Synnovea was scandalized by the idea. “Of course not! He’s a friend, nothing more.”
Natasha smiled smugly. “A man like Colonel Rycroft needs no encouragement, does he? He simply seeks out what he desires to have and now has made it evident that he desires to have you, my dear.”
“I don’t even know the man!” Synnovea insisted in a frail attempt to banish any blame for his efforts to win her.
“Now what are you saying, child? Wasn’t he the one who saved you from that rogue Ladislaus? Wasn’t he the one who carried you to your coach in the rainstorm?” Natasha’s lips curved into a sublime smile as her friend’s cheeks took on a bright glow. “You certainly seemed to know him then, for you made no protest when he lifted you in his arms. Would you have willingly allowed a stranger to pick you up?”
“No, of course, not,” Synnovea admitted lamely.
“Then the two of you have obviously met.”
“Only briefly!” Synnovea emphasized her words, struggling to convince her friend. “Never formally!”
The older countess slowly nodded in smiling serenity. “Apparently it was enough to spark the colonel’s interest.”
“I intend to discourage the man,” Synnovea announced emphatically as she sought to convince herself that that was exactly what she should do.
“What a shame.” Natasha’s carefully devised dejection was accompanied by a soft, wistful sigh. “I must admit that I’m among the ladies who are simply agog over the officer. There hasn’t been this much excitement over a man since the first false Dmitri tried to claim the tsardom a good twenty years ago and his remains were blown out of a cannon. I tell you, Synnovea, Colonel Rycroft excites me!” Almost dreamily, she drummed her slender fingers lightly upon her goblet. “Have you seen the way he sits the back of a horse, my dear?” She already knew the answer, but hurried on with her boasting. “Ramrod-straight he rides, yet with fluid movements that make him seem an integral part of the horse. Can you imagine such a man in your bed?”
Synnovea felt a scalding heat rising in her cheeks as she recalled his hard, naked body pressing against her own. “Certainly not!”
Natasha ignored her breathless answer. Though Synnovea denied the possibility that she had ever entertained such thoughts, Natasha was of a mind to think differently. Surely the progressing tide of color sweeping into her cheeks was enough to confirm the vividness of the girl’s imagination. She was simply protesting too much to be believed. “So! You have thought about him?”
For a moment Synnovea’s lovely mouth hung aslack as she met the older woman’s smiling regard. Then, ever so slightly, the pearl-encrusted headdress dipped forward in acknowledgment. “Briefly.”
“Oh, Synnovea.” Natasha sighed in a gently chiding tone. “Were I a score of years younger, I’d certainly see that such a man was adequately distracted by my attentions.”
Synnovea looked at the woman in some wonder. Natasha was barely ten years older than the Englishman and attractive enough to be able to ensnare his attention if she so desired it. A younger, less experienced maid would have cause to worry if she found herself hopelessly smitten with the colonel and he had eyes only for Natasha. There would likely be no contest.
“If ever I should relent and admit the colonel into my presence, I shall make haste to introduce him to you,” Synnovea gallantly proposed.
“No need for that, my dear,” Natasha assured her with an amused chortle. “That event has already taken place. Prince Zherkof introduced us after Colonel Rycroft put on an exhibition in the Kremlin the other day. It was magnificent, my dear. You should have seen it. I was completely enthralled with the horsemanship of the colonel and his troop. I think the tsar was pleased, too. At least, he appeared to be.”
“When was that?” Synnovea queried carefully, wondering if she had seen him that day.
Natasha’s lips twitched faintly as she fought a small battle with her composure. “Well, I’m not exactly sure, my dear, but it also seems that I saw you near Red Square that day, too. Did you go to Kitaigorod to shop for something, perhaps? And were you perchance wearing your peasant attire?”
Synnovea wanted to groan, fearing the woman had witnessed the event which had caused nearly the whole marketplace to halt and stare. “I was there, but I didn’t see you.”
