Page 93 of To Catch A Rogue

"Let's keep it civil, shall we?" Nikolai offered her his gloved hand. "May I have this dance?"

"I'm a terrible dancer. I step on feet all the time."

"That's quite all right, my dear." His voice lowered. "Dance with me. I have questions and you will not like it if I'm forced to ask them elsewhere."

They were in a crowded ballroom where dozens of people watched and whispered behind their fans.

What was the harm?

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Lark replied, accepting his hand.

He settled her in his arms. "Oh, I'd never say that."

It soon became apparent she would not have to start counting the steps in her head. Honoria had done her best, but Lark danced like a woman with a knife in her hand. He led very well, one hand curled around hers and the other cupping her waist firmly.

"You're not limping anymore," she said. "And you seem to have forgone your cane. Or was that just an act?"

A muscle in his jaw ticked. "I prefer a brace for events such as this."

"So if I kick your knee out from under you, you'll fall on your face?"

His grip on her tightened. "If you tried to do such a foolish thing, I'd slit your throat right here and now."

"Do you think Sergey would approve?"

If this Nikolai belonged to theChernyye Volki, then he was firmly under Sergey's thumb. They'd served Sergey all those years ago, and he'd been seen in the ruined palace only days ago. Sergey had to be involved with them still.

Which meant this couldn't be her Kolya.

There was no way her brother would betray his family like this, was there?

A little whisper of doubt slid through her. What if he didn't know?

Her father and older brothers had been ambushed on the way home from the opera, at the same time Sergey attacked the palace.

But if he lived, Nikolai would have been the new Prince of Tsaritsyn, not Sergey.

"The prince wouldn't particularly care."

"That's right," she continued, trying to push him a little. "There's nothing Sergey enjoys more than seeing blood slicked across the marble tiles. But attacking a foreign envoy might earn you more than just a slap on the wrist."

Nikolai's gaze sharpened upon her. "Ah, yes. You're with the English delegation."

"Surprised?"

"Curious." He whirled her between a pair of other dancers. "I've been asking about you. Lark Rathinger. An interesting name. You're English, but you speak Russian perfectly."

"What can I say? I'm talented."

"An excellent actress."

"You called me that before. Do you think there's a plot against you?"

"There's always a plot."

"Then know this." She tipped her chin up. "I was as shocked to see you as you were to see me. I wasn't expecting anyone to be there—or, I was hoping to find someone else, more to the point. I have no interest in you."

"Too bad. You've earned mine, little bird. You should be very careful in showing your face in front of Sergey," he mused. "He gets a little nervous when someone who looks like a Grigoriev shows up."