Epilogue
St Petersburg—December 1816
Allison gazed at her reflection in the long mirror. Her hair was in one of Natalya’s deceptively simple coiffures, elegantly high on her head, with artful curls permitted to fall seemingly at random. Diamonds glittered in the myriad of hairpins—her one concession, save for the gown, to her new status.
Natalya had offered pearls as a compromise to Allison’s usual plain pins, but pearls, Seanmhair had always claimed, were for tears, if worn at a wedding. Allison was determined there would be no tears. Not even happy ones.
She touched her locket. What on earth would her grandmother make of today’s events? Ordinary is for life’s passengers, hadn’t she always said? Allison smiled to herself. She couldn’t think of anything more extraordinary than the fact that she was about to become a countess. As long as she didn’t get too big for her boots in the process, she reckoned Seanmhair would approve.
Unlike some of St Petersburg’s society. There were many who had come round to acceptance, to recognise Allison’s honorary status earned by dint of her reputation as a pioneer and crusader for the provision of medical care for ordinary Russians. The poor called her a saint. The court was cynical enough to bask in reflected glory by endorsing her. She and Aleksei had not attempted to make St Petersburg their own, but they had succeeded in making their own St Petersburg.
Though none of society, accepting or no, would be here today. Only the children, the Derevenko household, and Grigory Fyodorovski would attend. Which, when you counted all the household mind you, amounted to a great many pairs of eyes. But they would all be sympathetic and they would all highly approve.
Allison gave a final twirl in front of the mirror. Her gown of cream silk had long sleeves and a high collar with an overdress of specially woven cream lace as fine as a spider’s web. Tiny flowers of gold thread were embroidered on the cuffs and hem. There was a cream, fur-lined cloak to match, and a huge fur muff too, to keep her warm on the journey they would make later. Under her gown, the spider’s web lace trimmed her chemise and her garters. Silk undergarments, which rustled seductively as she walked, and which she knew Aleksei would take great delight in discovering and uncovering.
A blush stole over her cheeks. Her eyes in the mirror lit up. Aleksei. ‘Lyubov moy,’ she whispered. My love.
Mindful of Natalya’s dire warnings about crushing her gown, Allison rustled over to the window. Outside the garden was white, a velvet-soft carpet of snow. Aleksei had proposed in the Square Room precisely a year after he had promised he would, and precisely a year after she had promised a response, she had said yes.
Such a year it had been. A year of sacrifice and compromise, just as they had known it would be, but one of such joy and happiness too. To be loved, unequivocally loved, was the most liberating feeling. To have someone always on your side, to have someone you could rely on always to tell you the truth, to tell you when you were right and when you were wrong, to counsel you on when to concede and when to stand strong, knowing that first and foremost they had your best interests at heart. Well, that had not been such an easy lesson to learn for either of them, now she thought of it. They were both so accustomed to making all their own decisions, taking advice as interference. They had disagreed. But slowly, as the months passed, the disagreements became discussions.
They had not achieved everything, but they had made a start on all of it. Small dispensaries at five of Nikki’s transformed estates, as well as the main dispensary in the city, with an apprentice in each working under Allison’s supervision. It meant Aleksei had been away from St Petersburg a great deal, but sometimes she went with him, sometimes the children too. And when they did not, his homecomings were worth the time spent apart.
She had three active and four reluctant patronesses for her dispensaries. When Allison’s name was mentioned at court, Grigory said, it was with a mixture of awe and astonishment. She knew, because she asked him, and he was a man who lied abysmally, that there was gossip. But it was, he assured her, more of a jealous nature than a disdainful one. For once her ancestry was in her favour. The Scots were commanding Russia’s navy, building the ships they sailed in, and Allison was one of a long line of Scots in the medical profession here in the city. She was part of a benign invasion, Grigory informed her with one of his hearty guffaws, the Scots’ latest weapon, in their plan to capture Mother Russia, by capturing the heart of one of the country’s most eligible bachelors.
Grigory was incorrigible, but he had been a staunch supporter from the start, proving himself first and foremost a loving uncle, for he could see what others cared not to, that the union would be what was best for his nieces and nephew. Allison was hopeful that he would be proved right. Anna Orlova had been joined by extra tutors, in an attempt to counterbalance the governess’s highly inflated opinion of her charges’ heritage. History of all sorts other than the Derevenko one, was now taught to the children. The girls attended one of the bigger schools one day a week, and in the spring, Nikki would be permitted to attend military academy for a term. There would be no lessons in estate management until he was able to decide for himself that was what he wanted, Aleksei said. Choices, that was what he wanted for all of them. It was early days to speculate about what choices they might make. And besides, she had a great many other things to think about right now.
