“He told me everything, little one.” He took one step closer to her and pulled her gently into his arms, and much to his surprise, she didn't fight him. “He told me about your grandmother,” he hesitated, but only for a moment,“… and your cousins … and poor little Mashka …” She gulped on a sob, and turned her face away as he held her, and then as though suddenly the dam had broken, she began to sob in his arms, and he gently kicked the door closed and carried her like a very small child into the apartment and sat down on the couch, still holding her while she cried. She cried for a very long time, shaking horribly, as she told him everything she'd heard from Gilliard, racked by sobs, as she'd been then, and for a long, long time, Clayton held her. And then at last, the room was silent again, and there was only the sound of an occasional sniff. She turned broken green eyes up to his, and he kissed her gently as he had longed to do since he left her.
“I wish I'd been here when he came.”
“So do I,” she admitted, crying softly again. “Everything's been so terrible since you left … it's all been so awful … and Mashka … oh, God, poor Mashka … at least Pierre said that the bullets killed her quickly. But the others …”
“Don't think about it anymore. You must put it behind you.”
“How can IP” She was still sitting on his lap, and it reminded her of talks long ago with her father.
“You have to, Zoya. Think of your grandmother, think how brave she was. She took you out of Russia in a troika, to freedom, to safety. She didn't bring you here for you to give up hope, to abandon everything, to sit in this apartment and starve to death. She brought you here for a better life, to
“I suppose you're right, but it's so hard now,” and then she remembered and looked up at him shyly. “She told me about the money before she died. I was going to send it back to you, but I've been using it.” She blushed and looked more like herself again.
“I should hope so.” He looked pleased, at least, he had done something for her. “Vladimir says you haven't danced in months.”
“Not since Grandmama got sick, and after she died, and Pierre was here. … I couldn't bring myself to go back.”
“That's just as well.” He looked over her shoulder and noticed the samovar with a nostalgic smile.
“What do you mean by that? You know, Diaghilev asked me to go on tour again with them. And I could now, if I wanted to.” She sniffed again, but he smiled at her this time.
“No, you couldn't.”
“Why not?”
“Because you're going to New York.”
“I am?” She looked stunned. “Why?” She looked more than ever like a child as he smiled at her.
“To marry me, that's why. You've got exactly two weeks to sort out your things, and then we leave. How does that sound?” She looked up at him with wide eyes.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, I am, if you'll have me.” He realized with a start, that she was a countess now, but not for long. He was going to marry her before they left Paris. And then she would be Mrs. Clay ton Andrews, for the rest of her life. “If you're foolish enough to saddle yourself with an old man, then that's your problem, Miss Ossupov. I'm not going to warn you anymore.”
“Good.” She clung to him like a lost child, crying again, but this time they were tears of joy and not sorrow.
“In fact,” he said, setting her gently on her feet as he stood up, “take some things with you now. I'm going to get you a room at the hotel. I'm going to keep an eye on you before we leave. I don't want to have to be pounding on that door, shouting
“That was very rude of you!”
“Not as rude as you, pretending not to be in. Never mind, get your things. We can come back here in a few days and get what you want to take with you.”
“I don't have very much.” She looked around the room, there was almost nothing she wanted to take with her, except perhaps the samovar and some of her grandmother's things. She wanted to leave the past behind and start a new life with him. And then suddenly in terror she glanced up at him. “Are you really serious?” What if he changed his mind? What if he left her again, or abandoned her in New York? He saw the fear in her eyes and his heart went out to her.
‘Of course I am, little one. I should have taken you with me when I left.” But they both knew she couldn't have left her grandmother, and she hadn't been well enough to travel then. “I'll help you pack.”
She packed a pathetically small bag, and then remembered the dog. She couldn't leave her behind, and she was the only friend she had left, except Clayton, of course. “Can I take Sava to the hotel?”
