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“I do not…” Leonida gasped in shock as realization hit. “Oh, no. You mean to use the letters to extort money from the next czar? Have you gone completely mad?”

Nadia’s lips thinned in annoyance. “One of us must think of the future, Leonida.”

“I am thinking of the future, Mother.” Whirling on her heel, Leonida marched to stare blindly out the window. “I just hope you enjoy the damp prison cell that is no doubt awaiting us.”

CHAPTER TWO

Surrey, England

AT A GLANCE, THE TWIN gentlemen who were currently strolling through the traditional English garden appeared startlingly similar.

Both possessed raven-dark hair that fell onto their wide foreheads in charming disarray. Both possessed the angular, Slavic features of their Russian-born mother. Both were blessed with dark blue eyes that had been sending women into a swoon since they left the cradle. And both had the sort of leanly muscled bodies that were shown to perfection beneath their tailored jackets and buckskins.

A closer study, however, would reveal that the elder twin, Stefan, the current Duke of Huntley, had skin a few shades darker than his brother, Edmond, Lord Summerville. And his shoulders were just a tad broader. A result of the hours spent overseeing his vast farms. Stefan’s features were also a trace more delicate than Edmond’s. Elegant rather than powerful.

The physical differences, however, were nothing in comparison to the differences in personalities.

Edmond had always been a restless soul, or at least he had been until he had wed Brianna Quinn several weeks before, while Stefan was deeply devoted to his estate and the vast number of people who depended upon him. Edmond was charming, swift to anger and frighteningly courageous. He had willingly risked his neck on several occasions during his time as advisor to Alexander Pavlovich.

Stefan, on the other hand, was far more reticent, preferring to remain in the background rather than calling attention to himself. He was also prone to speak the truth rather than offer flattery, which perhaps explained why

he was more comfortable in the company of his tenants rather than the aristocrats scattered about the neighborhood.

They both, however, shared a shrewd intelligence and fierce loyalty to each other, as well as those who depended upon them.

It was that loyalty that had brought Edmond to Hillside on this late spring morning.

Strolling through the gardens of Hillside that were being ruthlessly manicured after fifteen years of neglect, he slid a covert glance toward his brother, who was walking silently at his side.

“So, your guest has arrived?” he murmured.

Edmond’s lips twitched; no doubt he easily sensed Stefan’s looming lecture.

“She has.”

Stefan tossed aside any notion of subtlety. It had never been his talent.

“I cannot comprehend why you allow yourself to be taken advantage of by Alexander Pavlovich,” he growled, stepping around a pile of branches that had been cut from the now tidy hedge. “You are not one of his advisors.”

“I have never been an advisor to King George either, but that does not halt him from taking advantage,” Edmond pointed out. “Of either of us.”

Stefan ignored the reminder of King George’s incessant demands. Instead he concentrated on the two women currently entering the garden from the rambling Palladian-style home.

Brianna was easily recognizable by her vibrant red hair and her swift, rather unladylike stride. In many ways she was as impulsive and reckless as Edmond.

A familiar, fond warmth filled his heart before Stefan was turning his attention to the tiny woman struggling to keep pace with Lady Summerville.

“Is that her?” he demanded.

“Yes. Miss Leonida Karkoff.”

In that moment the woman turned her head and Stefan stumbled to a startled halt.

It was not the female’s beauty.

Well, at least not entirely.

She was lovely. Hair as golden as a morning sunrise, alabaster skin, and a slender form that was currently shown to advantage by her moss-green walking dress that was modestly scooped at the bodice with tiny puff sleeves.


Tags: Rosemary Rogers Russian Connection Historical