9

A fierce storm swept over the city in the wee morning hours, whipping trees into a frenzy and setting shutters to flapping noisily at nearly every window. In the peaceful lull that followed, relieved sighs were slowly expelled, and it seemed for a time at least that the tempest had passed beyond them. Yet in a trio of hours the hushed stillness was again shattered by another vicious assault that slashed the area with savage winds and pelting rains.

The changing conditions seemed but a mild portent of what was about to occur in Synnovea’s life, for she had barely begun to relax in the serenity that had finally settled over the land when her tranquility was once more rudely disrupted, this time by Anna. It wasn’t enough that her guardian stood outside her locked door, demanding entrance in outraged tones as she rapped insistently upon the wood. Such simple deeds were effective in forewarning the occupant of the seriousness of her mood, but when Synnovea hastened to open the portal, Anna’s entrance could have been likened to another violent squall blowing in.

No dreaded harbinger of doom could have derived as much satisfaction from the delivery of an ominous omen as the princess clearly did when she announced her reasons for intruding. “Since you’ve managed to lure Prince Vladimir from more noble interests, I can only agree with what Aleksei has suggested. It seems the old lecher and his sons are quite taken with you, so much so that Vladimir begged Aleksei to consider his proposal before leaving the house last night.”

“But I barely spoke to him,” Synnovea insisted, wary of what would follow.

“Nevertheless, he has been enamored,” Anna pointed out venomously. Touching a lace handkerchief briefly to a thin nostril, she continued in a peremptory vein. “Of course, there’s no help for it now with the situation facing us. We must act before Colonel Rycroft manages to disgrace us all. Our guests were simply abuzz over the effrontery of that callous Englishman. The very idea of that lowborn knave appealing to the tsar for permission to court you, as if he merited such favor! Why, it’s unforgivable! Believe me, my dear, when this matter is finally put to rest, you may be assured of one thing. The colonel’s ambitions will not be allowed to come to fruition. I’ll see to that. This very hour I’ve sent Vladimir a missive confirming our approval of your marriage to him. Such a contract will forestall any interference, whether it comes from your English admirer or from another who may hope to win you, including Major Nekrasov.”

Synnovea clutched a trembling hand to her throat, knowing only too well that it was Aleksei’s trap closing in around her. He had warned her what he’d do, but she had hoped to escape the Taraslovs’ authority before he could reap his revenge.

By slow degrees, Synnovea became aware of Ali standing in the doorway of her narrow cubicle. The old servant looked positively horror-stricken, reflecting the spiraling apprehensions that now besieged her mistress. In daunted silence both mistress and maid listened to the plans the princess was presently laying forth.

“Prince Vladimir is anxious to wed, and in view of Colonel Rycroft’s zeal to court you, we’ve decided to indulge the elder’s impetuousness by allowing him to arrange the nuptials during my absence. Ivan and I shall be departing in the morning to visit my father, but the cleric has commitments in Moscow which he must attend ere the month is out. I’ve made arrangements for our return a fortnight hence. You’ll be married the following week.”

Synnovea was stunned by the dispatch with which the matter would be concluded. Faintly she queried, “So soon?”

Anna settled a cold, unsympathetic gaze upon her charge. “I see no reason for suffering through a lengthy delay before the wedding. Do you?”

Synnovea could think of several. “Given a few more days, I might be able to prepare for the occasion better. I could even have a new gown made and sew handkerchiefs for the boyarinas who’ll serve as my attendants. Considering our custom, they’ll think it strange if I have none to give them.”

“Vladimir is too old to endure a prolonged wait,” Anna responded, rejecting her ward’s arguments with a casual wave of a thin hand. “You’ll have to be satisfied with the time you’ve been granted, Synnovea. Besides, if that Englishman’s plans are to be thwarted, we must proceed with all possible haste.”

Even as Synnovea sought to blink gathering tears from her eyes, they seemed to well up within her spirit. The Taraslovs had spitefully laid out her future, and she had no recourse but to accept their dictates. She wouldn’t even be allowed enough time to enjoy the usual celebrations and festivities associated with a betrothal or a forthcoming marriage.

Stoically Anna strolled to the front windows and gazed out upon the thoroughfare. Mulling over the previous night’s events, she watched coaches pass at a brisk pace and boyars riding steeds still frisky from the early-morning chill. Even after the departure of their guests, she had still been hopeful of Ivan’s ability to recoup the ground he had lost among the more influential boyars. His ambition to become ensconced in Vladimir’s chapel wasn’t nearly as important to Ivan as gaining support for his recommendation that a second advisor be appointed to assist in counseling the tsar, a position for which he intended to offer his own qualifications. Certainly in the days and weeks ahead, she had thought, the boyars would come to understand the wisdom of what Ivan was suggesting.

Her heart had even quickened with optimism when Aleksei had entered her bedchambers and, with his usual persuasiveness, demonstrated a husbandly passion. In the glowing aftermath of her bliss, she had lain in his arms, feeling thoroughly content with the world, but those softer emotions were completely sundered by a raging need to seek retribution when Aleksei voiced complaints about Synnovea accosting him before the soiree. Suddenly his suggestion that they consider Vladimir’s proposal of marriage had seemed acceptable. Not only would Synnovea be out of their house and away from Aleksei, but she’d likely be utterly miserable married to the old prince. However, in agreeing to the nuptials, Anna had also realized that she would be destroying any hope of Vladimir funding Ivan’s rise to power, thereby frustrating her own aspirations to share in the benefits of that authority.

“Natasha begged me to let you stay with her while I’m away,” Anna announced blandly over her shoulder. “I was certain you’d agree and have given my consent. I’m sure Natasha will be delighted to help you prepare for your wedding.”

“There’s not enough time to consider even a few frivolities, much less see anything actually accomplished,” Synnovea rejoined dismally.

Outwardly Anna ignored her charge’s lackluster statement, but inwardly she smiled in contentment. By dictating the events in Synnovea’s life, she had clearly demonstrated the power she wielded over the young countess. The forthcoming evening would serve to intensify the girl’s awareness of that fact. “Prince Vladimir has invited us to dine with him this evening to discuss preparations for your betrothal and forthcoming marriage. I’ve assured him that you’ll be joining us.”

“How kind of you.”

Detecting a break in the other’s voice, Anna smirked, feeling totally gratified by the girl’s distress. “You may be relieved to know that Ivan is busy preparing for our departure and won’t have time for your lessons today, Synnovea. He’s convinced that you deliberately set out to thwart his plans to become Vladimir’s priestly mentor and is extremely annoyed with you. If I were you, I’d avail myself of the opportunity to make amends with him ere we meet with your intended tonight. ’Twill help the evening pass more congenially inasmuch as I’ve granted the cleric permission to accompany us. It may be his last chance to redirect the old boyar’s attention toward a more admirable goal instead of appeasing his rutting instincts with you.”

“I wish Ivan good fortune in his endeavors,” Synnovea responded with morose sincerity. “I wouldn’t fret in the least if he managed to turn Vladimir’s attention away from me.”

Anna turned in a guise of surprise. “Why, Synnovea! Can it be that you’re upset by the idea of your betrothal…?”

