“Herrick. Please join me.”
With a smile he moved to stand next to her, leaning against the mantle as he folded his arms over his chest.
“A charming ceremony.”
“It was, indeed.”
He narrowed his gaze. “And, of course, Leonida made a beautiful bride.”
A wistful smile touched her lips. “Any bride is beautiful when she loves her husband as Leonida loves Stefan.”
Unease whispered through Herrick. What was plaguing the woman?
She surely could not be disappointed in the marriage? Although the Duke of Huntley was more English than Russian, he possessed a lofty position and enough wealth to make any mother swoon in delight.
“Thankfully Stefan appears equally devoted.”
“More than devoted. He is besotted.”
Herrick’s expression softened, suddenly realizing that it was not disappointment that he could sense.
“Regrets, Nadia?” he demanded softly.
“Not for myself.” She absently toyed with a lacquer box set on the mantle, her eyes distant with remembered guilt. “I made the choices that made me happy, but I do regret that I did not understand that my daughter could never be satisfied with a society marriage.”
Herrick grimaced. They had all been selfish when it came to the sweet, all too biddable child, each using her to fill some emptiness in their lives yet giving her very little in return.
“No, Leonida has always needed love,” he admitted.
Nadia sighed. “I failed her.”
“Nonsense,” he stoutly denied. The Emperor’s dangerously brooding mood had lightened the moment of Nadia’s brilliant return to society. Herrick would not allow her to retreat back to her rooms in a need to wallow in her guilt. “Leonida has grown into a beautiful, intelligent and confident young woman who would make any mother proud. What more could you desire?”
Seeming to come to a decision, Nadia squared her shoulders and flipped open the lid to the lacquer box.
“I desire to know she will always be safe.”
Herrick’s eyes widened as she pulled out the bundle of letters that had been the source of endless troubles over the past months. He had only a brief glimpse of them when he had escorted Leonida from Dimitri Tipova’s warehouse, but he easily recognized the frayed ribbon.
“Nadia?”
She laughed with mocking amusement at his surge of concern, then with a casual motion, she tossed the entire stack into the fire.
“Do not fret, Herrick. I have learned my lesson.”
Herrick stepped from the fire as it rapidly consumed the aged parchment, his brow furrowed. The last thing he had expected was for Nadia to destroy the letters. Not after Leonida had nearly lost her life to retrieve them.
“I thought you considered the letters a means to protect your future?” he accused.
Nadia shook her head, her expression somber. “I willingly placed my fate in the hands of Alexander Pavlovich. I shall stand at his side no matter what the future might hold.”
Herrick hid his astonishment as he crossed to pour two glasses of brandy. For all of Nadia’s charm, she had always been a selfish woman at heart.
Was it truly possible she had learned to put others before herself?
With a shrug, he returned to his companion and pressed a glass into her hand. All that mattered was Nadia’s continued loyalty to the Emperor.
“Leonida never did reveal what Dimitri Tipova demanded for the return of those letters,” he murmured. The Beggar Czar had occupied a great deal of his thoughts over the past days.