come closer. Ignoring the buxom woman who was brushing her hair at the dressing table beside the bed, which was as rumpled as the newspaper, Natalya obeyed. She wondered when the general had managed to find this woman, for he had left his collection of mistresses in Russia.
She almost smiled, but kept her face emotionless. No doubt Kapitán Radishchev had found this woman for the general. That seemed the insipid cowardâs primary job.
âWho is this?â asked the woman, whose red hair was several shades lighter than Lord Ashcroftâs. Her gaze swept Natalya up and down, and she giggled. âIs this one of your heroes, Karl?â
âBe silent,â Miloradovich answered, flashing Natalya a wry smile. âGo, my dear, and ring for more hot chocolate. I think you emptied this pot.â
She rose and gave him a kiss on his left jowl. Her smile vanished as she gave Natalya a sneer. When Natalya did not react, the woman left, slamming the door behind her.
Natalya arched a single brow at the general, and he chuckled.
âPay her no mind, Dmitrieff. Her head is as empty as the chocolate pot.â Scratching his bewhiskered chin, he lit his pipe and asked, âWhy are you bothering me at this hour?â
âGeneral Miloradovich, I am sorry to intrude, but I wish to request a change of residence.â
He shook his head, rearranging the heavy smoke around it. âImpossible.â
âBut, Generalââ
âDo not pester me with worthless requests, Dmitrieff.â He regarded her intently. âIt is not like you to whine like a vexing woman. What is amiss?â
Wanting to tell him the truth, but knowing that she could not explain without revealing the whole, she sighed. âI had thought to be closer to the Russian delegation in order to serve our czar better.â
He puffed on his pipe as he rose and paced. His dressing gown of a most outrageous emerald green rippled across his full body. âYou serve me best where you are right now.â Miloradovich rounded to face her. âBegone, Kapitán Dmitrieff, and do what you were brought here to do.â
âWhich is?â
A feral smile pulled his thin lips back over his teeth. âGet to know Angliya and its people and their ways, of course. The czar wishes us to be more like these western Europeans. Now, begone.â
Natalya obeyed, knowing she had no other choice, but, as she walked along the long corridor and down the stairs to the street, she could not shake off the feeling that General Miloradovichâs words had a meaning she was not privy to.
But what could that be? She hoped her disquiet was nothing more than knowing she must go back and tell Petr she had failed to do as she had promised. It was going to be a most troublesome day.
Four
Creighton climbed the steps to the front door of the club, not stopping to answer any of the questions fired at him. He had not come to Whiteâs for the company of his tie-mates, especially when all they wanted to speak of was his blasted guest. With that hulking Zass popping up at odd places throughout his house, Creighton needed to find a place where no Russian would be welcomed. Here, he could think clearly.
What a to-do! All he had wanted, in the aftermath of the war, was to enjoy the whirl of the Season with his friends and the rest of the Polite World. Now he was afflicted with this Russian woman and her ridiculous secret.
His hand clenched on the railing. How dare Natalya Dmitrieff wander about London in such a guise! If she had been honestâand he had no doubts that she had beenânot even her superior officers knew of her sex. Was the male half of the world suddenly want-witted? Every motion she made betrayed she was a woman, from her slender hands emphasizing her words to the enticing sway of her hips as she had stormed out of his house.
The small parlor was empty when he opened the door. That was good. He did not want even the hushed rumble