‘No. How cruel.’
The Prince’s eyes flickered over her.
‘Such things are not unknown, even in your country. Mikhail left his child in England. His Russian friends here helped him to set up a generous fund to provide for her. She was to be cared for and given every advantage money could buy.’
She felt the press of tears against her eyes.
‘He did not quite abandon me.’
The old man’s face softened. ‘No, Natalya, he never intended to abandon you.’
‘What happened to him, after he returned to Russia?’
‘The arranged marriage went ahead. Alas, after a series of miscarriages, the wife died of a fever without providing Borkusov with a child. That was six years ago. In 1808.’
She realised he was waiting for her to comment.
‘Our two countries were at war by then.’
‘Precisely. Your father wanted to return to England and claim you, but at that time it was impossible. He sent word to his contacts here and told them you were to be brought up as an English lady. The Pridhams were employed to oversee your education and to take you in, when your school had taught you everything it could. They were to instruct you in the ways of polite society. To instil in you the accomplishments demanded of every young lady and to look after you until you reached one-and-twenty.’
‘And did looking after me include threatening my friends?’
‘You mean the young gentleman who was paying you so much attention? That, I regret, was a mistake. As was your abduction.’
‘You knew about that!’
‘I learned of it when I reached England. When it was seen that their heavy-handed attempt to discourage Mr Erwin had failed, your father’s envoys here were afraid you would marry him before I arrived to tell you the truth about your family. They did not trust the Pridhams to keep you from marrying Mr Erwin and...er...took matters into their own hands.’
‘What did they plan to do with me?’
‘They were going to carry you to London and hold you at the Embassy until my arrival. I shudder to think what Count Lieven would have said to that! Bah, such incompetence! Believe me, my dear, I am sincerely relieved you came to no harm through their deplorable actions. I hope you will forgive them. Undoubtedly, they are fools, but they acted with the best of intentions.’
She said, with careful restraint, ‘May I suggest, your Highness, that the whole sorry matter could have been avoided if I had been told the truth at the outset?’
‘Your father’s instructions were clear: everything was to be explained to you when you came of age, not before.’
‘But the Pridhams did not tell me.’
‘When I knew I would be accompanying his Imperial Majesty to London, I sent word that I wanted to tell you myself and my orders were passed on to your guardians. I very much regret I was not able to meet with you on your birthday.’
She felt her anger welling up. How insensitive of them all, to keep her in ignorance. Did they not realise that she would think the worst, that she would dread the future?
No. It was hardly their fault that she had allowed her vivid imagination to run away with her. Now it seemed that her story was nothing more than the sad and commonplace tale that was all too familiar. She had been born out of wedlock, her mother had died giving birth to her and her father had done his best to provide for her. She swallowed back her anger.
‘Will you tell me, your Highness, what became of my father?’
A shadow passed over the lined face.
‘Borkusov joined the army. He distinguished himself in battle, but, unfortunately, he was killed in battle in 1812.’
‘Borodino,’ she whispered.
‘Yes.’
Natalya put one hand to her mouth. Mr Pridham had insisted she learn about the Russian battles although she hated the stories of violence and bloodshed. Had he known her father had died there? She recalled reading of heavy losses on both sides. The Russians lost one third of their army and withdrew. The French invaded Moscow mid-September, only to be defeated when they retreated from Moscow a month later. She bowed her head, mourning the father she had never known.
‘Mikhail Nikolayevich died a hero, Natalya.’
There was a commotion in the hall. The Prince rose from his seat as the door burst open.
‘Tristan!’ She flew across the room and hurled herself against him.
‘Natalya.’ His arms closed around her. ‘Thank heaven. Are you hurt?’
‘No. I am quite well. Now you are here.’ She closed her eyes and hugged him, overwhelmed by a profound feeling of relief. ‘How did you find me?’
He smiled. ‘I learned this house is leased by Count Lieven, the Russian Ambassador. He uses it to entertain his guests when they attend Ascot.’
‘And the Allied Sovereigns were here to attend the races on Friday,’ she exclaimed. ‘It all makes sense now.’
She became aware of an incomprehensible stream of words coming from the servant who had followed Tristan into the room, a loud and voluble flow that was only stemmed when the Prince commanded him to be silent and added, with quiet dignity,
‘We speak in English, Piotr, as we agreed.’
The servant bowed low. ‘Your Serene Highness. A thousand apologies. I told Lord Dalmorren you were engaged, but he would not be denied. I could not hold him.’
The Prince waved him away and turned back to Tristan.
‘Dalmorren?’ he murmured, as if trying to place the name.
Natalya gently released herself from the safety of Tristan’s arms and turned to face her host.
‘Yes, your Highness. May I present to you the Nineteenth Baron Dalmorren.’
‘Indeed?’ The Prince’s cold glance swept over them both. ‘Charmed, I am sure, my lord. But now you have ascertained that the lady is unharmed, perhaps you would be kind enough to withdraw while we finish
