Bound by Love (Russian Connection 2)

“In my room.”

“How did he find us?”

“I will explain all later,” Leonida impatiently promised. “For now I need you to hurry.”

Sensing Leonida’s trembling urgency, Sophy gave a sharp nod of her head.

“Of course.”

“Be sure to go directly through the kitchens. The Duke is certain to have left his servants to keep watch.”

“We shall be there as swiftly as possible.”

Trusting that Sophy would fulfill her promise, Leonida turned and hurried down to the lower floor. There were a few raised brows from the kitchen staff, but no one attempted to halt her and, with a brief glance to ensure it was empty, she stepped into the cramped back garden.

There was an unmistakable scent of rotting vegetables and lingering tobacco smoke, but Leonida breathed a sigh of relief as she set down the bag and leaned against the building.

If her nerves had not been twisted into painful knots she might have appreciated the irony of Miss Leonida Karkoff, darling of St. Petersburg society, cowering behind a cheap Paris hotel, attired in a gown barely fit for a scrub maid, and fleeing from an English duke and God knew how many other enemies. As it was, she conjured no more than a panicked fear as she waited.

To try and distract her mind, she opened Stefan’s small purse. She did not expect to find a fortune. No gentleman of sense traveled with large amounts of money. Not unless he desired to attract the attention of the numerous highwaymen that plagued all of Europe.

Still, it was a shock to realize that he had less than fifty pounds in his possession. Certainly not enough to purchase a new carriage, even when added to what she possessed.

Good lord, she would never be free of Paris.

After what seemed an eternity, but was probably less than a quarter of an hour, Sophy and Pyotr hurried into the garden.

“Here we are,” Sophy unnecessarily announced, her round face flushed. “What are we to do now?”

“We must leave Paris as swiftly as possible,” Leonida announced.

Incapable of being rattled, no matter what the circumstance, the groom moved forward to firmly take Leonida’s luggage from her stiff fingers.

“I will get the carriage,” he assured her calmly. “Even if I have to point a gun at the damned wheelwright’s head to get him to finish it.”

Struck by a sudden thought, Leonida reached out to grasp Pyotr’s arm. “No, wait. We must leave it. The Duke already knows that it is in the hands of the wheelwright. He might have someone watching the place.”

“I hope you do not intend for us to walk to St. Petersburg,” Sophy demanded.

“Not if we can possibly avoid such a fate.” Leonida scoured her brain for enlightenment, dismissing a number of wild schemes until she at last hit upon the least harebrained notion. “I wonder…”

“What?” Sophy prompted.

“Sir Charles Richards was excessively determined to offer me assistance. Perhaps he could be persuaded to lend me enough money so we can purchase a carriage.”

Sophy frowned. “I thought you said the man made your flesh crawl?”

He had, of course. She could not entirely explain her aversion to the perfectly pleasant gentleman. He was a handsome and charming gentleman of means. But there was no denying that her instinct was to avoid him.

“We are hardly in a position to be overly particular in who we ask for favors,” she pointed out, suppressing her shudder of reluctance.

Sophy heaved a sigh. “True enough.”

“Pyotr, can you direct us to Sir Charles’s hotel on Rue de Varenne?” Leonida demanded. “Preferably by a means that will call the least attention to our departure from the hotel.”

“Of course. This way.”

There was a brief delay as Sophy insisted on neatly pinning Leonida’s hair beneath the veiled hat and smoothing the crepe gown, then they were out of the garden and traveling through a maze of narrow alleys.