Scoundrel's Honor by Rosemary Rogers

replica of a Catholic church.”
    As he had hoped, Emma’s tension eased as she pressed her nose to the window, obviously eager to enjoy the spectacular view.
    â€œMy father told me that Alexander Pavlovich had commanded the church become a memorial to the defeat of Napoleon.”
    â€œYes,” Dimitri agreed dryly. The emperor had been quite eager to ensure that his victory over the Corsican monster was suitably commemorated throughout the city. “The great Mikhail Kutuzov is laid to rest in the cathedral and the keys from several European cities and fortresses were placed in the sacristy in honor of Russia’s victory.”
    The carriage rattled onward and Dimitri pointed out the Stroganov Palace with its massive entrance arch supported by two Corinthian columns. Like much of St. Petersburg it had been designed by Rastrelli. Turning eastward they passed the Admiralty and headed toward the Palace Square. It was, of course, the crowning jewel of the city with its lavish facade painted a pale green and trimmed in white. Massive statues lined the roof and at one end an onion dome dominated the skyline. Next to the palace were the Hermitage houses that held Catherine’s vast collection of paintings as well as the theater built for Catherine by Giacomo Quarenghi.
    Dimitri hid his smile as Emma pointed toward the passing buildings, asking endless questions and unabashedly enjoying the short tour. It had become fashionable to pretend a jaded indifference to the world, and he could not deny it was refreshing to be in the company of a woman willing to reveal her emotions.
    Her eyes widened in fascination as she spotted the Peter and Paul Fortress on the northern bank of the Neva, she sighed at the beauty of the summer gardens, and shivered at the forbidding Mikhailovsky Castle, a fortress built by an insane Emperor Paul where he was later to be murdered.
    It was almost a disappointment when they crossed the bridge leading to the lower Nevsky and turned onto a narrow street lined with unpretentious elegant buildings.
    Emma turned to him in surprise. “Why are we slowing?”
    â€œI prefer not to leap from a moving carriage unless absolutely necessary,” he informed her dryly.
    She sucked in a sharp breath, her gaze taking in the building painted a brilliant yellow with a wide entrance that was guarded by two servants. Although it was early, there was already a steady line of opulently clad gentlemen climbing the stairs and producing their gilt-edged cards that marked them as members.
    â€œThis is your club?”
    Ridiculously, Dimitri discovered himself offended by her shock. “Did you expect a hovel in a dark alley?”
    She drained the last of her cognac before setting aside the empty glass.
    â€œI have never given much thought to gambling establishments. Now I realize they must be quite profitable.”
    He shoved open the door, assisting her onto the paved walk. “Sin is not without its reward.”
    â€œSpoken by an unrepentant sinner.”
    â€œOf course,” he agreed.
    As the bastard of a nobleman he had received a fine education, but was forbidden to take his place among society. At the same time, he was too cultured to be accepted among the peasants. With no true place in the world, he had turned his ruthless willpower to creating an empire of his own making.
    Leading Emma up the stairs, he nodded toward his guards and entered the large octagonal vestibule that was tastefully decorated with a black-and-white-tiled floor reflected in the silver-framed mirrors that lined the walls.
    At their entrance a tall servant with a regal bearing approached to offer a deep bow.
    â€œVladimir will take your wrap,” Dimitri informed his silent companion, his brows lifting as she clutched thevelvet cloak with a white-knuckled grip. Did the chit fear his servant intended to make off with her clothing? “I promise you it will be returned.”
    â€œVery well.”
    Her