Scoundrel's Honor (Russian Connection 3)

Emma could not contain her shiver. She was well aware of Dimitri’s hot, lingering glances. How could she not be? The air itself seemed to catch fire the moment he entered the room. And she would be lying if she did not admit that she had spent more than one night aching for his touch.

But she had made her decision to bring an end to their affair. A decision that was only strengthened by the realization that she would never be capable of keeping her secrets hidden while sharing a bed with Dimitri Tipova.

How long would it be before the incorrigible man not only realized she was making her own inquiries throughout London in an effort to locate Anya, but that there was a strange man supposedly keeping watch over her?

No. Whatever the te

mptation, she had to keep in mind that Dimitri had his own purpose in being in London. And if she, or Anya, had to be sacrificed to achieve that goal, then so be it.

“Desiring me in his bed and including me in his search for my sister is not at all the same,” she said, her voice bitter. “He refuses to admit I might have some value beyond my body.”

Leonida sighed. “Men are so sadly stupid.”

“I doubt you would include your husband in your condemnation of the opposite sex.”

“Of course I would,” the duchess corrected. “Until I managed to properly train him, Stefan was as arrogant, insensitive and incapable of accepting a woman’s ability to make her own decisions as Dimitri.”

“Do you truly believe a man such as Dimitri Tipova could be trained by any woman?”

“You would not ask that question if you knew Stefan’s brother, Edmond.” Leonida set aside her teacup and rose to her feet. “I do not envy Brianna for the torment that man put her through before they wed. Of course now she is excessively happy.”

Emma’s heart twisted with an emotion perilously close to envy. She would be a fool to ever believe she shared more than a passing affair with Dimitri. Her destiny was a small coaching inn in Yabinsk. To yearn for more was only inviting disappointment.

“Enough of Dimitri Tipova,” she snapped. “I am here for Anya, no other purpose.”

“Certainly,” Leonida calmly agreed. “How can I be of service?”

Emma sucked in a deep breath, regaining her composure. “Your maid was kind enough to discover that Lady Sanderson enjoys a late morning stroll through Green Park.”

“Good.” With brisk steps, the duchess moved toward the door. “Then we should be on our way.”

Emma hurried behind the woman as she headed down the long hall and then the marble sweep of stairs.

“There is no need for you to accompany me, Leonida,” she protested. “You have done enough as it is.”

“Nonsense.” Pausing in the foyer, Leonida waited for a maid to scurry forward with a fawn cloak lined with fur and matching bonnet she settled on her golden curls. “I am going with you and there will be no arguments.”

Hastily Emma pulled on a pair of warm gloves and a pretty bonnet trimmed with blue velvet ribbons.

“I cannot allow you to put yourself in danger.”

“What danger can there be in a morning stroll through Green Park with two burly footmen to keep guard?”

Emma studied her companion’s resolute expression, then she heaved a sigh of resignation.

“You are very stubborn.”

Leonida chuckled. “So I have been told.”

There was a brief wait as the groom scurried to bring around a black carriage with the Duke of Huntley’s insignia painted on the side. But soon enough they were settled on the leather seats with blankets swaddled around them and warmed bricks beneath their feet.

Emma instinctively shifted to peer out the window as they rattled over the cobblestones, a sigh of appreciation escaping her lips as they turned onto Park Lane. Her gaze lingered on the palatial Grosvenor House with its stuccoed exterior and two-story bays that overlooked Hyde Park with aloof grandeur. And the less flamboyant Londonderry House that had been originally designed with a formal simplicity by Stewart and was in the process of lavish restorations. Leonida had whispered that Lady Londonderry was funding the alterations and desired to have a suitable setting to display her famous diamonds.

“London is perhaps not as elegant as St. Petersburg, but it has its own charm, do you not think?” Leonida murmured.

“I do,” Emma readily agreed, a wistful smile curving her lips. “It is just as my mother described it.”

“Yes, Dimitri mentioned your mother was English.”