Secrets for Seducing a Royal Bodyguard (33 page)

Vivien stared at her reflection in the glass over her dressing table. Outwardly, she looked no different than she had a few weeks ago except for the ghastly dark smudges under her eyes. Her features, her hair, the color of her eyes all were the same, although it hardly seemed possible. An earthquake had tumbled her world upside down when she found love in Aden’s arms, and then when her life took its nightmarish plunge into Khovansky’s rapacious grasp.

It didn’t seem possible to remain unchanged after such a revolution, but only her eyes showed the markings of her passage. They stared back at her, dull and empty as they matched the strange sense of hollowness creeping into the very center of her being. She felt numb, and the only prayer Vivien had left in her soul was imploring that the numbness take permanent hold. Perhaps then she could survive marriage to a vile man determined to mold her to his will.

Ivan had told her that in so many words, promising a swift removal from England as soon as possible and a return to Russia where he would have her
all to himself.
He’d practically licked his lips when he’d said it, his eyes gleaming with a chilling combination of hatred and lust. He’d stored up every rejection and every humiliation he thought she’d inflicted on him, and was hell-bent on exacting his revenge. That revenge would carry on the rest of her life, and there wasn’t a damn thing anyone could do about it.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Every time she thought of Aden her chest grew so tight she could hardly breathe. Only the knowledge that she kept him and Kit safe made it possible for her to go through with tonight’s charade and to face the ghastly days ahead.

Her mother fluttered into the room. “My love, the guests are beginning to arrive. You don’t want to be late for your own engagement party.”

Vivien dragged herself to her feet. “Under the circumstances, it seems a reasonable response.”

Her mother’s smile faltered. “Vivien, I know the prince wasn’t your first choice, but can’t you reconcile yourself to this? After all, you will be a princess. Think of how delightful that will be!”

“Even if that prince is a complete lunatic?”

Her mother cast a frightened glance over her shoulder, as if someone was listening. For all Vivien knew, there might be a thug with his ear plastered to the door. Since they returned to Blake House yesterday afternoon, the prince had stationed his men everywhere.

“Vivien, be careful. You cannot afford to be overheard.”

“Yes, Mamma.” There was no point in discussing things with her mother anyway, since there was nothing either of them could do.

“Oh, my darling,” Mamma said, taking her hands in a fond clasp. “Everything will be fine, I just know it. I’m going to ask the prince tonight if I can accompany you back to Russia. A daughter should have her mother by her side when she gets married, especially when she’s moving so far from home. Besides, I think it would be rather splendid to see the Court in St. Petersburg, don’t you?”

Vivien couldn’t begin to imagine her pampered, indolent mother making that kind of journey, nor did she wish to expose her to Prince Ivan’s uncertain mercies. Still, it soothed Vivien’s heart a wee bit to know her mother had made the offer.

“Thank you, Mamma. We will discuss it later, but we shouldn’t keep the prince waiting.” Ivan the Terrible had outlined in no uncertain terms that she was always to make herself available to him. The man wasn’t to be her husband, but her jailer.

As they made their way downstairs her mother twittered and fussed like a sparrow, profusely complimenting Vivien on the diamonds and rubies the prince had sent earlier in the day. The terse note accompanying the necklace, bracelets, and earrings had explained that they belonged to his mother and that he expected her to wear them tonight. Baroque and ugly as sin, Vivien already hated them.

When they entered the drawing room half the guests had already arrived, including Ambassador and Countess Lieven.

“My dear, we began to wonder if you would be joining us this evening,” Khovansky said as he bowed over her hand. When he straightened, Vivien had no trouble reading the ire in his protruding eyes.

“Nonsense, Your Highness,” the countess said in her charming accent, slapping him lightly on the sleeve with her fan. “It’s entirely appropriate for Lady Vivien to make a grand entrance. After all, she is the star this evening. She can do whatever she wants and we must all bow down before her.”

Vivien gave her a grateful smile, wishing she could stick her tongue out at Khovansky. She was entirely sick of the way the man glared at her. If this kept up she would likely murder him within a week of their wedding. All things considered, hanging seemed the preferable option.

