"It's my fault, too," she said softly, clinging to his strong shoulders, knowing she never felt happier than in his arms. "I should overlook your autocratic ways. They're cultural… that's all."

"I'll be better."

"And I'll be more understanding." His voice had a smile in it. "I see only blue skies ahead."

"Without a cloud," she sweetly added.

He laughed. "How long will all this harmony last?"

"Till the end of time or your first surly remark," Lisaveta dulcetly said, "whichever comes first."

"Or yours."

"It won't be mine."

"Is this a contest?"

''Depends on the wager.''

"Say… loser bathes the winner for a week."

"You're on, mon général."

It was a wager that could have only winners.

Chapter Nine

Now, while all this teasing bantering was taking place on the mountain rim of the world, Nadejda was saying to her mother, "Must we have the graceless woman over for tea? She has no manners at all."

"Yes, we must. She's his only aunt, and it's fortunate for you, my dear, that Papa and I talked some sense into you when we did or you might have done something foolish."

"I don't know how you can be so lenient, Mama. He ignored you and Papa, as well," Nadejda said, her face fretful with annoyance. She was still abed though it was past noon, the bedclothes scattered with crumbs from her breakfast tray.

"Darling, these things happen. Stefan was called back to the front." Although Princess Irina Taneiev was as swift to take offense as her daughter, her added years of experience cautioned her to prudence. One never, she'd reminded both her daughter and husband the day of Stefan's abrupt departure, risked losing a fortune such as Stefan's over something as foolish as temper.

"Well, he could have sent me a note, too. You'd think I'd have more importance than his old aunt."

"His only aunt, darling, which is the point. She has no children. Think of it for a moment, Nadejda. Where will all her fortune go? Remember, she's outlived two wealthy husbands in addition to being an Orbeliani with her own personal assets."

Nadejda brightened visibly. She'd been raised to consider her beauty a negotiable item and she understood the value of money. "Why, to Stefan and me of course."

"Exactly. And that's why we'll continue to entertain Stefan's aunt until your papa's business is finished here in Tiflis." Nadejda had moved into the Viceroy's palace with her parents after Stefan left, but her mother had seen to their continuing relationship with Militza. Although once Vladimir and the Viceroy had completed the details of their arrangement to supply artillery to the army, Irina had no intention of spending an additional minute in this sleepy provincial capital.

"In that case, I'll be polite to the old bitch. Is Stefan really her only heir?" Nadejda asked the question as if verification were required for the nasty task ahead.

Her mother nodded significantly.

"Oh, very well," her daughter distastefully agreed.

So when Militza came for tea, Nadejda was as civil as her mother's promptings could make her. Spoiled from a young age, however, she found it difficult to instill any warmth in an endeavor she found tiresome. Had Stefan seen her outside the ballrooms and formal dinners of their brief courtship, he would have noticed her very narrow focus of attention-herself. But in the short days of their acquaintance he'd only played the courting male. Nadejda was at her very best as the center of attention; she played well to an admiring throng; it was her favorite role-her only role. In it she was without peer.

"Did Stefan give you any indication in his note when he might next have leave?" Princess Irina was saying to Militza, and Nadejda yawned without any attempt at concealment.

"I'm afraid the war is in great flux now," Militza replied, noting Nadejda's discourtesy. She did not mention the real purpose of Stefan's note. Although he had made use of Haci's return to Tiflis to make apologies to Militza for leaving so abruptly, he'd wanted most to see that Masha would open his town house to those of his men who weren't going to their villages on furlough. Haci, for one, was looking forward to the female pleasures available in Tiflis, the capital city of the Caucasus.

"It's such a shame Kars is proving recalcitrant. I do hope it falls soon so all the young men will be back for the season." Irina saw the war as an obstacle to her social activities.

"I'm sure the Tsar's officers agree with you," Militza ironically replied. Another afternoon in company with the vacuous Taneiev women was reinforcing her conviction she must intervene in Stefan's disastrous marriage plans.

"I really don't understand what's taking so long," Irina continued complaining, as if the war were a personal affront to her standards of speed. "Surely the Muslim rabble will capitulate soon. Vladimir says Grand Duke Michael is going down to investigate."

