8.2

“Permit me to introduce myself, Boyarina ,”

the tallest one bade.

“I’m Prince Feodor Vladimirovich, eldest son of Prince Vladimir Dimitrievich, and these”—he swept a hand around to indicate his cohorts—“are my brothers, second-born Igor, then Petr, Stefan, Vasilii, Nikita, and Sergei, the youngest.”

As he introduced them, each man responded with a broad grin and clicked his heels in a brief, clipped bow.

As the eldest, Feodor assumed the part of spokesman while his brothers crowded close around him.

Together they awaited her response to his inquiry.

“And your name.

Boyarina? ”

Smiling graciously, Synnovea sank into a deep curtsy as she strained to keep the hoarse rasp in her voice softly subdued.

“The Countess Synnovea Altynai Zenkovna, recently arrived from Nizhni Novgorod.”

Sergei swaggered around his older siblings to eagerly ask, “Do you have any sisters?”

Then, with a shrug, he complained, “There are so many of us, but only one of you.”

For the first time that evening.

Synnovea was able to smile with lighthearted gaiety, and she gave them a pretty shrug.

“I fear not, Prince Sergei.

As fate would have it, I was an only child.”

“And your husband?”

Curious, he cocked a dark brow and asked with bated breath, “Where is he?”

Soft, husky laughter preceded her answer.

“Your pardon, most gracious Prince, but I have none.”

“A pity!”

he lamented with a happy chortle.

Smoothing his kaftan in a confident manner, he stepped before her and executed a flamboyant bow.

Upon straightening, he begged, “Permit me, Countess, to express an avid appreciation of your beauty.

In all my score of years I’ve never seen a maid so wondrously fair.

You’d bestow upon me a great honor if you’d allow me to court you—”

Immediately he was shoved aside by the dark-eyed Stefan, who offered a warm smile as he took the place formerly occupied by his brother.

“Sergei is but a boy, Countess, a youth of no experience.

I, on the other hand, have a score and ten years to my claim, and though ’tis also true that I’ve seen none to equal your radiance, I’m sure you’ll agree that I’m better-looking than Sergei.”

“Ha!”

the hulking Igor scoffed and swung an arm backward to send Stefan stumbling in retreat.

Stroking his handsome beard, Igor settled in a bold stance before her as his blue eyes twinkled back at her.

“None of my brothers can equal my experience…”

With a challenging brow raised, he cast glances from side to side at his siblings as he boasted, “Or my good looks.”

Hearty guffaws accompanied his statement, attesting to the skepticism of his brothers, who commenced to argue among themselves.

Amid all of their squabbling, an excessive amount of rough jostling and painful nudging ensued.

“Not so! I’m the best-looking!”

“Come, now! Would you have the countess believe such lies when I’m here for her to see?”

“It’s a shame you haven’t taken a good look at yourself lately.

I’ll warrant I’ve seen better faces on the hind end of a bear!”

Synnovea was about to giggle, but gasped instead as the offended one doubled his fist and bashed the nose of the one who had insulted him.

The brothers promptly set themselves to determining the matter by force, at least until a throaty harrumph came from close behind them.

The sound had an effect on the brothers that Synnovea found no less than astounding.

It cooled their tempers like a pail of icy water.

In sudden haste they stumbled backward to open a path for an older man who ambled forward with a rolling gait, as if he had spent his lifetime on the deck of a ship.

Not even Colonel Rycroft or Ladislaus matched this one’s height, for the newcomer was at least half a head taller than either of those two stalwarts.

Synnovea had some difficulty hiding her own amazement as the white-haired ancient approached her. Upon halting beside Sergei, the old man laid a huge hand upon the lad’s shoulder.

“What is this bickering about now?”

he rumbled in a deep voice, closely perusing the young maiden.

“The Countess Zenkovna has no sisters, Papa,”

the youth answered.

“We were trying to decide which of us would court her.”

