“Ignatiev often travels with Tsar Alexander, but he’s here as an envoy to assist in making travel arrangements for the prince to visit Saint Petersburg.” He paused, then added, “Lord Tynedale will be in the entourage traveling with Prince Edward.”
“Will he?” She turned luminous eyes to him, a faint smile lifting the corners of her lush mouth. “Russia is lovely in the summer months.”
It was a noncommittal reply, but what had he expected? Ginny had always been adept at hiding herself from him, as he had always been just as proficient in concealing his own thoughts from her. It was a vicious cycle at times, neither of them quite ready to relinquish old habits, to fully trust the other’s intentions. It would take time to ease the habit of licking old wounds, he thought wryly, and he was as guilty as she of harboring mistrust.
He snagged Ginny a glass of champagne punch from a passing footman’s silver tray, pushed it into her hands and said casually, “Lord Tynedale approaches.”
Ginny’s eyes widened slightly, dark pupils expanding as she lifted her champagne glass. If not for the slight quiver of her hand, he would have thought her completely unaffected by Tynedale’s presence.
It was hard-earned composure that kept the smile on her face as Ginny turned to greet Richard Avery.
“Richard, you’re looking quite well,” she said lightly when he took her free hand and bowed over it in a courtly, old-fashioned manner that was so indicative of his nature.
He straightened, dark-blue eyes so similar to Steve’s holding her gaze.
“You are more lovely than ever, though I once thought that impossible. I see that life with Esteban agrees with you most heartily.”
“Yes. It does.”
“I am so glad, Ginny.”
The sincerity in his tone was unmistakable, and she drew in a soft breath of relief. There would be no constraint or silent reproaches between them now, for after all, each had chosen the path more suitable for their lives.
“Will you dance this waltz with me, Ginny, with Esteban’s permission, of course?”
Steve took Ginny’s empty champagne glass from her hand as Richard escorted her onto the crowded floor. The music was loud, but not deafening, so that they did not have to speak loudly to be heard.
“Ginny, are you as content as you seem?”
“I am very happy, Richard. I have my children with me at last, and Steve and I are trying to work out all the problems of our past. It’s not easy, of course, but I knew it wouldn’t be. So much has happened between us, and to us, that it will take time to sort out our feelings, to come to terms with everything.”
“Ah.” His hand on the small of her back flexed as he guided her in a sweep across the floor. “You may not recall, but when I used to ask you if you were happy, you always said you were content. Now I ask if you are content, and you tell me you are happy. Oh, do not look distressed, Ginny, for I always knew I didn’t have your heart, not the way I wanted it. And I suppose it’s just as well, after all that happened.”
She thought of Gulbehar, the wife Richard had taken at the sultan’s wishes, and the vindictiveness of her attempt to kill Ginny and her unborn child so that she would be the first wife, and her child, his heir.
“I do not see your wife with you tonight. I presume she is still in Persia?”
“Steve didn’t tell you—Gulbehar and our son died of a fever.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” It was a reflexive sympathy, murmured automatically, but she was sorry, for Richard’s loss if not for the woman who had tried to kill her.
She should have known Richard would perceive her true thoughts, for he squeezed her hand, smiling sadly.
“You are not sorry she cannot hurt you anymore, I’m sure, Ginny, for what she did to you was truly terrible. There are no pardons for it, no penances to atone for her actions. You lost our child, and nearly died as well. Now she has died, and so did our child.”
She looked up at him, saw in his eyes the sorrow he felt, the loss, and said, “Yes, but I have forgiven her. If she had not poisoned me, perhaps I would not have regained my sight, and perhaps I would not now be here, but still in Stamboul instead of—”
When she halted, he smiled. “Instead of with the man you love. Yes, I know. I always knew.”
He sounded so sad. Ginny searched his face, the fine features that were so like Steve’s yet so different; his skin was paler, slightly pockmarked with old scars from a bout of the pox as a child, and his eyes, so dark a blue like Steve’s, but that held none of the ruthlessness, only compassion.
“It’s true, Richard. I do love Steve. I’ve always loved him even when I didn’t want to. I’m not sure why, except that he and I have been through so much together now.”
“There are ancient beliefs that say a man and a woman must find the one true love, that when they do, that love will last for all time, through strife and even death. I think that is the sum of your relationship with Esteban. No matter how many others you might think you love, he is your only true love. You were fortunate that you found one another while you were so young. Now you have the rest of your lives to be together.”
“Oh, Richard, I knew you would understand. How I wish you would find your true love.”
“Perhaps I will. One day. Perhaps I will even find her in Russia, a woman with green eyes and copper hair.”
His smile was teasing, his