As daughter to a general, sister-in-law to a field marshal, wife to two military men and Stefan's aunt, Militza was well aware of the formidable opponents Russia faced. This war wasn't going to be a question of waiting patiently in dress uniform for the Turkish commanders to signal defeat. She'd heard enough from Stefan in his letters from the front and her own contacts with the Chiefs of Staff to understand the particular brutality of this campaign. "Michael will find his journey eventful" was all she said. Her faith in the Tsar's brother was faint; Michael drank and gambled better than he officered.

"Mama, I won't hear another word on this dreary war," Nadejda snapped, tearing a small piece from her macaroon in testiness. Her fifth macaroon, Militza noted. The girl would approximate her mother's girth someday and Stefan liked slender women. "I'll be glad when we're back in Saint Petersburg where every other word isn't about the silly war," Nadejda finished petulantly.

For a man who'd devoted his life to the army, Stefan apparently hadn't selected a wife inclined to view his profession with sympathy, Militza reflected, although she did have considerable affection for macaroons.

"And I wish Stefan would have taken my advice and had Melikoff rescind his orders back to the front."

Militza abruptly ceased contemplation of Nadejda's capacity for macaroons. Melikoff? Nadejda had suggested Stefan petition Melikoff? Militza would have bartered a year of her life to have seen her nephew's expression at that recommendation. There wasn't a man he hated more than Melikoff. When they met in public as they did occasionally in the small world of Tiflis society, Stefan quite literally glared daggers at the man whose family had replaced his as Viceroy of the Caucasus. Only his promise to Alexander II, his Tsar, had kept him from challenging Melikoff to a duel. Alexander wouldn't have the scandal, he'd said, of Stefan killing Melikoff.

"He wouldn't?" Militza casually inquired, watching Nadejda's face for her response.

"He said he only takes orders from the Tsar, which I don't fully understand because Melikoff distinctly told me he was Stefan's superior."

"Perhaps Melikoff neglected to make that clear to Stefan," Militza sardonically replied.

"Well, he should then," Nadejda asserted, tossing her chin up in an affected way that might have been charming in a four-year-old. "And everything would be much nicer. Stefan could come home from that ridiculous war and we could begin making marriage plans."

"If you'd like to write Stefan a note suggesting that, it seems sensible to me," Militza said, her face as bland as her tone. "I could have a groom deliver it to him."

"Mama, the macaroons are gone," Nadejda noted fretfully. Then, as if Stefan's future were secondary to her sweet tooth, she added, "I'll drop him a note on the subject before we leave."

"You're leaving?" Militza could have been on a treaty negotiating team for all her understatement and calm.

"Tomorrow or possibly the next day," Irina interposed. "Poor Nadejda is bored so far from Saint Petersburg, and I confess-" she smiled artificially "-although Tiflis is enchanting, I miss the stimulation of court."

What she meant was that she feared being away too long from the machinations of court politics. Stefan would also appreciate Nadejda's boredom with his native city. Militza dearly hoped Nadejda would include in her note an indication of her feelings on that subject, as well. "My wishes then for a pleasant journey," she said cheerfully. She chose not to mention she'd be following soon. Once Stefan actually returned to Kars, she also intended a trip to Saint Petersburg.

Leaving the Viceroy's palace after tea, Militza felt her years and, in the logical assessment of things, despaired whether she'd be successful in dislodging Nadejda as Stefan's fiancée. Her nephew was stubborn at times in his wishes and he hadn't lightly undertaken his choice of bride. His selection hadn't been whimsical but rather utilitarian, and her hope of discrediting Nadejda was minimized by that judgment. Stefan had made clear to her that the question of liking Nadejda was incidental to the usefulness of her family. Vladimir Taneiev controlled many of the ministers of state, although the army had always remained independent. It was actually Vladimir that Stefan was marrying and the power he wielded in the inner circles of government.

Tsar Alexander spent less and less time in the daily activities of government now that his young mistress and their three children were actually installed in the palace only a floor below his consumptive wife. Rumor had it the Tsarina was determined to hang on to life as long as possible to thwart her young rival. Although ravaged as she was by tuberculosis, she'd already outlived her physicians' estimates by five years.