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Aleksey didn’t even bother to announce he was leaving this time. He just strode to the door and opened it.
“You lied, and I can prove it.”
His back to the offending one, Aleksey paused, more out of amusement than worry. He lied about everything, so the accusation could hardly be refuted.
“When you said God-ma wouldn’t mind. About us. Because, you see, I followed you and Rider when you left the dinner at Michaelmas. But I didn’t find you because I found something else more interesting. Someone else, anyway. You weren’t the only ones taking advantage of the shrubbery. Guess what I saw her feasting on?” He put the back of his hand theatrically to his forehead, miming a swoon. “I shall never eat duchy sausage again. But go on, guess.”
Aleksey narrowed his eyes, considering this. There were many replies he could have made. He’d lived with Philipa for more years now than he had with his actual wife. Other wife, he supposed. Was bigamy still illegal? He was dead anyway. But he suspected the Honourable was going to prove, yet again, the inaccuracy of his nickname. Aleksey did more than suspect. He was completely sure what the despicable man was going to say.
“See, everything just fell into place when I saw them. You and her—your strange marriage. I think you should close the door, by the way.”
Aleksey reflected upon the efficacy of this suggestion and concluded that privacy was indeed better. For many things. He was pleased with the very soft click he managed to achieve.
Turning, he found the Honourable completely naked and grinning.
Aleksey matched the grin, but only internally.
“So, I’m not going to tell Godmummy. About us, I mean. I’m going to tellHer—about them.”His confidence now apparently recovered, he slipped off the bed and danced gleefully close to Aleksey, and putting his hand theatrically to one side of his mouth, as if there were others present to hear, he stage-whispered, “The big Mummy. The Family boss!” He actually made a deep, mocking courtesy, as if this great personage were in the room with them. “It’s so delicious. All their secrecy, all that creeping around. Oh, my lordy, the actual monarchy would fall if they were discovered! And all the pretence rests on Sir Nikolas and Lady Philipa being the happily married couple.Pillars of the Establishment. Well, one of those pillars is bent, isn’t he?”
This afternoon hadn’t proved to be as much fun as he’d anticipated. Not only had the mouse texted the cat, it had then had the audacity to jig in front of it, taunting it. Like any predator in a similar situation, Aleksey was beginning to think enough was enough.
“You are going to—what? Blackmail the heir to the throne by pretending to tell on him to his mother?” He couldn’t repress the smile that ghosted across his face at the thought of this. Not that it wasn’t an issue—it actually was. His current cosy life basking in the luxury and protection of the British Royal Family would come to a very swift and unpleasant end if he was discovered by the chinless wonder not to have kept up his side of the bargain. But he was intrigued at the idea of just letting it all happen anyway, throwing a spark of gleeful spite into the powder keg he enabled and watching it all burn.
"Do you actually think this situation is funny?"
I think every situation is funny in its own way. “Not particularly. What is it you want, Gustav? Cut to the—” Fuck, what was the expression? So many good Russian ones for such situations and he couldn’t use any of them. Cut to the quick? But that didn’t make a lick of sense. Why not the slow? Fuck. “Tell me what you want.”
Gustav actually simpered.
Worse, he poked Aleksey Primakov in the chest and confided with a tiny wiggle of triumph, which made things (albeit very small things) swing,
“Oh, darling. Isn’t it obvious? I want you and your delicious Danish sausage back.”
Chapter 33
Four Months Before April
Nikolas listened to the voice on the other end of the call, his fingers tapping out a slow rhythm on one thigh.
Although Nikolas’s expression gave nothing away, Ben knew from this uncharacteristic fidgeting that he was angry. For some reason, however, he would not, or could not hang up. But there was also another emotion roiling beneath that one, something subtler, more disturbing, that Ben couldn’t interpret at all.
Something caught his eye. He glanced down. The fingers had stilled. Nikolas was digging his nails into his flesh, clenching his fist so tight that his hand was trembling.
And Ben knew then what the underlying current was.
It was fear.
Something was coming into their lives with this phone call and Nikolas was afraid.
Fear. Ben’s own hands clenched the wheel tighter in unconscious response.
There was a low rumble of menace from the seat behind.
He glanced into the rear view mirror.
Radulf was staring blindly at the back of Nikolas’s head, his hackles raised. Molly was frozen in place with wide-eyed distress at something she was too young to comprehend but clearly sensed. Ben swallowed deeply and began to interrupt Nikolas’s intense concentration on the voice only he could hear, but before he could speak, Nikolas clicked the phone off.
With his jaw locked tightly, staring down at his fist as if it had betrayed him, he murmured deceptively calmly, “The road’s clear, Ben. Perhaps we should be getting home. I think Molly is tired.”