“Indeed?”

The comely maid had already aroused the old man’s interest, and he was much encouraged by his son’s comment.

Though a bit slender for his taste, she was nevertheless rounded in all the right places and had enough height to accommodate his enormous frame.

The idea of such an event appealed to him, and with a brightening gleam in his eyes, he swept a forefinger beneath his heavy mustache, flickering up the curving ends.

He offered his most ardent smile, displaying a full set of white teeth.

“If you’ll allow me to introduce myself, Countess. I’m Prince Vladimir Dimitrievitch, and these, as I’m sure you’ve already ascertained, are my sons. Have they introduced themselves?”

“Most capably, my lord prince,”

Synnovea responded, dipping again into a polite curtsy.

In the next moment she braced herself for the worst when she happened to glance past his arm and espied Anna forging a channel through a collection of guests who had meandered to the doorway to watch the antics of the princely brood.

“What’s going on here?”

the princess demanded, trying to sound gracious, but failing badly.

Whatever disturbance was transpiring, she marked Synnovea as the source of the trouble.

A sidelong glare clearly conveyed that fact to her ward, giving that one cause to wonder what punishment would be forthcoming.

“My sons and I were making the acquaintance of this fair maid,”

Vladimir explained.

“Might I ask why we were not informed of the Countess Zenkovna’s presence sooner?”

Anna opened her mouth several times while she struggled to find some viable reason and finally, with a feeble smile, replied, “I wasn’t aware that you wanted to meet her.”

“Nonsense! Any man would be interested in making the acquaintance of a beautiful woman.

At least, she doesn’t bore me to tears!”

His comment carried the full weight of his rejection of Ivan’s discourse as well as a firm rebuff for Anna’s attempts to sway his considerations in favor of the cleric.

Though he might have been deemed an ancient by the standards of some, Vladimir hadn’t yet lost his wits.

What he had heard tonight led him to wonder just where Ivan’s loyalties were rooted.

In spite of her temporary defeat, Anna fixed a smile on her lips and, with as much graciousness as she could convey, faced Synnovea.

“I believe I saw Natasha’s carriage coming up the lane in front of the house.

Would you care to greet her, my dear?”

“Yes, of course.”

Once again Synnovea sank in gracious obeisance before the elderly prince.

“If you’ll excuse me, Prince Vladimir, my friend has arrived, and I’d like very much to see her.”

Bestowing a smile upon her, the old man inclined his head, granting his permission.

Synnovea slipped quickly through the guests, greeting friends and acquaintances as she went.

When she entered the main hall, Aleksei was just making his way down the stairs.

Though she saw no immediate evidence of a wound, he was descending very carefully, as if fearful that his head would tumble from its perch.

At her hesitant glance, he gave her a menacing glower, leaving no doubt that he wouldn’t rest until he had either his revenge or his way with her.

“Synnovea, my dear child!”

Natasha cried with a cheery laugh from the doorway, claiming her attention.

“Come here and let me look at you!”

Coolly rejecting Aleksei’s silent threat, Synnovea turned and eagerly extended her hands in welcome as she hastened forward.

“Natasha, you look absolutely ravishing!”

The elder laughed and sashayed around in a circle for the benefit of the younger woman.

Her black and silver-trimmed sarafan not only complimented her porcelain skin but also lent dramatic emphasis to her darkly lashed, ebony eyes.

When left undraped, her black hair seemed touched with a hoary frost, but at the moment, the mass was covered by a shimmering, silver-hued veil and a kokoshniki adorned with finely wrought silver filigree and precious stones.

“Lovely!”

Synnovea exclaimed, perusing the woman.

It came to her suddenly that whatever enmity Anna bore Natasha might have sprouted from a simple seed of jealousy.

Though the princess was younger by three years, her pale-haired good looks had declined far more rapidly than those of the countess, whose skin still glowed with a soft, youthful luster.

