“Leonida is not a village maid. You cannot compel her to leave her family.”
He smiled with grim determination. “You underestimate my powers of persuasion.”
“She does not want your persuasion.”
“She wants me. And she is damned well going to admit it.”
AFTER A MORNING OF RELENTLESS rain, the sun at last broke through the gray clouds and spilled its warmth over St. Petersburg.
It was a welcome change for Leonida as she pulled aside the curtain in the carriage and allowed the sunshine to pour through the small window. The mornings she spent at the local orphanage were always difficult. She did what she could to ease the suffering of the children, but it was never enough. Her only consolation was the continued hope that she could convince her father to provide the schooling the children so desperately needed.
The carriage rolled to a halt before her mother’s house and the door was pulled open by the ever-present Pyotr. She had stepped onto the still damp pavement when a movement in the rose garden at the side of the house caught her eye.
“Mon Dieu,” she breathed, her gaze skimming over Stefan as he paced from one end of the garden to the other, his body tense with overt impatience.
“Do you wish to drive on?” Pyotr whispered in her ear. “He is bound to go away eventually.”
“That is what I tell myself, but he keeps returning.”
“Like a bad rash.”
A grudging smile touched her lips. “Exactly.”
“There is no need for you to meet with him. It would not trouble me to send the Duke on his merry way.”
Leonida briefly wished it could be so simple.
It was cowardly, but the thought of avoiding the inevitable confrontation with Stefan was tempting. Especially when she was not nearly as certain as she should be that she could remain firm in her decision to bring an end to their ridiculous affair.
She had devoted hours last night to pacing her room while she lectured herself on all the reasons she was a fool to continue her relationship with Stefan.
They were numerous. And sensible.
And necessary.
The only problem was that it was all well and good to decide that she could no longer risk being in Stefan’s company when she was alone and quite another to stand firm when he was near.
How often had she made the decision to put him out of her life only to allow herself to be cajoled and bullied and seduced into continuing their affair?
Aware of Pyotr’s worried gaze, Leonida tilted her chin and straightened the skirts of the sprigged muslin gown trimmed with white gauze that she had matched with an emerald-green sash.
“I appreciate your offer, Pyotr, but I am capable of dealing with his Grace,” she forced herself to say.
“Are you certain?”
No. Absolutely not.
She pasted a smile on her face. “Of course.”
Pyotr heaved a resigned sigh. “I will not be far.”
With a pat on his arm to reveal her appreciation for his concern, Leonida moved to the small gate and entered the rose garden.
Her heart gave its familiar leap as Stefan caught sight of her and prowled forward, his elegant features set in an expression of dark impatience.
“At last,” he growled as they both halted near the marble fountain, his hands clenched at his sides as if resisting the impulse to reach out and grab her. “Where have you been?”
Leonida met his glare with a cool composure. At least on the surface. Inside, her blood was racing and her stomach clenched with a bittersweet awareness.