“Oh, it really doesn’t matter,” Natasha told her, noting her friend’s distress. “What does count is the fact that I’ve had the opportunity to invite the colonel to my home next week, along with some of his officers and a few of my most intimate friends. Prince Zherkof will be there, and, of course, my dear, you’re also invited. I do hope that you can persuade Anna to allow you to attend. I’ve heard rumors that she has finally decided to hasten to her father’s bedside. If that’s true, then perhaps you’ll be staying with me when the colonel comes to visit. Your presence at the affair would no doubt encourage a windfall of handsome men.”
Synnovea’s brow peaked as she regarded the elder. “Is it my company you seek or that of the colonel?”
“Both!” Natasha answered with unabashed enthusiasm and laid a hand upon the younger woman’s arm as she smilingly coaxed, “And this time, my dear, please don’t be so formidable and aloof. I’m sure if I hear the name ‘ice maiden’ bestowed upon you one more time, I shall give up trying to find you a proper husband. I once told your father, ‘Aleksandr,’ I said, ‘that girl should marry ere she’s too old to have babies!’ And he said to me, ‘Natasha, stop your nagging. I’m waiting for her to fall in love.’ Bah!” The woman threw up her hands in a gesture of frustration and leaned near Synnovea to share a bit of womanly wisdom. “The way you fall in love, my dear, is to make babies with a man like Colonel Rycroft. I’ll wager you wouldn’t be so cool and distant with him sharing your bed.”
Blushing at the idea, Synnovea answered breathlessly, “Natasha, you’re absolutely scandalous.”
The older countess heaved a wistful sigh. “That was what my last husband said, and we were married the longest.” Her eyes glowed softly in warm remembrance as she confided, “But then, Count Emelian Andreyev”—her tongue rolled his name off with loving ease—“never, to my knowledge, seriously looked at another woman all the time we were married.”
Synnovea had often sensed that Natasha had loved her last husband more than her first two. Her own heart warmed with the idea of such devotion. “Should I ever marry, Natasha, I shall come to you for advice. I’m sure you hold all the secrets for keeping a husband happy and content.”
Natasha laughed at the notion. “I can probably tell you a thing or two.” She paused to more fully contemplate the matter, and then nodded with conviction. “In fact, I can probably tell you a great deal about holding a husband’s attention. And should you marry a man of whom I approve, I’ll try to be most diligent in instructing you.”
Synnovea was immediately suspicious. “And, of course, you would direct me concerning your choice?”
“Naturally, my dear.” The corners of Natasha’s lips lifted slyly. “I should like to begin the formalities by inviting Colonel Rycroft to talk with you while you’re staying at my home.” She held up a hand to halt any protests that might be forthcoming. “Is it so much to ask? After all, Colonel Rycroft did save you from being violated by that renegade thief. Can you not be gracious to the man?”
“You’ll nag me until I agree,” Synnovea accused with an exaggerated sigh, giving in far more willingly than her earlier protestations seemed to bear out. “And so I shall, but ’twill not be to my liking. I warn you of that!”
Natasha folded her hands in genteel contentment. “We shall see how adamantly you disdain the man, my dear.”
“Though I perceive you’re a true svakhi at heart, Natasha, your matchmaking efforts will do you no good,” Synnovea warned. “Anna will never allow the colonel to court me. She simply detests foreigners.”
Natasha’s smile deepened. “As I’ve told you, my dear, the man has attracted the attention of the tsar. ’Tis rumored that His Majesty has been so int
rigued and entertained by all the mock battles, forays, and drills the colonel and his men have put on that every weekday morning now he goes out and stands on the wall of the Kremlin to watch them. In view of that fact, my dear, do you think that Tsar Mikhail will be so ill-disposed toward the colonel that he’ll long deny him his heart’s desire? My dearest Synnovea, I wouldn’t put odds on Anna’s power to dissuade her cousin if he happens to grant the colonel’s request.”