Few wrinkles could be noted in the elegant widow’s face.

Indeed, she was every bit as ravishing in her maturing years as any woman could hope to be.

“This has been a most enlightening week,”

Natasha avouched with a warm chuckle.

“I’ve been fortunate enough to hear the most delectable gossip.”

“If it’s about Prince Aleksei, please spare me,”

Synnovea begged with a genuine lack of interest.

“I’ve come to detest the man!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t bore you with that rubbish, my dear.

What I’ve been hearing is much more thrilling than anything he has ever done.”

“Zelda wanted to share some news with me, too, but she had to leave before she could tell me what it was.”

Synnovea looped an arm through the woman’s elbow and led her to a padded bench in a quiet corner of the great room.

“Now here you are, seeming enormously elated.

Has Tsar Mikhail chosen a wife perchance?”

“Oh, no, my dear.”

Natasha leaned forward eagerly, but when Boris stepped near to offer them a variety of libations from a silver tray she was forced to bide her time.

Accepting a glass of fruited wine, Natasha thanked the servant and waited until he had moved away to other guests before she faced her young friend again.

“You wouldn’t believe the furor that has been caused in the Kremlin within the last weeks.

Why, the very air is abuzz with rumors of a certain Englishman….”

Synnovea’s lovely mouth parted in surprise, and in spite of the quickening pace of her heart, she managed to quell the nervous trembling in her voice as she asked, “Do you mean Colonel Rycroft?”

Gathering her brows into a semblance of perplexity, Natasha inquired, “Isn’t he the same officer who rescued you from that Polish renegade…oh, what was his name…?”

“Ladislaus?”

A delicately winged brow arched in sharp suspicion as Synnovea studied the woman.

Natasha looked very pleased with herself, as if waiting for the right moment to spring a surprise.

“Where did you hear about Ladislaus? I don’t recall mentioning anything about his attack on my carriage.”

The silver veil glimmered in the candlelight as Natasha shook her head woefully and heaved a dejected sigh.

“To think that I was the last to be told.

I’m crushed to think how little regard you have for me.”

Synnovea was growing increasingly apprehensive.

“I only spoke of that brigand when I had to.”

“Oh, I’ve been hearing rumors about him, too,”

Natasha assured her.

“It seems he has been seen a time or two in Moscow since his attack on your coach, but he always manages to elude the tsar’s soldiers.

There has even been some rumblings about Ladislaus wanting to repay the Englishman for the losses that he and his men suffered at his hands.”

Synnovea might as well have been sitting on a powder keg.

The best she could offer the woman was a noncommittal conjecture.

“Colonel Rycroft would likely welcome a confrontation if it meant the return of the horse that Ladislaus stole from him, but I rather doubt that their encounter would be a contest of arms the fainthearted could easily watch.”

“I really don’t think the colonel is concerning himself overmuch with Ladislaus at the present time, my dear,”

Natasha dared to speculate.

“I believe he has other things he considers of greater importance on his mind.”

Synnovea peered at Natasha obliquely, not knowing if she’d be able to bear the news which the woman was obviously just brimming to tell.

Perhaps it was wiser by far to find a place to hide before she heard what was being bandied about.

Still, she couldn’t resist a shaky inquiry.

“What could be more important to him than catching Ladislaus?”

“Why, his petition to the tsar, for one thing,”

the older woman replied with an effervescent smile.

Synnovea gulped and repeated in a tentative tone, “Petition to the tsar?”

Natasha curbed a smile of amusement, taking unusual delight in prolonging her friend’s discomfiture.

“I’m utterly amazed, Synnovea, that you of all people haven’t heard about Colonel Rycroft’s request.”

She shrugged blithely.

“But then, I must remember that Anna has been keeping you prisoner, hasn’t she? A pity.”

“Why should the colonel’s entreaty be of interest to me?”

The older countess flicked her fine eyebrows upward as she looked at Synnovea in feigned amazement.