“You said I’d be allowed to stay with Natasha during your absence,” Synnovea interrupted, fully cognizant of the woman’s smug satisfaction. “When may I anticipate my departure?”

Anna offered a blase shrug. “In the morning… if you really desire to leave.”

Synnovea wondered what tedious insinuation the princess was alluding to now. “Why should I not? If I’d been sent to a monastery, 1 doubt that my freedom could have been curtailed any more than it has been here.”

Anna’s lips drew up in u disdaining sneer. “No doubt, under your father’s authority, you had many admirers visiting your home in Nizhni Novgorod and indulged in liberties that would shock most boyarinas . Your conduct here has certainly demonstrated your license with men. I’ve no doubt that if you had received some kind of encouragement from Aleksei, you’d have found cause to stay here during my absence.”

Synnovea grew visibly incensed by the woman’s suggestion. “Forgive me, Anna, but 1 wouldn’t dream of compromising my reputation by staying here with that…” The word debaucher was on the tip of her tongue, but upon recalling that Ali was listening to everything that was being said, she refrained from calling the wily fox what he definitely was simply to save herself the ordeal of having to later explain her choice of appellations to the old servant. She smiled crisply as she corrected herself. “I mean, with Aleksei.”

The gray eyes were hostile above a sneering turn of thin lips. “No, of course not. You wouldn’t do anything unseemly behind my back.”

Synnovea canted her head as she tried to understand the rationale behind the other woman’s disdain. “Have I offended you so much by attracting Vladimir’s attention, Anna? Or is there another reason for your resentment?”

Anna strolled away, deeming it wise to avoid a discussion that would lead them into an ugly fray. Already she yearned to claw those green-brown eyes from their sockets. If she really unleashed her hostility upon the girl, no telling what she’d be tempted to do. A violent confrontation would only detract from her elevated authority, through which she had intended to seek retribution.

“Just think of it, Synnovea. In a thrice of weeks you’ll be Vladimir’s bride,” Anna prodded shrewishly. “It should please you to know that you’ll be marrying such a wealthy boyar. You’ll probably be able to wheedle what ever you desire from the old wolfhound.” Her lips curved briefly in a dull smile as she considered the girl. “But then, I haven’t really noticed any inclination on your part to limit your self-indulgence. Your gowns and jewels readily demonstrate your enormous greed. Still, as Vladimir’s wife, you’ll be far richer than you are now. That fact should lend you some comfort when it comes time for you to endure his awkward attempts in bed. Though I’ve heard rumors that he’s still capable of mounting a maid, it doesn’t promise to be the most enjoyable experience for you, not like it would be if you were to wed a younger man, especially someone as accomplished with women as Colonel Rycroft.”

A darkly winged brow arched sharply as Synnovea watched the princess saunter across the room. “I wasn’t aware that you knew Colonel Rycroft well enough to offer any opinion about him, Anna. You haven’t given him more than ten minutes of your time. Yet now it seems you know his most intimate secrets.”

“Oh, I hear things now and then.” Anna turned her face aside with an attitude of haughty indifference. “The Englishman seems to be the darling of every addlepated boyarina who has ever seen him. The fact that he lives in the German district with all of the other outcasts who come into this country increases his opportunity to gratify his manly appetites in the most sordid ways. ’Tis widely rumored among those who know that there’s at least a half-dozen strumpets for every foreigner who’s housed there. To even suggest that the colonel would deny himself of their availability while vying for your hand seems rather farfetched, don’t you agree, Synnovea? Or did you actually think you were the only pigeon in whom that wily English hawk yearns to sink his talons?”

If Synnovea had been asked to explain her rising vexation with the woman at that precise moment, she’d have been unable to provide a viable reason, except that the slander had come from one who knew the Englishman not at all. “Your conjectures are only that, Anna. Unless you spy upon him, you couldn’t possibly know what Colonel Rycroft does in his private life.”

Anna tossed her head with a contemptuous laugh. “You’re a fool, Synnovea, if you think a man like that hasn’t tasted his share of trollops. Mark my words, he’ll scatter his seed throughout the countryside ere he returns to England. But if you’re so naive as to believe that he’ll remain chaste while petitioning His Majesty for permission to court you, then I’ve better things to do with my time than to argue with you over the depth of his coarseness.”

Upon reaching the door, Anna paused briefly to consider her charge, feeling rather elated over what she had managed to accomplish. Synnovea’s dejection was unmistakable. The intended betrothal had shattered whatever expectations the girl had dreamed of for her future. Indeed, Anna could almost feel sorry for her ward… if she didn’t hate her so much.

The almost imperceptible squeak of door hinges sounded like a death knell in the gloomy silence that followed Anna’s departure. Stricken by the news of her forthcoming marriage, Synnovea slumped listlessly upon the bed and stared in utter gloom at nothing in particular. Had her life been declared forfeit, she’d have felt the same. Her despair was too burdensome a weight to bear in mute misery, and with a harsh sob, she flung herself across the mattress. Listlessly pummeling a fist against the bedclothes, she wept and bemoaned the day that she had ever entered the Taraslov manse.

“Oh, me lamb! Me lamb! Do not weep so!” Ali pleaded pityingly as she scurried forward to soothe her mistress.

Synnovea shook her head, refusing to be consoled. Her woeful heart seemed a ponderous burden within her chest; no gentle cajoling could ease the dark gloom that constricted it. “Pack up everything that belongs to us,” she choked in a ragged voice. “If I fall under heaven’s mercy, I’ll never darken the door of this house after my departure on the morrow!”

“Can ye not stop this thing that they’re doin’ ta ye?” Ali asked fretfully. “Could ye not go ta His Majesty an’ beg for his mercy? Or escape la England an’ stay wit’ yer widowed aunt?”

“I can go to no one,” Synnovea muttered bleakly. “Least of all to England. If 1 sought passage on a ship, Anna would likely find a way to arouse His Majesty’s ire against me, and I’d never be allowed to return. The arrangement of marriage has been agreed upon, Ali, and with naught but the necessary signatures verifying the legality of the contract, I’ll be the promised bride of Prince Vladimir.”

Anna’s elaborate script acknowledging Vladimir as her betrothed would seal her doom, and once the agreement was drawn up, not even Aleksei would be able to undo what he had set into motion. Only Tsar Mikhail or Prince Vladimir could break the pact, His Majesty by whatever reason he might ordain, the ancient by giving evidence of her unworthiness. But the likelihood of that occurrence seemed remote if Vladimir had asked for her hand so soon after their meeting. No doubt Aleksei had relished magnifying her merit as his potential bride.

Synnovea’s thoughts lamely sought some avenue of escape. A half-dozen options came to mind, but such notions as insulting Vladimir or telling him how vehemently she disdained the idea of becoming his wife were rejected as quickly as they came. Even if it meant giving up her freedom, she wouldn’t cause the old man such grievous hurt just to gain her own end. To do so might lead him to the grave, and she refused to have his death on her conscience. Nay, if ever he refused to speak the vows with her, it would be because he had been the one to rind fault with her.

