When We Meet Again (38 page)

"What?" Pamela stared. "But his brother has some sort of plan and—"

"Nikolai did indeed have a plan, but everyone agreed it was the height of stupidity."

"Then..." Relief swept through her with a vengeance, stole her breath, and doubled her over. Tears flooded her eyes. "Thank God." He was not going off to a certain death. He was not going to throw his life away in a futile cause. He was—she jerked upright. "Then why in the name of all that's holy did he tell me he was? How could he do that to me? Where is he going?"

"He's going off to rusticate in the country somewhere. A castle owned by a distant relative, I believe, although that part seems a little vague. At any rate that is not the point. The point is why."

"I just asked you that," Pamela said, trying to keep impatience from showing in her voice.

"He thinks it's best for you if he is not a part of your life."

"Best for me? How could it possibly be best for me?" She jumped to her feet and paced the room desperately, trying to recall every word of every conversation they'd ever had. "He certainly wasn't reluctant for me to be a part of his life four years ago."

"Four years ago he had not lost his country," Clarissa said quietly. Pamela pulled up short and met her cousin's gaze. "Do you think that's it then?"

"There's more, Pamela. According to Roman, His Highness knows"—Clarissa winced—"everything."

"What do you mean everything?" Pamela said slowly.

"He knows you were the lady in Venice." Clarissa studied her thoughtfully. "Furthermore, that night has lingered in his mind just as it has in yours."

Pamela stared at her cousin, the most absurd sense of delight swelling within her. "Has it really? All these years?"

"Indeed it has."

"A man with his reputation?"

Clarissa grinned.

"Then this makes no sense at all." Pamela pulled her brows together and tried to comprehend the male mind. "If I am the woman of his dreams—" She glanced at Clarissa. "He has dreamed about me, hasn't he? I have certainly dreamed about him."

"If you recall, I was not instructed to ask about dreams."

"Yes, of course. I should have included that."

Clarissa snorted.

"As I was saying, this makes no sense."

"Roman says he feels he has nothing to offer a wife. Nothing to offer you."

"Nothing?" Pamela shook her head. "I don't—"

One makes sacrifices for love.

Pamela stared at Clarissa. "He's willing to give me up to save me then? From a life with him because he's lost everything? Is that it?"

Clarissa shrugged helplessly, as if she, too, had her doubts about the workings of the male mind.

"How absurd. He has absolutely no idea that I would rather spend my life with him and have nothing than have all the treasures of the world without him." Pamela shook her head. "So he decides to decide my fate for me? Rather arrogant of him I think. A bit sweet as well."

"I believe he loves you," Clarissa said slowly.

"Of course he loves me, I knew it all along." Pamela grinned with sheer delight. "What a dear, wonderful, arrogant fool he is."

"Now that you know all this, what are you going to do—"

Without warning Valentina swept into the room, Petrov at her heels. "I am about to do, God help me," she shuddered, "a good deed."

"You are not," Petrov said firmly.

Pamela and Clarissa traded glances.

"You are such an annoying creature." Valentina grabbed the lapels of his coat with both hands and stared into his eyes. "Is it not your duty to serve His Highness?"

"Yes," he said cautiously.

"And does that not mean doing whatever is necessary to ensure his well-being and happiness?"

"I suppose."

"Then do be quiet and let me talk." Valentina smiled suggestively and released him. "I shall see you are well rewarded for it later."

Petrov cast her a suspicious glare but held his tongue.

"Pamela." Valentina turned toward her. "You should know my cousin has not broken off your engagement because he is off to fight the Russians but rather is going to hide in the country and make all of us accompany him, by the way, to some dreadful place at the very edge of nowhere, and he has done all this because"—she paused dramatically—"he loves you." Pamela bit back a grin. "Yes, I know."

"You do?" Valentina's brows drew together. "Then my good deed was for nothing?"

"Not at all," Pamela said quickly. "It is most appreciated."

"Well, that is something, I suppose." Valentina huffed and collapsed into the nearest chair. "So much for good deeds."

Petrov leaned toward her. "It was an exceptionally good deed, though."

"Your opinion is of no consequence." Valentina sighed then muttered. "You have my thanks nonetheless."

"You may yet help however," Pamela said. "We are trying to determine what I do now. How I convince His Highness of the error of his high-handed and arrogant ways."

Valentine scoffed. "I shall give it my complete attention, but I should warn you—we, the House of Pruzinsky, that is—are a stubborn lot when we have a made a decision. Even if it is completely wrong."

"Pamela." George burst into the room.

"Good Lord, George." Pamela crossed her arms over her chest. "I have neither the time nor the desire to deal with you now. What ever possessed you to return? If His Highness sees you—"

"I waited until I was sure he was gone." For the first time George noticed they were not alone. He nodded at the gathering. "Good day."

"Who is this?" Valentina studied him curiously.

Clarissa sniffed. "He's a vile, despicable creature who should be put out of his misery."

"Pity I've given up vile, despicable creatures. I have always had a fondness for fair-haired men." Valentina glanced at the dark-haired Petrov and sighed. "Apparently I've given that up as well." Petrov bit back a grin.

George stared at her for a moment, then shook his head as if to clear it and turned back to Pamela. "Do you really want him to kill me?"

Pamela considered him for a moment then sighed. "I suppose not." George smiled smugly. "Because you love m—"

"Because I love him," Pamela said firmly.

George studied her with obvious disbelief. "Are you certain?"

"I have never been more certain of anything in my life."

"I see." He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "And do you really intend to marry him?"

"I do." Pamela had never spoken truer words.

"Then, well"—George nodded firmly—"you have my abject apologies."

"That's it, George?" She raised a brow. "You threaten to ruin my life and you think an apology is enough?"

