To Wed a Wicked Prince by Jane Feather Page A

czar, who supposedly trusted Alexander Prokov as his best friend and most intimate confidant, had put Michael on to watch him. Trust only went so far, apparently.
    In truth he couldn’t blame the czar. It was a safe assumption that it was the Committee for General Security who’d set the oversight in motion. It didn’t make his job any easier, though. Michael was a blustering old fool a lot of the time, which made him hard to second-guess. His loyalty to the emperor was absolute, as was his loyalty to Mother Russia, but for him the two were inextricably intertwined. Czar Alexander was Mother Russia and neither could do wrong.
    But he had pleasanter matters to occupy him for the rest of the day. Alex called for Boris to fetch his hat and gloves, and a few minutes later he was strolling in the direction of Piccadilly and the business of Rundell and Bridge.
    Within the hushed portals of that business a discreet gentleman, on hearing his identity, swiftly ushered him into a paneled chamber behind the shop, where he was introduced to Mr. Bridge, a dignified gentleman in black coat and waistcoat, who rose to greet him from behind a massive desk. “An honor, Prince Prokov. How may we be of service?”
    Alex tipped the gems into the palm of his hand and then set them on the pouch on the desk. “I have a design in mind for these,” he said without preamble. “But I am also open to suggestions.”
    The gentleman appraised the gems with one sweeping glance and said almost reverently, “Allow me to fetch our master jeweler, sir.” He slipped away as soundlessly as a black wraith and was back in seconds with a tall, impossibly thin man, whose hunched back indicated hours of labor bent over a workbench.
    “This is Mr. Arkwright, sir,” the first gentleman said. “He is a master craftsman.”
    Alex acknowledged the new arrival with a nod and gestured to the glittering pile of stones on the desk. “I have in mind a ring and a pendant. If you have paper and pen, Mr. Arkwright, I will sketch the designs I had in mind.”
    The jeweler regarded Alex’s efforts with something akin to respect, then took the pen. “If I might make a suggestion, sir.” He made a few adjustments.
    “I take it these are for a lady, not…how shall I put it…not a debutante, sir?” Mr. Bridge murmured. “Sapphires and diamonds, sir…not entirely suitable for the very young.”
    “I am aware of that,” Alex said, and then wished he hadn’t sounded so dismissive, as Mr. Bridge hummed and huffed apologies for an interminable length of time. “You weren’t to know, Mr. Bridge,” he said, interrupting the murmur. “But as it happens, the lady is no longer a debutante and is well up to wearing such stones.”
    “Yes…yes, of course, sir. Forgive me…”
    “Let us dispense with that now, Mr. Bridge,” Alex said, waving a hand. “It’s a matter of no further concern.” He turned back to the jeweler who was weighing the stones. “So, Arkwright, will these stones do?”
    “These stones are flawless, sir,” Mr. Arkwright said. He glanced up at the customer. “If you had more, I would suggest diamond ear drops with a sapphire center would be an admirable addition to the set.”
    Alex smiled. “Yes, they would, but I don’t wish to run before I can walk, Mr. Arkwright. When the time comes, I will return with that commission.”
    “Of course, sir. May I take them now?”
    “Please.” Alex gestured to the stones in invitation. “How long do you think?”
    “A month.”
    Alex’s eyes narrowed, his fair brows drawing together. He had to carry the castle before then if he was to keep to his timetable. “Three weeks,” he stated.
    Mr. Arkwright looked at his employer, who nodded at him. He scooped the gems into the pouch. “Three weeks it shall be, sir.”
    “Thank you.” Alex picked up his hat from the chair where he’d deposited it on his entrance. “I’ll be back three weeks today.”
    Mr. Arkwright gave him a nodding bow and