Closing her eyes, Synnovea rested a cheek against the counterpane, letting her tensions ease as she forced her mind along a path that had become quite familiar of late, the vision of her English champion in scratched and dented helm. Although she was still incensed by the comments that Anna had made about him, she couldn’t help but wonder if they were true. His casual disregard for his nudity in the bathhouse certainly verified the fact that he suffered no unease being unclothed in front of a woman. But then, when a man had a physique as exceptional as his, why should he be embarrassed about it? Indeed, if his face had been equally sublime. Tyrone Rycroft would have gained the unswerving admiration of ladies everywhere, herself included.

It seemed futile to torment herself with wanton memories of her encounters with the Englishman, yet, as the wife of an ancient boyar, she might well have to use her recollections to suffice as conciliation for what she’d likely be missing in her marriage, for she’d never be able to enjoy the excitement and delight of being joined by wedlock to a man of noteworthy face or frame. Such reverie was perhaps more than some women were gifted with in a lifetime. Still, Synnovea was inclined to wonder if her brief view of such a magnificent specimen had spoiled her for the mundane and ordinary and made her less than tolerant of what she was about to receive.

A plaintive sigh escaped Synnovea as she made a concerted effort to commit herself to her betrothal. At least Vladimir wasn’t as repugnant as some doddering ancients, but when her own sire had been so much younger, she feared it would be tantamount to going to bed with a grandfather. Still, it was highly unlikely that she’d ever become bored while his sons resided with them. In light of the brothers’ bent for mischief and mayhem, an enormous probability existed that she’d be wont on occasion to beg for a little peace and privacy.

Steeling herself against the unrelenting disquiet that threatened to dissolve her fragile forbearance. Synnovea wiped away her tears and left the bed. She helped Ali pack and took comfort in the prospect that she’d soon be leaving the Taraslovs for good. Though marrying Vladimir wasn’t much of a reprieve, it was nevertheless an improvement.

Synnovea made a point of seeking Ivan out in his chambers and returning the books he had told her to read. The fact that she wouldn’t have to contend with the man’s bigoted views anymore allowed her some relief.

“I hope you’re happy now, Countess.”

A weary sigh slipped from Synnovea as she met his glare. “I’ll try to be.”

“How can you not with all that wealth at your disposal?” he derided caustically.

“Happiness doesn’t depend on a person’s wealth, Ivan,” she stated dully. “A man could acquire all the riches in the world and still be utterly miserable. Possessions are a poor substitute for loving friends and family.”

Ivan scoffed at the idea of such platitudes. “My family never meant anything to me. 1 despised my mother. My father? Well, I was told he was killed shortly before my birth, but I was given my mother’s name like any misbegotten offspring. I never saw any evidence that he ever cared a whit about what he was leaving behind. I’d have been much fonder of his memory had he left some inheritance to see me nurtured and clothed until I could fend for myself.”

“I’m truly sorry, Ivan,” Synnovea murmured in genuine empathy, understanding now why the man was so tormented. “It must have been very hard for you growing up.”

“It was hard,” he acknowledged with a prideful smirk. “But I overcame it all and made something of myself. I’m here by no one else’s will but my own.”

“Are you not lonely at times?”

“Lonely for what?” he asked sharply, taken aback by her question.

“People? Friends? Someone perhaps like Anna, who appreciates you for yourself or for what you are or may have done…”

“No one appreciates what I am and what I’ve accomplished more than I.”

Synnovea could see no benefit in continuing the discus sion when it was apparent that Ivan Voronsky had long ago rejected the notion that friends and a loving family were important to one’s well-being. She found it difficult to imagine such a solitary existence even worth living.

The time came for Synnovea to prepare herself for her first visit to the vast estates of Prince Vladimir. She spent a leisurely hour doing so, not caring how she might anger Anna by her delay in joining them. When she presented herself in the lower hall ten minutes past the hour designated for their departure, the princess was absolutely livid.

“Well! You certainly kept us waiting long enough!” Anna barked. “But then, you awful girl, I’m certain ’twas your intent!”

Synnovea dismissed Anna’s heated glower and Ivan’s scowl with no more than a mental shrug. Aleksei’s rude appraisal of her curves, however, thoroughly outraged her. Even after wreaking havoc in her life, he seemed unable to keep his eyes from sliding down her iridescent green silk sarafan , as if he still considered her a potential paramour. Curbing an urge to slap his swarthy face, Synnovea displayed a stilted decorum as she faced Anna. “You had wanted me to look my best for Vladimir, did you not?”

Weeks ago Anna had discovered that Synnovea complimented her garments far beyond the ability of most women. Her sleekly curving figure, lustrous fair skin, and eyes that seemed more green now than brown were excellent assets. They would’ve made the dowdiest garment look unique, but her present attire was beautiful by itself. The delicate artistry of the gilded stitchery liberally adorning the stiff collar, lower sleeves, and hem of the sarafan as well as her bejeweled kokoshniki was so rich and fine that it could only have been created by a gifted artisan. Still. Anna was not above soliciting some criticism from the two men, who seemed, for once, of a kindred spirit in their desire to seize some redress from the girl.

“I really can’t see that our lengthy wait was worth the results. What do you think, Aleksei?”

The prince managed a tolerant smile, knowing well what his wife wanted to hear. Although Synnovea’s beauty was nearly without equal, he was convinced that she needed subjugation to bring her to heel. He was committed to seeing her wed Vladimir and equally resolved to take his pleasure of her when the time was ripe. To serve his wife’s whim now, no matter how trite her ridicule, would bolster Anna’s confidence for an early departure, for he was reluctant to see his plans thwarted by her presence not only in the manse but in the city. “Perhaps we should consider delaying a bit longer to allow the girl more time to improve her appearance.”

“We’ve endured too much as it is,” Ivan complained tersely. “I beg you, let us be off.”

Aleksei bowed stiffly for his wife’s benefit. “At your pleasure, my dear.”

Anna brushed past Synnovea and accepted the arm Ivan offered her. As they led the way through the front portal, Aleksei waited to claim his usual place at the rear of the procession, where he could freely ogle Synnovea. While the cleric helped Anna into the carriage, Aleksei pressed against the girl’s back to feed a prurient fetish of his own. He remained unfazed by her smoldering glare, but her small heel bearing down painfully upon the toe of his soft leather boot convinced him of the wisdom of retreating to a more respectable distance.

Vladimir came out to greet their carriage upon their arrival at his mansion and eagerly pressed an exuberant kiss upon Synnovea’s slender fingers as he handed her down. Liberally expounding upon her beauty, he drew her into the great hall, where his sons stood arrayed in rich kaftans and their best manners on display. Ivan and the Taraslovs, were left to follow in the couple’s wake, and as the ancient proudly escorted Synnovea to a cushioned chair beside his own, the three were left to find their own seats nearby.

Ivan’s blood nigh boiled. Before he had been arbitrarily demoted by the girl, he had tasted the rare sweetmeat of success as Vladimir’s guest of honor. Now his attempts to draw the man’s attention were, at best, randomly given heed to, and only then with a modicum of interest. In sharp contrast, the old boyar doted on every word that issued forth from the gently smiling lips of his intended.

