The Unquiet - J. D. Robb [47]
The maid waited, as she always did, until told exactly what to do. “Bring us the vodka and two glasses, Delphie.”
The maid’s eyes widened but she left the room promptly and came back in a flash with two glasses and the decanter.
“Delphie, go to bed. I’ll wake you when I need to undress.”
“No, Lydia. She will only listen at the door.”
Delphie smiled at the old lady and sat on the stool at the foot of her chair.
“Then you will keep this to yourself,” Lydia commanded the maid with as hard a look as she could summon. “You will tell no one tomorrow or the day after that. Never.”
Delphie stopped smiling and nodded several times, her eyes showing some fear.
“Tell us what happened,” Grandmama invited, as if this were a fairy tale.
Drawing a deep breath, she made one valiant effort to steady her voice. “A man accosted me tonight right after I left to see Irina and Mr. Allerton.”
Grandmama nodded and Delphie gasped.
“He told me . . .” She reached out and took the old lady’s hand. “That he wanted my ‘most valued possession.’ ”
“The recipe.” The old lady nodded again, certain she was right.
“Do you think so?” It was not what had come to her mind first, but the recipe for the purple dye was truly their most valuable possession.
Natalia pulled her hand away and waved for Delphie to pass her the vodka. She downed it in one toss of the glass and handed it back to the maid.
Lydia sighed. “I have no idea what game he was playing.”
“You escaped.” It was a statement. “Lydia, you should have waited to hear what he considered so valuable.”
Lydia shook her head. “Yes, I suppose so, but, Grandmama, that is asking too much. He frightened me. We have been so safe here, so conventional and content this last year.” She raised the old lady’s hand and kissed it. “What could Alexei’s enemies want from us now?”
“Not enemies, Lydia. Not enemies. Alexei had no enemies. Just friends who were as devious as he was. Some more. Some less.”
Lydia looked down at her own hands, smoothing the skin, rubbing the spot where a wedding ring should be.
Now the old lady found her hand, patted it, and kept holding. “He cared for you. He loved you.”
How many times had Alexei’s grandmother assured her of that?
“I do believe it was your English reserve that fascinated him. Such a contrast to his capricious ways. He loved the way you spoke Russian, and we both know the way he spoke French was seduction in itself.”
She let go of Lydia’s hand and sat back in her chair, feeling for her lap robe. “Most of all, he trusted you in a way that he never, ever trusted anyone else. That is a kind of love no one else ever knew from him.”
Lydia nodded, tears too close for her to speak. Maybe it was true. Maybe he had seduced her because he loved her, but in the end he had used her just as he used everyone else.
“Who could know that Alexei’s luck would run out?” Natalia echoed Lydia’s own thoughts. “That his ship would sink and he would sink with it.” She was silent a moment and then rallied. “Tell me how you escaped.”
Lydia recounted the scene, and Natalia’s eyes lit with excitement. She was so entertained by the tale that Lydia added every detail she could recall.
Natalia grinned despite her bad teeth. “There is something so intriguing about a man who carries a sword stick. The hint of danger beneath the civility, I think.”
“Sword or not,” Lydia said as she finished, “I think I could have made good an escape on my own.”
“I think it was a timely appearance,” Natalia insisted. “But what was a gentleman doing on the streets in that part of the city?”
“I have no idea and do not wish to know.” She bit her lip on the lie.
“What did you tell Irina and her husband?”
“That the weather made a night visit ill-advised.”
“Irina is Alexei’s sister, Lydia. And my granddaughter,” she added. “She will see through that and be here when you open tomorrow to insist on the whole true story.”
“Yes, Grandmama, I expect so.” What Natalia said was too true, and now Lydia knew she would have to concoct some version of the truth for Irina. But