Kisses Like a Devil Page 7

  “Your Excellency…” Pyotr began again, trying not to sound like a beggar. Dammit, his family had been noblemen for centuries.

  “Yes, Sazonov?” The grand duke yawned and held his monocle up to the light. The dark circles under his eyes were deeper than usual, confirming that last night’s debauchery had lasted an extremely long time.

  “Surely you can extend credit to Russia, Your Excellency.”

  “Why?” He screwed his monocle back into place and spun, the silver-rimmed glass glaring at Pyotr like a Cyclops’ eye. “You knew the rules when you came. Cash only and Eisengau sells weapons, never the plans. Why should I change them now?”

  “Russia is one of the great powers, with an army large enough to overrun Europe.”

  “Not without cannons, it won’t.” Grand Duke Rudolph snorted inelegantly. “How many corpses will laugh at you if you march without the King of Battle on your side?”

  “Buying that many guns would be ruinously expensive, even for the British. Let us have credit so we can pay you over time.” The words scoured his mouth like ashes. Russia deserved better than begging favors from a minor autocrat, who should be groveling to the tsar instead.

  “No. Why should I waste my time on you when there are so many other better prospects? Why, the American can pay with either government or private funds. Even my son would keep him in the auction.” He cast a bitter glance at Eisengau royalty’s next generation who stared stonily back at him before returning to the activity below.

  “I’m not interested in rifles, Your Excellency.” Pyotr laced every word with icy precision, refusing to unleash his temper. “Russia already has an excellent one.”

  “Then buy one of my mountain guns and start thinking about how well you can tear apart Afghanistan, on the road to India.” Grand Duke Rudolph picked up a pot and poured himself a cup of coffee.

  And fight our way through the Himalayas? We’re trying that now and it’s not working. No, there has to be a better way to bring Russia the greatness she deserves.

  Pyotr hissed in annoyance and started over, trying for a supplicant’s sugary tones.

  “Russia deserves to buy anything she wants—including the new great gun.”

  “The one that can outshoot the new French cannon or any of the old British or German guns?” Grand Duke Rudolph didn’t bother to look up from the brandy he was pouring into his coffee. “Of course, you can…”

  Pyotr came alert, hope racing through his veins for the first time.

  “You’ve already paid enough for a model of one.” The older man glanced up and laughed softly. Pyotr’s lips thinned but he didn’t clench his fists. It wasn’t the first time he’d considered disobeying his orders and funding an assassination.

  “On the other hand, you imperialistic fools, you could have used the same sum to fortify Alaska, instead of selling it for a song forty years ago. Just think—if you’d kept it, you’d control the access to all those Klondike goldfields, not the Americans.”

  “We’d be rich.” Pyotr silently cursed the betraying murmur.

  “Maybe, if you didn’t ruin your affairs in another way. But you’re wasting my time. Anyone who wants to buy our guns, must provide gold.”

  Pyotr tried one last chance. “What about buying the plans for a weapon?”

  “So you can have somebody else build them? Never in our history have we done that.” Even his son nodded vehement agreement to that pronouncement.

  “Now get out and start packing for the summer military maneuvers.” He pinned Pyotr with a long, icy glare. “Unless you want to miss the summer maneuvers entirely.”

  Dermo, the old bastard was serious. The room narrowed until all Pyotr could see was the desiccated aristocrat, edged in black like the coffin for a victim of his beloved Mosin-Nagat rifle. He forced the vision back, his pulse thudding sullenly in his ears, and did his best to ignore his knife resting eagerly against his arm.

  Why the hell wouldn’t St. Petersburg allow him to assassinate the old goat? True, it would undoubtedly infuriate the Germans and the other steady clients. But that foolish young cockerel would undoubtedly be easier to deal with than this strutting blackmailer.

  Still, he could afford to be polite now, since he had another option.

  “It will be an honor to attend the maneuvers in any capacity, Your Excellency.” Pyotr smiled, baring his teeth in a smile’s caricature.

