Stefan halted, turning to stab Herrick with an irritated frown. Herrick’s concern came far too late. He should never have allowed Leonida to be put in danger.
“No, but she has endured a brutal ordeal and it will take longer for her emotions to heal than her wounds.”
Herrick’s face drained of color. “Did Sir Charles…”
“I do not believe so,” Stefan rasped, knowing that the older man feared Leonida had been violated. The fear had haunted him, as well. “But he most certainly enjoyed terrorizing her and her servants. It is a fortunate thing she possesses such courage. A lesser woman would be utterly shattered.”
Herrick recovered his composure, smoothing his expression to an unreadable mask.
“Leonida’s courage could never be questioned.”
“No, only her good sense.” Stefan deliberately paused. “And the intelligence of her advisors.”
Herrick’s jaw tightened as the thrust slid home. “May I inquire what your interest is in the Countess’s daughter?”
“She was a guest in my home,” Stefan smoothly retorted. “Or at least she was a guest until she stole my mother’s letters and slipped away in the midst of the night.”
Herrick arched his brow, disguising any reaction to the realization that Stefan was aware of Leonida’s reason for being in England.
“And you followed her?”
“You are fortunate I did. Sir Charles had every intention of killing her. If not for me you would be searching for a corpse.”
“Boris mentioned it was Leonida who stabbed Sir Charles,” Herrick countered, scraping against Stefan’s pride.
He would never forget the sight of Leonida trapped against Sir Charles, the dagger pressed to her throat as the crimson blood dripped down her pale skin.
The vision would be seared into his mind forever.
“We have already determined her courage, but she had no means to fend off an entire gang of ruffians,” he said coldly. “It was sheer luck I managed to get here before Sir Charles slit her throat.”
Herrick flinched as Stefan struck back. “What do you want, Stefan? A medal? No doubt Alexander Pavlovich would be pleased to pin the Order of St. Vladimir on your chest.”
“I want to comprehend how the Countess could sacrifice her innocent daughter to save herself from scandal.”
The older man’s expression was dangerously hard and Stefan did not doubt that if he were anyone but the Duke of Huntley the old soldier would have him clapped in chains and disappearing into a damp cell.
“I appreciate your concern for Leonida,” he said, his tone revealing that he was anything but appreciative of Stefan’s interference. “But you will not be allowed to meddle in Russian affairs.”
“Russian affairs?” Stefan’s temper flared. “Damn you, Leonida was very nearly killed.”
“I realize the gravity of the situation and I assure you that Leonida will be well protected once she has been returned to her family.”
“That has yet to be decided.”
“Your Grace…”
Belatedly realizing now was not the time for this particular argument, Stefan overrode the older man’s outraged words.
“I think you should know that the letters Leonida stole from my home are now missing.”
Herrick’s lips thinned, his obvious desire to make certain that Stefan understood he had no claim to Leonida thrust aside by the more pressing concern of the lost letters.
“Do you have any notion of who might have taken them?”
“Leonida suspects that the servant who assisted Sir Charles to escape might have taken them for his own purpose.”
“Damn,” Herrick muttered, clearly distracted. “They must be found.”