Bound by Love (Russian Connection 2)

Grimly concentrating on not stumbling over her hem, Leonida nearly missed the sounds that began to fill the air. Startled, she turned to regard Josef’s hard profile.

“Are those children?”

He met her gaze with a faint smile. “Did you think only nobles could produce brats?”

She frowned. The sounds came from behind the warehouse, as if the children were playing in the sunshine.

“Why are they not at the orphanage?”

“We take care of our own when we can.”

We? Nothing could make her believe that Sir Charles had the least interest in caring for children. The man was a coldhearted monster. So who did Josef mean? Was this some sort of secret lair for criminals?

“By training them to be thieves?” she hazarded.

Oddly the man appeared offended by her comment. “By giving them a roof over their head, food in their bellies and the chance to learn how to read. Which is more than your orphanage can offer.”

She did not bother to hide her disbelief. “You are teaching them to read?”

“And to do their sums.”

“Even the girls?” she demanded, easily able to determine the high-pitched laughter that could never belong to a boy.

“Of course.” Reaching the door, Josef pulled it open and waved a hand toward the dark interior. “After you.”

Desperate to distract her mind from the potential monster waiting in the shadowed depths, Leonida concentrated on Josef as she stepped over the threshold.

“Who is responsible for the children?”

“For lack of an appropriate chaperone, I have taken charge of the urchins,” a voice replied from the shadows of the large, cavernous room.

She came to a halt, her hand pressed to her racing heart. “And you would be?”

The man stepped into the light from a nearby window, appearing absurdly out of place in the grimy setting.

Good…heavens. He was quite honestly one of the most handsome gentlemen she had ever encountered.

Tall and slender, he had dark hair that was pulled into a tail at his neck, the better to reveal his elegant, bronze-kissed face. His eyes were a startlin

g gold that shimmered in contrast to the black velvet jacket, and his lips curved into a smile of pure temptation. In the shaft of sunlight a diamond flashed from the folds of his crisply tied cravat.

He should have been standing in the formal confines of the Summer Palace, not in an abandoned warehouse.

As if sensing her astonishment, the man moved forward to take her hand, lifting it to his lips.

“Dimitri Tipova,” he murmured, allowing his mouth to linger far longer than manners dictated. “It is my great pleasure to meet you at last, Miss Karkoff.”

This was the infamous Beggar Czar?

Too confused by the unexpected encounter to be as frightened as she should be, Leonida frowned.

“You look familiar. Have we met before?”

Amusement smoldered in his golden eyes. “I do not move in your elevated circle, although you have no doubt crossed paths with my father.”

A blush touched her cheeks. “Oh.”

“Not all bastards are so welcomed as you, ma belle.” He glanced toward the back windows of the warehouse. “Which is why I opened my little school.”