Lord Buckingham’s Bride Read online

  ‘What in God’s name were you doing? One step out on that deck and you’d almost certainly have been washed away,’ he cried, shaking her angrily.

  Her lips trembled and her gray eyes were huge in the weak light thrown by the passageway’s gimbal candlestick.

  His anger died away. ‘What is it, Alison?’ he asked more gently, realizing that something had happened.

  Thunder rumbled across the night outside, and with a stifled cry Alison flung her arms around him, hiding her face against his shoulder. He held her close and felt how her whole body quivered with fear.

  ‘It’s only thunder,’ he whispered, stroking her hair gently. As he did so, something made him turn his head to look back down toward the cabins. One of the doors, that of the cabin occupied by Nikolai’s spy, closed very softly, and Francis knew that the entire incident on the steps had been observed.

  Quickly he swept her from her feet and carried her down the steps toward her cabin, and once safely inside, he kicked the door to behind them before laying her gently on the bed. Then he sat by her, taking her cold hands in his.

  ‘What happened, Alison?’ he asked quietly and firmly.

  ‘I saw the Irina,’ she replied, ‘and she was sailing east as we are.’

  ‘It must have been a trick of the light, the Irina is still in Stockholm.’

  ‘No, Francis, I saw her. The prince isn’t in Sweden anymore; he’s on his way to St Petersburg, I know he is.’

  Francis didn’t attempt to argue the point, but she knew that he didn’t really believe her. And why should he? She had been very distressed and almost hysterical, and in a flash of lightning she had become convinced she had seen the schooner. In his place she would probably have doubted as well, but she knew she’d seen the Irina, for the image was sketched indelibly on her memory.

  The storm gradually abated the following day, and the Pavlovsk skimmed eastward before a very brisk breeze. She made such good time that although the wind died away on the fourth day she still reached Kronstadt at dawn on the fifth, dropping anchor among the flock of merchant vessels lying in the lee of the island, outside the massive harbor walls.

  Kronstadt rose awesomely out of the ice-cold water, its silhouette black against the eastern horizon, where St Petersburg lay some twenty miles farther on. The sky was clear, but still there were snowflakes drifting aimlessly through the brittle cold. Kronstadt was a little farther north than Stockholm, and the difference was tangible.

  Huge granite ramparts and a dangerously narrow harbor mouth protected a wooden-built town of some thirty-five thousand inhabitants, and apart from the impressive fortifications that bristled with artillery on all sides, the only building of any consequence was the cathedral, dedicated to St Andrew, the bell of which echoed through the dawn as Alison and Francis went up on deck.

  Flames flickered eerily in the ironworks on the shore, and from the shipbuilding yards there came the sound of hammering. Men at the harbor mouth shouted as they guided a sloop through the constricted entrance, and the sea gulls were beginning to call as they stirred from their roosts to accompany the first fishing boats out to sea.

  Among the merchant vessels lying at anchor offshore there was a line of naval frigates, all safe under the protection of the great guns of the fortress. The deep channels were secure and guarded, but farther out to sea, where the shores of the mainland could just be seen, the shallow water was free of all shipping except fishing boats. Alison gazed at it all, thinking that it didn’t require a military or naval expert to perceive that this place was unassailable unless the attacker had very precise and secret intelligence, such as that now in Bonaparte’s clever and ambitious hands. With the information he now possessed he might easily be able to incapacitate Kronstadt and then sail on with his vast fleet of shallow-draft landing craft to take St Petersburg itself.

  She shivered as she stood with Francis on the deck, for the bitter cold had swiftly crept through her clothes to touch her skin. Francis wore his greatcoat, with his top hat pulled well down on his head, and the cold didn’t seem to affect him so much, but she felt chilled to the core in her black-and-white-checked gown and fur-lined cloak. Her hood was raised and she had on her straw bonnet, but nothing seemed to repel the rawness of the northern air.

  They had both glanced around the moment they came on deck, wondering if they would see the Irina among the other vessels, but there was no sign of the schooner. Alison knew that this merely confirmed Francis in his belief that she had imagined everything on the night of the storm.

