Natalie set aside her sketch and began carefully selecting fabrics. The strain of the work had tired her eyes, so she straightened her shoulders, removed her pince-nez, and rubbed her eyes for a moment. The shop had been so busy with customers that she could barely keep up, and the boutique owner was even considering hiring another assistant. Unfortunately, this brief moment of peace was abruptly interrupted—Fifi came upstairs to inform her that a man was waiting for her downstairs.
The first thought that crossed Natalie’s mind was that a husband or lover of some lady had come to place an order for a gift. Such customers couldn’t be ignored, so she hurried down. But the moment her foot crossed the threshold of the sales floor, it became clear this was a dreadful mistake. Standing in the room was the last person she wanted to see, and it was highly unlikely he was here to make a purchase.
“Good morning, Natalie!” Stotsky said with a familiar air, taking her hand and raising it to his lips. The audacious gesture momentarily left her speechless—exactly as he intended. “Do you have ten minutes for me?”
“That depends on why you’re here,” she replied, her eyes narrowing and her full lips pressing into a thin line.
“I’d like to talk about Paul. May I sit?” The guest gestured toward an armchair in the corner.
“Go ahead.”
“And with your permission, I’ll close the door. It’s better if we’re not disturbed!”
He walked over to the glass door and flipped the sign to read “Closed.”
“You’re taking a lot of liberties, but I won’t object just yet. I assume the reason is serious!”
“Extremely! Your brother is tangled up in debts…”
“Not without your help!”
“Exactly! I’ve realized my fault and I’m ready to make things right.”
Natalie studied her visitor closely. The most plausible explanation was that he was drunk, but today there was no whiff of alcohol about the Count. Moreover, he was wearing a fresh shirt and polished shoes.
“What’s this supposed to mean? Are you in the mood for a joke today?” she asked, crossing her arms and looking like a tiny fury.
“I had no such intention. On the contrary, I’m very serious.”
“I can see that. Did you change valets?”
“What makes you think that?” Stotsky seemed slightly surprised.
“Your appearance… I think this is the first time I’ve seen your shoes clean.”
The more Natalie fumed, the more it amused the brazen Count.
“I’ll give credit to your keen observation. But am I always in such a sorry state?”
“How should I put it… sometimes your suit reminds me of a rumpled bed.”
“How romantic!” Alexander couldn’t hold back a laugh. “No wonder so many women wanted to lie down in it!”
After such a remark, the boutique owner blushed like a schoolgirl, which reminded the Count to exercise restraint and focus on his true mission.
“You’re insufferable! Why should I have to listen to this?”
“My apologies!” He wiped the smile from his face. “If only you’d agree to take on the task of reforming me!”
“Stop mocking me!” The boutique owner noticed the glint in his eyes and grew even more flustered.
This made Mademoiselle Viardo almost pretty, so vulnerable to the bold flirtations of the rakish Count! The game was becoming more and more entertaining.
“I wouldn’t dream of it! I’ve come to you with a pure heart and want to propose… how should I put this, a deal! Starting today, I’ll keep an eye on your brother. He won’t be allowed to gamble for high stakes anywhere, and creditors won’t lend him a dime. I can manage that, don’t doubt me! As for women, I know a sweet little thing who isn’t after money at all. She’d be the perfect match for Paul, but only if you help me.”
“And how exactly would I do that?”
“Save my reputation!”
“Me? Count, I think you’ve lost your mind!”
“Why does that shock you so much? We’ve known each other for a long time, and Mademoiselle Viardo has an impeccable past. I could turn over a new leaf! I’m not asking you to become my mistress. On the contrary, I’d like only a platonic relationship… well… you know what I mean!”
Her face turned crimson. This insolent man hadn’t just shown up with such a proposal—he was also implying that desiring an old maid with her looks was unthinkable!
“Get out!” she hissed, resembling an angry little cat.
“Should I take that as a ‘no’?” He stood and began sidling toward the door.
“Take it however you like, but don’t set foot here again!”
“Is that a tailor’s pin in your hand? Scissors? Please, let’s avoid bloodshed!” Alexander reached for the doorknob.
“Worse, I’ve got a pistol in my garter!”
“Then I’d better leave. Here’s my card, mademoiselle! If you change your mind, I’m usually home until noon.”
After leaving the hat boutique, Alexander ordered his driver to take him to a specific address. There, as he well knew, a young friend was waiting for the outcome of the negotiations. Paul greeted the Count with childlike impatience on his face.
“So, how’d it go? What did Natalie say?”
“She’ll think about it,” the Count replied, opting not to mention the pistol in her garter. “In the meantime, let’s think too! Care to join me at the riding club to check out some new horses? There’s a race on Sunday, and we need to decide who to bet on.”
“Sure, why not. I’ve got no other plans!”
“Great! I’ll just order something to snack on.”
“And that’s it? What about wine? Champagne? Liqueur? Don’t tell me it’s just punch!”
“None of that for me. I need a clear head, but I’ll order whatever you want!”
