He leaped into the carriage and closed the door with a slam. Anya tried to get up, but she was hampered by her skirts and Oliver’s oversize jacket. Her heart pounded in terror as Vasili loomed over her. She fell back, kicking and punching wildly in the darkness, and experienced a fierce stab of pleasure when her heel connected with some soft part of his anatomy. He uttered a foul curse.
Then she saw his fist in her peripheral vision. And everything went black.
Chapter 34.
Seb glared at the door to the ballroom. Petrov still hadn’t made an appearance, and where the hell was Anya? Why was she taking so long? An uneasy, prickling feeling assailed him, and he went in search of her, ignoring the beckoning smiles of the women as he passed and the jovial greetings of the men.
“Mellors, where is she?”
The servant needed no further clarification. “I believe the princess is meeting a gentleman in the scullery, sir.”
Seb’s eyebrows rose into his hairline. “She’swhat?”
“Not a Russian gentleman,” Mellors said swiftly, as if that were any kind of reassurance. “I believe he is a friend.”
Seb didn’t wait to hear more. He pounded down the servant’s stairs and past the open kitchen door. Mrs. Mac-Dougall and Lagrasse were bickering about something. The scullery was empty, but a sheet of paper on the counter caught his eye. He snatched it up and cursed when he saw the indecipherable scribbles of the Russian alphabet.
Fear and fury thundered in his ears as he took the steps out to the mews two at a time. A shout from the stables caught his good ear, and he raced inside to find Jem Barnes on the floor with a thin, sandy-haired stranger crouched over him.
Seb hauled the man to his feet and slammed him hard against the wall.
“What the hell’s going on here? Where’s Anya? Who are you?”
“Oliver Reynolds,” the man gasped, raising his palms in a gesture of surrender. “I’m a barrister. Don’t hit me! I’m engaged to Elizaveta Ivanova. A friend of the princess.” He gestured down at Jem. “I found him like that.”
Jem exhaled a low groan and rolled over onto his side. He clutched the back of his head, and when he pulled his hand away, it was coated in blood.
Seb released the man and dropped to Jem’s side. “Stay still, lad. You need a doctor.” He glared up at Reynolds. “Where’s the princess? I told her not to leave the bloody house.”
The skinny man swallowed hard. “She came out here to meet a messenger from Count Petrov. He’s taken my fiancée.”
“He took her too,” Jem muttered groggily. “The princess. Couldn’t stop ’im.”
A cold wash of terror froze Seb’s blood. “Petrov has her? Where’s he taking her?”
“I don’t know,” Reynolds groaned. “Maybe there’s something in there?” He indicated the letter that was still crumpled in Seb’s fist.
Seb gazed down at the meaningless squiggles and was filled with impotent fury. “Who speaks Russian?”
Jem and Reynolds sent him identical blank looks. He raced back inside, angrily aware that he couldn’t just burst into the ballroom like a wild man.
“Mellors, bring me Prince Trubetskoi or the Russian ambassador, Lieven, to the pink salon,” he ordered. “Immediately. And Lords Harland and Wylde too.”
The majordomo nodded, his expression inscrutable, and Seb wondered what it would take to discompose the man. Nothing short of Armageddon, probably.
He caught sight of Anya’s tiara lying abandoned on the side table and a shaft of terror pierced his heart. She should have kept it with her, to remind Petrov of her elevated position. To underline the wrath that would rain down upon his head if he hurt her.
Prince Trubetskoi stepped into the room. “You wished to see me, Lord Mowbray?”
Seb scrutinized the other man closely. Petrov was a friend of Trubetskoi. For all he knew, the prince could have been the one feeding Petrov sensitive information. They could be in league together, but it was a risk he had to take. He had to trust the man would translate the letter accurately.
“I need you to read this aloud. In English. Now.”
Trubetskoi did so, his face a picture of shock when he comprehended the contents. “Who wrote this?
“Count Vasili Petrov. He believes the princess has evidence that he’s been spying for the French since before Waterloo.”
The prince shook his head in astonishment. “I can scarcely believe it. I’ve known him for years. I always knew he was ambitious, but I had no idea he was capable of such wickedness. This practically admits thereareincriminating documents.”