“You truly are infatuated with the man, aren’t you?” Synnovea accused, amazed that the woman could bring herself to express such delight in one of the opposite gender. Synnovea would have thought that at Natasha’s age, the woman would’ve ceased to be so easily smitten.
Natasha pondered the other’s supposition for the briefest moment before changing it slightly. “Taken with the man would be a better description of my feelings, my dear. ’Tis my opinion that men like Colonel Rycroft are a rare breed.” She nodded. “A rare breed, indeed.”
9
Afierce storm swept over the city in the wee morning hours, whipping trees into a frenzy and setting shutters to flapping noisily at nearly every window. In the peaceful lull that followed, relieved sighs were slowly expelled, and it seemed for a time at least that the tempest had passed beyond them. Yet in a trio of hours the hushed stillness was again shattered by another vicious assault that slashed the area with savage winds and pelting rains.
The changing conditions seemed but a mild portent of what was about to occur in Synnovea’s life, for she had barely begun to relax in the serenity that had finally settled over the land when her tranquility was once more rudely disrupted, this time by Anna. It wasn’t enough that her guardian stood outside her locked door, demanding entrance in outraged tones as she rapped insistently upon the wood. Such simple deeds were effective in forewarning the occupant of the seriousness of her mood, but when Synnovea hastened to open the portal, Anna’s entrance could have been likened to another violent squall blowing in.
No dreaded harbinger of doom could have derived as much satisfaction from the delivery of an ominous omen as the princess clearly did when she announced her reasons for intruding. “Since you’ve managed to lure Prince Vladimir from more noble interests, I can only agree with what Aleksei has suggested. It seems the old lecher and his sons are quite taken with you, so much so that Vladimir begged Aleksei to consider his proposal before leaving the house last night.”
“But I barely spoke to him,” Synnovea insisted, wary of what would follow.
“Nevertheless, he has been enamored,” Anna pointed out venomously. Touching a lace handkerchief briefly to a thin nostril, she continued in a peremptory vein. “Of course, there’s no help for it now with the situation facing us. We must act before Colonel Rycroft manages to disgrace us all. Our guests were simply abuzz over the effrontery of that callous Englishman. The very idea of that lowborn knave appealing to the tsar for permission to court you, as if he merited such favor! Why, it’s unforgivable! Believe me, my dear, when this matter is finally put to rest, you may be assured of one thing. The colonel’s ambitions will not be allowed to come to fruition. I’ll see to that. This very hour I’ve sent Vladimir a missive confirming our approval of your marriage to him. Such a contract will forestall any interference, whether it comes from your English admirer or from another who may hope to win you, including Major Nekrasov.”
Synnovea clutched a trembling hand to her throat, knowing only too well that it was Aleksei’s trap closing in around her. He had warned her what he’d do, but she had hoped to escape the Taraslovs’ authority before he could reap his revenge.
By slow degrees, Synnovea became aware of Ali standing in the doorway of her narrow cubicle. The old servant looked positively horror-stricken, reflecting the spiraling apprehensions that now besieged her mistress. In daunted silence both mistress and maid listened to the plans the princess was presently laying forth.
“Prince Vladimir is anxious to wed, and in view of Colonel Rycroft’s zeal to court you, we’ve decided to indulge the elder’s impetuousness by allowing him to arrange the nuptials during my absence. Ivan and I shall be departing in the morning to visit my father, but the cleric has commitments in Moscow which he must attend ere the month is out. I’ve made arrangements for our return a fortnight hence. You’ll be married the following week.”
Synnovea was stunned by the dispatch with which the matter would be concluded. Faintly she queried, “So soon?”
Anna settled a cold, unsympathetic gaze upon her charge. “I see no reason for suffering through a lengthy delay before the wedding. Do you?”
Synnovea could think of several. “Given a few more days, I might be able to prepare for the occasion better. I could even have a new gown made and sew handkerchiefs for the boyarinas who’ll serve as my attendants. Considering our custom, they’ll think it strange if I have none to give them.”
