Melting the Snow Queen Read online

  “Sadly, not mine, merely borrowed from Count Lieven,” Yuri said. “But yes, it has been invaluable. Shall we go in? Alba has been out in the cold for long enough.”

  Ralph’s brow twitched as the use of her untitled Christian name, but he said only, “Is it true you’ve been ill? I heard some confused tale of your falling in the lake and reviving from the dead. However unlikely, I had to come over by any means I could to see if you are truly well.”

  “Oh, I am much, much better,” Alba said, smiling. “I was only confined to my bed for a couple of days.”

  “I am relieved to hear it.” In the fuss of climbing the front steps and entering the house, the normal courtesies of greeting had somehow got lost. But in the entrance hall, Ralph made a point of pulling off his glove and taking her hand. “I am relieved to hear it. And to see you looking so well.”

  “As are you,” Alba said at once. “But you must be freezing after your long walk. Come upstairs to the fire and we’ll have tea.”

  Although she hoped Ralph would fuss about removing his outer clothing, leaving her time to explain things to Yuri as best she could, he did not oblige her. He all but threw his coat, hat and gloves at the footman and merely stamped his feet to remove the snow before striding across the hall to keep up with them.

  “Tell Her Grace Mr. Bethurst has called,” Alba instructed, leading the way into the empty drawing room. Feeling suddenly cold, she took the chair by the roaring fire and Ralph took the one opposite. Yuri appeared untroubled though his eyes were watchful as he sat on the sofa.

  Conversation felt slightly tense to Alba, who searched fruitlessly for a painless way to bring everything into the open. Fortunately, the duchess did not take long to join them.

  “How nice to see a neighbor at last!” she greeted Ralph. “How is your poor mother coping with the cold? I hope you’ve had enough supplies to last you.”

  “She does surprisingly well.” Although he answered the duchess, his gaze rested on Yuri. “I believe the thought of our wedding keeps her warm and lively.”

  With dread, Alba glanced at Yuri, but neither his eyes nor his expression wavered.

  “How wonderful,” Her Grace said uneasily. “You’ll have luncheon with us, of course? I would hate you to come all this way without sustenance for your return journey.”

  “And you, sir,” Ralph said, still holding Yuri’s gaze although a faint flush of discomfort, or perhaps anger, stained his cheeks. “Do you think it’s quite proper to stay at Winbourne when neither His Grace nor their lordships are in residence?”

  Yuri’s brow lifted. “No. Why, do you mean to? For myself, I’m staying at the Eagle.”

  Ralph’s color heightened more definitely. “Of course not. I am glad to hear it.”

  “Ah, here is tea,” the duchess said with relief as the maid brought the tray and set it on the table before her. Yuri rose to help distribute cups.

  “Alba,” said Her Grace, frowning, once Yuri had sat with his own cup. “Is your gown wet?”

  “Oh, only a little around the hem. We walked in the snow for a little and I beat Yuri in a snowball fight.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Yuri said at once, and Alba laughed.

  Ralph’s eyes narrowed.

  As soon as luncheon was announced, the duchess rose with alacrity. Inevitably, she felt the tension, too, and must have been aware of some of the cause. But, of course, she could not know of the delicious interlude with Yuri in the woods.

  “A moment, sir,” Bethurst said, detaining Yuri when he would have followed Alba across the room.

  Yuri turned at once and Alba, fearing trouble, halted and turned to face them. She even opened her mouth, though she wasn’t quite sure what words would tumble out. She just knew she had to end uncertainty and make her feelings plain to both of them.

  But before she could get a word out, Ralph spoke with disdain, “Sir, I must tell you that I do not like the liberties you take with my bride.”

  Yuri blinked. “I have not met your bride. To my knowledge. Felicitations upon your nuptials.”

  Ralph’s nostrils flared. “I think you know I refer to Alba, who is engaged to me.”

  Yuri smiled, though his eyes were like flint. “I’m afraid my own engagement to her is of longer standing and so, although I forgive you, I take leave to tell you, you must give way.”

  Ralph’s face was almost purple.

