Valerie's Russia Read Online Free PDF

of the interior. ‘I want to put my arms around your lovely body and hold it close to mine. I have never seen you before without layers of clothing and hats, Miss Marsh.’
    ‘That is a most flirtatious remark, Count Silakov,’ said Valerie, burying her chin into the folds of her velvet cloak and thankful he couldn’t see the telltale reddening of her skin.
    How very different he was now to the grim and rather disdainful cavalry officer, who had met her at Tsarskoe Selo railway station.
    ‘It was meant to be flirtatious,’ said Pyotr, slipping his hand beneath the furs and covering her fingers, in their long kid glove, with his own. ‘Tonight you are for me, Miss Marsh, and we shall eat and drink and dance together without a care in the world.’
    Looking up at him, feeling the warmth of his hand on hers, she smiled. ‘Tonight is for us,’ she agreed, and her heart began to thud beneath her bodice.
    ‘Then you must call me Petya,’ he said, ‘because we are friends, and I will call you Varinka.’
    ‘Varinka? I like that. It is softer, more musical than plain old Valerie.’
    ‘Then come, Varinka, it is our time to alight.’
    An attendant moved forward to open the carriage door for Valerie, then Pyotr followed her out and offered her his arm.Once inside the massive hallway another attendant came to take her cloak and for a moment she stood spellbound, gazing at the splendour around her.
    Pyotr watched, amused by the rapture on her expressive face.
    Great pillars of jasper, marble and malachite, supported the high gilded ceiling from which hung immense chandeliers of crystal and gold, and ahead of them rose a white marble staircase covered with a wine red carpet.
    ‘Are you ready to ascend, Varinka?’
    She nodded. ‘It is not at all like Putney,’ she said.
    Up the grand staircase they floated, with Valerie’s train slithering behind her and Pyotr’s arm firm beneath her hand. Then she was jolted to a sudden standstill as an elderly general, his chest blazing with decorations, trod on her train causing her to exclaim and him to curse.
    ‘I think you need to fold it over your arm, my dear Varinka,’ said Pyotr.
    Aware that she had forgotten Olga’s careful advice, and dreadfully embarrassed at having caused such a fuss on the grand staircase, Valerie looped the offending folds of material over her free arm, nodding and muttering apologies as she did so.
    ‘Move on quickly,’ she hissed at Pyotr, conscious of the critical gaze of other ladies who, glittering with diamonds, managed their own trains with delicate precision.
    At the top of the staircase that branched to right and left, wide corridors stretched away with open doorways leading into state rooms, and others for dancing and dining. On the walls were baskets of orchids, and palm trees in large pots framed huge mirrors, but there was no time to stand and stare as Pyotr led her through the chattering throng towards one of the vast reception rooms.
    It was there, in a chamber filled with guests, that Valerie wassuddenly aware of being watched. Across from her, several paces away, stood a girl so tall that she could stare over the heads of most people. And she was looking at Valerie with the yellow eyes of a vigilant cat.
    Heavens, thought Valerie, who is that?
    For a moment she faltered. Her hand was still on Pyotr’s arm but he had turned away from her and was talking to another officer on his left. The girl who was staring was also on the arm of a fair-haired officer, but although he was trying to gain her attention she did not heed him.
    ‘Miss Marsh, please will you meet my friend and fellow officer Igor Fateyev,’ said Pyotr, introducing Valerie to his companion.
    But the moment Igor Fateyev had bowed and taken his leave of them, Valerie turned her attention back to the tall female.
    ‘Petya,’ she said, ‘who is that?’
    The girl was wearing a gown of cream silk, the tone of which suited her black hair and almond skin to perfection.