Such as her wedding. She turned away from the window to survey her bedchamber, which she would leave for the last time today. The Count and Countess Derevenko had a new suite, in a different, distant part of the palace. But they would not be occupying it tonight. A soft rap on the door, and Natalya arrived, telling her to hurry. It was time. She wouldn’t want to keep His Illustrious Highness waiting.
‘No, but I know he will wait,’ Allison said, giving the maid a hug. ‘Wish me luck.’
Natalya pinned the wispy laced veil to her hair. ‘You won’t need it.’
* * *
The Derevenko private chapel was clad entirely in marble. White and black in the form of the Derevenko crest on the floor. The walls, the high-arched ceiling, and the supporting pilasters were white, throwing into stark relief the stunning Byzantine images which adorned the ornate altar. But Allison had eyes only for the man waiting there for her. Aleksei wore blue and gold. A blue coat with gold buttons. A gold waistcoat. Blue pantaloons. Long black highly polished boots. Plain attire for a count. But this Count, Allison thought as she gazed at him down the short aisle of the Derevenko chapel, could have worn rags and still taken her breath away. He smiled, and her fluttering nerves vanished. She smiled back. A few short steps, and she would be his and he would be hers. Count and Countess, plain Mr and Mrs, she didn’t care a whit.
‘Ready?’ she asked of her escorts.
Nikki nodded solemnly, taking up one side of the heavy gold casket which contained the rings. Catiche hurriedly grabbed the other, as it almost slipped from his grasp. They had been arguing for weeks over who was to have the privilege, and Aleksei had decreed that they decide for themselves. Where was Elena, though—was she sulking after being excluded? A yelp betrayed her arrival. Allison saw her own laughter reflected in Aleksei’s eyes, as she appeared with the bulldog on a silk leash. ‘Ortipo is a member of the family too,’ Elena said. ‘It is my duty to make sure he behaves himself impeccably.’
‘And a very important duty it is too,’ Allison said, nodding solemnly. For the first—and most likely the only—time in her life, she found herself extremely grateful for the bulldog’s presence.
* * *
It was a short, but emotional ceremony. The new Count and Countess Derevenko remained only for a brief champagne toast leaving their guests to celebrate the long-awaited nuptials by feasting and dancing, while the couple left to celebrate in their own way, alone. Aleksei drove them from the palace in his troika. It was twilight, the stars only just beginning to come out as they sped across the snow. Allison tucked into his side, watched breathlessly as he handled the three horses with seeming ease, the cold air stinging her cheeks, the glow inside her making her oblivious of the rapidly falling temperature.
The troika turned up a long carriage way, gliding to a halt in front of a house built to resemble a Chinese pagoda. ‘What is this place?’ Allison asked.
‘Ours,’ he answered. ‘Do you like it?’
‘It is ridiculous. It is beautiful. I love it. Is it really ours?’
‘I thought we needed a retreat. Somewhere no one—not even the children—are permitted.’
‘I can’t wait to explore it.’
‘Later, my Countess.’ He leapt down from the carriage, pulling the furs aside, helping her down to the front step, where a carpet had been set out, the door waited ajar, and a groom appeared from nowhere to lead the horses away.
‘Aleksei.’ She looked up at him, a smile trembling on her lips. ‘I love you so much. I can’t quite believe that we are married.’
He kissed her then, his lips icy from the journey. ‘Nor can I. I think we need proof, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’ Ridiculous to be nervous, this was Aleksei, but she was none the less. ‘Is it silly to say that it feels like the first time?’
He kissed her again, pulling her tightly up against him. ‘It is the first time. Now I am truly yours, and you are truly mine. For always.’
‘Always.’ She reached up to smooth the rebellious kink in his hair. ‘It is a family trait, this little question mark,’ she said. ‘Your brother’s hair was the same. And Nikki’s too. I wonder...’ She bit her lip on the question she had been asking herself for months, but it felt—yes, it felt right to raise it on this most auspicious day. ‘Aleksei, it is not that we need anything else to make our love perfect, but...’
‘Lyubov moya.’ A smile dawned on him—one she had never seen before. ‘Are you telling me that you would like us to have a child of our own?’
She nodded. ‘I’ve been thinking—wanting...’
‘Why did you not say?’
‘You’ve been thinking the same?’
He nodded. ‘But you said that you had never...’
‘And you said you had never...’
‘Not until I met you.’
Tears filled her eyes. Tears of joy. But she was not having tears on her wedding day. Allison blinked them away furiously. ‘I love you, Aleksei.’
‘And I love you, Your Illustrious Highness.’ Aleksei grinned at the shock on her face. He scooped her up into his arms, holding her high against his chest. ‘Let me show you just how much.’
* * * * *
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MATCHES MADE IN SCANDAL
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