  “You are both being ridiculous,” Alba fumed. “This whole mess is my fault, so I will sort it out. Ralph, be so good as to go into the dining room and let me speak to Yuri for a moment.

  “I will not,” Ralph declared. He dragged his gaze from Yuri to her. “Unless it is to give the prince his congé. In which case, you have one minute.”

  Alba glared. “You have no right to tell me who I may speak to or when.”

  “You have a very odd idea of a husband’s rights,” Ralph retorted.

  “You are not my husband,” Alba flung back. “And never will be.” She took a deep breath, reminding herself once more that she was to blame for this, and continued more gently, “Ralph, I was not myself. It was wrong of me to engage myself to you, for, in truth, I cannot marry you. You should consider our engagement at an end.”

  “No,” Ralph said unexpectedly. “Do you think to marry him instead?”

  In truth, he had not asked her again. It had not been mentioned between them since he’d come back. So, although marriage with Yuri was her heart’s only desire, she could not answer.

  Ralph’s lips curled. “I thought not. You, sir, are a scoundrel of the first order. Stand aside.”

  “I will not,” Yuri said. “I believe Lady Alba has spoken.”

  Ralph stared from him to Alba and back. There was an ugly, desperate look in his eyes. “Then we shall see what His Grace has to say when he comes!” He turned on his heel, but this time it was Yuri who stayed him.

  “Wait, Bethurst,” he said urgently. “You know she was not herself, whatever promises she may have made you. In fact, she was so unhappy, she almost died. You cannot expect to force yourself on someone who feels like that about you, who has declared her affections to be elsewhere.”

  “You have no idea what I expect,” Ralph said with cold fury. “I have waited more than six years for Alba, and I will not give her up for anyone, let alone some foreign flim-flam man who calls himself a prince.” He stalked out the door without glancing back.

  Alba and Yuri looked at each other blankly.

  “I forgot,” Alba whispered. “It meant so little, I forgot. What sort of woman am I?”

  “A very beautiful and confused one,” he said ruefully. “At least, you were confused.” He walked toward her and took her in his arms. “Don’t look at me like that.” He kissed her cheeks, her eyelids, her lips. “It will never happen. You are mine and I won’t let you go to anyone.”

  She clung to him. “I won’t go to anyone except you. I was so afraid this, too, would come between us.”

  “Gerda told me,” he said. “I knew about Bethurst before I even got here.”

  She drew back, regarding him in wonder. “And you still came? You still…”

  “Adore you,” he finished. “And I always will. Shall we go to luncheon?”

  Laughter caught in her throat. “If you can bear it.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Yuri had a bad feeling about Bethurst’s stubbornness. Alba’s recent frailty was at the forefront of his mind and he did not want her upset or bullied, but he was aware Ralph had been treated badly in all this. Had she loved the man, Yuri would have stepped aside and retired to lick his bitter wounds. Again. But she didn’t love him. Worse, no man who was prepared to force her to marriage knowing how much she loathed the idea, could possibly love her. In fact, Yuri suspected Ralph had taken advantage of her frailty to get her agreement to the engagement in the first place. So, as far as Yuri was concerned, the gloves were off.

  The thaw began that afternoon in a blink of pale sunshine. Even when the sun h
ad gone, the air felt just a little warmer, and the snow on the terrace and paths began to melt in patchy, murky puddles.

  After luncheon, Alba and Rose walked in the garden with Yuri. Once, Alba bent down to a solitary red rose. Yuri remembered it from his first visit the day after he’d found her on the lake. Now, the petals had unfurled almost completely, revealing a small, delicate bloom of intricate beauty.

  “It’s like a symbol,” she said in wonder.

  He knew what she meant. A symbol of resurgent life and love.

  ***

  In the morning, the innkeeper told him most of the roads were now open, particularly those that had already been partially cleared of snow. The fields and hills were still white, but the roads were merely dirty and wet.

  Regretfully abandoning the sleigh, Yuri rode up to Winbourne in the cold rain, hoping the open roads would bring no urgent summons from the Prince Regent’s office. For although he thought Alba was physically able to travel now, he wanted to give her longer before parting her either from himself or her family. Particularly now that Bethurst had stuck his oar in.