  He’d enjoy showing the old buzzard just who was the greatest power. All he needed to do now was set Meredith Duncan into motion.

  Meredith set her satchel down beside the big armchair in the small sitting room, refusing to tug her lapels together in a vain semblance of her academic robe’s protection. She’d lost the right to wear it when the school year ended yesterday, together with Frau Masaryk’s ribbon wreath. Every female Eisengau university student wore similar traditional headgear, if inherited from another woman in her extended family.

  Frau Masaryk, the Judge’s aunt, had been Meredith’s dearest friend when she’d first arrived in Eisengau. She’d spent most of her time at her estate in the mountains, reading, riding, and working with the farm dogs the old woman doted on. She’d also encouraged Meredith’s ambitions of a university degree, training her finest dog to protect Meredith. The Judge still hated to see any reminders of her plebian hobby.

  Meredith smiled faintly and went to find Morro, the living emblem of two good friendships.

  If she knew him, he was amusing himself while he waited for the precise moment when he expected her to arrive. An instant before then, he’d plop himself down in the perfect spot so he could be ready, looking like a complete angel. Hah!

  It wasn’t his fault she’d dressed extra fast, saving time by pinning up her hair in loose waves instead of the usual tight braids to support Frau Masaryk’s ribbon wreath. Mother and the Judge had been too well-behaved last night. They hadn’t asked her any questions about Brian Donovan, for starters. Instead, they’d simply bid her goodnight and informed her they’d talk to her in the morning.

  She should be grateful to have escaped a stinging lecture about being seen with a stranger late at night. But she wasn’t. Maybe she’d be calmer after she cleaned up Colonel Zorndorf’s office for the semester.

  As befitted Eisengau’s top cannon designer, he was leaving on summer maneuvers to answer any technical questions the buyers might pose. Or that the Eisengau army might ask, although they were usually very well drilled in the weapons by now.

  She’d also be able to make sure no partial or draft drawings of the guns survived anywhere. She was almost certain none did—but she couldn’t afford to take any chances for the workers’ sake.

  She dropped her satchel beside her academic robes and followed shouts of laughter in search of Morro.

  As she’d suspected, he was running circles around the back garden with Kavalier, her half-brothers’ elegant gray hunting dog. The two dogs barked and slammed into each other, for all the world like a pair of good-natured canine jousters.

  Paul and Johann, her two half-brothers, waved at her from the terrace. Even with their mouths jammed full of jam-covered bread, they still managed to laugh at the dogs’ antics.

  Meredith opened the door and joined them, chuckling. She saw them so seldom since they’d been sent away to that Austrian military school. At ages eleven and nine, the Judge’s standards for his offspring became higher the faster they grew. “Good morning.”

  They wiped their mouths and rose, grinning. “Good morning, sister! Did you see—”

  They snapped to attention, animation vanishing from their faces. “Good morning, Mother.”

  Cold ice dove through Meredith and settled in her stomach. Dear heavens, the boys had always been better at reading Mother and the Judge than she was.

  She turned and found herself confronting her mother, who was wielding her most arrogant glare. She stiffened her spine, determined to admit to nothing. “Yes, Mother?”

  Morro plopped himself firmly down beside her, grow
ling softly.

  “Come with me, daughter; the Judge will talk to you now.” She turned and headed back into the house, her long skirts swishing across the carpet like an executioner’s march.

  Meredith reached for a smile’s semblance but the boys saw through it, of course. They’d all had too much practice at counterfeiting contentment.

  “Good luck,” whispered Paul. “If we’re not here when you get out—”

  “Send letters to us at school through the French teacher,” Johann finished.

  “I won’t need—” she began, and stopped. The last time Mother had been this succinct, she’d been so furious Meredith hadn’t been able to leave her room for better than a month. She nodded jerkily and quickly embraced her brothers.

  The Judge spun on his heel to face the two women from inside his office, his desk slicing the room like an altar prepared for burnt offerings. Mother pointed at a narrow wooden chair on the far side and slammed the door, narrowly missing Morro.

