faintly of alcohol.
That’s when she knew. ‘Stepan Shevchenko, you’re foxed!’ Anna rose in chagrin. She’d waited up for him and he’d been out drinking and who knew what else!
‘I wouldn’t say “foxed” exactly, Anna-Maria. More like “a trifle disguised”, as our friends the English would say,’ He gave her a wide grin. ‘I’ve been drinking with the customs officer and his friend, Captain Denning. You should see the shape I left them in.’
‘Well, they didn’t have an hour’s ride in the dark,’ Anna chided. But she was secretly mollified. He’d spent the day at Shoreham, doing paperwork regarding his shipment of Kubanian knick-knacks and drinking with customs officers. Still, it didn’t explain where he went every day. ‘I suppose this means you’ll be at home tomorrow, then,’ Anna said with sweet nonchalance. Ships didn’t come in all the time and neither did paperwork. Surely he’d taken care of all those administrative loose ends today with the hours he’d put in.
‘Oh, no.’ Stepan pushed off the door frame. His body language said he was heading upstairs. Leaving her. ‘I’ve got to arrange for the cargo to go to the London shops and the private buyers. I’ll be busy for days yet. You’ll be lucky to see me at dinner.’
Something inside her deflated. Dinner was more exciting when Stepan was there to talk politics with her brother and father. It diverted her father’s attention away from her. ‘Men have all the fun.’ She pouted. ‘I’m bored, too, you know. I’d like to get out of the house for hours.’ An idea struck and she brightened. ‘Take me with you. I have a fair hand. I can record items for you and I love seeing all the pretty things that come in.’
Stepan shook his head. ‘The docks are no place for a young lady. Dimitri and your father would never allow it, especially with your debut coming up so soon. Besides, you can look at the pretty things right here at home.’ He reached inside his coat pocket and brought out a brown paper–wrapped package.
She took the package with delight. For a moment, she forgot to be mad at him. ‘For me?’ She unwrapped it and lifted out the small trifle box with its carefully painted lid. It was done in ice blues and lavenders, depicting a snowy Russian lake scene. She smiled. ‘It reminds me of the lake at our winter home.’ She seldom thought of Kuban fondly. Her life there had been...mixed, not all of it pleasant. There were plenty of bad memories to go with the good. But most of the good memories centred on the Petrovich winter estate. She put the box down on a side table and looked up at Stepan. He was so very tall up close. ‘Do you remember the ice-skating parties? How we would drink hot chocolate from the samovar on the lake bank? The deer that would come down to the edge of the ice?’ In her enthusiasm, she reached for Stepan’s hands and drew him out to the centre of the room with her. ‘Do you remember how you used to spin me?’
She was twirling now, taking him with her in her whirlwind of a circle. ‘We’d lean outwards and throw our heads to the sky as we spun!’ Anna laughed, tossing her head back.
‘Hush, Anna! You’ll wake the house,’ Stepan scolded, tugging at his hands. She let go, her smile fading.
‘You used to be more fun, Stepan. At least slightly. I wouldn’t go as far as to say you’ve ever been a load of fun.’ She could scold, too.
‘We all used to be a lot of things.’ Stepan bent his dark head in a stern, deferential nod, part reprimand, part apology. ‘I beg your pardon. It was not my intention to ruin your fun. Goodnight, Anna-Maria.’ He squared his shoulders and walked past her, out of the room.
Anna stomped her foot on the carpet where no one could hear. She hated when she did that, when she drove him off in her stubbornness because she had to have the last word. She spied the box and snatched it up. ‘Stepan,’ she called softly, stopping him on the stairs. She waited until he turned and she had his full attention. ‘Thank you for the gift, it’s lovely. I’m sorry.’ She wanted to say more. She was sorry for running him off, for always challenging him. ‘I don’t know why I do it,’ she lied. She knew. She did it to needle him, to jar him out of his stoic reserve in hopes of seeing what lay beneath all of that, although why it should matter so much to her, she didn’t know.
Stepan nodded. ‘It’s nothing more than winter megrims, Anna-Maria. We’ve all been indoors too long.’
Not you, she wanted to argue, but she caught herself in time. Arguing would get her nothing. ‘You’re sure I can’t come with you tomorrow? Father and Dimitri won’t mind if they know you’re there to protect me.’ She didn’t think that was entirely true, but Stepan could persuade them if he wanted to.
That was the problem. He didn’t want to. He all but ignored her request, his voice quiet and strict as he continued up the stairs. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea, Anna-Maria.’ So much for getting him out of his stoic reserve.
Anna crossed her arms. Fine. She’d come up with a better idea, anyway. He hadn’t said she couldn’t come, just that she couldn’t go with him. He’d said nothing about following along behind. A plan took shape. It would be easy enough to do. Evie and Dimitri were taking the baby over to Claire and Jonathon Lashley’s for a day of visiting. Her father was going along, too. They would leave in the morning. She’d have the day to herself. It would be the perfect opportunity for a little unsupervised adventure.
* * *
At least it would have been, if Stepan was actually where he’d said he’d be, Anna reflected sourly late the next morning. She was damp and cold after a rather soggy ride to the Shoreham docks, only to discover Stepan was not there. No one, apparently, had seen him yet and no one was expecting to. She stood in the shipping offices, shaking droplets from her wool riding habit and feeling foolish while she gathered her thoughts. She needed a contingency. She was reluctant to simply turn around and go home. She didn’t relish the thought of another hour of riding in the drizzle, but neither could she simply go on standing in the middle of the offices while Stepan’s clerk pitied her, his thoughts written plainly on his homely face about the sort of woman who came to the docks alone. It was embarrassing, really.
Anna was regretting her inability to follow Stepan directly. She’d not been able to leave when he’d left—which had been at sun-up. But she’d thought nothing of it at the time. He was going to the docks. She could simply follow later after Evie and Dimitri had left. But now, she had no idea where he was. She looked about the little waiting room. There wasn’t much, just a stove, a chair, the counter where the clerk worked, guarding the door to Stepan’s private office, and a loudly ticking wall clock. She flashed the clerk a smile. ‘I’ll wait a bit, if you don’t mind?’ It wasn’t really a question. She pulled the chair towards the stove. She could warm up and, with luck, Stepan would come striding through the door at any moment.
The heat felt good as she ran through possible explanations as to why Stepan wasn’t here yet even though he’d had a three-hour head start. Perhaps he’d had a delivery to make? Perhaps it was nothing so benign. Perhaps his horse had thrown a shoe and he was holed up at a smithy somewhere along the road. Even worse, maybe he’d gone home and even now was sitting comfortably in front of the fire, warm and dry. There was some irony in that, while she was cold and cross and still faced an hour’s ride home. Or perhaps he’d not told her the truth last night. He’d never intended to come to the docks today. The latter was seeming more likely as the minutes ticked by.
* * *
When she’d been there the better part of an hour, she had to admit he wasn’t coming. It did pique her curiosity, though. If he wasn’t here, where had he gone and why couldn’t he tell her about it?
She