Synnovea chose to make the best of her unfortunate fate and deliberately ignored Ivan’s irate glowers and Anna’s sharpening frowns as she laughed and chatted with her future family. For a time, the Taraslovs retired with the elder to discuss the nuptials, the dowry Alexandr had set aside for his daughter, and to sign their names to the betrothal agreement. While the three were absent, Vladimir’s brood of sons entertained her with hilarious accounts of their many kindred; upon their return, Ivan’s ire reached its zenith, for it was then that the old man presented Synnovea with a necklace set with large diamonds and emeralds, earrings to match, and a betrothal ring impressive enough to stagger the wits of the three, who looked on with a strange blend of rancor and awe.

“My dearest Synnovea, please allow me to present these meager offerings as tokens of my affection,” Vladimir exclaimed with a buoyant smile. “Once you’ve become my bride. I’ll dress you in robes of gold and precious jewels of every color. You’ll want for nothing.”

“Tut-tut, Prince Vladimir,” Anna chided through a stiff smile, knowing her revenge would be better served if she could believe the old boyar meant to abuse the girl. “You’ll spoil Synnovea with such extravagant gifts. I’d advise you to pamper her less and keep her more submissive if you wish a well-ordered marriage.”

Her comments caused Aleksei to lower his libation and stare at her in amazement, but Anna ignored the implication of his dubious regard, which silently challenged her own compliance to his husbandly authority. Admittedly she had always been more ambitious than he. Even as a child she had learned to be assertive to get what she desired. Now she yearned to see her rival vexed by hardships, not elaborate gifts.

“Nonsense,” Vladimir rejoined, blustering a bit at the notion that he was being counseled by a woman whose husband, according to frequent hearsay, roamed far afield. “If I’ve gleaned anything from my earlier marriages, it has been the fact that women can learn to be content with an old rascal like myself much more easily if they’re coddled and pampered. In showing their gratitude, my wives nurtured me with their affection, keeping me quite content to stay at home.”

Anna’s pale cheeks took on a reddish hue as Synnovea turned an enigmatic smile upon her. If it was possible to read anything into the slight turning of those soft lips, then Anna could believe the girl was genuinely relishing Vladimir’s rebuke. That suspicion nettled her severely when she thought of such sumptuous treasures being indiscriminately wasted on the one she abhorred. She loathed acceding anything to her rival, especially when Ivan had been so close to winning the old man’s support. The bountiful largesse that Vladimir was capable of giving could’ve swiftly advanced Ivan’s efforts.

It was Synnovea’s pleading request that the jewels be kept in Vladimir’s care for safekeeping that amazed both Anna and Ivan. They stared agog as she sweetly added, “Just until the day I come here to live with you, for I couldn’t bear the loss if they were somehow mislaid.”

Cognizant of the cleric’s dark glower, Synnovea lowered her gaze demurely. Though his profession embodied all the honorable attributes one should possess in dedicated service to a higher order, she was wont to suspect that Ivan used his robe as a sham to bilk whatever lucre could be gained from those generously disposed toward accepting all clergymen as humble and honorable men.

Vladimir gladly deferred to Synnovea’s wishes when she laid a gentle hand upon his sleeve and looked up at him beseechingly. After bestowing an ardent kiss upon her slender fingers, he gave the treasures over to Igor, who took them away to a secure place.

“My own mother was uncommonly fetching,” Sergei stated as he presented Synnovea a glass of Visnoua . “Bui I think my father has outdone himself this time in selecting you as his future bride.”

“Oh, Sergei, what a beautiful sentiment,” she replied graciously. “And may I suppose, since you look nothing like your father, that you inherited your handsomeness from your mother?”

With an amiable laugh he kissed her fingertips. “Even my father has said as much, Countess. But if your beauty is an indication of the offspring you’ll bear my father, then I shall be put to shame by your children.”

Synnovea dipped her head briefly in gratitude for such a compliment, pleased that Vladimir’s sons were so willing to accept her into the family. As Sergei looked on, she sipped from the silver goblet. The libation reminded her of a red wine she had always enjoyed in France and was definitely pleasing enough for her to savor another taste.

“Delicious?” Sergei queried.

“Indeed!”

As the youngest of the brood stepped back with a chuckle, Feodor came forth and, after a sweeping bow, delivered a large bouquet of flowers to her. “Like these cherished blooms, my lady, you grace us with your beauty and fragrance.”

Feeling at odds with herself because she was unable to summon anything more than a hollow display of pleasure, Synnovea gathered his gift within her arms and lowered her face to the blossoms, inhaling their sweet essence. When she lifted her head again, she offered him a gentle smile. “You do me great honor, Prince Feodor, to compare my unworthy looks to such glorious marvels of nature.”

Her eyes grew misty with tears as he, too, took her hand and bestowed a light kiss upon it. It was the deepening anguish of feeling totally undeserving of their esteem that made Synnovea long to escape through the nearest door. She was painfully aware that, in comparison with her own reluctance and foreboding, their gifts of words and tender treasures came forth with sterling sincerity.

As the eldest moved back, Stefan came near to lay a garland of green around her neck. “Your company is cherished far above rubies and gold, Synnovea. Be assured that as a whole, the sons of Prince Vladimir Dimitrievich are enamored with your charm. We’re just as excited about having you in the family as our father is.”

Synnovea laughed through a fresh gathering of guilty tears. Against her will, she had been charmed by the brothers’ gallant display of manners, but their praise did little to ease the burden of regret weighing down her heart. “Dear, kind sirs, you woo me with such sweet tidings and eloquent speeches that I fear my tongue staggers lamely in search of prose equal to their beauty.”

Vladimir reached out again to claim her fingers and bring them to his own lips. “In truth, Synnovea, were your tongue forever silenced, we’d still be smitten by your sweet presence in this, our boorish surroundings. We’re but churlish clods in need of your gentle, transforming touch.”

Despite her rich enjoyment of their company and their chivalrous attempts to show her how much her presence pleased them, Synnovea was unable to accept her betrothal as anything more than an incarceration of Aleksei’s making. When it finally came time to take their leave, she experienced a moment of panic when she realized her intended meant to kiss her on the lips. She subdued the urge to flee, and though the blush that swept into her cheeks was well in line with a chaste maid’s reaction, Synnovea had no doubt that Vladimir would’ve been shocked out of his senses if he had had any inkling that she had conjured Tyrone Rycroft’s shadowed face before her own just to be able to stand her ground during the old man’s kiss.

Synnovea was distraught at the idea of carrying such a farce all the way to her marriage bed, but she knew it would be the only way she’d ever submit to Vladimir with any kind of forbearance. Truly, had the old prince begged her to be his daughter, she’d have gladly yielded him that honor as a living replacement for the father she had once loved and recently lost. Yet to think of Vladimir as her husband and to consider everything that that particular position would entail, she was no less desirous of being liberated from their betrothal than she was to escape the Taraslovs’ manse.

Tears spilled unheeded upon Synnovea’s pillow long into the night. Staring at the moonlit canopy above her head, she begged wearily for some sweet spirit from heaven to bring peace to her frazzled brain and to somehow impart a way she could be set free without wounding the old man. It was a troubling dilemma in which she found herself, for in spite of their cantankerous reputation, she valued the friendship of Vladimir and his sons, though regretfully not enough to rouse her eagerness to be bound by an oath of wedlock to the elder and certainly not until that time when widowhood finally came to release her. She didn’t covet Vladimir’s death. Nor did she ever want to yearn for such a fate for him in a marriage in which she’d be unable to find solace for her dreams of love and contentment.

