He concentrated on pouring a small amount of zavarka into her cup, a larger, stronger amount into his own. The samovar hissed, reminding him that he had not completed the tea-making ceremony. ‘This is kipyatok,’ he said, ‘which is simply another word for boiling water. Would you like a slice of lemon, some sugar?’
‘Is that permitted?’
‘It is not traditional, but I have both available if you wish. Our tea is something of an acquired taste.’
‘I will take it as it is meant to be served. When in Russia, as they say.’ Miss Galbraith picked up her cup and took a tentative sip.
She did not quite spit it out, but her screwed-up little nose and her watering eyes told their own tale. Biting back a smile, Aleksei held out the sugar bowl.
Using the tongs, she dropped three cubes of sugar into the tiny cup. ‘I hope you don’t think I’m being impertinent, but may I enquire why your wife is not here to greet me? I assume it is from her that I will take my instructions?’
‘Her absence is easily explained. I’m not, and never have been married.’
‘Oh.’ Miss Galbraith coloured. ‘I see,’ she said, looking like someone who did not see at all.
‘The children are not mine,’ Aleksei explained, ‘they are my brother’s.’
She frowned. ‘Then may I ask why you are—why I am not having this discussion with your brother and his wife?’
‘Because they are both dead.’ Drinking his own, thick black tea, a soldier’s brew, from the ducal cup in one gulp, Aleksei registered the widening of her eyes, and realised belatedly how stark this statement sounded. ‘Michael and Elizaveta died in May this year, within a few days of each other.’
Which attempt at tempering the shock made things worse. Miss Galbraith blanched. ‘How awful. I am so terribly sorry.’
‘Yes.’ Aleksei curbed his impatience. It was awful, but he’d had almost four months to accustom himself to it. ‘However, the formal mourning period is now over.’ Did that sound callous? ‘My brother and I were not particularly close.’ Even worse? Best to just get on with the matter in hand. ‘It is the consequences of his death which concern me, Miss Galbraith, and that is the reason you are here.’
‘Consequences?’
Though he was relieved to be back on track, Aleksei found himself in a quandary. It was already clear that the distractingly luscious Miss Galbraith had been only partially briefed by The Procurer woman. Her reputation for complete discretion was well founded, thank the stars, which meant he had the luxury of not having to launch into a full exposition of what he euphemistically referred to as consequences to a complete stranger just off the boat. But precisely how much to tell her?
Aleksei decided to proceed with caution. ‘Michael bequeathed me the guardianship of his offspring in his will—I have no idea why, for he did not consult me on the matter. I am, as my brother knew perfectly well, as unsuitable a guardian for his children as it’s possible to imagine, and have no intentions of continuing in the post once I can secure a more suitable candidate. At which point, Miss Galbraith, your duties will come to an end.’
‘Oh. Then my appointment as governess—you envisage it being of very short duration?’
‘I sincerely hope so. What I mean,’ Aleksei continued, noting her slightly startled expression, ‘is that I hope my appointment will be of short duration. Four months ago, when I received word of Michael’s death, I was preparing to do battle with Napoleon’s army. Having done my duty by my country and my men at Waterloo, I was obliged to return immediately to St Petersburg to take up my new, unasked-for duties. As you have no doubt surmised, I did not take kindly to having been bounced from battle to babysitting without a moment to catch my breath.’
‘Though Napoleon’s defeat has made it unlikely that you’ll have to fight any battles any time soon, has it not? Now that Europe is at peace you can surely be more easily spared to devote yourself to your new duties.’
Aleksei blinked at this unexpected riposte. Miss Galbraith, it seemed, had recovered her composure, and inadvertently unsettled his by pointing out a truth which had not occurred to him and which he had absolutely no desire to contemplate. ‘I am a soldier, have always been a soldier, and have no wish to be anything other than a soldier. Peace has certainly granted me the freedom to fulfil the obligations my brother forced upon me, but that does not mean I wish to spend the rest of the foreseeable future acting in loco parentis.’
‘I see.’
She did not. She thought him callous. Aleksei bristled. He did not need to justify himself to her. ‘The children will be far better off in the care of a guardian who understands the workings of the court, and how best to raise them to take their place in it.’
‘To be perfectly frank, I know nothing of royal courts and their etiquettes. I hope you were not expecting...’
‘You need not concern yourself about that. Apart from anything else, the children are too young, though Catiche...’
‘Catiche? I’m sorry, but I know only that there are two girls and a boy, I have no idea of their names and ages.’
‘That, I am pleased to tell you, I can easily remedy,’ Aleksei said. ‘Catiche—that is Catherine—is thirteen. Elena is ten. Nikki, my brother’s heir, is four. You will make their acquaintance the day after tomorrow. When I had word that your ship had docked this morning, I packed them off to stay with friends for a couple of nights, to allow you time to settle into your new surroundings.’
‘Thank you, that was thoughtful. May I ask how the little ones have coped with the loss of their parents? They must have been devastated.’
‘They seem perfectly well to me,’ Aleksei replied, frowning, ‘though my time is so taken up with my brother’s man of business that I see very little of them which, assuming they are being raised as my brother and I were, is no change to the status quo. They have a nanny, a peasant woman as is the tradition, who has cared for them since they were in the nursery. If they were devastated by anything, it’s more likely to have been the loss of Madame Orlova, their governess of some years’ standing.’
‘Loss? Good gracious, don’t tell me that she too perished? Was there some sort outbreak in the palace, a plague of some sort?’
‘No, no—you misunderstand. Madame Orlova left her post somewhat abruptly the day before my brother died.’
Miss Galbraith said something under her breath in a language he did not recognise. ‘Those poor little mites. What appalling timing. What prompted her to leave?’
‘I have absolutely no idea and nor have I been able to discover a single person in the army of servants here who does. I’ve tried to locate her, but if she’s in St Petersburg then she’s very well hidden, and I’ve been unable to widen my search since I am loath to leave the children for any sustained period without proper supervision. Now you are here, I intend to make tracking her down a priority.’
‘You intend to reunite her with her charges?’
Aleksei hesitated, reluctant to blatantly lie. ‘I must establish why she left in such haste before deciding anything.’ That much was true enough.
‘I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me before, but while I was assured that both English and French are widely spoken in polite society here, I didn’t ask specifically about the children. Obviously I speak no Russian.’
‘There will be no need for you to do so. The children will have picked up Russian from their nanny as we all did, but they have been taking French and English lessons from Madame Orlova from a very young age, so you need not fear you will be unable