Shifting slightly in his chair to accommodate his arousal, he glanced at the clock. Nine-thirty-four more courses to go. A brief half hour, he hoped, in conversation in the drawing room, and then everyone could retire. He was impatient and restless. Lisaveta was near enough to reach over and touch, but he couldn't. Because this stranger who was his fiancee had decided to spend several days in residence while her family visited the Viceroy in Tiflis.
Militza had to ask him twice whether Archduke Michael had returned to Saint Petersburg, and when she did finally gain his attention, his answer was brief. He didn't participate further in the conversation, and after all the discussion of his taste in food, he hardly ate, as though he were host by requirement but detached from the actual proceedings. Georgi, on an informal footing with his employer, coaxed him to try the sturgeon, which Stefan did to please him, but he wouldn't be cajoled to taste anything more until the sorbet-a lemon ice, Georgi reminded him, he'd favored since childhood.
He seemed very different here tonight, Lisaveta thought, a prince in his palace, familiar with deference, accustomed to being waited on, intent on his own interests, polite to his aunt with a genuine warmth but no more than civil to his fiancee, although he had every intention of spending the rest of his life with her. None of the casual intimacy she'd seen last week remained in his character; none of the animated banter or amused laughter she'd come to know was apparent. Not even a critical comment materialized to make him seem more human. And when Stefan rose directly after the lemon ice, she wasn't surprised.
'Forgive me, ladies,' he said, excusing himself, 'but I promised Had some time after dinner. Thank you all for a pleasant evening,' he added, then bowed politely and left the table.
As the door closed behind him, Militza said, 'He was bored.'
'Stefan isn't one for conversation,' Nadejda retorted, as if she were the expert on Prince Stefan Bariatinsky after a week's acquaintance.
Poor child, Lisaveta thought, remembering their heated conversations on subjects as esoteric as Kurdish shaman mythology or as trivial as the state of dressmaking in Aleksandropol. She'd found Stefan a charming conversationalist, but if today was any indication of his attachment to Nadejda, he'd treat his wife abominably. She felt a sudden sympathy for the Princess Taneiev.
'If you don't mind,' Nadejda declared, addressing Militza in a tone that suggested she didn't care if she minded or not, 'I'd like to take charge of the dinner for my parents tomorrow night. Papa will
Lisaveta's sympathy instantly evaporated at Nadejda's insufferable tone and priggish demand. Stefan might not deal with his future wife affectionately, she reflected, but his wishes in turn weren't of the slightest interest to her. Their bargain for a marriage of convenience apparently was equally made. Princess Taneiev didn't love Stefan, it was obvious. She didn't look at him with affection or longing. She seemed immune to his sensuality-a startling revelation to Lisaveta, who found his attraction so powerful it outweighed all perceptible logic. But Nadejda was very young and perhaps simply unawakened. Or more likely, as her prudish comments on a variety of subjects denoted, she was very much attached to her mother's primly artificial views on life. She would probably find the concept of love too emotional. Mama no doubt would have a homily to that effect.
A shame when Stefan was so very easy to love.
A shame, she thought with a flashing spontaneity of feeling, when she could love him so very much.
'Bring over the entire staff if you wish, my dear,' Aunt Militza replied, her voice suspiciously warm. 'Stefan won't mind at all,' she added with an innocence that was entirely out of character.
'Very good,' Nadejda replied in a tone one would use to a servant. 'And if you have other plans, I'm sure we won't need you in attendance tomorrow night.' It was a blatantly rude dismissal. Nadejda was extremely self- centered, a personality trait humored by her parents, who had allowed her whims in every instance save those that might interfere with theirs. She had been pampered, spoiled in a small-girl way and schooled in the normal studies considered proper for refined young ladies, which meant that she was, in effect, uneducated. Her world was luxurious but narrow, and she considered her wishes preeminent because no one had to date disabused her of that notion. Stefan had a tendency, it seemed, to be abrupt and caustic, if today was any indication, she decided, but Mama had warned her of men's moodiness and told her it was best to ignore or simply smile it away and then later…do as you wished. She thought Mama's advice quite sensible, and certainly everyone agreed her smile was radiant. She used it on Militza.