“Vladimir is too old to endure a prolonged wait,” Anna responded, rejecting her ward’s arguments with a casual wave of a thin hand. “You’ll have to be satisfied with the time you’ve been granted, Synnovea. Besides, if that Englishman’s plans are to be thwarted, we must proceed with all possible haste.”
Even as Synnovea sought to blink gathering tears from her eyes, they seemed to well up within her spirit. The Taraslovs had spitefully laid out her future, and she had no recourse but to accept their dictates. She wouldn’t even be allowed enough time to enjoy the usual celebrations and festivities associated with a betrothal or a forthcoming marriage.
Stoically Anna strolled to the front windows and gazed out upon the thoroughfare. Mulling over the previous night’s events, she watched coaches pass at a brisk pace and boyars riding steeds still frisky from the early-morning chill. Even after the departure of their guests, she had still been hopeful of Ivan’s ability to recoup the ground he had lost among the more influential boyars. His ambition to become ensconced in Vladimir’s chapel wasn’t nearly as important to Ivan as gaining support for his recommendation that a second advisor be appointed to assist in counseling the tsar, a position for which he intended to offer his own qualifications. Certainly in the days and weeks ahead, she had thought, the boyars would come to understand the wisdom of what Ivan was suggesting.
Her heart had even quickened with optimism when Aleksei had entered her bedchambers and, with his usual persuasiveness, demonstrated a husbandly passion. In the glowing aftermath of her bliss, she had lain in his arms, feeling thoroughly content with the world, but those softer emotions were completely sundered by a raging need to seek retribution when Aleksei voiced complaints about Synnovea accosting him before the soiree. Suddenly his suggestion that they consider Vladimir’s proposal of marriage had seemed acceptable. Not only would Synnovea be out of their house and away from Aleksei, but she’d likely be utterly miserable married to the old prince. However, in agreeing to the nuptials, Anna had also realized that she would be destroying any hope of Vladimir funding Ivan’s rise to power, thereby frustrating her own aspirations to share in the benefits of that authority.
“Natasha begged me to let you stay with her while I’m away,” Anna announced blandly over her shoulder. “I was certain you’d agree and have given my consent. I’m sure Natasha will be delighted to help you prepare for your wedding.”
“There’s not enough time to consider even a few frivolities, much less see anything actually accomplished,” Synnovea rejoined dismally.
Outwardly Anna ignored her charge’s lackluster statement, but inwardly she smiled in contentment. By dictating the events in Synnovea’s life, she had clearly demonstrated the power she wielded over the young countess. The forthcoming evening would serve to intensify the girl’s awareness of that fact. “Prince Vladimir has invited us to dine with him this evening to discuss preparations for your betrothal and forthcoming marriage. I’ve assured him that you’ll be joining us.”
“How kind of you.”
Detecting a break in the other’s voice, Anna smirked, feeling totally g
ratified by the girl’s distress. “You may be relieved to know that Ivan is busy preparing for our departure and won’t have time for your lessons today, Synnovea. He’s convinced that you deliberately set out to thwart his plans to become Vladimir’s priestly mentor and is extremely annoyed with you. If I were you, I’d avail myself of the opportunity to make amends with him ere we meet with your intended tonight. ’Twill help the evening pass more congenially inasmuch as I’ve granted the cleric permission to accompany us. It may be his last chance to redirect the old boyar’s attention toward a more admirable goal instead of appeasing his rutting instincts with you.”
“I wish Ivan good fortune in his endeavors,” Synnovea responded with morose sincerity. “I wouldn’t fret in the least if he managed to turn Vladimir’s attention away from me.”
Anna turned in a guise of surprise. “Why, Synnovea! Can it be that you’re upset by the idea of your betrothal…?”
“You said I’d be allowed to stay with Natasha during your absence,” Synnovea interrupted, fully cognizant of the woman’s smug satisfaction. “When may I anticipate my departure?”
Anna offered a blase shrug. “In the morning…if you really desire to leave.”