  A rowing boat was making its way toward the brigantine, rowed by a single sailor, and a flight of wooden steps was being lowered against the Pavlovsk’s side in readiness. As Alison and Francis watched, the little boat nudged the foot of the steps and the sailor made fast. Then he climbed quickly out of the rocking boat and came up to the deck, where the captain and first officer were waiting.

  An American merchantman nearby was weighing anchor. Her sails filled gently as the almost imperceptible breeze caught them, and slowly she slid away toward the west. As she left her place, another vessel was revealed beyond her; it was the Irina.

  Nikolai’s beautiful schooner swayed gently on the slight swell left by the departing merchantman, her white hull reflecting in the calm water. Her crimson sails were furled and the elegant figurehead looked so lifelike that it was almost as if the Countess Irina herself was languishing there and would at any moment stretch down a graceful arm to dip her fingers in the sea.

  Alison’s lips parted in dismay. ‘You see?’ she whispered. ‘It was no trick of the light.’

  Before Francis could reply, there was the sound of footsteps on the deck behind them, and they turned quickly to see the captain and first officer approaching. The two men halted before them, and the captain nodded at the officer, who spoke adequate English. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

  ‘My lord,’ he said to Francis, ‘Prince Naryshky sends his compliments and wishes you and Miss Clearwell to join him on the Irina. He would like to extend his hospitality and convey you for the remainder of your voyage to St Petersburg. The boat will return for you in half an hour. Your luggage can stay here and we will see it safely to your address.’

  Alison kept her eyes lowered to the deck, silently praying that somehow Francis would find a way of politely declining.

  He gave a smile and the merest suggestion of a courteous bow.

  ‘The prince is most kind, but we would not wish to impose upon his kindness,’ he replied.

  Alison crossed her fingers in the folds of her cloak.

  The officer cleared his throat again. ‘It is no imposition, my lord, of that you may be sure; indeed, you would not be wise to decline. The prince is a very powerful man; he stands very close to the czar, and to refuse his generosity would be to court his displeasure.’

  ‘Then what can I say but that we gladly accept,’ Francis answered without so much as a flicker of unease.

  Alison could barely conceal her consternation, but still kept her eyes downcast.

  The first officer nodded. ‘A prudent decision, my lord. As I said, the boat will return in half an hour.’ He indicated the rowing boat, which was pulling away from the Pavlovsk toward the Irina. There were two men in it now, the sailor who had rowed it across and the army officer who had been spying upon the brigantine’s two English passengers.

  As the captain and first officer withdrew again, Alison turned anxiously to Francis. ‘Don’t we have any choice?’

  ‘We have to go, Alison. The first officer meant it when he warned us against declining. Naryshky isn’t a man to toy with.’

  She was silent for a long moment. ‘We’re in a scrape, aren’t we?’ she said then.

  ‘We may not be, for it still might be that his sole purpose is to pursue you, and if that is so, then I can protect you merely by my presence. Naryshky may be many things, but I doubt if even he would attempt anything in front of me, and believe me, I don’t intend to leave you on your own
with him.’

  She looked toward the Irina, where the rowing boat was now coming alongside similar steps to those that had been placed against the Pavlovsk a short while before. ‘We’re still in a scrape,’ she said, ‘for now we’ll have to keep up with our act even when we reach St Petersburg. And to do that we’ll have to confide in my uncle and step-aunt, for it’s impossible to behave politely and properly beneath their roof and then like lovers outside in case the prince’s spies are watching us. Besides which, we don’t know if the prince is acquainted with my uncle or not. He certainly knows his name and that he lives on English Quay.’

  Francis took her hand and squeezed it gently. ‘I can see the problems as clearly as you, Alison,’ he said softly. ‘Indeed, perhaps I can see them even more clearly.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter for the moment. What does matter is that we carry this off with style now. Naryshky’s creature can only report that we’ve billed and cooed appropriately since leaving Stockholm, and that he went through our cabins with a fine tooth comb and found nothing.’

