Scoundrel's Honor (Russian Connection 3)

No, she was not.

So long as women were kept powerless they were at the mercy of men, society and even fate that too often treated them with a ruthless cruelty.

“What happened to her?”

“What happens to most women forced onto the streets,” he said harshly. “Once she gave birth to me she entered a brothel. Does that shock you?”

His wary gaze skimmed over her face, no doubt accustomed to others condemning his mother for the choices she was forced to make. Emma, however, felt only sympathy. And admiration.

“On the contrary, I admire her,” she said with a steady sincerity. “She was obviously a woman who did whatever necessary to survive.”

“From what I could discover she became reconciled to her fate and soon learned that her considerable beauty could provide her the necessary funds for a modest home.” He grimaced. “A pity she could not be satisfied.”

“What do you mean?”

“She was determined that I would have a proper education.”

“It is what any woman would want for their child.”

His features might have been carved from granite in the sunlight slanting through the grotto window.

“I did not ask for her sacrifice,” he growled.

She frowned, puzzled by his lack of gratitude. Surely he must understand a woman was willing to sacrifice anything for the people they loved?

“Dimitri?”

His eyes grew distant, the muscles in his jaw knotted as he recalled his past.

“One morning she attired me in my finest clothes, which meant they did not yet have holes in the knees and elbows, and we walked for what seemed to be miles until we at last came to a magnificent palace. I will never forget marching up the front steps and ringing the bell as if we were welcome guests.” His lips twisted. “I was terrified.”

Emma smiled in understanding. Approaching Herrick Gerhardt’s elegant home mere days ago had taken every bit of courage she could muster. And she was supposedly a mature woman.

“How old were you?”

“Eight, or perhaps nine.” He shrugged. “Certainly old enough to realize we were not where we belonged.”

She ignored the urge to reach up and stroke the sleek raven hair pulled into a ribbon at his nape. The wounded boy that lurked deep inside Dimitri made him no less dangerous. Indeed, the wave of tenderness that swept through her was far more disturbing than the potent attraction that tingled within her.

“Were you turned away?”

“No, my mother was quite determined, and my unmistakable resemblance to my father managed to get us over the threshold and into the count’s private study.” Shoving away from the wall, Dimitri paced to the center of the grotto. “I understood very little of the conversation beyond the fact my father did a great deal of shouting and my mother refused to leave. It was only later that I learned she had threatened to approach the count’s wife and inform her that he had forced himself on a mere child if he did not see to my education.”

Emma carefully considered her words. The tension in the air was tangible.

“Clearly her threat was successful.”

His breath hissed through his clenched teeth. “It was successful in the sense I was sent to school in Moscow, but my father was far from pleased to be outwitted by a mere whore and set about destroying her life.”

Emma winced, already suspecting that the poor woman had suffered for her bold courage.

“What did he do?” she husked.

“He had her evicted from her home, and then he ensured her wealthy patrons would no longer seek her companionship. It became more and more difficult for her to earn a decent living and she was forced to take rooms in the sewers of St. Petersburg.” The golden eyes darkened with a bleak loss that tore at her heart. “It was only a matter of time before she had her throat slit and her body left in the gutter.”

CHAPTER SIX

AS THE WORDS ECHOED through the grotto, Dimitri wondered what the hell he was doing.