Bound by Love (Russian Connection 2)

“Rough and uneducated.”

“English?”

“Russian, although she swears that she heard the voice of an Englishman.”

That damned Englishman.

What the blazes was his interest in Leonida? And more importantly, what did he intend to do with her now?

“How long ago did they leave?”

“Half an hour, perhaps a bit longer.”

Stefan shifted in his saddle, prepared to continue the hunt. “Then they cannot have gone far.”

“A moment, your Grace,” Boris murmured.

“What?” he snapped.

“The maid mentioned that the widow’s belongings had been left behind.”

Stefan parted his lips to condemn Leonida’s hideous black gowns and veiled bonnets to the netherworld, then he abruptly hesitated.

If Leonida was indeed in the hands of her enemies, she would be terrified by the time he managed to rescue her.

She would surely be comforted by her possessions.

“Gather them.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

St. Petersburg

HERRICK GERHARDT STOOD at his mirror, putting the finishing touches on his cravat. He was plainly attired, with only his various medals of honor pinned to his black coat to relieve his austere appearance.

His small home in the shadows of the Winter Palace was equally barren of the gaudy grandeur that so pleased the Russian soul. The furniture was solid pieces he had purchased from local craftsmen and the paneled walls were bare beyond a handful of military paintings he had collected over the years.

Spending most of his days among the lavish Russian Court, it was a relief to have a place where he could enter a room and stretch out his legs in comfort.

He had just finished with his morning toilette when there was a knock on the door. He turned as it was pushed open to reveal a young footman with a nervous expression.

“Pardon me, sir, but you have a visitor.”

Herrick lifted his brow. He rarely invited guests to his private home and never before he had read through the stack of reports that his various contacts provided each morning. He had not reached his position as Alexander Pavlovich’s closest advisor by allowing himself to be caught off guard.

“At this hour? Who is it?”

The footman cleared his throat. “I am not entirely certain, sir.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It is a lady.”

Herrick’s brows snapped together, sensing a trap. It would not be the first time his enemies had sought to put an end to his undeniable power with scandal.

“Lady?”

“With a veil.”