  The loyal dog objected immediately, his barks barely louder than soft chuffs. Like Meredith, he’d long since learned to watch his tongue in this house.

  She quickly silenced him with an outstretched palm and took the highly uncomfortable seat, carefully settling her skirts. There she waited for the real blow to fall, with Morro beside her.

  Mother ensconced herself in a brocaded armchair beside her mate and critically studied her daughter.

  “We know all about the archbishop’s dreadful nephew and his associates, whom you’ve been meeting for years,” the Judge announced without preamble.

  Meredith froze. What did they know about the central committee and their hopes for the workers?

  Mother shuddered elaborately.

  Had they been watching? Did they know about the rallies? Meredith could scarcely breathe.

  “We know they’ve led you astray into strange talk of voting reform and changing the established order.”

  Oh, no, no, no.

  “We’ve tolerated it all this time in hopes you’d form a good connection”—marriage?—“But you’ve never been able to coax a proposal out of Herr Schnabel.”

  Of course not, he’s studying for the priesthood! She gaped at her mother.

  “If we separate you from those foolish hotheads, there will be no trouble for the family.” Mother nodded decisively and sat back.

  “So we’ve decided to accept an excellent offer for your hand,” the Judge purred.

  Meredith’s jaw dropped. She’d always been very careful never to make a public speech or have anything in writing for the workers party. Surely her behavior hadn’t been bad enough to make them injure themselves.

  “What do you mean? If I leave the university, the payments from Frau Masaryk’s inheritance are lost.” Including the money to them for her room and board.

  “Foolish though the old biddy’s ideas were, her will can still be satisfied.” Mother sniffed haughtily. “Your husband will allow you to continue studying.”

  Husband? She’d never find one tolerable, even if she believed he’d let her stay at the university.

  A positively beaming smile danced across the Judge’s face and Meredith’s stomach turned cartwheels.

  “Your engagement to Colonel Zorndorf will be announced in tomorrow’s newspaper,” he announced proudly.

  Her boss? Ice knotted into Meredith’s shoulders and lanced into her stomach, ripping into her knees. She’d have staggered if she’d been standing.

  “Zorndorf?” she croaked. “Why me? He’s the grand duke’s top cannon designer; he could have a far wealthier bride.”

  “Who cares?” Mother rolled her eyes. “Think of what his connections can do for us.”

  “He’s probably planning to obtain a cheap secretary,” the Judge shrugged off any quest for motives. “At least he already knows you, so he can’t claim we hid any of your problems from him.

  But marriage? Surely nobody with any claim to family tenderness would send their daughter to Zorndorf’s household.

  “But he beat his wife! She was always heavily veiled, even in the summer. And you commented on her bruised face the one time we saw it clearly, Mother, after the wind blew it aside.”

  “She undoubtedly deserved to be chastised.” Mother yawned.

  “Two black eyes was only discipline?” She stared from one to another of her parents, unable to comprehend how they could excuse Zorndorf’s behavior.

  “Exactly,” the Judge agreed. “Excellent practice, too, for teaching you manners—starting with how not to be a slut.”

  “How dare you call me that!” Meredith sprang to her feet. Morro snarled rough and low. She grabbed for his collar, catching him just before he dove under the desk at the Judge.

  “I’ll name you that and worse any time I choose. I’ll give you a dozen good strokes with a cane, too, for defying me.”

  All the blood left Meredith’s face and she fought for breath, using lungs which seemed to have no strength. Dear God, not again.

  “I thought that might be the one threat which resonates, dear stepdaughter.” The Judge tilted his head, his lips curling into a satisfied grin. “Has your back healed from the last time?”

  She stared back at him, fists clenched. Mother chuckled and exchanged a smug glance with her husband.

  “Zorndorf can’t want a woman who’s not a virgin.” Meredith forced her fingers to unknot and tried to bring her rusty wits back into play.

