The Property of a Lady - Elizabeth Adler [29]
“Surely it can’t matter anymore who your father was?” Valentin said hopefully.
“It matters,” Sergei replied quietly, taking the ring he had carried with him all these years from an inner pocket. It was a large star ruby in an elaborate gold setting. Handing it to Valentin, he said, “This is all I have left of our inheritance. My real family was one of the richest in Russia. They were so important they were next after the tsar on the Cheka’s death list. My father—your grandfather—was Prince Misha Ivanoff. Our family owned those billions and those mines. And it is your own cousin—your own blood—you are being asked to track down and bring back to Russia. To Boris and certain death.”
And then, as they walked slowly through the park, Sergei had told him the story of what happened on the long, dark night in the forest so many years ago. And Valentin saw his whole life crashing in ruins in front of his eyes.
Valentin drained the last of the wonderful claret and, after pressing a lavish tip into the patient waiter’s hand, walked slowly from the restaurant.
He strode into the lounge and took a seat by the window. Cal Warrender was sitting by the fire talking earnestly to the American TV reporter, Genie Reese. He envied him his peace of mind—and the girl. She was the American Beauty rose foreigners like him always dreamed about, long-stemmed, beautiful, and fragile.
He sipped his coffee, wondering what they were saying, they were so absorbed in each other. But all the time, at the back of his mind, lay his father’s words: “It is your own cousin—your own blood—you are being sent to bring back to Russia … and certain death.” He had understood at once that Boris wanted the “Lady” not just for Russia, but because then he would be able to confirm the truth about Sergei. Boris wanted his father dead.
Valentin had realized early in his career that no one could achieve political power without personal sacrifice; a public figure could be called upon at any time to account for his actions and was expected to be an example to those beneath him. He had thought over his options for a long time. First, there was his duty to his country. The balance of power was at stake. If he found the Ivanoff “Lady” and brought her back to Russia, not only would his country finally get the money it rightfully believed belonged to the state, but even more important, it would finally have indisputable power over the Indian mines. There was only one way to save his father’s life as well as his own, and also protect the Russia he believed in. And gain everything he had ever worked for. He had to find the “Lady” before the Americans did. And then kill her before Boris got to her. He reflected bitterly that his training at Ryazan would finally come in useful, but he knew the “Lady” would find him a more merciful executioner than his uncle, whose favorite punishment was death by torture.
The race was on, he thought wearily. No matter how he did it, whom he had to use, he had to find the “Lady” first.
He turned from the window and met Genie Reese’s eyes across the room. Cal Warrender had gone and she was alone. After picking up his brandy, he walked toward her. “Miss Reese,” he said, gesturing to the window, “I see we are both orphans of the storm. I wonder if you would take pity on my loneliness and join me in a drink?”
Taking a deep breath, Genie looked him squarely in the eye. “I would be delighted, Mr. Solovsky,” she said.
Maryland
“Fairlawns” was truly what it claimed: smooth acres of velvet green leading to a silvery lake where, from her window, Missie could watch the mallards busy building their nests in the banks. The sudden cold spell had failed to kill the early cherry blossoms, and the willows drooping over the water were already sheathed in their film of spring green.
“It’s a beautiful day,” Nurse Sara Milgrim told her with a jolly smile. “Perhaps we can go out for a walk later. How d’you feel about that? See the ducks’ nests, we can.”
“Not ducks, mallards,” Missie said firmly. “You can tell by the green head. And I