  He was relieved to discover Bethurst wasn’t in the house when he arrived. Kai and Gerda assured him of this when they ran through the rain from the garden to meet him. Kai wrinkled his nose as they conducted him up the front steps to the open front door. “Alba and Rose are trying on gowns for Mrs. Bethurst’s evening party.”

  “Evening party?” Yuri repeated. Cynically, he thought it was probably some ploy to prove to the neighborhood that Alba was betrothed to Ralph and make it more difficult for her to escape. Especially, since he was sure he would not be invited. “When is that?”

  “On Friday,” Gerda said. “And since it will be a relatively small party, Rose has decided she would like to go and Her Grace has agreed, only none of the new gowns she had in the summer fit her now, so they have the whole house in an uproar.” She shrugged her incomprehension and smiled at Yuri. “Do you want to wait in the morning room? We’ll send her down to you.”

  Yuri gazed out the window. He was a little sorry to see the snow vanished from the terrace. The servants had scraped and shoveled what was left into a dirty slush at the edges. In Russia, any thaw would have been months away. It was a passing thought, an effort to distract himself, for he was anxious about Alba.

  However, she did not make him wait long, but came dancing into the room humming, and ran straight to him, smiling. He caught her in his arms, pressing his cheek to hers before kissing her soft mouth long and thoroughly.

  “Yuri,” she said breathlessly after a few moments of enthusiastic cooperation, “Her Grace and Rose are coming directly.”

  For the sake of decorum, he released her. “I hear you’re all going to a party.”

  “The first, no doubt, of a round of festivities before Christmas. We’ll probably host something too after my father arrives.” She sat down on the sofa facing the fire and Yuri joined her, half-turned toward her. She met his gaze. “Will you have to go back to London?”

  “At some point,” he said ruefully. “And then, I suppose, home to Russia. But no one has sent for me, yet, though the roads are apparently open as far as London.”

  She drew in a breath. “I want you to know that I will be fine if you go. I won’t lie down on ice or go into a decline, and I won’t let myself be bullied into marrying Ralph. Now that we understand each other, I’ll wait for you, or go with you, whatever we decide together is best.”

  He took both her hands, raising them to his lips, one after the other, just as the duchess walked into the room, coughing with loud disapproval.

  “Sir, I do expect you to behave with propriety around all my daughters,” she pronounced.

  “And, of course, I will,” Yuri said promptly. “I don’t believe it is so terribly improper for a man to kiss the hands of the lady who is engaged to him.”

  “Was engaged,” the duchess corrected. “Exactly whom she is engaged to now appears to be in dispute, at least until my husband returns.”

  “It isn’t disputed by me or Yuri,” Alba argued.

  “But, like the rest of us, you will abide by your father’s decision.”

  “I do have His Grace’s permission,” Yuri said mildly.

  “Yes, well, apparently so does Ralph Bethurst,” the duchess retorted. “He wrote to His Grace in London and heard back just before the snow cut us off.”

  Alba blinked. “But His Grace didn’t write to you or me on the subject.”

  “Well, we didn’t write to him either,” the duchess said reasonably. “And you know what he’s like about letters. All I’m saying to you both is, assume nothing until you have spoken to His Grace.”

  Toward the middle of the afternoon, when Alba was listening to Gerda recite her first piece on the pianoforte and Yuri was playing hide and seek with Kai, two carriages and two horsemen arrived noisily on the front terrace, along with a gaggle of Ruthin-liveried postilions. Both music and game were abandoned in favor of curiosity. But the children knew at once who was in the carriage.

  “It’s Papa,” Kai said uneasily, no doubt fearing some serious punishment for his and Gerda’s toothache charade and Gerda’s subsequent flight on the mail coach.

  Yuri ruffled his hair in sympathy.

