Scoundrel's Honor (Russian Connection 3)

Despite Alexander Pavlovich’s best attempts to rid Russia of its barbaric reputation there remained a blatant belief among the nobles that they possessed the God-given right to treat serfs however they pleased. Indeed, it was rumored the czar’s own military advisor had recently beat to death one of his peasants.

Still, there was a growing disapproval toward such outlandish behavior as the czar became increasingly pious, filling his royal court with his more conservative supporters.

He shook his head, turning his thoughts to more important matters.

“You have not yet explained why you are in Cairo.”

The older man shrugged. “Once I discovered that Sanderson had been arrested I knew it was only a matter of time before the idiot revealed my part in the—”

“Trafficking of children?” Dimitri supplied.

“Arrangement.”

“I do not understand.” Dimitri tilted his head to the side, a goading smile on his face. “If noblemen are above morals, then what do you care if your sins are exposed to the world?”

“Unlike his proud ancestors, Alexander Pavlovich is a weak, ineffective ruler who has allowed himself to become a tedious prude.” His words echoed Dimitri’s earlier thoughts. “His father would have been ashamed to know he had spawned such a spineless bore.”

Dimitri shuddered. Czar Paul had been a brutal, stupid man, and a notoriously corrupt leader who had been increasingly unstable before his timely demise.

But then again, it was predictable that his father would prefer the man who had repealed Catherine’s laws intended to protect the peasants.

“Hardly spineless.” He settled more comfortably on the leather seat. “Alexander Pavlovich did, after all, manage to take the throne when he was still little more than a lad. A bold stroke.”

“A knife in the back is the behavior of a coward.”

“A rabid dog has to be put down by any means necessary.”

The count made a sound of disgust, typically more concerned with his perverted sense of honor than the most basic morality.

“You would certainly think so. Peasants have no notion of honor.”

Dimitri studied the man seated across from him, shifting through the confusing emotions that battered him.

For so many years Count Nevskaya had been the demon who haunted his life. The choices he had made, the sacrifices he’d suffered and the ruthless hunger to achieve a place in the world where he could never be a victim had all been due to his father.

Now as he sat across from the blackguard, he wondered why he had ever given him such power over his existence.

Not that he didn’t still hate him with a violent passion. Or wish him into the fiery pits of hell.

But he was beginning to realize that Count Nevskaya was a cold, insignificant fool who had condemned himself to a life of lonely misery years ago.

A man who no longer had the power to hurt him.

A heady sense of relief raced through his blood. As if a heavy weight had been taken off his shoulders.

Or perhaps it was his heart.

“Do you truly believe yourself superior to me simply because of an accident of birth?” he demanded.

His father sniffed, offended by the mere question. “I am Count Nevskaya, an ancient and noble title. The blood of royalty flows through my veins.”

“And yet, for all your grand titles and royal blood you have squandered your fortune and have become a common beggar, pleading to your wife’s brother to keep your roof from tumbling onto your head.”

Dimitri took pleasure in reminding the pompous twit. “And of course, you are forced into kidnapping helpless children with the assistance of ridiculous buffoons such as Sanderson to support your debauchery.” A cold smile curved his lips. “I, on the other hand, have amassed a vast fortune and purchased more than a dozen estates that are all fully staffed with loyal servants.”

“You are an uncouth savage,” his father snarled.

“And yet, I am welcomed at the Winter Palace while you have now become a source of embarrassment,” Dimitri pressed. “No one in society would allow you across their thresholds.”