Doing her best to ignore him, she drifted about the room greeting their guests and forcing inane social chatter past her lips. Since she and Khovansky had not yet formally announced their engagement, no one referred to it directly. But she received many sly compliments and veiled congratulations. By the time they moved into dinner she felt ready to scream.

As she took her seat to the right of Cyrus, she glanced down the table, frowning. “Where’s Kit?”

Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him all day. He was likely still smarting from the scold she’d given him last night, but he’d been hell-bent on asking Aden to help. Vivien had been numb with exhaustion and despair by that point, but Kit’s dogged insistence that she go to Aden had broken through, pitching her into panic. She could bear many hardships, but Aden’s death wasn’t one of them.

“I was about to ask
you,
” Cyrus replied in a low voice. “One would think he could be present for his sister’s engagement party.” A sneer curled his lips. “Perhaps he’s drowning his sorrows in one of those damned hells he’s so fond of.”

“Perhaps. I only wish I could join him.”

Cyrus hissed at her to be quiet, but Vivien was spared the need to reply when the footmen began serving the soup. She managed to ignore her brother through that and the next course as well, focusing her attention on her seatmate, a kind and elderly baron who’d been a friend of her father’s.

When the dishes from the second course were removed, Cyrus rose to his feet. Vivien’s stomach clenched when he picked up his goblet of champagne and pompously cleared his throat. Her brother was going to announce her engagement, and there would be no going back.

She braced herself, smoothing out her features. A smile was impossible, but her last shreds of pride urged her to avoid looking like she was about to lose her dinner.

“As some of you know,” Cyrus began, “you have been invited here tonight for a joyous occasion, one that will mark—”

A loud crash echoed through the hallway, followed by several alarming thumps that cut Cyrus off. Everyone glanced at the door and then back at Cyrus. He stood with his mouth hanging open, staring anxiously at Khovansky.

“Please continue, Lord Blake,” the prince said loudly from his place down by Mamma.

Cyrus raised his goblet again, but almost dropped it when another crash sounded. This time the door to the dining room shook as if something heavy had been flung against it. A few seconds later there was a dragging noise and then the double doors flew open and a tall man, dressed all in black, strode into the room. He stopped, narrowing his cold gaze right on Ivan the Terrible.

Vivien’s vision tilted sideways, her mind struggling to make sense of what she saw. She’d refused herself the luxury of wishing for a last-minute, daring intervention—Aden defying the prince, defying
himself
in order to rescue her. Rising to her feet, she stared at him, open-mouthed.

His gaze flickered down the table to find her, and a loving smile parted his lips. It stole the breath from her lungs, and Vivien had to clutch the edge of the table to keep from toppling over.

Verbal pandemonium broke out as everyone started shouting at once. Vivien winced when Cyrus bellowed loud enough to shatter glass. “How dare you break into my house,” he stormed at Aden. “You will leave now, or my footmen will throw you out on the street.”

“That’s not going to happen, Cyrus,” said Kit as he strode into the room and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Aden. “I’ve instructed all the servants to remain in the kitchen.”

Cyrus began gobbling, incoherent with rage. Vivien’s mother let out a shriek, flopping back in her chair as if about to swoon. Several of the men demanded answers from no one in general, adding to the chaos.

Khovansky, who’d been staring at Aden with an utterly stunned look on his face, finally sprang to his feet, roaring for quiet. The din cut off as sharply as a razor’s cut, and a fraught silence fell over the room.

“Captain St. George,” the prince snarled, “you have developed a most unwelcome habit of interfering in my affairs. You will regret that.”

Aden shrugged. “I doubt it,” he said with obvious contempt.

Khovansky’s features turned a livid shade of purple as he cast a pointed stare out to the hallway.

“If you’re looking for your merry band of thugs, you’ll be disappointed,” Aden said, glancing over his shoulder. As if on cue, Griffin Steele strode into the room, garbed in a swirling greatcoat and looking like a pirate.

