Scandalous Deception (Russian Connection 1)

Edmond’s features remained set in grim lines. Alexander Pavlovich and the numerous difficulties of negotiating the dangerous waters of the Russian Court were worries for another day.

“You cannot understand,” he muttered.

“Not unless you explain, my dear,” Vanya said, moving to give his arm a light squeeze. “Tell me why you hesitate. Does it have something to do with your parents?”

Edmond closed his eyes against the age-old pain that slammed into him. “They died because of me.”

“No, Edmond. It was nothing more than an accident.” The older woman patiently waited until Edmond forced open his eyes to meet her steady gaze. “It had nothing to do with you.”

Edmond had heard the meaningless words too many times to take comfort in them. “They would never have been on their yacht that night if I had not been in trouble with the Magistrate.”

Vanya’s fingers tightened on his arm as she gave an impatient shake of her head.

“And who is to say that they would not have died in a carriage accident on the way to some social event? Or succumbed to the fever that ravaged Surrey only a few weeks later?” she demanded. “You are not God, Edmond, as much as you enjoy playing the role. You do not possess the power over life and death.”

“You can say what you will, Vanya, but because of my decisions, they died. I will not have that happen to another.”

“Another?” Vanya stilled, as if struck by a sudden, unwelcome realization. Then, without warning, she reached up to gently pat his cheek. “Oh, my dearest, what a heavy burden you have been carrying.”

“If it is a burden, then it is one of my own making.”

“No, it is not, and you have punished yourself long enough.” With a brisk motion, Vanya took a step backward and squared her shoulders, as if preparing for battle. “Edmond, I knew your mother for near forty years, and I can tell you that the one thing she desired above all others was for her sons to be content in their lives.” Her eyes narrowed with a stern determination. “To seek happiness is not betraying your parents’ memory. Indeed, it is the only true means to honor them.”

With jerky steps, Edmond moved to peer out the window. The thick clouds had at last parted to allow the morning sunlight to reflect off the snow with a breathtaking brilliance, making the streets appear to be dusted with diamonds. Farther away, he could make out the silhouettes of skaters and pedestrians that crowded the Neva.

There was something almost magical in the sight of St. Petersburg on winter’s morning, but Edmond barely noted the beauty spread before him. Instead he forced himself to actually consider Vanya’s accusation.

“I do not seek to punish myself,” he at last said, more to reassure himself than to convince the older woman.

A good thing, since she was shaking her head as the denial was tumbling from his lips.

“That is exactly what you are doing.” She deliberately paused. “And worse, you are punishing that lovely young lady who lies upstairs. She deserves better.”

Edmond abruptly turned, for the first time forced to consider the notion that, in his determination to protect Brianna, he had actually managed to hurt her even worse. His heart twisted at the painful memo

ry of Brianna’s ashen countenance and wounded eyes just before she had literally and figuratively slammed the door in his face.

Ignoring Vanya’s speculative gaze, Edmond slowly paced across the parquet floor, struggling to make sense of the chaos that ruled his mind.

What if…

The entrance of a maid brought his relentless pacing to a halt.

“Your guests have arrived,” she announced.

“Thank you, Sophie, that will be all.” As if sensing she had managed to plant the seeds of doubt in his mind, Vanya swept majestically toward the door, a satisfied smile curving her lips. “Just think upon what I have said, my dear.”

Edmond watched Vanya sweep from the room before turning to glare out the window. He had sought out the woman for answers, not to be chastised as if he were a child. And to make matters worse, he could not dismiss the stinging reproach.

He remained lost in dark thought until the sound of heavy footsteps intruded. Turning, he found Boris at the door, his caped coat dusted with snow and his glossy boots thick with mud. With a flick of his hand, Boris tossed a brown-wrapped package toward Edmond, the scent of freshly roasted chestnuts filling the air.

Edmond caught the package with a grimace. He had sent Boris to purchase the treat in the hopes of tempting Brianna’s appetite. A worthless task over the past days.

“Did you come across a bit of rancid eel in your breakfast this morning, Summerville?” Boris demanded, his arms folded over his chest.

“What the devil…you know very well that I detest eel, Boris.”

“Then there must be some other reason for you to look so ill. Perhaps I should summon a doctor.”