  ‘Went through our cabins?’ she gasped.

  ‘Yes. I noticed that things in mine had been disturbed, and then I actually saw him leaving yours when you were up on deck. He won’t have found anything because the documents never leave my person. So, all we have to do is continue our loving display when we go on board the Irina. What happens in St Petersburg is a bridge we’ll cross as and when we come to it, for I must take everything step by step and be careful at all costs to protect my real purpose. The documents I carry with me are of the utmost consequence in all this, and I have no choice but to put their safety before everything else. Just bear with me, Alison, stand by your promise in Stockholm, and I will do the right thing by you.’

  ‘The right thing? I don’t understand.’

  He smiled, taking her face in his hands for a moment. ‘No, I really don’t think you do. You are the sweetest of innocents, Alison Clearwell.’ His lips brushed over hers.

  Her heart turned over with the surge of feeling that rushed through her, and all anxiety and fear fled into the cold, almost arctic air. Stand by her promise to him? She would stand by him no matter what, because she was beginning to fall in love with him. He would never be hers – he belonged to Pamela – but she, Alison Clearwell, wished to her very soul that it could be otherwise.

  Sergei alighted from the rowing boat as it nudged the steps against the Irina’s hull. Pausing for a moment to adjust his uniform, he then went quickly up to the shining, spotless deck and along toward the stern of the vessel, where he knew Nikolai’s private quarters were to be found.

  He stepped through an elegant doorway into a sandalwood-scented passage and then halted as he saw the prince coming toward him wearing a peacock silk floor-length dressing gown over his white shirt and uniform breeches, for he hadn’t dressed properly since being awakened the moment the Pavlovsk had arrived. His blond hair was tousled and uncombed and his valet had yet to shave him, but his dark eyes were sharp and alert.

  ‘Well, Sergei Mikhailovich, what have you to report concerning our two lovebirds?’

  ‘Simply that in my opinion that is exactly what they are, sir, lovebirds.’

  ‘Sir? But we are still friends Sergei. Now, then, what makes you so certain about Lord Buckingham and his ladylove?’

  ‘Everything about them. Nikolai, before they came down to breakfast at the Dog and Flute they indulged in a very public embrace that only a fool would think was a pretense, and on the Pavlovsk they’ve spent every available moment together.’

  Nikolai pursed his lips thoughtfully. ‘Did you manage to search their belongings?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And nothing. I found absolutely nothing.’

  Nikolai smiled a little. ‘No loving mementos?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And you don’t think that that is a little odd?’

  Sergei drew a long breath. ‘Well, possibly, but—’

  ‘There’s no “possibly” about it, my friend,’ interrupted Nikolai, ‘it’s very odd indeed as far as I’m concerned. Here we have two passionate lovers, and yet they have no love tokens, no love letters to read and read again, no miniature of their sweetheart’s face, and no lock of hair to place in a locket. They may have gulled you into believing them, Sergei, but I am not so easily convinced.’

  ‘But why are you so interested in them Nikolai?’ asked the other, his curiosity suddenly getting the better of him.

  ‘That is no concern of yours, especially if you wish to see the end of your IOUs.’

  ‘Forgive me,’ said Sergei quickly. ‘Is there anything else you wish me to do for you?’

  ‘Well, since I am now going to be in St Petersburg myself, I mean to attend to most things personally, but there are still two particular tasks I require of you.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘One of my tenants at Novgorod, Leon Razumov, has a daughter named Natalia who about a year ago married Thomas Clearwell.’

  ‘Clearwell? Is he a relative of…?’

  ‘The Miss Clearwell on the Pavlovsk? Yes, he is her uncle. As soon as you arrive in St Petersburg, I wish you to inform the new Mrs Clearwell that I wish to see her without delay. I will give you the time and place.’

  ‘Very well.’

  ‘Do it as quickly as possible, for I don’t want any unnecessary delay, and see to it that she says nothing to anyone. When I’ve finished with her, she’ll gladly tell me everything she knows about our two so-called lovebirds.’

