Bound by Love (Russian Connection 2)

“You rarely do,” Leonida murmured. “And never at this hour of the morning.”

Nadia chuckled. “Tell me, ma petite, am I being chided for my indolent habits or for being a less than devoted mother?”

“Neither. I am merely seeking an explanation for this unexpected visit.”

“Mon Dieu.” Nadia plucked the delicate fawn-colored muslin gown from the bed, studying the double row of garnets stitched along the demure neckline. “I wish you would allow my modiste to make your gowns. One could easily be forgiven for mistaking you for a member of the tedious bourgeois rather than a young and beautiful member of Russian nobility. You must think of your position, Leonida.”

It was a familiar argument, and hardly one to lure her mother from her bed at such an early hour.

“As if I am ever allowed to forget,” Leonida muttered.

Nadia turned her dark gaze in Leonida’s direction. “What did you say?”

“I prefer my dressmaker, Mother,” Leonida said, her voice firm. On this subject she would not budge. “She comprehends that my tastes are more modest than other females’.”

“Modest.” Nadia heaved an impatient sigh, her gaze flicking over Leonida’s slender form, which would never possess the seductive softness that most men preferred. “How many occasions must I remind you that a woman in society has no power unless she is wise enough to use what few weapons God has given her?”

“My gown is a weapon?”

“When designed to tantalize a man’s hunger.”

“I prefer warmth to tantalizing,” Leonida retorted with unapologetic honesty. Despite the spring weather that had grudgingly arrived, there was a blazing fire in the white, gold-veined fireplace. She was always cold.

Nadia tossed the dress aside with a shake of her head. “Foolish child. I have done everything possible to ensure your future. You could have your pick of the most influential gentlemen in the empire. You could become a princess if only you would follow my lead.”

“I have told you I have no desire to become a princess. That is your ambition, not mine.”

Without warning, Nadia crossed to stand directly before Leonida, her expression hard.

“That is because you have never known what it is to be without wealth or an established position among society, Leonida. You may sneer at my ambition, but I assure you that your precious pride will swiftly be forgotten if you are impetuous enough to believe you can survive on love. There is nothing charming in being cold during the winter or darning your gowns to hide frayed hems.” Her eyes darkened with remembered pain. “Or being excluded from society.”

“Forgive me, Mother,” she said softly. “It is not that I do not appreciate the sacrifices you have made for me, but…”

“Do you?”

Leonida blinked in confusion at the abrupt interruption. “I beg your pardon?”

“Do you appreciate all I have done?”

“Of course.”

Nadia reached to take her hands in a tight grip. “Then you will agree to do what I must ask of you.”

Leonida hastily tugged her hands free. “I love you, Mother, but my appreciation is not without boundaries. I have told you that I will not accept Prince Orvoleski’s proposal. Not only is he old enough to be my father, but he reeks of onions.”

“This has nothing to do with the Prince.”

Leonida’s wariness deepened to outright anxiety. There was something in her mother’s expression that warned her that this was more than just another of the theatrical scenes Nadia adored.

“Something has happened.”

Nadia twisted her hands together, jeweled rings glinting in the morning light.

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

Instead of answering, Nadia drifted toward the window, the scent of expensive perfume drifting behind her.