The first rays of the dawning sun were just stretching out across the land when Ali came to her mistress’s bedside and awakened her. Not long after that, Synnovea left the chambers and made her final descent. Anna had remained upstairs to attend to some last-minute details which affected her own departure. In her absence, Aleksei had taken up a waiting stance just beyond the front portal. He was there when Synnovea emerged and was bold enough to halt her with a hand on her arm, but he frowned wincingly at the sun that shimmered brilliantly in the eastern sky, definitely pained by the presence of that particular sphere.

To see Aleksei suffering after a long night of copious imbibing that had begun at Vladimir’s manse was small recompense for the animosity Synnovea was presently feeling toward him. Tempted to give him a fair piece of her mind, she grudgingly allowed him a moment of her time. At least no further acts of aggression could be made against her person while they stood in clear sight of Ali, Jozef, and Stenka.

“Allowing you to leave here was Anna’s idea, not mine,” Aleksei informed her bluntly.

“I recognized your intent to keep me in your lecherous lair the day you announced that Anna would be leaving,” Synnovea acknowledged coolly. It was only for the sake of her servants that she made an attempt to appear civil in his presence. “Still, I don’t know how you might’ve hoped otherwise. Anna is no fool, you know. That’s why she’s so anxious to see me married off to Vladimir. She wants me out of the house and well away from you.” A slight upward movement of her shoulders prefaced her next comment. “Of course, she has just cause with you as her husband.”

“Anna has even more reason to hate you now,” Aleksei taunted. “After I told her how you solicited my favors the other night, she was most eager to see you wed.”

A lovely brow lifted. “Well, I see you’re not above making up ludicrous stories to suit your purposes. Aleksei, but your little ploy to discredit me will have no bearing on my actions, so be warned.”

“ You’d best be warned, my girl,” he snarled, gnashing clenched teeth. “I’ve no intention of letting you escape what has already been decreed, despite the fact that Natasha has a nasty habit of confounding proprieties to meet her own whims…”

The peak of Synnovea’s eyebrow sharpened challengingly. “And what of you, sir? Have you not done the same?”

Aleksei ignored her intrusion as he continued cynically. “I’m sure Natasha will try to undermine your betrothal by inviting men who can tarnish your reputation…”

Synnovea stared at him in growing amazement, never having considered the ruination of her honor as a means by which she could avoid marriage with Vladimir. Such a ploy would be a serious price to pay for her freedom and a sacrifice she was not entirely sure she wanted to make. The very idea went against everything she had been taught about sterling principles, but she was desperate. All she had to do was determine just how desperate.

“I can see that you might be worried about my honor, since Vladimir would be reluctant to attach himself to a maid whose virtue has been besmirched,” she answered disparagingly. “But for the life of me, Aleksei, I cannot imagine that you’ll be content to see me married off to another without trying to extract some further penance from me, which leaves me wondering how you intend to claim me as your conquered victim. It has been widely rumored that you have a preference for virgins, but then, so has Vladimir. Are you willing to allow him first taste of the unblemished fruit?”

“I’ll make an exception in your case,” Aleksei promised with a hint of a sneer.

“So good of you,” Synnovea derided. She glanced away as she sought to regain control of her quickly flaring temper, then turned on him again with renewed vigor, wanting to shatter his cocksure arrogance if only for the moment. “If it falls within my power to frustrate your purposes, Aleksei, let me assure you that I’ll use whatever wile within my capability to see your plans thwarted, even if I have to take Colonel Rycroft into my bed to see the deed done.”

The dark eyes flared with ill-suppressed rage. “Do you honestly think I’ll allow such a thing to happen while I yet breathe, maid?” he hissed. “You do err in conjuring such deceptive fantasies for yourself, for I’ll never let another man have you!”

“Not even Vladimir?”

“Through him I’ll claim my revenge for the injury you’ve done me! You’ll come back after you’ve survived a few of that old bull’s straining attempts, begging me to satisfy you.”

“You’re far too confident of your power over women, Aleksei,” she rejoined with a noticeable lack of warmth. “What you don’t realize is that I’d rather submit to Vladimir for the next hundred years than be tainted even for a moment by your foul attention.”

“You won’t escape marriage to him!” Aleksei ground out bitingly, infuriated by her unswerving tenacity. “I’ll hire men to watch you and any house you’re in until the very moment the vows are spoken. There’ll be no help for you, my beauty. None will come to your rescue, not even your precious Englishman.”

“That remains to be seen, does it not?” Synnovea gave him an ungracious smile as her lashes hovered over a glare. Reaching out, she tapped a forefinger lightly upon his sleeve, as if chiding a naughty student. “Were I you, Aleksei, I would avoid any mention of this matter to your wife ere her departure, for I intend to protect myself henceforth from your malicious bent. If need be, I’ll take my complaints to Tsar Mikhail himself and let him deal with the both of you as you justly deserve. I swear I will!”

With a last irritated rap of her finger, Synnovea turned from him and made her way to the coach. It was only a short distance to the larger Andreyevna mansion, and when the conveyance pulled into the drive, Natasha came hurrying out to greet her with open arms. The morning seemed suddenly brighter for both women. Synnovea’s anger diminished to a more tolerable level, and as for the elder, she was anticipating the delight to be found in the sweet promise of companionship with the daughter of a woman whom she had once cherished as her closest friend and confidante.

In the ensuing days, Synnovea realized that she would have to make a choice fairly soon or see her options seriously hindered by Anna’s return. Whether to nobly abide by the betrothal contract or to seek freedom at the expense of her own honor, that was the question she’d have to answer for herself. The more dutiful course for a chaste maid would be to comply with Anna’s dictates, which would issue her forthwith into a respectable marriage with Vladimir. The alternative was drastic. Should she dare such an escape, damaging slurs would likely be brought to bear upon her name and she’d have to face the threat of being ostracized by her peers. Society was wont to judge a fallen woman harshly, and she’d be no less susceptible than the foulest tart. Still, if she could somehow preserve the secrecy of her actions or even feign her defilement (if such a feat were possible), then perhaps her ploy would yield her everything she yearned for.

Despite the clarity of her options, finding an acceptable answer to the riddle that confronted her was far more involved and complicated than Synnovea had thought it would be. The difficulty lay in her burgeoning apprehensions about the role of conniving seductress that she’d have to play with Tyrone, the only man she deemed suitable for the deed. Not only was he more acceptable to her than anyone she presently knew, his reputation as a rake, however false that might have been, solidified his credentials. Despite the best-contrived plans, however, events had a way of going awry. At the very least, she could suffer the rending of her virginity, but more disastrously, she could even bear a bastard child nine months later. Was her freedom to choose a husband worth the risks she’d be taking?

Synnovea’s fears far outweighed her dedication to gaining her own end, and she solemnly approached the idea that she just had to do what was proper. Her parents would have expected her to keep herself pure until her wedding night, and even if she had to marry Vladimir, she’d likely outlive him. Then she’d have the freedom to wed whomever she wished. All it would take would be waiting weeks, months, or even years for an old man to die….

Synnovea recoiled at such a diabolical notion as yearning for a human being to die, and she promptly found herself back at the crux of her dilemma, whether to ignobly pine for her husband to succumb to some malady or, by devious means, to seek the liberty to marry for love.