“Everything under control?” Aden asked him with a faint smile.

When Steele lifted an arrogant brow, Vivien blinked. She had seen that expression on Aden’s face more than once. Standing next to each other, she almost took them for brothers.

“Of course,” Steele replied in a bored voice. “Hired brutes from the stews are hardly a match for my men. We’ve got them under guard in Lord Blake’s study.” He cast an ironic gaze on Cyrus. “Sadly, I fear his lordship’s furniture is a little worse for the encounter.”

Cyrus huffed with outrage again, but the Russian ambassador cut him off. “Captain St. George, I demand to know the meaning of this intrusion. And what is this talk of thugs and rescues?”

“Your Excellency,” Aden said. “The prince is blackmailing Lady Vivien into an unwanted marriage and holding her entire family hostage. To prevent her from trying to escape, he recruited a criminal gang to keep the Blakes’ prisoners within their own household.”

With a snarl, Khovansky took a step toward Aden. “You will regret this action until the day you die, I promise you.”

Aden barked out a short laugh. “I think not. By the way, my dear count,” he added, turning back to the ambassador, “Prince Ivan was also responsible for Lady Vivien’s abduction some weeks ago.”

“These are outrageous accusations to make against a member of the Russian Court,” the ambassador said in an austere tone. “You would be wise to have proof before making them.”

“I have ample proof, enough to have the prince thrown into prison for a very long time if he were an Englishman.”

“You will answer for those baseless accusations,” Khovansky snarled. “I will see you hang if I have to go to the Regent himself.”

Vivien let out a strangled gasp, clutching the edge of the table.

Countess Lieven glanced at her before directing her sharp gaze at Khovansky. “You do know who the captain’s father is, do you not?” When the prince gave her a baffled stare, she gave an insouciant shrug. “Never mind. You will soon enough.” Then she left her seat and rustled over to Vivien, taking her hand in a comforting grip. “Are these distressful accusations true, my child?”

Vivien shook so badly she feared her legs might collapse. With every inch of her being she wanted to tell the truth. But what would that mean for Aden? Would she precipitate his ruin, possibly even his murder?

She forced herself to meet Khovansky’s eyes. The burning hatred and the demented threat she saw in his expression sent shards of fear slicing through her. Not for herself, but for Aden.

“Vivien, look at me.” Aden’s calm voice cut through her panic. She took a deep breath and met his gaze.

And lost her breath all over again when she saw the love in his eyes, shining on her like sunlight on Midsummer’s Morn.

“My darling, you must trust me,” he said. “I promise all will be well.”

His tender gravity transformed the words into a vow, one that bound them together for the days and years to come. Vivien’s heart unfolded like the pages of a book as she smiled back at him. For a glorious moment they simply looked at each other, and then he nodded, prompting her to speak.

“Yes, my lady,” she responded to the countess. “Captain St. George speaks the truth. Prince Ivan was responsible for my abduction, and has threatened my family with financial ruin if I don’t marry him.”

Cyrus dropped into his chair and began moaning in unhappy chorus with his mother’s hysterical tears.

The countess curled a lip at the prince before returning her attention to Vivien. “I take it that you have no wish to marry Prince Ivan, then.”

“I never did, my lady,” Vivien said firmly.

The older woman patted her hand. “Then you shall not.” She turned to her husband. “My dear sir, under the circumstances I think it best our party leave. Immediately.”

“Indeed, my dear.” Count Lieven directed an imperious stare at Ivan the Terrible. “Your Highness, I will ask you to accompany us back to the embassy. We have much to discuss.”

The prince had been frozen in place, staring at Vivien with poisonous venom, but the ambassador’s words cut him loose. “No,” he roared, pitching himself down the table toward Vivien.

She barely had time to fling her arms up before Aden grabbed the prince from behind. He spun him around and drilled a fist into Khovansky’s face, following it up with a punishing blow under the man’s jaw. The prince’s eyes rolled in his head and he dropped to the floor without a sound.

“Well done, Captain,” muttered Countess Lieven.

Vivien let out a strangled, astonished laugh.