Bound by Love (Russian Connection 2)

“You are not entirely impervious to being hauled before a firing squad, Tipova,” he said, his cold warning unmistakable.

“I am rarely stupid, mon ami. For me, information is like my priceless treasures.” Tipova stroked a finger along an ancient Chinese vase on the mantle. “I collect them for my own pleasure, and only when I am certain of a profit that offers no risk to me do I agree to sell them.”

“A dangerous hobby.”

Tipova gave a sudden, unexpected chuckle. “Come, Gerhardt, I would not be at odds with you. Indeed, I shall offer you a rather pertinent piece of information to prove my goodwill.”

Herrick’s hard expression did not ease. “What is that?”

“Before his arrival in St. Petersburg Sir Charles enjoyed a prolonged stay in Paris with an old friend.”

“Old friend?”

“A Mr. Howard Summerville who was forced to retreat to the Continent last year when his bill collectors became tediously persistent.”

Herrick frowned. “A relation to Lord Summerville?”

“A cousin to the Duke of Huntley, although the rumors are that there is a strain in the relationship between the two families.”

Herrick smiled with grim satisfaction. At last he had a direct connection from St. Petersburg to Meadowland. “That is it,” he breathed. “Is Sir Charles still in Paris?”

“The last I heard he had left rather abruptly and was traveling north.”

“Back to St. Petersburg?”

“That would be my guess.”

A sharp fear pierced Herrick’s heart. “Why would he return now?”

Dimitri met his gaze squarely. “Obviously because he is on the trail of his prey.”

Herrick sucked in a sharp breath.

Leonida.

Damn. What had Nadia been thinking to send her innocent daughter on such a journey? The beautiful Countess had always been impetuous. But this went beyond the pale.

Unfortunately, he had not learned of the scheme until Leonida had already arrived in England. Far beyond his ability to protect her.

Damn. He had to return to his office and begin organizing a search for Sir Charles Richards. Now.

The bastard would not be given the chance to harm Leonida.

Herrick offered his companion a small bow. “I thank you, Dimitri Tipova, for your information. I am in your debt.”

“Yes, you are.” The golden eyes glinted with a mocking humor. “And I always collect.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Russia

THE SMALL INN SOME SIXTY MILES from St. Petersburg was a squat building that appeared to be in imminent danger of being consumed by the encroaching woodlands.

Inside there was little to recommend the shabby establishment to passing travelers. The rooms were cramped with stone walls, rough planked floors and open timber ceilings. Even the private parlor that Leonida requested was a barren room with a d

ining table in the center of the floor and two cushioned chairs near the fireplace that she had asked be lit despite the grumbling complaints of the slovenly innkeeper.

If she had not been aching from head to toe from their endless flight, not to mention starving, Leonida would never have given in to Pyotr’s insistence that they halt for the night. Not only did she doubt the cleanliness of her chambers, but the persistent knowledge she was being pursued by dangerous enemies made it nearly impossible to rest.