had been their losses. But none of that had to mean an end to what they held dear. Now that he thought of it, Nicolai felt foolish for having been so worried. It was just that the French ambassador had been so convincing with his predictions of doom. He was glad now that he had come to talk to his father. “Is Mother all right?” Nicolai had found her even more nervous than usual, or perhaps it struck him more now because he saw her less often, but Konstantin only smiled.
“She worries about the war too … and about you … and about me … and about Zoya. … She's quite a handful.”
“Lovely, though, isn't she?” He spoke of Zoya with a warmth and admiration he would have denied vehemently had anyone told her. “Half my regiment seems to be in love with her. I spend most of my time threatening to murder them.”
His father laughed, and then shook his head sadly. “It's a shame she has to come out during wartime. Perhaps it'll all be over by June.” It was a hope they both shared, but which Nicolai feared wasn't likely.
“Have you anyone in mind for her?” Nicolai was curious. There were several of his friends he thought might make excellent suitors.
“I can't bear to think of losing her. It's foolish, I suppose. She's too lively to stay with us for very much longer. Your grandmother thinks a great deal of Prince Orlov.”
“He's too old for her.” He was every bit of thirty-five, and Nicolai frowned protectively at the thought. In fact, he wasn't sure if anyone was good enough for his fiery little sister.
Konstantin stood up and smiled at his son as he patted him on the shoulder. “We'd best go back to them now. If we don't, your mother will get worried.” They walked out of the room, with Konstantin's arm around Nicolai's shoulders. And when they joined the ladies in one of the smaller drawing rooms, Zoya was pleading with her mother about something.
“Now what have you done, you little monster?” Nicolai laughed at the look on her face, and he could see that his grandmother had turned her back to hide a smile. Natalya's face was as white as paste, and Zoya's was bright red as she looked angrily at her brother.
“Don't you get involved in this!”
“What is it now, little one?” Konstantin looked amused until he saw the look of reproach on his wife's face. She thought he was entirely too easy on his daughter.
“Apparently,” the younger Countess spoke in outraged tones, “Alix gave her a totally ridiculous gift today, and I absolutely will not let her keep it.”
“Good God, what is it? Her famous pearls? By all means, darling, accept them, you can always wear them later.” Konstantin was in good spirits after his visit with Nicolai, and the two men exchanged a warm glance over the heads of the women.
“This is not amusing, Konstantin, and I expect you to tell her just exactly what I did. She must get rid of it at once.”
“What is it, pest? A trained snake?” Nicolai teased.
“No, it's one of Joy's puppies.” Tears shone brightly in Zoya's eyes and she looked imploringly at her father. “Papa, please … if I promise to take care of it myself, to never let it out of my sight, or my room, and keep it away from Mother … please? …” Tears trembled in her eyes and her father's heart went out to her, as Natalya stormed across the room, her eyes like her diamonds flashing in the lamplight.
“No! Dogs breed diseases! And you all know perfectly well how delicate my health is!” She looked far from delicate just then, as she stood in the center of the room, a vision of exquisite fury. It reminded Konstantin of how taken he had been with her the very first time he laid eyes on her, but he also knew now that Natalya was not an easy woman.
“Perhaps if it lives in the kitchen … perhaps then …” He looked hopefully at his wife, as she strode to the door and pulled it open.
“You always give in to her, Konstantin, don't you?”
“Darling … it can't be a very big dog. Theirs is quite small.”
“And they have two others and a cat, and their child is constantly hovering on the brink of death.” She was referring of course to Alexis's chronic ill-health.
“That has nothing to do with their dogs. Perhaps Grandmama would keep it