Or Dimitri, for that matter.
“I prefer to slip away unnoticed by the servants,” he murmured, speaking the perfect French all Russian nobles favored. He was also fluent in Russian and English, and could comprehend several of the Germanic dialects. He was an excessively well-educated thief, thanks to his mother’s insistence that his bastard of a father pay for his schooling. “I would not desire such a beautiful creature to be the source of ugly gossip.”
“Oh.” She batted her lashes, eager to accept his smooth lie. “Must you leave so soon?”
“Hardly soon. I risk being castrated by your husband if I linger any longer.”
She pouted, grasping the lapels of his jacket as she pressed against him in unspoken encouragement.
“He never returns before dawn, if he even bothers to return at all.” She kissed the tip of his chin. “If we are fortunate, we could enjoy the entire day together.”
Dimitri narrowed his whiskey-gold eyes. “I never depend upon luck, ma belle.”
“But, when will we meet again?”
“Who can say when fate will be kind enough to cross our paths again?”
“Tonight—”
“We shall allow destiny to unfold,” he interrupted, firmly removing her hands from his maltreated jacket and lifted them to his lips. “Return to the warmth of your bed. You shall find a small token of my esteem tucked beneath your pillow.”
As expected, Lana was readily distracted. “A present?”
“Oui. I hope you will think of me whenever you wear them.”
“Wear them?” Her blue eyes sparked in anticipation. “What are they? Gloves? Earrings?”
“Why do you not go and discover for yourself?” he urged, smiling wryly as she giggled and hastily skipped from the room.
Despite the fact she was wed to a sexual deviant more than twice her age, Lana was little more than a jeune fille in many ways. Nothing like the women in his world who were rarely allowed a childhood.
Listening to the sound of retreating footsteps, Dimitri slid through the open window and dropped into the garden below. He had not yet finished his search of the house, but Lana was certain to have attracted unwanted attention among the guards, and he could not risk being caught.
He landed with the ease of an avid sportsman, his hand reaching for his pistol even as he straightened. The instinct that had kept him alive more times than he could recall was prickling in warning.
“Come out,” he growled softly.
A lean form draped in a heavily caped coat detached from the shadows of a marble fountain.
“I must admit to my own share of curiosity,” an aggravatingly familiar voice taunted. “What did you leave beneath the pillows?”
Dimitri’s lips tightened, realizing the open window had allowed this man to hear his entire conversation with Lana.
Of course, Herrick Gerhardt did not need to lurk beneath open windows to discover the information he desired, Dimitri ruefully conceded. Although he did not believe the advisor to Alexander Pavlovich possessed mystical powers as some did. He was, after all, intimately aware his methods were more mundane.
“A pair of diamond earrings,” he grudgingly confessed.
Herrick arched a brow. A gentleman of Prussian descent, he possessed a gaunt countenance, a thick crop of silver hair and piercing brown eyes that held a cold, ruthless intelligence.
“A rather generous gift for a female you bedded for the sole purpose of searching her husband’s study.”
Dimitri shrugged. “Lana might be a shallow tart with the soul of a merchant, but she still deserves better than being bartered to a husband twice her age whose sexual perversions cause even me to shudder in disgust.”
Herrick deliberately glanced toward the neoclassical palace looming behind Dimitri.
“No doubt most of society would consider her well compensated.”
“Only because their lives are as cold and empty as the marble crypts that await their deaths.”
“A philosopher, Tipova?” Herrick demanded.
“A simple criminal.”
Herrick’s chuckle floated on the chilly October breeze. “As if I would ever be foolish enough to underestimate you. What did you discover?”
Dimitri folded his arms over his chest, his expression guarded. Since he had come to the attention of Herrick Gerhardt and the Duke of Huntley several weeks before, he had reluctantly become Alexander Pavlovich’s most secret weapon against the traitors who stirred discontent. One did not say no to the Emperor of Russia.
His presence in Pytor Burdzecki’s home, however, was personal business he did not intend to share with anyone.
“Nothing that would be of interest to Alexander Pavlovich.”
“You would be surprised at the emperor’s vast interests,” Herrick countered.
“The emperor or his most trusted advisor?”
“It is one and the same.”
“Is that why you are here?” Dimitri demanded. “To discover what I might find among Burdzecki’s papers?”
Herrick waved a dismissive hand. “Actually I am here to discover you.”
Dimitri stilled, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.
“And how, I wonder, did you know I would be here?”
“You are not the only gentleman with the ability to gather information.”
“Yes, but—” Dimitri bit off his words. “Never mind, I shall eventually uncover the traitor.” He waved a hand toward the empty flower beds and the marble fountains that had already been covered in preparation for the brutal Russian winter. “If you wished to meet with me you had only to send a message. There was no need to creep about in damp gardens.”
The smile faded from Herrick’s face, his eyes hard with the ruthless resolve that lurked just below his charm.
“You do not promptly respond to my summons.”
“I am not a toady of the empire.”
“No, but you are a loyal citizen, I trust?”
Dimitri dropped his arms, his hands curling into fists. Despite his considerable power, he never allowed himself to forget that Herrick Gerhardt need only speak the word and Dimitri would disappear into the nearest dungeon.
“Are you threatening me, Gerhardt?”
The silver head dipped in apology. “Forgive me, Tipova. You have
