Sins of a Ruthless Rogue

“His regiment was, but he isn’t joining them until after the fete.”


Olivia knew her fingers were digging into Clayton’s arm, but she couldn’t seem to loosen them.

The colonel had never left St. Petersburg.

“Where are the officers meeting?”

“I don’t know.” Her lips thinned. “Colonel Golov brought cigars from his own personal stock. I cannot abide the smoke. It gives one

wrinkles. But the crates of French brandy did look rather fine.”

“Colonel Golov brought crates?” Olivia and Clayton asked at the same time.

“Tonight?” Olivia clarified.

The other woman blinked. “Yes. Of the finest brandy.”

Clayton asked, “How much brandy did he bring?”

“I don’t know,” she huffed. “Three, perhaps four crates.”

“Where was the brandy placed?”

“I don’t know. The parlor, I suppose. I’m not a footman.”

Clayton disentangled her from his arm. “Thank you. You may go.”

The woman’s face flushed blotchy red before she flounced away.

Clayton didn’t even notice. His eyes were already scanning the crowd. “We need to find Ian and Kate. We need to move our search.

”

If this was going to happen, it would happen soon. The entire imperial family was gathered like sheep in a pen.

Olivia spotted familiar red hair. “There’s Kate.”

Olivia caught her eye and Kate hurried back over. “What have you found?”

But then Golov approached. A group of six soldiers appeared behind him. “You’ll come with me,” he hissed.

“Your brother is here.” Clayton tried to move around him, but the soldier surrounded them. “He brought in crates.”

Golov’s sunken eyes burned. “You are the one who brought in a crate.”

The stern-faced soldiers all carried rifles. Their confrontation was over to the side. However, it would soon be noticed. Once that

happened, Golov would lead them away. The time for discussion was over.

“We didn’t,” Olivia said. “And your brother is here. He didn’t leave with his regiment. Who told you we brought in a crate?”

Golov’s sparse brows lowered. He held up his hand, stopping his men from apprehending them. “I was given the information by a

footman.” Golov pointed at the middle soldier of the group behind him. “Bring that footman here. Someone will pay for lies tonight.”

“Doesn’t it seem odd to you that the two groups that should be stopping the colonel are fighting with each other instead?” Olivia

asked.

Olivia had no idea the amount of power she held. Golov had actually paused to listen to her. Golov didn’t even overly care for the

opinions of the emperor.

Yet he’d held back his attack dogs while he listened to Olivia.

The soldier returned, escorting a young, pudgy footman with a hawkish nose and thick mustache. The servant clicked his heels

together and bowed to Golov.

“Did these people enter with a package?”

Biyul had the exaggerated posture of a man who wore a corset. “Yes. A large wooden crate.” He rubbed his thumb across the

fingers of his right hand like he was holding a deck of cards. The nervous tell of a gambler.

Clayton searched him until he found the telltale rectangular bulge under his uniform. “How much money do you owe at cards, Biyul?”

The man’s face lost its color. “How does that relate?”

But Golov’s career had been built on piecing together rumor and hearsay. He spotted the connection immediately. “How much

would someone have to pay you to lie?”

“I would never lie.”

“How much money do you owe?” Clayton asked.

“Nothing more than I can repay, of course.” Biyul tried to back up but he was blocked by Golov’s men.

“How much?” Golov asked.

“Five thousand rubles.”

Clayton tried not to dwell on the fact that he was working alongside Golov on this. But they didn’t have time to stand in the ballroom

talking. The colonel was in the palace. He needed to be found. “And how long have you been a revolutionary?”

Biyul lunged, trying to get around the guards, but they grabbed him.

“Who told you to lie?”

“Freedom. Justice. Equality!” Biyul shouted, finally drawing attention. Some of the couples headed toward the stage turned.

Conversation hushed.

“Who?” Clayton tried once more.

“Freedom. Justice. Equality!”

“I hate when they get like this,” Golov said.

Had he just shared a look of commiseration with Golov? Clayton shuddered.

“Take this man away,” Golov ordered.

The largest soldier clamped his hand over Biyul’s mouth as they dragged him from the ballroom.

Golov pointed to the conductor of the orchestra with one long, yellowed finger. And they launched into an energetic reel despite the

fact that there were no dancers on the floor.

“Your brother’s going to kill the czar. He had at least three crates brought in,” Olivia said.

If anyone else had said that, Golov would have ordered him flogged until he vomited his own blood. Instead, Golov’s eyes widened a

fraction of an inch. It was the most emotion Clayton had ever seen from him.

“You’re telling the truth.” His sentence sounded suspiciously like a question.

Olivia actually placed her hand on the man’s arm. “You didn’t know he was a revolutionary?”

Golov stared at her hand as if bewildered by her action. “If I had, he’d be dead.”

Olivia told him about the gathering of officers, having to raise her voice to be heard over the servant announcing the unveiling.

“Pavlo will pay.” Golov spun to his men. “Find the butler. Find where Smirken and his friends are gathered. Then place a man at

each entrance to the ballroom. Pavlo will not enter.” He turned away and stormed off into the crowd.

Olivia’s heart beat loudly in her ears. “We should order everyone to leave.”

But Clayton shook his head. “Colonel Golov is as vain and power hungry as his brother. He’ll never abandon this without at least

some benefit to himself. If he sees that people are starting to evacuate, he’ll detonate the bomb.”

The imperial family was invited to the stage to re-create the grouping shown in the portrait.

The crowd shifted as people began to mount the platform. The lesser members of the imperial family arranged themselves, jostling

for the space nearest where the czar would stand.

If Olivia were the bomber, this was when she’d act. When else would the entire extended imperial family be grouped so close

together? “Clayton—”

“I know. Lambs to the slaughter.” His brows lowered. “He’d want to ensure the death of the imperial family, so he’d set the bomb as

close to them as possible.

“You’re looking frantic, Clayton. They did supply chamber pots. If you need—”

“The colonel is here. He’s been spotted.”

Ian disappeared into the crowd.

If she were the colonel, she’d try to get as close to the stage as she could. But she wouldn’t be able to get too close. Golov’s men