her compartment and went to perch cross-legged on a windowsill shaded and protected from the street by a large tree growing at the front of the house.

There she lazily stroked the ice-filled cloth along her arms as she observed the comings and goings of passersby who seemed urgently intent upon completing their errands and finding shade.

Too disturbed by their own discomfort to concern themselves with another’s obscure presence, those who ventured forth quickly retreated from sight, leaving the broiling thoroughfare virtually empty.

Synnovea draped the ice-laden towel around her neck and leaned her head back against the window frame.

Closing her eyes, she allowed her thoughts to roam homeward.