"He threatened to ruin her life?" Valentina said in an aside to Clarissa. "How?"

"I have no idea." Clarissa glared. "But I'm sure it was quite wicked."

"Really?" Valentina cast George an appraising glance.

"You're right, a mere apology is probably not enough. Does it matter at all that my threat was that of a man desperate to win the hand of the woman he loved?" A hopeful note sounded in George's voice.

"No!" Pamela stared in disbelief. How could she ever have been fool enough to believe she had loved this man? Indeed, if he hadn't been such a cad, she would probably be married to him today and...abruptly relief and a fair amount of gratitude rushed through her. George had been a dreadful mistake, but her mistake could have been so much worse.

George heaved a sigh of sheer misery. "You are going to let him kill me then, aren't you?"

"No," she snapped. "Not tomorrow at any rate, but I shall keep it as a possibility for the future." She waved him toward the door. "I strongly suggest you leave right now and for God's sake do not show up tomorrow. Indeed, it would be best if you do not so much as show your face anywhere near His Highness for quite some time. Ever would be best. I would strongly advise you not to leave your house at all for a while. Hide, George, it's your only hope. I shall take care of the matter." He started toward the door, then hesitated. "But what of my honor."

"He'll kill you," Pamela said sharply. "And given your behavior, he shall probably take a fair amount of pleasure in it. The loss of your honor pales in comparison to the loss of your life."

"Yes, I suppose." George nodded and again headed toward the door.

"Furthermore, I would suggest, to stay out of his path, it might be wise for you to leave London altogether."

George brightened. "I could go to the country I suppose."

"That is the wisest thing I have ever heard you say. And George." She leveled him her most threatening look. "At the moment, this is a private affair. I intend to keep it that way in which case your honor"—she snorted—"shall not be questioned. However, do keep in mind that that can change at any moment. An offhand comment to a friend one trusts, who then passes it on to another friend and before you know what has happened the entire world knows. Do you understand?"

George swallowed. "Indeed I do." He paused. "It's not at all nice of you."

"I told you I have changed. Nice is no longer a possibility." Pamela practically shoved him toward the door. "Not where you are concerned."

"Pamela." He cast her a longing look. "Should you ever decide—"

"Thank you, George." She steered him toward the door. "Get out."

"So that is the man Alexei wants dead," Valentina said thoughtfully.

"Oh, I don't think he really wants him—" Pamela sighed. "That's the one."

"And you are certain he will not appear tomorrow?"

Pamela nodded. "I would wager a great deal on it."

"Then I have a brilliant idea." Valentina jumped to her feet and spread her arms in a dramatic gesture. "It shall be my next good deed."

"Forgive me for saying so, Your Highness," Clarissa said slowly, "but for one as unaccustomed to good deeds as you, perhaps it would be best if you started with one on a smaller scale. Something like, I don't know, spreading bread crumbs for birds?"

"Birds?" Valentina stared at Clarissa as if she had sprouted wings and would fly off. "Why on earth would I wish to feed birds?"

"It was just a thought," Clarissa murmured.

"This is much better than feeding birds." The princess rejected Clarissa's suggestion with a dismissive wave, then turned to Pamela. "Do you by any chance know anything about fencing?" Pamela stared at her, then abruptly realized what Valentina's idea was. Far-fetched, of course, and completely improper, but inspired nonetheless. She grinned slowly. "Your Highness, that is indeed brilliant."

Valentina beamed. "I thought it was." She leaned toward Pamela in a confidential manner. "But just a bit wicked as well, do you not think so? In a good sort of way, I mean."

"Oh very good. Very good indeed, Princess."

"I thought so. In truth, Pamela dear, its brilliance was never in question," Valentina said smugly, then paused. "The question is whether or not it will work."

"Where is the blasted man?" Alexei paced to and fro in the clearing where his duel with Penwick was to take place if the man had the courage to show up. Alexei had no idea precisely where they were, somewhere on the outskirts of London he thought, nor did he particularly care. He simply wanted to get it over and done with.

"I have no idea, Your Highness," Roman said mildly.

Graham stood nearby, stiffly erect, holding up a sword in each hand.

"Good God, Graham, you can put those down until he gets here." Alexei sighed. The man was an excellent butler, but it was obvious he had had no experience acting in this capacity save what he might have seen in a play. Still, he had managed to find a physician to accompany them, at a rather exorbitant cost, who even now waited in the carriage.

"Thank you, Your Highness," Graham said, and gratefully lowered the swords to the ground.

"If Penwick does not appear soon, I shall have to flush him out wherever he may be hiding. I have things to attend to, and I cannot wait here all day." Alexei glanced at Roman. "Are our travel arrangements taken care of?"

"You have asked me that several times, Your Highness, and the answer, once again, is yes."

"Good," Alexei snapped.

"May I say, Your Highness, you are in an exceptionally foul mood this morning." Roman smiled pleasantly.

"Of course I am in a foul mood. I am about to kill a man."

"Yes, I thought that was it."

Alexei glared at his friend and resumed pacing. Roman knew full well it was not the thought of this absurd duel that had knotted Alexei's stomach. Why, he probably wouldn't even kill Penwick at all, just make him suffer a bit. Possibly a strategic wound would suffice. Perhaps the loss of his nose would be appropriate. Yes, Alexei liked that.

No, it was not Penwick behind Alexei's ill temper this morning. It was Pamela. Alexei had made it a point to stay away from the house, away from her, all day yesterday and well into the night. When at last he had fallen into bed, he was unable to sleep and spent most of the night jumping at any unexpected sound in the corridor. Hoping she would once again appear at his door. Praying she would not. It was hard enough to say good-bye to her once. He was not sure if he could do it again.