Page 27 of The Storybook Hero
The luminous dark eyes that looked up at him in expectation settled things quickly. He would just have to say what he honestly felt, and hope it was good enough.
“I won’t insult you by claiming I know how terrible things have been for you these past months,” he said gently. “Nobody but you can truly fathom the depths of your hurt. But I, too, know what it is like to lose someone very close to you. My oldest brother died in a boating accident and I … I still miss him very much. My family and I can never replace the ones you have lost, but we should like to offer you our love and a home where you may be safe.”
He bent lower, so that his eyes came level with those of the boy. “You may count on me as a friend, Nicholas. We have a difficulty journey ahead of us, if you choose to make it. One that may even be dangerous at times, but I’ll do my best to get us through it unscathed. What say you? Shall we make a go of it together?”
Nicholas blinked several times. “When do you wish to leave, Cousin Alex?”
He ruffled the boy’s dark hair. “You’re top of the trees, lad. We should be off at first light.”
“Top of the trees?” asked Nicholas in confusion. “Must we also climb trees?”
Alex laughed. “It’s an English expression. It means you are a great fellow.”
“Oh, I see.” The boy appeared to be making a mental note of it. “I imagine there will be many peculiar English sayings I will not understand.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be able to teach you more than a few before we reach St. Petersburg.” He grinned. “I shall try not to introduce too many unacceptable words into your vocabulary. No doubt my sisters-in-law will be boxing both our ears if I don’t watch my tongue.”
Nicholas gave the first hint of a smile. “Like what?”
Alex lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Well, to begin with, you are on no account to say ‘bloody bastard’ in proper company, especially if a lady is present.”
“What is ‘bloody bastard?’”
“The worst sort of evil fellow you can imagine.”
“Ah.” The boy fiddled with his fork. “Like Uncle Vasili?”
“Exactly like Uncle Vasili.” Alex pushed his chair back from the table. “Now, I think both of us had better get some rest if we are to leave at dawn.”
Nicholas got up as well.
Alex extended his hand, but the boy ignored it, gesturing instead for him to lean down. He did as he was bade and suddenly found himself enveloped in a hug, “Good night, Alex.”
Alex felt his throat constrict as he gave an awkward squeeze to the boy’s thin shoulders. “Good night, Nicholas.”
Octavia undidher the strings to her fur hat and laid it on the table, along with her thick muff. “The snow is starting again,” she said to the butler, who, aside from Mrs. Renfrew’s lady’s maid was the only other English servant in the house. “There appears to be an unusual amount of activity in the streets, andfrom what I can gather, a number of disturbing rumors are going around as well. Have you heard any further news from the embassy?”
He shook his head. “No, but when I was out this morning, I also noticed a number of carriages leaving by the northern route. Perhaps I should go and make some inquiries?”
“I think that might be wise.” She paused for a moment. “I had thought that Kutusov was accorded to be a competent general. Even though he had to fall back from Smolensk, it was said he inflicted severe casualties on the French army. Do you really think he has allowed the French to march on his country’s capital unopposed?”
The butler’s expression didn’t hide his opinion of foreigners in general. “Who knows what sort of cowardice these barbarians are capable of. Now, if Wellesley was in command, he would drive those Frogs?—”
“No doubt, but he is not. So let us try to discover exactly what is happening.”
The butler fetched his overcoat, still grumbling under his breath, and stepped out into the frigid air. Octavia’s brow furrowed in concern as she watched the door fall shut. She had not liked the mood of fear she had sensed in the streets. A number of people had brushed past her, arms loaded with staples like flour and potatoes, as though preparing for the worst.
The news from the front had not been good over the last fortnight. Each skirmish or battle had ended with a retreat by the Russian forces. If it was true that the French were moving slowly, inexorably, to within striking distance of Moscow, there was good reason for her to be worried.
Not for a moment did she think the Renfrews would give a thought to her and Emma being trapped in the capital. For all she knew, they might stand to come into Emma’s inheritanceif anything happened to the child, and so would welcome any attack by the enemy.
If anyone was to look out for their safety, it would have to be her.
She quickly climbed the stairs to Emma’s attic quarters. The girl was reading a book in the schoolroom, but immediately laid it aside on seeing Octavia’s grave expression.
“Is something amiss, Miss Hadley?”
“I’m not quite sure, Emma, but it appears that the French army may be closer to the city that any of us thought.”
