Golden Paradise by Susan Johnson

saved my life," she said calmly.
    "And you naturally rewarded him."
    "Nadejda," Stefan said. The single word was an order to silence.
    "Why don't we go up to the house for tea?" Militza interjected, shamelessly pleased Stefan had reprimanded his fiancée. She'd been forced to endure the girl's uncharitable company for Nadejda had unexpectedly arrived in Tiflis with her parents on a visit to the Viceroy.
    Felix Lazaroff's daughter was very beautiful, Militza thought, although not to Stefan's usual taste in women, which gravitated toward glamorous blondes. This girl was refined and delicate, her features touched with the ingenue, although her height was a shade above the average. Stefan usually preferred small women. How interesting, she speculated. As interesting as his cryptic note mentioning he might bring home a guest. Haci had defined the word guest for her, but more interesting yet was the fact Stefan invited the Countess to his home. A staggering first.
    Months ago she'd watched with constrained silence as Stefan coldly selected a fiancée, appalled at his final choice. Nadejda was absolutely without endearing qualities. She was certainly striking, if one favored cool, fair-haired beauties from wealthy, powerfully connected families. But Stefan could have had anyone. When she'd said as much to him rather wrath-fully when he'd come back to Tiflis engaged, he'd only shrugged and said, not in explanation but in simple statement, "I only had a week furlough."
    Lisaveta was desperately trying to formulate a suitable reply to Militza's suggestion of tea, for she wanted nothing less than to have to socialize with Stefan's malicious fiancée, when Stefan interposed. "Perhaps we could wash up first," he said, stalling for time, thinking hell and damnation, what bloody bad luck. Nadejda should have been in Saint Petersburg, two thousand miles away. "The roads are awash with dust this time of year," he added.
    Thank you, Lisaveta thought gratefully, but then Stefan was adroit at lying, wasn't he, she decided, his "surprise" fiancée glaring at her. All she wanted to do was get away from this uncomfortable situation, find a coach traveling north very soon and leave Stefan Bariatinsky to the mercy of his fiancée.
    Since they had dallied on the outskirts of Tiflis the previous night, reluctant to bring their passionate holiday to an end, neither Stefan nor Lisaveta was in fact at all begrimed by travel. Stefan's white Chevalier Gardes uniform was pristine while Lisaveta's simple white pique summer gown was bandbox fresh.
    Ignoring the graphic evidence before her eyes, Aunt Militza said with a practiced courtesy, "Of course, you must rinse off the dust of your journey. We'll see you on the terrace in half an hour." This latter statement was delivered in a tone very like Stefan's when issuing orders to his men, Lisaveta thought, having witnessed the departure of his troop from Aleksandropol.
    And surprisingly Stefan deferred with a nod of acknowledgement. There was an authority higher than his, Lisaveta realized, or at least in some circumstances there was. Or at least for trivialities like teatime there was.
    "Come, Nadejda," Militza declared firmly, "you can help me with tea."
    Nadejda hesitated briefly, her eyes moving dismissively over Lisaveta to rest on Stefan. She was weighing the risks of refusing when her violet shaded eyes met forcibly with Stefan's dark gaze.
    "We'll be along directly," he said, without modulation, and it was that precise lack of inflection perhaps, the utter quiet of his tone, that decided her. After all, Stefan Bariatinsky was the catch not only of this season but of ten seasons past, as well, and she had been raised to be a practical woman.
    For a moment after the two women departed, the only sound was the whisper of the wind through the gigantic cypress trees lining the ornate staircase. Grafted from those planted by Catherine the Great during her triumphant tour through the Crimea nearly a century