“Why, because he has been making petitions to the tsar to court you.”

Synnovea clutched a trembling hand to her throat, feeling the heat of a blush suffuse her cheeks.

“He didn’t actually dare?”

It was rare to see the cool poise of the younger woman so thoroughly disrupted, especially by reports of a suitor’s bold intentions, but such an occurrence awakened some hope within Natasha’s heart that there was indeed a man who could thaw the blood of this beautiful ice maiden.

“Oh, but he did!”

she eagerly assured her young friend.

“Most persuasively, too, from what I hear! He explained about having had the opportunity to meet you after saving you from the band of thieves, and then asked if there were any Russian laws that forbade him from paying court to you.”

The rapid racing of her pulse prompted Synnovea to fan herself.

Breathlessly she concluded, “I am ruined!”

“On the contrary, my dear.

Mikhail told Colonel Rycroft that he would seriously consider his petition after reviewing the facts.

But, of course, since then there has been no evidence to indicate His Majesty’s decision, for it seems that shortly after Colonel Rycroft made his plea, Major Nikolai Nekrasov also entreated the tsar for the same favor.

If I dare venture a guess, I’d say that Nikolai heard about the Englishman’s plea and decided to establish his own claim on you.

Indeed, it seemed the two men were on their way to becoming fast friends until they found themselves at odds over you.”

Synnovea groaned in abject misery as she thought of the two appealing to the tsar for permission to woo her, as if he didn’t have better things to ponder.

“How dare they drag my name before the tsar without asking my consent!”

Natasha contemplated her young friend in dubious wonder.

“Have you become so accustomed to the mores of other countries, Synnovea, that you’ve forgotten how such affairs are handled here? You should know that asking a maid first for permission isn’t the way an arrangement of courtship is accomplished here in Russia.

Besides, if either Colonel Rycroft or Major Nekrasov had been confident of Prince Aleksei granting them approval, they’d have gone to him, but Anna made it apparent, especially to the Englishman, that he wasn’t welcome in this house, so he went to a higher authority.”

Her brows shot up briefly as she chuckled.

“The tsar himself, no less.

Major Nekrasov only followed his lead.”

“I’ve given Colonel Rycroft no encouragement!”

Synnovea declared in swift defense of her own actions, but as soon as the words were uttered, she knew they weren’t necessarily the truth.

Hadn’t she cast the full blame on Anna when she had told Tyrone that he shouldn’t come back to the Taraslov manse? Hadn’t she allowed him entry into her room without alerting others of his midnight visit?

And hadn’t she given him a miniature of herself and yielded her lips to his kiss before his departure?

If she had casually dismissed the probability of his beseeching the tsar’s favor when he had declared that he’d do that very thing, why was she so upset now?

Why was she all aflutter? Was she angry at him…or with herself for being less than fully dedicated to the task of discouraging him?

Natasha had noticed that Synnovea hadn’t offered similar assurances of her conduct with the major.

Either the girl had encouraged Nikolai and didn’t care to reveal that fact, or she had never considered the major a serious contender for her affections.

Natasha was curious to know the full extent of the truth.

“And did you encourage Major Nekrasov?”

Synnovea was scandalized by the idea.

“Of course not! He’s a friend, nothing more.”

Natasha smiled smugly.

“A man like Colonel Rycroft needs no encouragement, does he? He simply seeks out what he desires to have and now has made it evident that he desires to have you. my dear.”

“I don’t even know the man!”

Synnovea insisted in a frail attempt to banish any blame for his efforts to win her.

“Now what are you saying, child? Wasn’t he the one who saved you from that rogue Ladislaus? Wasn’t he the one who carried you to your coach in the rainstorm?”

Natasha’s lips curved into a sublime smile as her friend’s cheeks took on a bright glow.

“You certainly seemed to know him then, for you made no protest when he lifted you in his arms.

Would you have willingly allowed a stranger to pick you up?”

