bedchamber.
“Prince Michael Michaelovitch, Your Highness. In the salon.”
“I’ll be there immediately.” Alex was still in riding dress, hardly suitable attire for town visitors, but Michael would not relish being kept waiting. He went into the salon.
“Michael, such a pleasure.” He held out his hand in greeting. “What may I offer you?”
“Vodka, just a tincture,” his visitor said, taking the proffered hand. “Pleasant apartments these.” He gestured expansively around the room. “Lucky to find them.”
“So I gather.” Alex went to the sideboard to pour his guest a drink. “But I have a suitable house in mind and will take up residence as soon as possible. Lodgings can’t help but be cramped and I like to entertain.”
“Ah.” His guest nodded sagely as he took the glass. “Yes…yes…well, one can entertain as well here as Moscow or St. Petersburg, or even Paris, I daresay.”
“I confess to a fondness for Paris,” Alex said, pouring himself a glass of rather more innocuous madeira.
“Yes, well, who knows. If the czar’s friendship with Bonaparte continues to progress, we could all be dancing again in the ballrooms of Paris before long.” The prince nodded again with the same sagacity. He tossed back the contents of his glass in one deep swallow and nodded again, this time with approval. “Excellent…so what do you think of this business, Alex?”
Alex brought the vodka bottle over to refill his glass. “What aspect of the business exactly, Michael?”
“This business of breaking off diplomatic relations with the Court of St. James, of course,” the older man said. “The ambassador told me himself he expects to be recalled any day now. How’re we to know what’s goin’ on over here when we have no one in place? The English are tricky bastards. They lie through their teeth even as they embrace you as their truest ally. Who’s supposed to be watchin’ this pot? That’s what I want to know.” He regarded his host ferociously over the lip of his glass.
Alex shrugged easily. “Come on, Michael, you’re not here to ask the question. You’re here to have your suspicions confirmed…yes?”
“So are you here on the czar’s business?” The prince cut to the chase.
“And if I am?” Alex took a seat on the sofa and gestured an invitation to the opposing sofa.
His visitor took the seat and glared at him. “You’re a soldier, not a diplomat, Alex.”
Alex raised his eyebrows. “Oddly enough, my friend, I believe I can do both. And so, it would appear, does our emperor.”
“But the English don’t know that’s why you’re here?”
Alex laughed. “Hardly, Michael. That would defeat the purpose. I am a social butterfly, a dilettante with nothing on my mind but cards and dice, flirtation, maybe even a little discreet seduction, the theatre, opera, concerts, balls, and rout parties. A man, in short, with nothing but frivol on his mind…and who knows, I may even find myself a nice, respectable English wife. The perfect hostess for all the entertaining that will bring London’s social and political elite to my drawing room.” His clear blue eyes met his visitor’s darker gaze with nothing but amusement. “How would that be for a cover?”
The prince nodded slowly. “It would certainly give you impeccable social credentials. Do you have a contact at court as yet?”
Alex’s amusement seemed to deepen. “If I had, mon ami, I would not be telling you.”
Michael glowered for a second and then threw his head back with a deep rumble of laughter. “No…no, of course you wouldn’t. Foolish of me to try to catch you out.” He drained his glass again and set it down as he rose to his feet. “Well, I won’t trespass any further on your time, Alex. Bear in mind that if you need the counsel of an elder statesman, I’m here.” He held out his hand.
Alex saw him to the door and closed it softly behind him. He stood in the dimly lit hallway for a minute. So the
“Prince Michael Michaelovitch, Your Highness. In the salon.”
“I’ll be there immediately.” Alex was still in riding dress, hardly suitable attire for town visitors, but Michael would not relish being kept waiting. He went into the salon.
“Michael, such a pleasure.” He held out his hand in greeting. “What may I offer you?”
“Vodka, just a tincture,” his visitor said, taking the proffered hand. “Pleasant apartments these.” He gestured expansively around the room. “Lucky to find them.”
“So I gather.” Alex went to the sideboard to pour his guest a drink. “But I have a suitable house in mind and will take up residence as soon as possible. Lodgings can’t help but be cramped and I like to entertain.”
“Ah.” His guest nodded sagely as he took the glass. “Yes…yes…well, one can entertain as well here as Moscow or St. Petersburg, or even Paris, I daresay.”
“I confess to a fondness for Paris,” Alex said, pouring himself a glass of rather more innocuous madeira.
“Yes, well, who knows. If the czar’s friendship with Bonaparte continues to progress, we could all be dancing again in the ballrooms of Paris before long.” The prince nodded again with the same sagacity. He tossed back the contents of his glass in one deep swallow and nodded again, this time with approval. “Excellent…so what do you think of this business, Alex?”
Alex brought the vodka bottle over to refill his glass. “What aspect of the business exactly, Michael?”
“This business of breaking off diplomatic relations with the Court of St. James, of course,” the older man said. “The ambassador told me himself he expects to be recalled any day now. How’re we to know what’s goin’ on over here when we have no one in place? The English are tricky bastards. They lie through their teeth even as they embrace you as their truest ally. Who’s supposed to be watchin’ this pot? That’s what I want to know.” He regarded his host ferociously over the lip of his glass.
Alex shrugged easily. “Come on, Michael, you’re not here to ask the question. You’re here to have your suspicions confirmed…yes?”
“So are you here on the czar’s business?” The prince cut to the chase.
“And if I am?” Alex took a seat on the sofa and gestured an invitation to the opposing sofa.
His visitor took the seat and glared at him. “You’re a soldier, not a diplomat, Alex.”
Alex raised his eyebrows. “Oddly enough, my friend, I believe I can do both. And so, it would appear, does our emperor.”
“But the English don’t know that’s why you’re here?”
Alex laughed. “Hardly, Michael. That would defeat the purpose. I am a social butterfly, a dilettante with nothing on my mind but cards and dice, flirtation, maybe even a little discreet seduction, the theatre, opera, concerts, balls, and rout parties. A man, in short, with nothing but frivol on his mind…and who knows, I may even find myself a nice, respectable English wife. The perfect hostess for all the entertaining that will bring London’s social and political elite to my drawing room.” His clear blue eyes met his visitor’s darker gaze with nothing but amusement. “How would that be for a cover?”
The prince nodded slowly. “It would certainly give you impeccable social credentials. Do you have a contact at court as yet?”
Alex’s amusement seemed to deepen. “If I had, mon ami, I would not be telling you.”
Michael glowered for a second and then threw his head back with a deep rumble of laughter. “No…no, of course you wouldn’t. Foolish of me to try to catch you out.” He drained his glass again and set it down as he rose to his feet. “Well, I won’t trespass any further on your time, Alex. Bear in mind that if you need the counsel of an elder statesman, I’m here.” He held out his hand.
Alex saw him to the door and closed it softly behind him. He stood in the dimly lit hallway for a minute. So the
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