Free Microsoft Word - jw by kps Page B

when, in what context? Slowly closing the lid, setting the box aside, I got up and began to undress, and it was not until I had blown the candles out and got into bed that the veils lifted from my mind and memory returned. I had been in school and we were studying Russia and I was very bored, longing to romp in the sunshine, longing to leave the dull, stuffy classroom that smelled of chalk dust and ink and old books. The schoolmistress,
    a flighty, breathless spinster with a penchant for court gossip had been chattering on and on about recent events in that sprawling, snowbound country none of us gave a hang about.
    Russia had a new ruler. The bloated, sexually depraved
    ~o
    old Empress Elizabeth had died and her heir, Peter III, was quite, quite mad. With the help of the military, his young German bride, Catherine, had brought about a coup and usurped the throne. Peter had been spirited away and held prisoner, dying shortly thereafter. Some claimed he had been strangled by the Orlov Giants, who had been the first to leap to Catherine's support. She had rewarded all five of them most generously. On her coronation day she had made Gregory Orlov her Adjutant General and had given him the title of Count. She had installed him in a sumptuous apartment in the Winter Palace, which had a secret staircase leading up to her bedroom: He had been her first official lover, his influence over her the scandal of Europe.
    For almost a decade Gregory Orlov had been the uncrowned Emperor of All the Russias and one of the most powerful men on earth.

Chapter Four
    THERE HAD BEEN A BUSTLING COMMOTION IN
    the yard ever since dawn, and I was surprised to find it almost deserted when I stepped outside shortly before ten. A Russian in blue was giving stern instructions to the driver of the Orlov coach, which would shortly be brought around. The driver nodded a laconic nod, peering into space, then sauntered toward the stables. The other, one of Vladimir's cohorts, scowled and moved off in the other di- .
    rection, and I found myself alone. The other carriages, those carrying all the baggage, all the candelabra and rugs and china and such, as well as most of the servants, had already left. My own bags had been brought down an hour ago. I assumed they were already on their way to London and would be left at The White Hart as I had instructed.
    It was a mildly overcast morning, the sky light gray, the sun a pale white disk partially obscured by haze. There was a chill in the air, and I was glad I had put the hooded violet cloak over my blue silk with its narrow violet stripes. Orlov and Lucie were apparently still inside. I was relieved to have a few more minutes respite before facing them. I had returned the enameled box to him first thing this morning, sending it along with a brief, polite note explaining
    that I could not possibly keep it. I had given the box of chocolates to one of the maids, asking her to share it with the rest of the staff, and the lovely fan was packed away with my other belongings. I would keep it as a memento of an evening that now seemed dreamlike and unreal, a blur of flickering golden light made even vaguer by the alcohol I had unwisely consumed.
    This morning, cool, clear-headed, I could view my attraction to Orlov with objectivity. I had felt a certain stirring, yes, but it had been purely physical and in no way a betrayal of my love for Jeremy. I had been in a sad, pensive mood, feeling very vulnerable, and he had been extremely amiable, extremely charming. Any woman would have responded
    to that potent, persuasive, sexual allure, but there had been no seduction and, all things considered, I had conducted myself in a blameless fashion. Orlov had shown me a great deal of consideration, had not pressed, had been a gentleman, however rough at the edges. I appreciated that. Another man might have turned the evening into a very unpleasant struggle of wills.
    I pulled the heavy violet silk hood over my head and arranged the