“No, of course, not,”

Synnovea admitted lamely.

“Then the two of you have obviously met.”

“Only briefly!”

Synnovea emphasized her words, struggling to convince her friend.

“Never formally!”

The older countess slowly nodded in smiling serenity.

“Apparently it was enough to spark the colonel’s interest.”

“I intend to discourage the man,”

Synnovea announced emphatically as she sought to convince herself that that was exactly what she should do.

“What a shame.”

Natasha’s carefully devised dejection was accompanied by a soft, wistful sigh.

“I must admit that I’m among the ladies who are simply agog over the officer.

There hasn’t been this much excitement over a man since the first false Dmitri tried to claim the tsardom a good twenty years ago and his remains were blown out of a cannon.

I tell you.

Synnovea, Colonel Rycroft excites me!”

Almost dreamily, she drummed her slender fingers lightly upon her goblet.

“Have you seen the way he sits the back of a horse, my dear?”

She already knew the answer, but hurried on with her boasting.

“Ramrod-straight he rides, yet with fluid movements that make him seem an integral part of the horse.

Can you imagine such a man in your bed?”

Synnovea felt a scalding heat rising in her cheeks as she recalled his hard, naked body pressing against her own.

“Certainly not!”

Natasha ignored her breathless answer.

Though Synno vea denied the possibility that she had ever entertained such thoughts, Natasha was of a mind to think differently.

Surely the progressing tide of color sweeping into her cheeks was enough to confirm the vividness of the girl’s imagination.

She was simply protesting too much to be believed.

“So! You have thought about him?”

For a moment Synnovea’s lovely mouth hung aslack as she met the older woman’s smiling regard.

Then, ever so slightly, the pearl-encrusted headdress dipped forward in acknowledgment.

“Briefly.”

“Oh, Synnovea.”

Natasha sighed in a gently chiding tone.

“Were I a score of years younger, I’d certainly see that such a man was adequately distracted by my attentions.”

Synnovea looked at the woman in some wonder.

Natasha was barely ten years older than the Englishman and attractive enough to be able to ensnare his attention if she so desired it.

A younger, less experienced maid would have cause to worry if she found herself hopelessly smitten with the colonel and he had eyes only for Natasha.

There would likely be no contest.

“If ever I should relent and admit the colonel into my presence, I shall make haste to introduce him to you,”

Synnovea gallantly proposed.

“No need for that, my dear,”

Natasha assured her with an amused chortle.

“That event has already taken place.

Prince Zherkof introduced us after Colonel Rycroft put on an exhibition in the Kremlin the other day.

It was magnificent, my dear.

You should have seen it. I was completely enthralled with the horsemanship of the colonel and his troop. I think the tsar was pleased, too. At least, he appeared to be.”

“When was that?”

Synnovea queried carefully, wondering if she had seen him that day.

Natasha’s lips twitched faintly as she fought a small battle with her composure.

“Well, I’m not exactly sure, my dear, but it also seems that I saw you near Red Square that day, too.

Did you go to Kitaigorod to shop for some thing, perhaps? And were you perchance wearing your peasant attire?”

Synnovea wanted to groan, fearing the woman had witnessed the event which had caused nearly the whole marketplace to halt and stare.

“I was there, but I didn’t see you.”

“Oh, it really doesn’t matter,”

Natasha told her, noting her friend’s distress.

“What does count is the fact that I’ve had the opportunity to invite the colonel to my home next week, along with some of his officers and a few of my most intimate friends.

Prince Zherkof will be there, and, of course, my dear, you’re also invited.

I do hope that you can persuade Anna to allow you to attend.

I’ve heard rumors that she has finally decided to hasten to her father’s bedside. If that’s true, then perhaps you’ll be staying with me when the colonel comes to visit. Your presence at the affair would no doubt encourage a windfall of handsome men.”

Synnovea’s brow peaked as she regarded the elder.