  “We’re well aware of how you’ve debased yourself.” Mother shot a look of pure loathing at her. “At least you’ve never humiliated us by flaunting your behavior in front of our friends.”

  “Since you’ve kept your amours infrequent and far from our circle, Colonel Zorndorf is willing to overlook them. In fact, he prefers an experienced woman and forced us not to interfere with your late-night activities.”

  Meredith ground her teeth. “Surely he can’t believe a wedding ring would stop a promiscuous woman.”

  “I doubt it. In fact, he said he was looking forward to teaching you how to respect your husband and his commands, as he’d taught his first wife. It will be very pleasant to watch.” The Judge sipped his coffee, his mustache points almost quivering in anticipation.

  A vision of Frau Zorndorf limping into church rose before her eyes. Meredith flinched and bit off another, no doubt futile protest. She’d always thought losing her virginity would guarantee safety from a respectable marriage.

  She reached for one last, faint hope.

  “Mother, please, how can your maternal instincts accept having a child of yours married to a brute like Zorndorf? His only advantages are his connections to Grand Duke Rudolph.”

  “What more is needed?” Mother frowned at her. “What have you ever done for me, except be a burden? Do you understand what those long months were like when I was alone, after your father died?”

  Long months? Meredith blinked. “You married the Judge less than three months after Papa died in that storm.”

  Mother drew herself up. “How can you question the depths of my grief? I was alone and you offered me no solace.”

  “I was eight years old.” Meredith gaped at her.

  “And you’re grown up now, enough to know how to bring credit to your parents. As Zorndorf’s wife, you’ll raise us up with you into the highest circles of society.”

  Was that all she cared about? Not even her own daughter’s safety?

  Oh, Mother, it’s been years since I thought you loved me but I never knew you’d auction me off like this. Being abandoned would have been less painful.

  “If you don’t agree immediately, I’ll have the pleasure of disciplining you first,” the Judge purred.

  Meredith’s blood cascaded like an ice fall through her veins. More canings and whippings? More beatings until she’d screamed her throat raw and couldn’t sleep on her back for days or weeks?

  If she couldn’t convince them to change their minds, she did have one advantage: Frau Masaryk’s legacy was held in British
stocks. If she attended a school outside Eisengau, she’d still have an income and be independent.

  But she’d have to cause a scandal large enough to destroy Zorndorf’s interest, find somebody to get her out of Eisengau—and help force Grand Duke Rudolph to end proportional voting in Eisengau

  She closed her eyes for a moment. The first things to do were to play for time then escape from her parents.

  She threaded tears into her voice. “I don’t know what else to do, Mother, except obey you.” Well, that was true enough—at least for the moment. “When do we meet Colonel Zorndorf?”

  “This morning. He wants to introduce you to the grand duke as his betrothed when they tour his labs at the university,” Mother answered, fluffing the lace at her wrists.

  Now?

  “He won’t return until summer maneuvers are over.” The Judge frowned at her, underlining the meeting’s urgency.

  Meredith blanked her expression, thinking fast. All of the buyers would be at the university this morning, too. She’d planned to avoid them by lingering in the library, while Zorndorf led his usual, long-winded tour.

  However, this just might be her only chance to make a deal with the devil.

  Like Sazonov. Tell him where the blueprints were, in exchange for pretending to ruin her.

  Her mouth tightened.

  “When do you want to leave?” She rose.

  Her stepfather frowned at her but stood up. “Certainly—my dear daughter.”

  Damn, lying, would-be patriarch. If she had to make a bargain with anybody, she’d rather do so with Brian Donovan. At least he’d never lied to her.

  Not that he was a viable option.

  “Here we are, in the center of Eisengau University,” Grand Duke Rudolph proclaimed, his right arm sweeping out to describe his domain. “Here we train our most trusted engineers and design the world’s finest arms!”

  The covey of arms buyers murmured noncommittally. Many hid their yawns by taking another drink from the mug clutched in their hand, whether it contained coffee, tea, or the hair of the dog.