He was so accustomed to having her depend upon him as she would a father that the thought of her turning to another man left a large hole in his heart. It was little wonder he had wanted to lodge a bullet in the Duke’s arse.
Rather ironic that it was her true father that had to point out just how wicked it would be to keep her from finding happiness with a man who could offer her the love and devotion she so desperately craved.
“St. Petersburg will be empty without her,” he said mournfully.
A small, perceptive smile curved the Emperor’s lips. “You know, Herrick, perhaps you should consider choosing a wife and producing children of you own. You would be a doting father.”
Herrick shuddered, heading for the brandy.
“God forbid.”
THE JOURNEY BACK TO St. Petersburg had proven to be an agonizing test of endurance for Sir Charles.
Fleeing from the cottage, he had barely managed to stanch the blood pouring from his knife wound before falling unconscious. He had awakened in a squalid barn, so consumed with fever and pain that he was incapable of doing more than shivering on the dirt floor and cursing his weakness. Even worse, he had been plagued with nightmares of his childhood, at times crying in fear as he heard his mother’s voice whispering in his ear.
He had no clear notion of how much time had passed before his fever at last broke and Josef had once again loaded him into the carriage and continued the excruciating journey. He remained weak, but as the hours passed he turned his thoughts from his pain and instead concentrated on his plans for revenge.
By the time they reached St. Petersburg he had imagined killing Leonida Karkoff a hundred different times, a hundred different ways.
Each more satisfying than the last.
The burning fury gave him a measure of strength as they at last came to a halt. At least enough to haul himself out of the carriage and peer around his surroundings with a jaundiced gaze.
Clutching the door, he studied the shabby warehouse that appeared grim beneath the bright sunlight and the distant quay that had been battered by the sea.
This was a part of St. Petersburg that a gentleman of his breeding did not willingly visit.
For good reason.
“Where the devil have you brought me?” he rasped, glaring at Josef as the servant tied off the reins of the horse and joined him. “I told you to take me to my house.”
The scarred face twisted as Josef smiled with mocking amusement.
“I presumed that the fever had addled your wits. Unless you truly desire me to deliver you into the hands of the Countess’s guards?” The servant shrugged. “They are no doubt waiting for you there.”
“Do not get above yourself,” Sir Charles snapped.
“Do you want me to keep you from the dungeons or not?”
Sir Charles cursed the wound that left him dependent on his servant. The feeling of vulnerability did nothing to improve his foul mood.
“I prefer the dungeons to falling into the hands of Dimitri Tipova,” he muttered.
Although his dealings with the leader of the underworld had been through the criminal’s various underlings, he had heard rumors that Tipova hid among the dredges of society.
“And do you not think Tipova has his men keeping watch on your house?” Josef demanded. “I doubt a man who is feared throughout St. Petersburg is stupid.”
He was right, damn him. Anyone searching for him was bound to keep guard on his home. Still, he had to find some means of retrieving the contents from the hidden drawer in his desk. Not only did it contain his forged passport that would be his only means of leaving Russia and what few funds he had left, but it held the various mementos he had collected from his victims over the years. Those were irreplaceable.
“I cannot leave Russia without my p
ossessions.”
Wrapping an arm around Charles’s waist, Josef began leading him toward the warehouse, the crash of waves against the distant wharf the only sound to break the silence.
“It will take you at least a week to heal enough to travel. By then we will find a means to retrieve what you need,” Josef assured him.
Charles stumbled on the uneven paving, the movement sending a jolt of searing pain through his side.