“Is it my company you seek or that of the colonel?”

“Both!”

Natasha answered with unabashed enthusiasm and laid a hand upon the younger woman’s arm as she smilingly coaxed, “And this time, my dear, please don’t be so formidable and aloof.

I’m sure if I hear the name ‘ice maiden’ bestowed upon you one more time, I shall give up trying to find you a proper husband.

I once told your father, ‘Aleksandr,’ I said, ‘that girl should marry ere she’s too old to have babies!’ And he said to me, ‘Natasha, stop your nagging.

I’m waiting for her to fall in love.’ Bah!”

The woman threw up her hands in a gesture of frustration and leaned near Synnovea to share a bit of womanly wisdom.

“The way you fall in love, my dear, is to make babies with a man like Colonel Rycroft.

I’ll wager you wouldn’t be so cool and distant with him sharing your bed.”

Blushing at the idea, Synnovea answered breathlessly, “Natasha, you’re absolutely scandalous.”

The older countess heaved a wistful sigh.

“That was what my last husband said, and we were married the longest.”

Her eyes glowed softly in warm remembrance as she confided, “But then, Count Emelian Andreyev”—her tongue rolled his name off with loving ease—“never, to my knowledge, seriously looked at another woman all the time we were married.”

Synnovea had often sensed that Natasha had loved her last husband more than her first two.

Her own heart warmed with the idea of such devotion.

“Should I ever marry, Natasha, I shall come to you for advice.

I’m sure you hold all the secrets for keeping a husband happy and content.”

Natasha laughed at the notion.

“I can probably tell you a thing or two.”

She paused to more fully contemplate the matter, and then nodded with conviction.

“In fact, I can probably tell you a great deal about holding a husband’s attention.

And should you marry a man of whom I approve, I’ll try to be most diligent in instructing you.”

Synnovea was immediately suspicious.

“And, of course, you would direct me concerning your choice?”

“Naturally, my dear.”

The corners of Natasha’s lips lifted slyly.

“I should like to begin the formalities by inviting Colonel Rycroft to talk with you while you’re staying at my home.”

She held up a hand to halt any protests that might be forthcoming.

“Is it so much to ask? After all, Colonel Rycroft did save you from being violated by that renegade thief.

Can you not be gracious to the man?”

“You’ll nag me until I agree,”

Synnovea accused with an exaggerated sigh, giving in far more willingly than her earlier protestations seemed to bear out.

“And so I shall, but ’twill not be to my liking.

I warn you of that!”

Natasha folded her hands in genteel contentment.

“We shall see how adamantly you disdain the man, my dear.”

“Though I perceive you’re a true svakhi at heart, Natasha, your matchmaking efforts will do you no good,”

Synnovea warned.

“Anna will never allow the colonel to court me.

She simply detests foreigners.”

Natasha’s smile deepened.

“As I’ve told you, my dear, the man has attracted the attention of the tsar.

’Tis rumored that His Majesty has been so intrigued and entertained by all the mock battles, forays, and drills the colonel and his men have put on that every weekday morning now he goes out and stands on the wall of the Kremlin to watch them.

In view of that fact, my dear, do you think that Tsar Mikhail will be so ill-disposed toward the colonel that he’ll long deny him his heart’s desire? My dearest Synnovea, T wouldn’t put odds on Anna’s power to dissuade her cousin if he happens to grant the colonel’s request.”

“You truly are infatuated with the man, aren’t you?”

Synnovea accused, amazed that the woman could bring herself to express such delight in one of the opposite gender.

Synnovea would have thought that at Natasha’s age, the woman would’ve ceased to be so easily smitten.

Natasha pondered the other’s supposition for the briefest moment before changing it slightly.

“ Taken with the man would be a better description of my feelings, my dear.

’Tis my opinion that men like Colonel Rycroft are a rare breed.”

She nodded.

“A rare breed, indeed.”