It was not until Synnovea ventured out with Natasha and Ali to a small, rough-hewn chapel located beyond the outskirts of the city that she actually became cognizant of just how persistent Aleksei was to see her wed and, in that endeavor, how closely he—and others—observed her comings and goings. The three women had set aside other duties to help a kindly old monk who devoted himself to acts of charity. Whether old, blind, wretched, decrepit, or lame, those in want were never turned away from the humble, tumbledown sanctuary where the kindly Friar Philip labored to serve their needs. His main concern was tending his flock , which included anyone who came to him lacking sufficient food, clothing, or peace for the soul. The afflictions of the poor were often decreased to a more tolerable level by his compassion or by those who assisted him in his selfless struggle. To his following, he was known as Saint Philip, though he wore shabby robes and denounced the acquisition of wealth for the church, which many of the Josephites had insisted upon. A number of the more powerful members of that particular sect had demeaned his attempts as self-serving and claimed that his real motive was to destroy a higher order of ordained servants to appease his own vindictive bent. They continually sought evidence to convict the man of his crimes.

Natasha was just as adamant to rally her friends to his cause and found Synnovea to be a willing participant. Upon their arrival early that morning, the women addressed themselves to the task of preparing a meal in the kitchen, located in a lean-to behind the chapel. Even though their coach evidenced their wealth, they wore plain garments made from a common cloth to ease the apprehensions of the poor, who had reason to be wary of the nobility. Soon after the food had been cooked, Synnovea busied herself handing out loaves of bread and ladling a hearty stew into wooden bowls held forth by ragged peasants who shuffled past. Natasha sorted apparel from several bundles that she had either sewn or collected from friends, while Ali entertained the younger children with mimes and craggy-voiced songs, allowing their mothers to search through the donated clothing in an effort to fortify their families for the approaching winter.

Into this gathering of destitute humanity. Aleksei came swaggering arrogantly in, bearing himself like the mighty prince he obviously envisioned himself to be. Forcing the more unsightly commoners to scurry out of his way, he strode up to the two countesses and, with flamboyant mockery, bowed before them. Upon straightening, he glanced around in lofty disdain. “How generous you ladies are to devote your time to serving these paltry beings. Ivan Voronsky would be impressed.”

If Aleksei had declared that only one sun existed in the sky. Synnovea would’ve found some argument to refute his claim. “I doubt that Ivan has any real perception of charity other than what goes into his own pockets.”

Synnovea realized the peasants who had been waiting in line for food were now hanging back, fearful of moving past the elegantly garbed prince. “Begone with you, Aleksei!” She swept a hand about to indicate the ones who were shuffling away. “Can’t you see what you’re doing? They’re afraid of you!”

“Afraid of me? Why so?” His astonishment was badly concocted. “I’ve only come to witness your compassion toward these foul-smelling oafs. What has set you on this path of benevolence anyway? Are you seeking to pay penance for your sins?”

Synnovea’s eyes narrowed menacingly. “My greatest sin has yet to be committed, Aleksei. That’s when I’ll hire henchmen to string you up. Just why are you here, may I ask?”

“I’ve come as you have, as a benevolent lord to give ease to the poor.” He turned and addressed the friar. “See here, Philip, or whatever your name is! I’ve come to give my dues to your cause.” He drew forth a few coins of meager worth and scattered them at the elder’s sandaled feet.

“I will thank God for your kindness, my son,” the white-haired monk murmured graciously as he knelt to pick them up. Though he sensed the boyar wanted to see him groveling at his feet, he couldn’t ignore the insufficiencies plaguing his small ministry.

“You’d do better to thank me , old man,” Aleksei sneered, staring down his less-than-perfect nose at the elder. “I’ve power here on earth to see you imprisoned for consorting with thieves.” He indicated the tattered folk who huddled in growing apprehension of the boyar’s intentions. “Have I not seen the likes of these rogues stealing bread?”

“Oh, but surely, if they have, it was only a morsel or two, and you would forgive them for such meager offenses,” the monk hurriedly entreated as he struggled to his feet. “Many would starve without the bit of food they’re given here.”

“Have I not also seen you feeding those foul prisoners locked in stocks in Kitaigorod? Perhaps you’re also in league with the rogues who come to stealthily seek their release. I heard it said that the felons who escape flee the city to take up with bands of raiders and highwaymen. Perhaps they even stop here for sustenance to aid them on their way.”

The holy man spread his hands in appeal as he begged for understanding. “It’s true that you may have seen me helping the convicts fettered there, but the law makes no provisions for their needs. Whether guilty of pitiful deeds or those declared unworthy of reprieve among more worldly judges, they grow equally famished for a piece of bread or a cup of water. I don’t question them about their crimes when I distribute food. I only try to assure them that there is love and forgiveness for whatever they’ve done. But your pardon, my son, are you so perfect and pure that you’re able to cast the first stone at these poor wretches?”

Aleksei’s face took on a ruddy hue as he lifted his head in haughty arrogance. “I’m a prince! An aristocrat by birth!”

A kindly smile curved the wrinkled lips of the elder. “Do you seek to impress God with your aristocracy when all are equal in His sight, my son? None are perfect, whether prince or pauper.”

Tossing his head in contempt, Aleksei confronted the holy man with a sneer. “Is God blind to the faults of thieves and murderers?”

“God sees all, my son, but He also forgives. We need only ask with a contrite heart.”

Aleksei scoffed. “If there is a God!”

“Each man must decide that for himself, my son.”

The prince’s brows lowered darkly. “It’s foolishness to believe in something you cannot see!”

The kindly priest spoke gently. “I’m sorry, my son, but I don’t understand why you’ve come here if that is your belief. Do you seek counsel from a fool?”

“Oh, I’ve heard of your kind,” Aleksei derided. “You can be certain of that! Bozhie liudi! Men of God! Holy fools! That’s what they call you! Skitalets! Holy wanderers! You set up your skity in areas like this in compliance with that so-called order of Nilus Sorsky, that most foolish of fools! But you know as well as I do that Nilus died after his arguments against the wealth of the church were overridden by Joseph Sanin, and thereafter his followers have been persecuted by the Josephites and the grand dukes of Muscovy—as you will be!”

“Your knowledge of history seems well intact, my son, but you haven’t yet answered my question. Do you seek counsel from me?”

Aleksei laughed caustically. “You couldn’t possibly instruct me with your fool’s wisdom, holy man. I came only to guarantee the safety of my ward while she is among these filthy peasants.”

The monk shifted his gaze toward the young countess, who earlier that morning had arrived with her maid and the Countess Andreyevna. In recent years the latter had proven herself a most gracious and generous benefactress. Though he tended a garden and a small flock of sheep to enable him to serve the needs of the poor, he was grateful when such kindly and charitable workers as these offered their assistance. They had even sent their coachman to purchase more food when it had become evident that there wouldn’t be enough victuals to feed everyone who came. Now, because of them, all who ventured in today would be fed.

“None here would harm her,” the priest declared. “These people are appreciative of what the boyarina is doing for them.”

Aleksei responded with a snort of derision. “It’s beneath the countess’s station to consort with these vile vermin.”

