“You must act quickly,” she continued. “Or she’ll be forced to marry Prince Nikolai Ivanovich.”
“Ivanovich?” The mere sound of the Russian’s name sent a chill down Dylan’s spine. Christ.Ivanovichwas the Russian prince Natalia was to marry?
Dylan had fought opposite Prince Nikolai at Balaclava. In fact, Ivanovich had delivered the saber wound that almost killed him.
Clarice nodded. “Have you heard of him? I believe he was a general in the Russian army.”
“Yes, I know of him.” He got up and walked across the room to where his Victoria Cross rested on a bed of crushed velvet in a small ivory box. He’d never felt he deserved the medal, and his current situation compounded his sense of worthlessness. He closed the box with a snap. “The man is a monster. He won’t be happy until he’s crushed Natalia’s spirit.”
“I haven’t met him yet, but Natalia told me the same thing. She’s trying to be brave, but Prince Nikolai terrifies her. She says he’s cold and cruel. She’s afraid he’ll punish her for this gossip once he hears about it.”
“Over my dead body.” Anger filled Dylan when he thought of Natalia at Prince Nikolai’s mercy. He couldn’t bear for Natalia to pay for his mistakes. “I won’t allow Ivanovich anywhere near her.” He’d follow them to Russia if need be, rip the bastard’s heart out with his bare hands…
“Then you must marry Natalia yourself.” Clarice’s voice brooked no discussion. “You were the one who compromised her. If you married her, the gossips will find something else to talk about.”
“I’d like nothing more.” Dylan gave a humorless laugh. “I asked her to marry me. She said she wished she’d never met me.”
“She had good reason for those angry words, don’t you think?”
“I never meant—” Dylan tried to defend himself, but Clarice held up her hand, cutting him off.
“Things have changed. I think she could be persuaded now that her choices are so limited. She must marry either you or the Russian.”
“So, I’m the lesser of two evils?” Dylan smiled. Hardly flattering, but it was something. It was a chance. He could accept that.
“We’ll see.” Clarice returned his smile. Apparently, he’d managed to win her over. “Natalia has agreed to let you plead your case before she makes her final decision. You’re welcome to come over tomorrow evening and try to do so, but only if you sober up.” She wrinkled her brow. “And bathe. And shave.”
“Of course.” Dylan ran his hand over his beard-stubbled chin, shamed and embarrassed by the depths to which he had sunk during the last two days. Natalia’s rejection had hit him harder than anything in recent memory, even his father’s final repudiation.
“Natalia and I are very close.” Clarice leaned forward, her tone confiding. “The duke had planned to come himself, but I convinced him to let me do so in his stead. I wanted to see for myself if you are worthy of her.”
Dylan eyed the duchess cautiously. “And what have you decided”
“You’re not, of course. But in my opinion, no man ever could be.” Clarice stood abruptly, handing him the empty glass. “Seriously, I think you care for her more than you want to admit. Don’t prove me wrong, Captain Blake.”
“I won’t,” Dylan vowed, as he saw her to the door. He only hoped Natalia would give him the second chance he needed to keep his promise.
Chapter Thirteen
“Here you are! I’ve been looking for you for hours.”
Natalia looked up from her embroidery to find Clarice in the doorway of the cozy little parlor where she’d taken refuge. For the first time ever, Natalia was less than happy to see her stepmother.
She wanted to be alone with her thoughts and had been sitting in near darkness for hours. Only the roaring fire and a small gas lamp shed light on her embroidery, but it didn’t matter. Her fingers worked independently of her mind as she tried to make the most important decision of her life.
“I wanted to be by myself for a while.” Hopefully, Clarice would get the hint and go away.
Clarice grinned, turned on another lamp, and settled in the chair across from her. “You shouldn’t do needlework in the dark. You’ll ruin your eyes.”
Natalia laughed. “I think poor eyesight is the least of my present worries.”
“You may have a point.” With a sigh, Clarice relaxed into an uncharacteristic slouch. “Have you made up your mind?”
Natalia stabbed the needle through the material with excessive force. “How can I make such a decision without hearing what both men have to say? It’s been years since I saw Prince Nikolai. Perhaps Father is right and my childish opinions of him were wrong. He might be completely suitable.”
“Children are usually far more perceptive than adults,” Clarice pointed out. “And haven’t you wondered why Prince Nikolai is so determined to marry you? The man is twenty years older than you and hasn’t seen you since you were a child. Something is wrong with this situation.”
“A lot of things are wrong with the situation.” Natalia realized she’d lost all sense of the design and tossed the fabric away. “Prince Nikolai’s intentions are no mystery. I imagine he wants my dowry, like all the others.”
