Page 52 of My Trojan Horse Majesty

“I have a need for new clothing.” Leonid looks down at his shirt in disgust. “A long sequence of circumstances has led to this, but it seems you understand why I can’t go out in public looking this way.”

Leonid has a presence. I can’t really describe it, but even though his stained, too-small clothes should look ridiculous, they don’t, somehow. Clearly the man also sees it.

“Our store makes custom-order suits. We need these sample styles in order to show customers their options and see how standard sizing would work. However, we do sometimes have extras that people. . .” He clears his throat. “Decline to pay the balance on when they arrive.”

“Interesting,” Leonid says.

“I can also expedite your order, should you like to place one, and have it here in less than a week.”

Leonid nods. “I would be happy to take anything you can offer.”

An hour and a half later, with a seamstress working furiously in the back to modify a few things, we leave with a trunk full of clothing and another fifty thousand dollars’ worth of things on order. “Did you really need that much?” I shake my head. “It won’t all fit in my apartment.”

He looks transformed. I thought he looked good in Tim’s clothing, but seeing him in a dark sweater with light grey slacks? The staff had another shop bring some shoes over, and he looks better than I thought he could. “That’s not much of a concern. I’m sure you won’t be staying there for very long anyway.”

“Why not?” I hardly think I’m about to leave my apartment.

“I’m sure Tim will think to come by soon, if he hasn’t already.”

“Leo, people don’t move after a breakup. They just moveon.”

“Moving on is simpler when you’ve also moved.” He shrugs. “Trust me on this one.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re crazy.”

“Yes, I’ve heard.”

My head snaps to the side. “Oh, I didn’t mean?—”

He laughs. “I’m not offended. But it is a decent segue into the story.” He points down the street at a small stand. “Please tell me there’s food close that’s nicer than that.”

I glance at the sign. It reads, “Hot Dog On A Stick.” I can’t help laughing. “I’m sure we can find something better.”

“If there’s a place you really like, let’s go there. I’m hungry enough to eat most anything.”

“Market Street Grill isn’t far,” I say, “Do you like seafood?”

“Do they have good seafood here? Isn’t this area landlocked?”

“I mean, for this part of the world, it’s the best,” I say. “They fly fresh seafood in, and I love the crab cakes.”

He shrugs. “Sure. Let’s go there.”

Once we’re back in the car, he picks up with the story like we never stopped. “I should go back a bit. One night, when things had gotten particularly bad, I feared Father and I might not live much longer. He was suffering from what I now believe was alcohol poisoning and malnourishment, and I feared he might perish. We had not been able to find reputable jobs in our new town, and on that very night, I saw a woman struggling to carry her drunk companion to a car. Of course I lent a hand. That woman turned out to be the daughter of a local nobleman, hauling her brother to his vehicle. Helping them landed us positions with the Volkonsky family. At the time, I thought of her as our savior.”

I hate hearing that. For some reason, I dislike a woman I barely know. She sounds like she was kind—and he sure needed someone to help him, but I still dislike her. I suppress that thought, because it’s clearly nuts. “And then?”

“I worked with their animals, mostly. I wasn’t great with horses, but I could manage them. I was decent at other animal husbandry. My father obtained a position as their gardener. I later learned to drive a car and became their chauffeur.”

“A big step up,” I say.

“You have no idea,” he says. “After we had been there for almost six months, I had started to gain weight and height, thanks to finally eating well, and my father’s sunken cheeks were filling out. I thought nothing in the world had been luckier than the moment I met Katerina.”

Okay, yeah, I tried, but I still hate her. I can’t help asking, “Was she pretty?”

He blinks. “Does it matter?”

“Doesn’t it always?”

---