“What kind do you suggest she consort with?” the holy man asked, beginning to understand the prince’s motives. “Do you mean to persuade her to go back with you, perhaps?”

Synnovea cast a pointed glare toward Aleksei, gaining his attention. Without a word she strode to the front door, luring him away from the old man. There she turned on him with fire in her eyes. “If you’re capable of any decency at all, Aleksei, then I beg you leave here and let us be,” she ground out in muted tones. “’Tis obvious what your real concerns are. Even Saint Philip now sees through your ploys.”

“You must heed my words, Synnovea,” the prince insisted. “I won’t let you thwart my plans.”

“And I warn you, Aleksei! You’d better heed mine! I’ve had enough of your lies and your filthy attempts to bed me! Now get out of here ere I take a lash to you! And don’t ever come back!”

Overhearing Synnovea’s threat, Natasha approached them with an amused smile. “Beware, Aleksei. I do believe the girl means it.”

His sharply penetrating scowl bore into the younger countess. “I’ve hired men to follow you wherever you go, Synnovea. You’ll not escape! They’ll hound you until you beg me to set you free of them.”

“Shall I complain to Vladimir about your close attention?” Synnovea needled. “He has wealth enough to send guards of his own to protect me from your spite.”

“Aye! Send for him!” Aleksei challenged. “He’ll insist upon speaking the vows posthaste just to save you from the ruffians I’ve hired. Then I’ll have my revenge that much sooner.” Saying nothing more, he swept into a shallow bow and stalked out.

Synnovea glared after his departing form and was somewhat surprised when he strode beyond his mount and made his way to an open field where a large party of mounted riders awaited him. From a distance the men appeared to be nothing more than unruly rabble garbed in a variety of outlandish apparel. Synnovea could only question Aleksei’s wisdom in hiring such questionable guards, for they looked more like cutthroats and renegades.

Despite the rather questionable attributes of her newly acquired guards, Synnovea soon realized that they were, at the very least, proficient at provoking her ire. After Aleksei left, they set up their surveillance closer to the church, built up a huge fire, and liberally guzzled large quantities of kvass and vodka while they involved themselves in lewd cavorting and riotous dancing with several strumpets who had joined them.

Thoroughly abashed by the group’s unrestrained revelry, Synnovea begged forgiveness from Friar Philip. “I had no idea that I would be inviting this shameful exhibition by coming here.”

“You’re not to blame, my child,” the old man assured her kindly. “Today you’ve done a good service. The coins you’ve given will go a long way toward buying food for these poor people.” His eyes briefly flitted toward the rapscallions who taunted those who had taken shelter within the church. “Don’t let their presence demean the good deeds you’ve done here this day.”

Synnovea took his rough, work-hardened hand and pressed a kiss upon it. “I’ll come back when I’m free of them. Until then, my servant will bring a regular stipend to enable you to feed those who come to you.”

“Bless you for your kindness, my child.”

Kneeling before him, Synnovea accepted his prayers for her safety and well-being. Then she and her companions returned to Natasha’s coach. As it rumbled off down the road, the rowdies climbed into their saddles and followed, deserting the harlots, who shook their fists in disappointment and screamed profanities after them.

The coachman recognized the need for haste and cracked his whip often, urging the steeds to their fastest gait, but the band of ruffians only grew bolder and came alongside to hoot and chortle in glee as they performed dangerous stunts in and out of their saddles. Once the coach reached the safety of the Andreyevna manse, the rabble gathered in front, sending servants scurrying to bolt portals and windows against the possibility of a forced entrance, while the houseman took up arms and stood guard to ensure the miscreants kept their distance.

The occupants of the mansion faced another quandary when the steward heralded the approach of Vladimir and his sons. Natasha quickly instructed her servants to arm themselves with whatever tool, weapon, or implement they could find to lend support to the princes if they were attacked. Considering the willingness of the princes to brawl, it promised to be a serious altercation.

Mere moments passed before a maid called her mistress’s attention to the fact that the riffraff had left. When Natasha and Synnovea flew to the windows to see for themselves, relief rallied their spirits when they found the announcement to be true. The doors were promptly flung open to welcome the boyars. Still, no one made mention of the callous oafs who had escorted the ladies home, lest the princes give chase.

In the next several days, the disorderly band made its presence known the few times that Synnovea ventured out in her carriage. The men followed along behind, forcing her to return without even leaving the conveyance. Had she dared visit friends, she feared the scalawags would create a scene similar to the one in which they had been involved outside Friar Philip’s chapel. No telling what the results would be.

When at the conclusion of the third day Aleksei stood outside the mansion with a pleased smirk on his face, Synnovea felt as if he had just laughed in her face. That was all it took for her to finally settle her mind on her final course of action. She’d be hanged and quartered before allowing him the ultimate triumph.

Even so tenuous a solution to her problem was enough to calm the brooding indecision that had beset Synnovea since Anna’s announcement of her betrothal. She resigned herself to the controversial means of escape, lending her attention to the task of devising a plan by which she could entice the worldly Colonel Rycroft to serve as her seducer. That feat presented no great challenge. It was the withholding of her virtue that promised to be the formidable part, for she had no doubt that the man would have his mind set on claiming that very thing she wished to preserve. If his cavalier boldness in the bathhouse sufficed as an indication, then she could believe the man was quite adept at a game she knew little about, and if she couldn’t control his ardor to her liking, where would she be left but in his bed?

“I shall need your assistance if you’re inclined to give it,” she begged Natasha after gingerly explaining her proposal. “It could well mean danger for us both if my plans go awry, so if you’ve no heart for it, I’ll surely understand. Aleksei is adamant about halting any intervention that would see me rejected as a fit bride by Vladimir, yet he has boasted that he’ll see the old man cuckolded before he relents. If you help me in this, you may not be safe from his revenge.”

“I’m not afraid of that pompous crow, but I do have a concern for what may happen to you in this scheme of yours.” Natasha chose her words carefully, not wanting to strip away the last shred of hope to which her young friend now clung. Yet she’d be doing the girl a grave disservice if she didn’t caution her. “I’d not be a true friend, my dear, if I only encouraged you to continue and did not warn you of the danger you’ll be courting. Frankly. I think you have more to fear from the Englishman than you do from Aleksei. Aleksei is certainly acting out of character by trying to preserve your virtue for Vladimir, and to me, that indicates he’s sincere about having you after you’re wed. But take heed. Colonel Rycroft has no cause to play such waiting games. Once you encourage him, you may be hard-pressed to dissuade him from carrying out your initiation forthwith. You’re but a girl, innocent of the passions that can goad a man. If you tempt him overmuch, I’m afraid you’ll see just how hard the colonel is driven.”

“Surely he is besieged with strumpets where he lives. I’ve heard it rumored that the harlots zealously seek out the foreigners who come here without kith and kin. Colonel Rycroft should be exhausted by now from all their attention.”

“Who spills such gossip about the man?” Natasha queried indignantly.

Synnovea was amazed by her friend’s outrage. “Anna was positive that Colonel Rycroft liberally availed himself of their services.”

