Easily recognizing the male voice, Dimitri weighed the pleasure of pulling his pistol and shooting the intruder against Vanya’s annoyance at having her wedding so rudely interrupted.
At last it was the embarrassed pink that brushed Emma’s cheeks that had him turning to confront the damnable man, his arm keeping her tucked protectively against him.
“Gerhardt,” he growled. “This is a private conversation.”
The older but still-handsome man strolled across the room, deliberately ignoring Dimitri’s warning. Not surprising. Herrick Gerhardt was perhaps the second most powerful man in all of Russia.
“Am I intruding?” he murmured.
“Yes,” Dimitri snapped. “Go away.”
“Dimitri.” Emma flashed him a chiding glance at his rudeness, reminding him that Herrick was one of the few people she could claim as family.
Herrick smiled, easily sensing Dimitri’s smoldering frustration.
“I do have a reason for thrusting myself into such an obviously private moment.”
“A desire for an early grave?” Dimitri muttered.
The older man’s smile widened, stirring Dimitri’s suspicions. What was the devil playing at?
“Actually, I have just finished a most intriguing conversation with Alexander Pavlovich,” Herrick drawled.
“And why would your conversation with Czar Alexander be of interest to us?” Dimitri demanded.
“He was most delighted to learn that you have seen the error of your ways and have turned away from your life of sin.”
Dimitri hissed in surprise. He would have bet his last ruble that no one beyond Josef was aware of his intent to leave his position.
“How did you discover my plans?”
Herrick adjusted the lace that peeked from the sleeve of his jacket.
“We all have our little talents.”
Dimitri shuddered, amazed by the man’s uncanny ability to discover even the darkest secrets. If he were not so rational, he might suspect the man of being a mystic.
“You are a frightening man, Herrick Gerhardt.”
Emma stepped away from his tight grip, her expression confused.
“You came here to tell us that the czar approves of Dimitri becoming a proper gentleman?”
Again there was that worrisome smile.
“Not entirely.”
Dimitri narrowed his gaze. “Perhaps we should speak in private.”
“No, I suspect that Emma will be interested in the czar’s decision,” Herrick chuckled. “Do not glare at me, Tipova. You are not about to be hauled before the firing squad. Although in time you might prefer such a fate.”
“Herrick, please.” Emma reached out to place her hand on Herrick’s forearm, her voice not entirely steady. “What has happened?”
Immediate regret chased the amusement from Herrick’s face as he patted her hand in comfort.
“Forgive me, I did not mean to worry you, my dear. That was never my intention,” he ruefully apologized. “I am an old man who must take his pleasure where he can, and I have been savoring the image of Tipova’s expression when I reveal that Alexander Pavlovich has made the decision to create a new title.”
Dimitri took an instinctive step backward, a sense of dread lodging in his gut.