Winning Lord West Read Free Page A

for the duration of your absence. I’m now making
arrangements to send her down to Cranham. Your lack of care for her
is yet another indication that you’re the same irresponsible boy
you always were.
    ***
     
    St. Petersburgh, 30 th June
1820
     
    My lovely Firebrand,
    Your sweet missive was waiting when I reached
St. Petersburgh yesterday. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Your words had the bracing effect on my spirits that I’m sure you
intended. In comparison, I found myself thinking fondly back on the
hellish journey across the Continent.
    I hope the letters I wrote on the way have
warmed you up a little since then. It’s a good thing I like a
challenge—which must be why they sent me on this plaguy quest to
solve Russia’s quarrels in the first place.
    We arrived last night, and so far I’ve had
little chance to see the city. We’re billeted in a pink and white
palace on the Neva, with icing sugar decoration and big china
stoves in every room. It doesn’t get dark at night at all. There
are canals everywhere. It’s a most elegant place. I wish you were
here to share your acerbic opinions and remind me I haven’t
wandered into a fairy tale. Although I imagine once the Tsar’s
negotiations start, any magic will vanish in a puff of bureaucratic
pomposity.
    I also wish you were here because I find
myself missing you and all your prickles. I’ll think of you as my
dear little hedgehog. There, does that not melt your heart?
    Tomorrow the ambassador presents me to his
Imperial Majesty, the Tsar. I’m sure you’ll want to hear about
that, so I hope you won’t tear up the letter the moment
arrives.
     
    With my dearest wishes.
    West
     
    P.S. I hope you’re making sure Artemis gets
plenty of exercise, and you’re riding her, not some brick-handed
groom who won’t appreciate the highly strung miracle she is.
    ***
     
    London, 28 th July 1820
     
    My lord,
    Kindly desist from writing to me. As I
consign any correspondence from you to the drawing room fire, all
you’re doing is supplying me with exotic kindling. Your activities
are of no interest and I’d prefer that we returned to being polite
strangers. That relationship has served us well since we both grew
up. At least I grew up. Nothing I’ve seen indicates that you
have.
     
    Not yours.
    Helena, Lady Crewe
     
    P.S. As if I’d employ a heavy-handed groom.
The unhealthy Russian air must have rotted your brain.
    ***
     
    Outside Moscow, 3 rd September
1820
     
    My beautiful sweetheart,
    How villainously those of high degree lie to
their humble servants. I’d hoped to be home by now and telling you
in person of my unending admiration. Even as an impossible brat who
was either hanging around the stables getting underfoot, or hidden
in the corner of the library with your nose in some dusty volume,
you were something special.
    I know I have much to atone for—what I can’t
bear is that you feel I’m responsible for Crewe’s disgraceful
behavior. We were both disappointed in him, although as his wife,
you bore the brunt of his extravagance, drunkenness, and lechery.
In comparison, a friend’s disillusionment pales to nothing.
    To Hades with me. I swore I’d wait until I
saw you to address the matters that rise like a wall between us.
It’s a wall I’m determined to scale. I imagine you waiting on the
other side, like a captive princess.
    As you can see, all this Russian romance is
softening my head. Of course, my Helena is no captive princess, but
a warrior maiden. A man needs all his wit and weaponry to lay siege
to her.
    The negotiations crawl along without
noticeable progress. Every day, the Tsar goes hunting through birch
forests, beautiful with coming autumn.
    Next week, we travel south to the Crimea
without His Imperial Majesty. He feels his government—and the
English interloper—needs to know the lay of the land down there to
understand the full implications of this tangle. He’s off to the
Congress of Troppau to strut on the world