  “At least Oscar is with him,” Alba said bracingly, for their brother was one of the horsemen accompanying the carriages. The other rider glanced up at the house and Yuri saw that it was Bethurst. A twinge of unease ran through him. It seemed unlikely that Bethurst had met the duke’s party by chance. Alba frowned but said nothing.

  To Yuri, it seemed a rather subdued homecoming. In his family, when anyone came home after an absence of more than a day, children and servants and dogs came running from every corner of the house in boisterous welcome. Here, the twins were clearly expected merely to go to the schoolroom and wash their hands before tea, as usual. Even Alba seemed in no hurry to greet her father and brother.

  Yuri took her hand. “What is it? Are you afraid of your father’s reaction to your ice incident?”

  She shook her head. “No. I think I don’t like that Ralph has met up with him already. And is coming into the house.” She gave a fleeting smile and took his arm. “Come, then, we’ll be expected in the drawing room for tea. I’m sure my father will want to thank you for looking after Gerda.”

  But as soon as they entered the drawing room, Yuri felt the atmosphere of tension. The duke’s face was wintry and did not soften when Alba went to greet him. Instead, his attention appeared to be all on Yuri.

  “I am surprised to see you running tame about my house, sir,” he said coldly.

  Oh yes, Bethurst had got to him. Aloud, Yuri said, “I have been made most welcome.”

  The duke’s lips twitched with distaste. “So, I gather. Feted like some hero after abducting one of my daughters in order to force another into marriage.”

  “Papa!” Alba exclaimed. “Of course, he did no such things!”

  “Oh, stop being so ridiculous,” her father snapped. “Of course, he did. Is a ten-year-old, gently reared child—even one not suffering from toothache—capable of finding the correct public coach, let alone buying her ticket and travelling on it? Of course, he did it for her, an excuse to come back here to you and wriggle back into your good graces.”

  Yuri blinked. “I don’t think I wriggled.”

  “But you do not deny the rest?”

  Yuri held himself very straight. “Sir, I am a gentleman. I should not have to. Even allowing for your parental distress.”

  “You are telling me my daughter informed only you that she was going home on the stagecoach?”

  “Mail coach,” Alba corrected. “And it was the servants who informed him when they couldn’t find you or Oscar. You are beholden to Yuri, sir. God knows what would have happened to Gerda if he had not dropped everything and gone after her.”

  “After which, he endangered her further!” the duke exclaimed. “For he did not bring her back to me in London bu
t took her on a journey—on horseback, I understand!—through the night all the way to Winbourne. In the snow. There is no good reason, no excuse for such folly, to call it no worse!”

  By this time, Alba was looking both distressed and angry. From the sofa, the duchess stared fixedly out of the window, her back straight, her fingers plucking constantly at her shawl. Oscar was scowling at his father, though not interrupting his accusations—and it was clear where those had come from. Only Bethurst seemed in the least relaxed.

  “Perhaps that was a poor decision,” Yuri admitted. “And yes, perhaps I was influenced by a desire to come here and make sure Alba was well. Lord Oscar had told me the day before that she wasn’t. And Gerda herself was adamant about going to Winbourne. You should have received a note from me that I was taking her there.”

  “Travelling all night in a snowstorm! Had you no thought for her wellbeing?”

  “Yes, for I took her to Countess Lieven for the night. You may, of course, assign mean and sinister motives to everything I’ve done. But although it never entered my head at the time my actions would be called into question by Gerda’s family, I do not regret the decisions I made.”

  The duke glared. “So, you blame it all on Gerda?”

  “I blame nothing on Gerda,” Yuri replied at once. “Except resourcefulness and care for her family.”

  “Papa, you are utterly in the wrong over this,” Alba burst out, taking Yuri’s arm again. “There are things you do not know. We all owe so much to Yuri, not only for Gerda, but for my life and Kai’s. Such a mean interpretation of his help is unworthy of you and of our name.”

  Touched by her defense, Yuri covered her hand with his. The duke’s furious gaze followed the gesture and found another outlet for his anger.

  “Oh, get away from him,” he uttered. “I have no proof of any of this and must let it go. But you may put aside any hope of marrying him, for I have already accepted Bethurst’s offer for you.”