The musty scent of dry leaves clinging to dead branches and scraggly plants left unattended in the years of war were a far cry from palace roses, but the area was peaceful as the earth slowly reclaimed man’s version of nature. In all the years his family had holidayed in Paris, they’d never visited this park, preferring the Jardin des Tuileries and Jardin du Luxembourg or Mother’s favorite stretching from that Eiffel Tower tangle of metal. Bit of a marvel he was only stepping foot here now, but the occasion was gratifying. It was a place where he held a memory of no other but of her and him.
“Why did you run out of the club?”
Her hand slipped from his and she tugged up the collar of his coat. He didn’t take it as a rejection, merely a move to settle into a defensive position like a soldier adjusting his armor.
“Sheremetev offered to cancel my family’s debt and provide security by offer of marriage.”
“No.” His harsh answer tore out in a contorted growl of disbelief and anger. He didn’t care how fat the man’s neck was, Wynn would strangle him if he ever laid eyes on the dog again. To blazes with his oath to do no harm.
“He spins a compassionate tale of rescuing the maiden in distress, but it’s the title and money he’s after. A princess of the proud Dalsky line would provide prestige that his own name, powerful as it is, cannot acquire. As his wife I would be forced to continue dancing to bring in waves of rich patrons. He has taken the thing I love and turned it against me.” Her voice was flat. Emotional detachment. A common response to shock and one she handled with practiced skill. “Tonight I watched him sanction the beating of a man begging for his life by thugs wearing red armbands. Do you know what red represents in Russia?”
Wynn clenched his hands as rage poured into his veins, hot and vindictive. “I can guess.”
“Then you know what I failed to see before. They were there all the time. They are here. No matter how far I ran or what I’ve done, they have found me.”
“I won’t let them hurt you. Do you understand? I will keep you safe.”
“Safe?” She laughed bitterly and swiped at an errant tear. “No one is safe from a man like Sheremetev. He may not be political enough for a Bolshevik, but I believe he’s part of the criminal sect Black Claw. Importing and exporting opioids, weapons, prostitution rings, laundering of money, and other illegal activities. His connections are like poisonous vines crawling beneath the surface on which we walk. At his will the vines shoot through the dirt and twist at our ankles, dragging us into his lair. No one can stop him.”
Jerking off the bench, Wynn paced as he fought to keep a string of curses silent. Every blood vessel throbbed with anger.
“You cannot marry that monster.”
“Do you know what he offered me? A ruby ring red as blood. It may as well have been as it was pried from the dead tsarina’s finger after she was executed along with her family in a filthy basement by a group of Red soldiers. Men of whose ilk he allows to plot in his club.” She pulled down the corner of his coat collar to reveal bruises on her jaw in a distinctive handprint. “He has fed on my fears and closed the circle around me.”
“You cannot marry him.”
“He will feed me to the Bolsheviks if I do not comply. It seems I have no other option.”
He squatted before her. “There’s one. Marry me.”
Chapter 15
“You cannot marry him.”
“Mama, I have no choice.” Svetlana flipped the veil over her face as the church’s organ swelled to a bridal march, jangling her nerves. “Besides, it is too late to turn back now.”
She had been engaged to Dr. Edwynn MacCallan, Marquis of Tarltan, for a grand total of three days. That night in the garden she had been shocked into silence at his sudden proposal, but as her questions rose like a frantic tide she could keep silent no longer. For nearly an hour she had questioned his sanity, his reasoning, and his intentions. He had answered each one with calm logic.
She and her family would have the protection of his name and wealth with no obligations on Svetlana’s part except to say I do. A marriage in name only if that was her wish. In the end, when thinking had exhausted her, she asked him why he would go to such trouble for her. He’d merely smiled in that way of his and said he could no longer stand by and watch her suffer when there was something he could do to alleviate her pain.
Mama fussed with the veil that had been borrowed from one of their neighbors in the church basement. It was one of the few treasures the woman had escaped Russia with, and she’d only agreed to loan it when Svetlana offered her daily ration of food.
“To think, a daughter of mine and princess of Russia married to a tradesman. In a borrowed dress with no proper tiara to signify her rank.”
Svetlana stepped away before her mother could jab another hairpin into her scalp. If only Marina were here to bring a sense of calm, but under doctor’s orders she was to remain on bed rest at his family’s townhouse until her strength fully recovered. Wynn had extended his kindness by offering his mother’s closet for Svetlana’s perusal. She was grateful, but a wedding dress and tiara were nothing compared to the absence of her beloved sister, and more than anything Svetlana needed her soothing strength this day.
“Wynn may be a physician, but he is also a marquis, a high noble rank in Britain.”
“It is a sin when you are bound to another man. Sergey will be heartbroken. He’s been so good to you over the years.”
“Sergey and I were never officially betrothed. I cannot wait for him to find us, if indeed he ever does.” Sergey had been good to her. His parting act had been to see her to safety while sacrificing himself to the enemy. She could never forget that, but the promises made in Russia were best left to the past. She had a future to secure. “Wynn is a good man. He would not take on our troubles otherwise.”
“May the saints preserve us from those black deeds.” Mama crossed herself before one of the many gilded icons decorating the vestibule of the Alexander Nevsky Cathedral. A fitting place for the ceremony. Not to mention the only place to allow an Orthodox wedding. “How was our family brought to such an abyss? If only I had been stronger. If only your father were here. He would know what to do.”
“He would put the well-being of our family above all else as I am trying to do. Is that not what marriages are for? A weeding out of sentiments for the betterment of an alliance. Wynn is a good alliance.”
“The man is an Anglican!” Mama’s trump card. No proper Russian argued with the dictates of the Holy Church, but wartime had a way of requiring one’s head to be turned the other way as circumstances required.
“Due to our upsetting circumstances, the priest is willing to overlook Wynn’s heresy.” A few gold coins slipped into the altar coin box might have pushed the decision to more favorable means as well.
“Surely there must be another way. Perhaps you have not thought of them all. I’m certain if we were to ask Shereme—”
“No!” Svetlana took a deep breath as every fiber of anger, sadness, and fear roiled within her. Mama would never learn of what happened with Sheremetev nor of the evilness he allowed to hunt them. Wynn was their only hope now. “Go and take a seat.”
“Svetka.” Mama reached a hand toward the veil.
Svetlana pulled away. If one more person prodded her, she would lose her last shred of control. “I’m ready. Please go.”