Bound by Love (Russian Connection 2)

“I am willing to accept that Tipova is responsible for Babevich’s murder, but what is their connection?”

“Most likely he owed Tipova money. Or was foolish enough to offer Tipova some sort of insult.”

Stefan glared into the dark. Each time he thought he was a step closer to capturing Sir Charles he discovered his hopes thwarted.

“Damn. You found nothing in the house that might reveal where Sir Charles is hidden?”

“No.”

“So, a dead end.” His chuckle lacked any hint of humor. “Quite literally.”

Boris shook the reins, sending the horses into motion.

“Sir Charles is not a gentleman capable of discretion. If he is in St. Petersburg then he will soon reveal his presence.”

“Until then, Leonida remains in danger.”

AFTER ABANDONING STEFAN on the terrace, Leonida desired nothing more than to collect Sophy and return home. She did not enjoy such gatherings under the best of circumstances. Now it seemed like little more than torture.

Thankfully, she possessed far too much pride to give in to the cowardly impulse and, pasting a brilliant smile on her lips, she returned to the crush of guests, determined that no one, especially not Stefan, would suspect her heart was breaking.

Why should she offer him the satisfaction of knowing he had wounded her? He considered her nothing more than a temporary mistress he would soon toss aside.

She kept the thought uppermost in her mind as she danced with one eager gentleman after another. But as the evening wore on and Stefan remained conspicuously absent, her anger began to shift to confusion.

Why would he exit the palace without taking his leave?

Was he too angry to even speak with her? Or had he at last accepted that she would never be content with what he was willing to offer and decided to wash his hands of her?

The very thought sent a crippling pain through her heart.

Mon Dieu. What had she done?

Slipping to the edge of the crowd, Leonida began making her way to the far doors. She had endured enough. She could not continue with her charade any longer.

“Leonida.”

Intent on her escape, it took a moment for Leonida to realize that the crowd had abruptly parted to reveal the Emperor.

Her startled gaze skimmed over Alexander Pavlovich’s elegant uniform and the Cross of St. George that glittered with magnificent glory before returning to meet his angelic smile.

“Sire,” she murmured, sinking into a deep curtsy.

Waiting for her to straighten, the Emperor held out his arm.

“Will you join me?”

“Of course.” Acutely aware of the avid gazes that watched their slow progress across the room, Leonida cast a covert glance at her father’s profile. It was not often that her father sought her out in such a public setting. “It is a lovely gathering,” she at last murmured.

Alexander Pavlovich regarded his guests with a jaundiced smile. “Vultures. They smile and fawn, while plotting to steal my crown. There is not one of them I trust.” He turned back to meet her startled gaze. “Except for you, ma petite.”

“I am always your loyal servant.”

“You have such a good heart.” He patted the hand she had rested on his arm. “I wonder if Huntley is worthy of it?”

Leonida stumbled, then caught herself. Why should she be surprised? Alexander Pavlovich might appear oblivious to the world about him, but there was very little that he missed.

And while Stefan had not caused a blatant scene, he had not been exactly subtle in his unwavering attention.