He seemed sincere, and she was desperate. “If I agreed, what would be expected of me?”
“What are your skills?”
“Well, I’m not an accomplished cook. And I don’t have much experience with laundry or cleaning.” She’d never even tried. “But I speak several languages: Russian, French, English, and German. I can read and write in all of them, of course. And I was a volunteer Sister of Mercy most of the war.”
“That could be useful.” His thumb rubbed against the muzzle of the rifle he carried. “Are you willing to learn the rest? The cooking and the cleaning?”
“I am.”
“I imagine you’re accustomed to others serving you. You’ll have to give that up. I won’t expect you to do my work for me, but I can’t do yours for you either.”
Her former life was gone; she knew that down to her bones. “If you will be patient with me, I will strive to do my share.”
He nodded. “That’s good enough for me.”
“And . . .” Dare she bring it up? Better to make it clear than to leave it vague. “You won’t expect me to
“No. It will be a perfect sham marriage. Lasting only as long as you want it to. There aren’t enough train carriages for couples to have their own space, so you’ll sleep in a car full of women, and I’ll sleep in a car full of men.”
She studied his face. It was pleasant enough. He seemed honest, but could she trust her instincts and rely on him? He’d followed her home . . . to protect her? He claimed his current offer was one of kindness. Surely he would expect something in return. But if he kept his word, she would scrub his shirts and learn to cook his favorite meals and do everything she could to ensure he didn’t regret his charity. “Then I will accept your offer, with gratitude.”
His lips relaxed into a smile. “My unit is marching out soon, so I suggest we find a priest and a few witnesses.”
That nervous worry returned. Was he manipulating her? But the depot had gone crazy with men rushing here and there, moving equipment and organizing themselves into ranks. Of course he would have duties—he was a soldier, a corporal. As much as she would have preferred time to prepare, speed was necessary.
For years, she had planned to marry Oleg Petrov, an officer in the Imperial Russian Army, with an established family, a thorough education, and a promising future. Instead, she would marry a corporal from Bohemia or Moravia or some other faraway, insignificant place. She knew nothing about his past or the prospects for his future. She certainly hadn’t expected to wear a blouse torn by an attacking lowlife to the ceremony. Nor had she expected to marry a scruffy man she’d seen only twice.
“My name is Nadia.” She almost gave her full name, but Dima’s warning stopped her. She couldn’t use Linskaya anymore, so she gave him the first surname she thought of. “Nadia Petrova.”
“I’m Filip Sedlák.”
“So my name will be Nadia Sedláková.”
“For as long as you like.”
It wasn’t ideal. But it seemed the best of her options.
Chapter Six
“He just met her. It’s insane!” Veronika stood with Anton outside the church where Filip and his new wife had just been married. “How can you support something that makes a mockery of marriage?”
“He’s my friend, and I trust his judgment.” Anton had married a woman he adored, so he understood Veronika’s sentiment, but he’d never seen Filip do something without good reason. Surely this was no exception.
The hard lines of Veronika’s face softened. “I feel like we’ve been witnesses to something blasphemous.”
“Give them time.”
Veronika shook her head. Her indignation seemed to have disappeared, but that didn’t mean she agreed. “You don’t have to fall in line with him on everything, especially not when he goes and does something like this. He tells you to join the legion, so you do. He tells you to witness his marriage to a stranger, so you do. Where will it end, Anton?”
“He also told me to marry you, so I did.”
Veronika’s beautifully curved eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. “He told you to marry me?”
“When he came to Taganrog, I told him I wasn’t sure I wanted to join the legion. I wasn’t eager to jump into the war again, and besides, I had a decent job in a munitions factory that paid three rubles a month, and I was seeing a pretty little Czech girl who I wasn’t sure I wanted to leave. So he told me to ‘marry the girl and bring her with us.’ I doubt I would’ve worked up the courage to ask you otherwise.”
Veronika put her dainty hand on his elbow. “Well, I suppose if Filip’s responsible for that, I can overlook his unusual choice for matrimony.”
“Do you think you could also help the new Mrs. Sedláková get settled into the women’s train?”
Veronika nibbled her bottom lip, and her eyes told him she didn’t want to.
“She’ll need a friend, Veronika.”
“She won’t want me. Look at her. She may be penniless, but she’s still an aristocrat. What will she think of me—the daughter of poor Czech immigrants? My Russian is clumsy, and I know nothing of high society. She’ll think me a backward peasant.”