“As if she would know!” Natasha scoffed in derision. Beckoning Synnovea near, she spoke in a hushed tone as if revealing an intimate secret in a crowded room. “I’ve heard it said that Colonel Rycroft has dumbfounded many of his fellow officers by turning down invitations put forth by several young boyarinas who’ve recently been widowed and yearn to have him as their lover. In view of the fact that he has refused to accept what has been freely offered by women who are attractive as well as wealthy, do you suppose that he’d be wont to lay out coins to appease himself with harlots? He seems intent upon his work and winning you, so if it’s your plan to trick him, you should be warned. He won’t consider it kindly if you tempt him unduly and then torment him with a refusal.”

Synnovea felt strangely placated by Natasha’s news, yet she searched the woman’s face wonderingly. “Are you suggesting that I choose another to serve as my so-called debaucher?”

“Are you really so bent on going through with this farce?” Natasha countered in amazement, but she waved away any answer when she searched the translucent orbs and recognized the depth of the girl’s mettle. “Never mind. I can see for myself that you mean to have your way in this matter, and although I’m reluctant to see you sacrifice the affections of the Englishman in your wild scheme, I cannot imagine anyone who’d serve your purpose as well as Colonel Rycroft. At least, if you cannot hold him off, you’ll likely be gifted with a beautiful child to remind you of him long years after he’s gone.”

Synnovea frowned petulantly. “You’re not being at all encouraging.”

“No, but I am being truthful,” Natasha pointed out. “If the thought of bearing a child outside of marriage frightens you, my dear, then you should at least consider the difficulty you’ll have holding off the colonel’s advances. He has made it clear that he wants you enough to petition the tsar for an opportunity to court you. He hasn’t done that for any other woman. How can you even dare believe that he’ll keep his breeches in place once you’ve lured him to his quarters? If you ask me, you haven’t taken into consideration the harsh consequences you’ll suffer if things go awry.”

“I have! Night and day! I’ve also imagined the horror I’ll likely feel once I’m ensconced in Vladimir’s bed. That’s exactly the kind of reaction that Aleksei is counting on to drive me to him, but if he thinks Colonel Rycroft has had his way with me, Aleksei will be leery of what vermin a man with his reputation may have left behind.”

Natasha heaved a laborious sigh, yielding to her arguments. “What do you intend?”

Synnovea thoughtfully set forth the requirements needed for the success of her plan. “’Twill be necessary for Aleksei and his paid cohorts to discover their mistake about an hour and a half after you leave here. That will give the colonel and me time to reach his quarters and have a glass or two of wine, but little else. It’s a fair distance to the German district. I dared to time it the other day while those hooligans followed my coach. Still, if you tell Stenka to halt the coach too late, or if something else goes awry, there’ll be no help for me. You’re the only one I can trust to see this thing through according to my directions. I won’t be able to hold the colonel at bay forever. Once Aleksei arrives with his rabble, hopefully circumstances will appear far worse than they actually are and Aleksei will be convinced that he has little choice but to tell my betrothed of my indiscretion. Vladimir’s rejection of me will accomplish the rest.”

Feeling a niggling apprehension about the whole ruse, Natasha sought again to offer her young friend counsel. “What do you expect will happen when Colonel Rycroft and Aleksei confront each other? Do you honestly think the colonel will give you up without a fight?”

“Hopefully he will be wise enough to know that quarreling with Aleksei will be futile, and will make good his escape as I will urge him to do.”

“I doubt the colonel will be in a logical frame of mind after being interrupted on the very threshold of having his way with you.”

“He’ll have no choice but to flee once he sees the band of men that Aleksei will bring with him.”

“Dear child, this whole plan of yours is dangerous,” Natasha replied fretfully. “In time you may be sorry you’ve scandalized your reputation, but after the deed is done, there’ll be little you can say or do to make it all right again. And don’t imagine that it will go as smoothly as you hope. Even in the best of plans, something usually goes wrong, and if you’re not the one who’ll pay, then have some regard for Colonel Rycroft. He’s a foreigner in this country. Who will go to his aid or defense if he’s taken? The tsar may consider the divestment of your virginity an affront to your father’s memory and seek serious retribution from the colonel.”

“Then I shall speak in his behalf,” Synnovea stated stubbornly and, at the elder’s incredulous stare, lifted her shoulders in a dismal shrug. “If need be, I’ll plead my cause to Tsar Mikhail and admit that it was I who deliberately enticed the Englishman for the purpose of escaping marriage to Vladimir.”

“Now that should be a tale to raise a few brows,” Natasha remarked, flicking her own eyebrows briefly upward to display her skepticism.

Synnovea went down on her knees before the woman and gazed up at her pleadingly. “Oh, Natasha, if I don’t try this, there’ll be no escape for me. Aleksei will never give me peace until I yield myself to him, and once I’m married, I’ll be forever bound to Vladimir until one of us is laid in the grave.”

Natasha heaved a gloomy sigh. “I can certainly understand your reluctance to wed an ancient. When I was much younger, I abhorred the idea of submitting myself to my first husband. Though he was kind, he was great in years, actually younger than Vladimir by five years, and I found no joy in our bed.”

Synnovea laid her cheek upon the woman’s knee. “I don’t hate Vladimir, Natasha. He’s a far better man than Aleksei might have chosen had he been given more time. It’s just that—”

“I know, Synnovea. There’s no need for you to explain. Your head has been filled with glorious visions of love and marriage similar to what your parents shared together. If anyone is to blame for the hopes you cling to, then it’s Aleksandr and Eleanora. They wanted you to know the same joy and devotion they snared.”

“Perhaps Anna was right,” Synnovea murmured dejectedly. “Perhaps I’ve been pampered too much in my life.”

“If that be true, my dear, then I’m inclined to believe that all children should be coddled in the same manner, for you have all the qualities I would desire to see in a daughter.” Natasha stroked the dark head affectionately. “Don’t concern yourself about Anna and the insults she would lay upon you. She lives in her own private hell, and she seeks to share her fate with others. We must forget her and set our minds now to more important matters, such as refining this ingenious plan of yours. The less left to chance, the better it will be for you— and Colonel Rycroft. Of course, you know there’ll be a definite chance that he’ll hate you after this. A man’s pride is most tender when his affections and emotions are carelessly used by a woman.”

Synnovea was discomforted by the idea that Tyrone would come to hate her, but she had already laid out the path that she must take, and she wasn’t about to veer from it now. “The colonel will live through this blow to his confidence far better than Vladimir would if I were to reveal my aversion to him. Should I tell the truth and lay the old man low, even so much as in the grave?”

Natasha shook her head in doleful denial. “No, no, child! I would not see you harm the old prince in such a way. Still, I’m reluctant to see you waste the affections of such a man as the colonel.”

Synnovea lifted her head and searched the saddened eyes of the elder. “Would you have me give myself to him so his pride might be spared?”

A glum frown puckered Natasha’s brows. “If only we could find another way to accomplish what you have in mind. I had such high hopes for Colonel Rycroft. I was sure that of all the men who’ve admired you, he’d be the one to win you.”

Synnovea averted her face, not willing to admit that she had seen more in him than she had ever cared to divulge to anyone. It was some moments before she tore her mind free from her own misgivings and glanced up to see that the dark eyes had grown misty with tears. Though the woman’s despondency brought home to her the gravity of her plot, Synnovea couldn’t find it in herself to halt the plummeting grains of time that would see her own ends accomplished in this affair.