“The driver has brought us to the wrong place.” She spun around and glared at the man in question. “I shall inform my husband, the prince, of this negligence.”
“Mama, this is where we are staying now.” Svetlana took her mother’s arm and turned them to go around the back of the church. “Let’s go inside.”
“Like a serf? As soon as order is restored in Russia, I shall—” Ana pressed her fingers to her forehead. “Do you know, my head feels too light for this reprimand.” Her eyes fluttered closed and she wilted. Wynn caught her before she puddled on the cobblestones and hefted the unconscious princess into his arms before following Svetlana around back.
Reaching the cellar door, Svetlana eased it open as quietly as she could on its rusty hinges. It creaked like an unoiled trumpet on Judgment Day.
Ana’s eyes snapped open. Heavily dilated pupils stared up at Wynn. “Unhand me at once. I will have no improprieties taken of me.”
“Mama, please. You fainted,” Svetlana said.
“I should think so with the ill-treatment I’ve received. My nerves cannot handle the upset. Now, unhand me.”
Wynn set Ana on her feet. She flicked him away and started down the stairs on wobbly legs, clutching the walls for balance.
Wynn hurried to take her elbow. “Your Highness, allow me to escort you downstairs. The passage is dark and the steps less than stable.”
She slapped his hand away. “How many times must I command you to unhand me? Because you are a physician does not give you the right to manhandle as you see fit.”
A light flickered at the bottom of the steps as a small figure dressed in white appeared. “Mama? Svetka?
“
At the bottom each sister took a side to support their drooping mother and walked her into the cellar space that had become a dank home for the lost refugees. The smell of warm, unwashed bodies and linen hung pungent in the air, punctured only by snores and sleeping snuffles.
Wynn followed closely behind should the older woman’s sway turn into a drunken sprawl. “She’ll need plenty of water. Keep an eye on her when she sleeps and lean her on her side.”
Svetlana’s eyes narrowed over her shoulder as she looked back at him. “We are well-versed in the care of our mother during these times.”
“She said herself it’s been some time since she last imbibed. The alcohol will have absorbed into her blood much quicker.”
Whispering to her sister, Svetlana released her mother’s arm and turned to brush past Wynn. “A word.” She headed for the stairs and didn’t stop until she’d reached the courtyard. Shadows seeped through the trees and lingered over the stones with revered silence.
“It is time for you to leave.”
“Your mother—”
“Is not your concern.”
“You’d prefer I left her slumped in the gutter after she’s been to the bottom of the glass more than once. At a less than reputable place, I might add. Or mayhap you’d like to defend yourself against the rats prowling around after curfew in hopes of easy prey. Is that what you mean to tell me?”
“I have told— What do you mean by disreputable? The Sheremetevs are one of the most respected families in all of Moscow.”
“This isn’t Moscow. People do what they need to in order to stay on top. Have you not wondered why his club is able to stay open all hours of the night when the entire city is shut down for curfew? Have you stopped to take a good look at the men he surrounds himself with?” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “You need to be careful. It wasn’t a stray bullet that found Leonid that day.”
“You have proof of this?” She studied him, not backing down.
“It’s more of a gut instinct. Or will you tell me it’s no concern of mine?”
“Precisely. You, on more than one occasion when your interfering presence was not required nor desired, have not heeded my words to stay away, for here you are.”
Shoving his hands into his pockets, Wynn leaned against the wall. The rigors of Harkin’s surgery and Svetlana’s ever-present need for a battle of wills was catching up with him.
“Yes, here I am. Doing what I thought was a kind deed only to be slapped with ingratitude.”
“You harbor deep needs to be thanked with boundless applause and simpering. How do you sleep at night without accolades drifting you off?”
“First of all, something cannot drift you off. One simply drifts of their own accord. Secondly, you respond with nothing but snobbery. Is that what qualifies for manners in Russia? The ruder you are to a person the more refined that makes you? If so, you are the most refined lady I have ever met.”
Her eyebrows shot up, then slanted down in a scowl.