'I did have plans for bridge,' Militza said, her meekness so unusual anyone with half a brain would have been instantly alert.
'Well, that's settled then,' Nadejda said, pleased Stefan's aunt was eliminated from her family party. She had tried to like her but found Militza had very little conversation; she couldn't talk about fashion or the latest gossip from Saint Petersburg. She read, it seemed, and helped train Stefan's polo ponies and actually oversaw the farms and vineyards on Stefan's estates. Nadejda found her odd, and thought Mama and Papa would prefer an intimate evening alone with Stefan.
'If there's anything you need…' Militza offered.
'No, thank you, I'm sure the Viceroy's staff is adequate, and since tomorrow will be an enormously busy day,' Nadejda said, rising, 'I'll retire early. Have the carriage brought round at nine and I'll drive to the Viceroy's to gather the necessary servants.' She could have been addressing her housekeeper. But then Nadejda viewed herself as a superior young woman from a superior family, and while the Orbelianis might be wealthy, they were, after all, not Russians but Georgians. She found it very satisfying that Stefan on his father's side was related to the Tsar.
'Pleasant dreams, my dear,' Militza responded, her expression wreathed in smiles. 'I'll see to the carriage.' When Nadejda swept from the room in a froth of lavender crepe, Militza leaned back in her chair, motioned to have her wineglass refilled, took it from Georgi with a complacent sigh and said, 'Thank you, Georgi, we won't be needing you any longer. Tell the staff to retire. All this will wait until morning.' She indicated the table with a small gesture.
Leaving the bottle within reach, Georgi stood for a moment at her side. He was a middle-aged man with the dark coloring of the region and a pleasant manner. 'The Prince seemed-' He searched for the word, obviously used to discussing Stefan with Militza.
'Bored, Georgi, there's no polite way to say it. Princess Taneiev is dismally boring and deplorably stupid. He's going to hate himself a week after the wedding.'
Too courteous to denigrate a female, Georgi mentioned instead, 'The Prince won't want to see the Viceroy's staff, Princess. Why did you allow her license?'
'Because he'll be furious, Georgi, that's why.' Militza's dark eyes, very much like Stefan's, gleamed with glee.
Georgi beamed, an instant co-conspirator. 'Ah…of course, and our staff is dismissed then for the day.'
'We wouldn't want you 'natives' to get in the way of those frogs from the Viceroy's, Georgi. Everyone has the day off.' Sheer unmitigated cheer resounded in Militza's voice.
His bow was sweepingly dramatic, indicative of his own agreement to Militza's plan. 'Thank you, Your Excellency.' Turning to Lisaveta he inquired politely, 'Would you care for more wine, Countess, before I leave, or perhaps a sweet?'
'No, thank you,' Lisaveta replied, intrigued by the extent servant and mistress felt they could interfere in Stefan's life, 'although Stefan's wines are exceptional.'
'We think so,' Georgi returned. His family had been personal servants to the Orbelianis centuries before Georgia was annexed to the Russian Empire. The vineyards, he felt, were as much a part of his family as Stefan's. In fact, his brother was head vintner for Stefan.
'A shame Nadejda's family drink only French wines,' Militza said very softly.
Directing his attention back to his mistress, Georgi said in an equally soft voice, 'She won't do.'
'Exactly.'
'If you need anything, Excellency, the staff is at your disposal.' His tone was moderate, but aware of the warrior code so prevalent in this area of the country, Lisaveta wondered precisely what 'anything' implied.
'We'll begin by clearing the palace,' Militza briskly said. 'Please have everyone out by morning. Stefan should appreciate that interference from his fiancee.'
'Excellent idea, Princess.' Georgi reminded her, grinning from ear to ear.
'I know,' Militza winked. 'Have a pleasant holiday.'
