Sins of a Ruthless Rogue

One soldier’s mouth formed a smirk as he surveyed her dress from the corner of his eye.

But she put back her shoulders and met his eye until he was the first to look away. She might be embarrassed about her dress, but

she wasn’t going to let anyone imply that she should be.

Every room they passed through after that contained soldiers who presented arms and stood at attention. They passed a dozen

types of soldiers. Chevalier guards. Dragoons. Clayton murmured to her who they were, but she couldn’t remember half of them.

Finally, they stopped in a hall so immense the entire mill and half the town would have fit inside.

After a few minutes, a large group filed in. Turbaned men in flowing caftans. Elegant men in perfectly cut jackets and ostentatious

waistcoats. Men with medals and ribbons obscuring their chests.

“The diplomatic corps,” Clayton whispered.

Complete silence reigned for several moments. Dozens of eyes pinned her.

Her father never had any desire to rise in the social ranks, but he’d had big plans for her. Not because he wanted her to be happy,

but because he thought it would bring more investors. Yet in all the etiquette lessons Olivia had been forced to endure, she’d never

learned what to do when meeting a Russian emperor.

The doors on the far end of the room opened, and a cluster of men entered. Everyone in the hall sank into a bow and Olivia followed,

praying her legs would remember how to curtsy.

“Alexander, Emperor of Russia, King of Poland, and Grand Duke of Finland and Lithuania,” a deep, echoing voice announced.

She stayed bent low, head bowed, legs wobbling, until Clayton straightened next to her. In front of them stood a slightly balding man

of middle height and middle age. He held out his ring to Clayton, who kissed the air above it. A matching moue of distaste curled

both men’s mouths.

“Baron Komarov. I shall speak in English for your betrothed’s benefit.”

Olivia understood two things in that moment, Emperor Alexander knew Clayton was English, and he hadn’t fallen for the betrothal.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you in St. Petersburg so soon,” the emperor continued. The guards surrounding him suddenly loomed

ominously.

“The same thing keeps drawing me back.” Clayton’s voice was perfectly polite in tone and nuance, yet his words sounded somehow

disdainful.

The emperor’s gaze sharpened, then he turned to his guards. “I wish to reminisce about old times with the baron. Alone.” In less than

a minute, the room had cleared of everyone save her and Clayton, Alexander, and three of his aides. “I thought by gifting you with the

estate in northern Siberia I was making it clear I did not want you to remain in Russia. What is it you have to say?”

“Prazhdinyeh plans to kill you.”

The emperor’s appearance hadn’t improved in the past year. He now had less hair and more lines of strain around his eyes.

“Again? We thought they were destroyed.”

“They’re gathering again. They’re taking funding from Count Arshun.”

The emperor glanced over at the thin, cadaverous man to his right, the minister of police, Maxim Igorvitch Golov, before nodding.

“We have had our suspicions about him for a time.”

“They plan to attack during the grand duchess’s birthday fete while the entire imperial family is gathered.”

Golov chuckled, the sound harsh and condescending. “If the police do not know of the plot, then it does not exist.” Not much

escaped the man’s notice, but he didn’t always share what he knew with his emperor. Criminals disappeared before trials.

Informants were tortured.

“You are fallible as always, Golov.”

The other man’s nose twitched like a rat. “How will they attack then?”

“That isn’t entirely clear.”

“How many people are involved?”

Clayton spoke through gritted teeth. “We aren’t clear on that, either.”

Golov’s nearly colorless lips lifted into a smirk. “Who do they plan to attack? There will be close to fifty members of the family. Just

the emperor? His brothers? His cousins?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then what do you know?”

“Vasin planted a killer in your ranks before his death.”

“Who is this supposed agent?”

“I don’t know.” He could feel Olivia tense next to him. She’d probably expected the emperor to be terrified of this threat and go into

hiding. But Alexander simply stood back and watched the exchange with disinterest.

“Why should the emperor listen to the words of an English spy?” Golov asked.

“Because I’m the one who found out the information. Not him.” Olivia stepped closer to the emperor, addressing him directly, that

earnest look she’d used with Kate back on her face. “You must not go to the fete.”

“I mustn’t?” The emperor seemed bemused by her audacity.

Clayton felt slightly better that the emperor seemed swayed by her sincerity as well.

“The danger’s real. I spoke with Arshun. I heard what they were planning.”

Golov stalked around the emperor until he stood inches from Olivia. “How did you come to be there? The emperor issued no

passport for you to come to St. Petersburg, Miss Swift. Highly suspicious.”

Clayton wasn’t ready to test whether Olivia would follow his advice about not mentioning Madeline. “Prazhdinyeh kidnapped her to

lure me here.” He gave a brief, edited account of what had happened and the code they possessed.

The emperor glared at Golov.

Golov bowed his head as if contrite, but a vein pulsed along his temple.

The emperor offered Olivia a pat on the shoulder. From a man as reserved as Alexander, even this small touch was shocking. “I am

glad you are well now, Miss Swift. But why did they think the baron would come after you? I was assured the betrothal story I heard

was a lie. Is it true?” He held up a hand when both Clayton and Golov would have interjected. “I wish to hear from Miss Swift.”

“Clayton and I were sweethearts a long time ago. When he returned to England, he came to find me.”

Clayton felt a momentary pang at the longing on her face, a small part of him wishing it had happened that way.

The emperor’s face softened. “Why this concern on my behalf?”

“I’ve done many things in my life that I must atone for. Once I found out about the threat to you and your family, I knew I must warn you.

I didn’t want your deaths to be added to my transgressions.”

La Petit herself couldn’t have chosen more perfect words. The emperor was fascinated with religion and the state of his soul.

And it was close enough to the truth that she was able to speak convincingly. Golov’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t question her

aloud.

Olivia clasped and unclasped her hands. “You must not attend the fete,” she repeated.

Alexander sighed. “Do you know how many threats I face every week? This week alone I have been alerted to two separate