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 But I talk like the villagers& and I'm a bastard too.
Emma hadn't realized the boy was conscious of his rough country accent.  You don't have to tell people
that, Jake. Your heritage is nothing to be ashamed of, and certainly nothing you could help. Second,
William won't think anything about your accent. And as you grow older, that will soften a bit.
 Will it? Jake looked vaguely pleased, and went back to playing with his soldiers.
Emma's nervousness increased during the drive to her family's Italianate villa on the Thames. The lovely,
familiar trio of round towers with cone-shaped roofs and surrounding loggias came into view. The
carriage stopped in front of the villa, and footmen dressed in heavy brocaded livery came to assist her
and Jake from the carriage. Perhaps sensing her apprehension, or sharing it, Jake slipped his hand in hers
as they walked to the front door. Emma glanced quickly at him and at herself to make certain they
looked their best.
The butler met them at the door, a small smile cracking his usual composure as he recognized her.  Miss
Emma, he said, welcoming them to the entrance hall just as Tasia hurried to meet them.
 I saw the carriage through my window, Tasia exclaimed, rushing to Emma. Her face glowed with
delight.  How wonderful it is to see you! She threw her arms around Emma, and they both laughed in
joy, the embrace none the less hearty for being muffled by Emma's mantled cape. Emma's anxiety began
to fade as she basked in the familiarity of home, of Tasia's loving presence.
Tasia pulled back and surveyed her appraisingly.  Stunning, she said.  Smiling, radiant, splendidly
fit& you seem to be thriving, Emma. Her gaze moved to the small figure at Emma's side, and her
blue-gray eyes widened a little. Surprise caused her face to pale a shade or two. The soft lines of her
mouth trembled, and she whispered something in Russian. Finally she appeared to gather her wits.
 Who&  she said unsteadily.  Who is this?
 This is Jake, Emma replied, keeping her hand on the child's tense shoulder.  Nikolas's son.
Exercising a great amount of self-control, Tasia managed to hide her surprise.  Of course& there is no
mistaking the look of an Angelovsky. The eyes, especially. She met the boy's gaze and summoned a
smile. Her voice was very kind.  Nikolas's son& I suppose that makes me your grandmother, doesn't
it? She knelt in a rustle of silk and perfume to enfold him in her slender arms.
 You're too pretty to be a grandmother, Jake said frankly, accepting her embrace. He added in a
muffled voice,  And you don't smell like one either.
Tasia laughed.  And you, my lad, have a way with women just like your father. You may call me
babushka , if you like. That's the Russian word for grandmother. She stood and removed the boy's cap,
smoothing his dark hair.  Would you like to sit with my son William and his tutor while they finish a
lesson? Come with me, and we'll look in on them.
 What about Zachary? Emma asked.
 He's in the nursery it's naptime for him. Tasia reached down for Jake, who took her proffered hand
obediently.
The three of them went through the halls, lined with marble and columns, to the stairs, which were
bordered by priceless tapestries depicting social scenes of medieval life. Tasia encouraged Jake to talk,
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and he eagerly told her about the menagerie on the Angelovsky estate and all the things he did with his
papa. They reached the schoolroom, a cozy place filled with toys and books, the walls covered with
maps and framed engravings from children's stories.
William, who was sitting at the table with an earnest, scholarly-looking young man, looked up at the
visitors. His gaze fell first on Emma, and he crowed in delight, hopping off his chair.  Emma! he cried,
flinging his arms around her excitedly.  Emma, you're back!
She laughed and hugged him tightly.  Oh, William, you've grown at least an inch. Her dark-haired
brother was as wonderfully sturdy and energetic as ever. Glancing down at Jake, she saw that he had
drawn back a few steps, watching them with a mixture of curiosity and possessive jealousy. She let go of
her brother and drew Jake forward, keeping both her hands on his shoulders.  William, this is your
cousin Jake. Nikolas's son.
The boys regarded each other closely, while the process of appraisal and acceptance occurred in the
space of a few seconds.  Are you an Angelovsky, then? William asked.
Jake nodded with wary pride.  I'm part Russian.
 So am I, William replied, and they exchanged a shy smile.
 Look what I have. Jake pulled a handful of soldiers from his pocket, and William examined them with
great interest.
Tasia interceded then, talking briefly with the tutor and asking that Jake be included in the study session.
When both boys were seated side by side at the table, Tasia and Emma left the schoolroom and walked
together toward the parlor.
 Is Papa at home? Emma asked.
 He's at a board meeting at the railway company. He'll arrive soon, I expect. Tasia slid an arm around
Emma's narrow waist.  Now, tell me about Jake.
 Nikolas had never seen him until a few weeks ago. The mother worked at a dairy on one of Nikolas's
farms. Recently she died, and someone from her village brought the child to us. Nikolas has decided to
keep Jake and openly acknowledge him as his son.
 I find that surprising, Tasia said frankly.  I don't recall that Nikolas has ever liked children. Not only
that, but the boy looks so much like Mikhail it must cause Nikolas a great deal of discomfort.
 Yes, Emma said earnestly,  the whole thing has been a tremendous shock to him. At first he could
barely stand the sight of the boy. But now he adores Jake. It's amazing to see them together.
Tasia shook her head in bewilderment.  I suppose children can bring out the best in people. Even in a
man like Nikolas. She paused for a moment.  You look so healthy and happy, Emma. I hope that
means Nikolas is treating you well?
 He didn't at first, Emma admitted, coloring slightly.  But lately&  Her blush deepened.  Lately things
have been better. He's different now. I can't even be certain the change is permanent. All I can do is
hope.
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They sat in the parlor together, talking while Tasia attended to some needlework. Her hands were
delicate and deft as she repaired the torn cuff of her husband's shirt. Finding it a relief to unburden herself,
Emma told her about Nikolas's strange behavior of the past months.  At first he had these odd episodes
in which he had a feeling of seeing something familiar. He had visions he didn't like to talk about, and they
seemed to disturb him greatly.
 Visions, Tasia repeated, setting the mended shirt in her lap and staring at Emma intently.  What kind of
visions?
 I don't know exactly. But every time it happened, there was such a strange look on his face, such fear
and anger& and then I found the painting. Do you remember one of the letters I sent to you in which I [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]