Paul couldn’t believe his eyes—Stotsky refusing a drink? In the year they’d known each other, he’d never seen that happen. Nevertheless, the Count was determined to keep his word. He stuck to cold beef and a few slices of smoked salmon while listening to the complaints of Natalie’s unfortunate brother. Little Giselle had gone off with someone from the regiment, plunging Paul into universal despair that only a bottle could dispel. In this spirited state, he was ready for adventure and climbed into the carriage without objection to head to the club.
At the riding club, Paul knew almost no one, but the Count was on a first-name basis with everyone. While he chatted with acquaintances, a new face appeared on the training field. A young man with a military bearing mounted a black mare and effortlessly guided her onto the track.
“Who’s that?” Stotsky squinted, studying the rider against the sun.
“Ah, that’s… Lieutenant Mitskevich. Just arrived here on assignment. Fine young man, I’ll tell you, shows a lot of promise!”
The Count had to agree. The rider and horse moved as one, the man’s fair hair fluttering in the wind as the obedient animal sped past them on the track.
“Is he competing?” Paul asked with interest.
“He plans to. That’s good for us, so keep an eye out—your bet might have a solid chance!”
“Thanks, Prince,” Alexander said, glancing at the rider again. “What’s the horse’s name? I assume bets on the lieutenant himself aren’t accepted?”
The crowd here was long accustomed to such jests and didn’t take them seriously. After all, who was Mitskevich compared to a Count whose name was known in high society? Confirming that bets should be placed on Starlight, the young men joined the group gathering for a drink. Within an hour, Paul was utterly incapable of forming coherent words.
“Count, your friend seems to need a rest! Must be because he had to drink for both of you!”
“Unfortunately, I’ve got liver issues! Poor Paul… I’ll take him home. So, you said number eight, Starlight? I’ll trust my memory!”
He slung Paul’s arm over his shoulder and helped him to his feet.
“Are we going to Giselle’s?” the young man mumbled, barely keeping his balance.
“If you say so, we can go to Giselle’s!”
“Then we need to buy flowers first!” He swayed and let out a loud hiccup.
“Alright…”
“And a box of the best chocolates!”
“I won’t argue with that. We’ll stop by Samoylov’s shop!”
Indulging his young friend’s every whim, Stotsky did indeed buy a basket of flowers and the finest assorted chocolates, but they didn’t head to Giselle’s at all. Instead, they went straight to Mademoiselle Viardo’s. She had already closed the shop and was at home when the footman announced that Paul had returned. Natalie hurried to meet her brother and froze in her tracks—standing before her was none other than Stotsky, holding a basket of roses.
“What are you doing here?!” She didn’t immediately recover her composure.
“Trying to reach a peaceful agreement. I hope you’re unarmed this time?”
Natalie clenched her fists and glared at him with burning eyes, ignoring the lavish flowers.
“Where’s Paul?”
“I had to pick him up from the riding club. Unfortunately, he was already a bit tipsy.”
“A bit? You mean completely drunk, since I see you alone! Is this your doing?”
“You’re being unfair. I’m sober as a judge—you can check for yourself!”
The Count stepped closer, set the basket on a small table, and leaned toward the lady of the house. For a fleeting moment, she thought Alexander was trying to kiss her, but he merely let her catch a whiff of his breath. It lasted only a second, but he noticed her pupils dilate—no woman had ever reacted to Stotsky quite like this. She even parted her full, childlike lips, but quickly regained control and stepped back, resuming her usual stern demeanor.
“So, he wasn’t in your company? Then who was he with?”
“You’re asking a lot of me. Paul’s of age, and I’m not his governess. And as I recall, you refused my help, didn’t you?”
A bold, insolent expression crossed the Count’s face—the very one Natalie despised most. Yet, he undeniably had a huge influence over her brother, and Paul needed to be pulled out of the pit he was inevitably sinking into.
“I haven’t given much thought to your proposal,” she sighed.
“But you’re ready to consider it now?”
“I suppose so, but I’ll set my own conditions.”
“Which are?” The Count crossed his arms and looked down at the little spitfire.
“We’ll meet only in public places and only when I’m free from work. I have a lot to do at the shop.”
“That goes without saying. What else?”
“You won’t get handsy or address me in that favorite manner of yours!”
“You mean I shouldn’t call you ‘darling’ or ‘my love’?”
“Absolutely not,” she said more quietly, blushing slightly.
“Is ‘my sweet Natalie’ off-limits too? ‘My beauty’? ‘My little cupcake’?”
“Stop it!” She advanced on him threateningly.
“I get it, Mademoiselle Viardo. Don’t draw your weapon—I wouldn’t want to catch a glimpse of your slender leg by accident!”
He dodged just in time as a vase flew straight at his head, shattering into pieces against the wall. Breathing heavily, Natalie barely managed to compose herself while the insolent man stepped over the fragments and approached her with a dangerous look on his face.
“Alright, I take back my words! We’ve discussed this point thoroughly. For my part, I’ll ask you to act as if my presence is pleasant to you. Tomorrow, we can go for a ride together—the three of us, including your brother. I’ll come by at ten! And by the way, try the chocolates. They’re really good!”