  ‘I’ll do as you ask.’

  ‘I’m not asking, my friend, I’m ordering,’ said Nikolai quietly.

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘See that you do, or it will be the worse for you.’

  Sergei nodded. ‘Shall I return to the Pavlovsk now?’

  ‘Not so fast, my friend, for I haven’t finished yet. There is still the small matter of seizing Miss Clearwell for me.’

  Sergei’s heart sank, for he had been hoping against hope that the abduction would no longer fall to him. ‘Nikolai, I—’

  ‘Don’t be foolish now, Sergei, for it will not do for you to try to get out of this. I intend to have her, and you are the instrument I mean to use. There is no longer any need to remove her to my summer palace. All you need do now is bring her on board the Irina, which will lie at anchor on the Neva directly opposite English Quay. I don’t care how you go about kidnapping her, just as long as you’re discreet. There mustn’t be any hint of my involvement, I just want her to mysteriously disappear.’

  ‘But Nikolai, it’s so very risky,’ pleaded Sergei, sick with anxiety.

  ‘Not so risky as having to survive once I call in your debts, my friend. Now you may go back to the Pavlovsk.’

  Resignedly Sergei inclined his head and then turned to retrace his steps out on to the deck.

  Nikolai followed him to the doorway and then stood watching as he went down to the waiting rowing boat. As the little craft pulled away from the schooner, Nikolai drew a long and very thoughtful breath. He hoped that Sergei was right and that Miss Clearwell and her lord were all they professed to be, but he still couldn’t run the risk. Lord Buckingham must not be allowed to speak privately with the czar; indeed, he mustn’t get anywhere near the czar, just in case that clerk in Paris had dispatched his information before meeting his death in the Seine. It wouldn’t do to take any chances just yet, not when plans were still in their infancy. The truth would come out in the end, but only when it was too late for Alexander, Czar of All the Russias, to do anything but surrender.

  Nikolai’s face was cold and bitter. The day Alexander had taken the Countess Irina von Strelitz as his mistress had been the day he had made an implacable and unforgiving enemy of Nikolai Invanovich Naryshky, for by that single act the Romanovs had declared to the world that a daughter of the house of Naryshky wasn’t good enough to be the czarina, but was good enough to be the czar’s whore. And thi
s had been after he, Nikolai, had been turned down for the hand of the Grand-Duchess Helen, Alexander’s beautiful eighteen-year-old sister. That refusal had stirred resentment; the resentment had become hatred when Irina had been taken to Alexander’s bed. No man, not even the czar, could be allowed to deal so many monstrous insults, and now Alexander would pay dearly for his actions. The new czar would have been better advised to show appreciation for the loyalty and support he, Nikolai, had given, but in the absence of such appreciation, there was another who was more than prepared to bestow favor where it was due. Bonaparte knew how to reward those who deserved it, and no one had rendered more service recently than Prince Nikolai Naryshky of the czar’s Preobrazensky Regiment.

  Nikolai looked away from the rowing boat toward the massive fortifications of Kronstadt. His gaze encompassed the batteries and harbor, the naval base, and the fleet of warships lying at anchor among the merchant shipping. What price all this when the French possessed all the necessary knowledge to crush it? Eh, Alexander, my czar? And all because you thought a Romanov grand-duchess was too good for a Naryshky, but a Naryshky princess by far too inferior to become a Romanov. Nikolai smiled coldly to himself, for no one, not even Irina, knew how he really felt. They would know in the end, though. Oh, yes, they would know in the end.

  8

  The rowing boat’s oars dipped strongly into the clear Baltic water as Alison and Francis were conveyed toward the Irina. Nikolai’s schooner looked almost seductively beautiful, her white and gold hull shining and her crimson sails furled tightly as if slumbering.

  A sailor was waiting to conduct them up to the deck, and they followed him through the same doorway where earlier Sergei had gone to report on them. At the end of the passage there was another door, this one inlaid with silver and mother-of-pearl, and the sailor opened it and then stood aside for them to enter. When they had done so, he closed the door behind them and they were alone.