her duty: keeping track of the latest social gossip and political maneuverings so that Varanus need not concern herself with them.
Presently, Varanus laid her hand on Korbinian’s arm and interrupted his reading. He looked at her, smiling, and slowly raised her hand to his soft lips.
“Do you know what I am reminded of?” Varanus asked. She spoke softly, scarcely above a murmur, lest someone hear and become curious.
“No, liebchen,” Korbinian said. “Of what are you reminded?”
“Grandfather’s ball,” Varanus said. “The night that first we met. Do you remember it?”
“How could I forget, my darling?” Korbinian leaned over and gently kissed her. Looking into her eyes, he said, “No, I could never forget. Not it nor any of those precious moments we spent together.”
“If only you had not died, my love,” Varanus said, a tear forming at the corner of her eye. She blinked a few times to disperse it.
Korbinian brushed his fingertips against her cheek and said, “Do not cry, liebchen. I am still here. And I shall never leave you.”
Varanus was about to speak, but she was interrupted by a gentleman in evening dress who emerged from the crowd and approached her. It was Doctor Constantine. There was nothing odd about his presence, of course: he was well established in Society, and all of Society was present. But having seen him just the night before and under quite different circumstances, the sight of him surprised Varanus.
Constantine approached and bowed politely.
“Good evening, Lady Shashavani,” he said. “I hope you will pardon the intrusion.”
Why was he speaking to her? He had conversed with her in the guise of Doctor Sauvage many times, but had he ever been introduced to her as Lady Shashavani?
But of course he had been, Varanus remembered. They had spoken a few times a year ago when she had become a patron of the London Hospital.
“Yes, of course,” Varanus said, making her voice sound as little French as possible. With over a decade of speaking the four Georgian languages and a lifetime of English, it was not very difficult. “Doctor Constantine, is it not?”
“That is correct,” Constantine said. “You may recall, we spoke some months ago while, alas, you were still in mourning for your late father. I should like to thank you for your tremendous generosity toward the hospital. It is so difficult to find those who understand the necessity of the work that we do. But then, you yourself are a scholar of medicine. I suppose it is to be expected.”
“Indeed, I studied medicine in my younger days,” Varanus said. “It has given me a great appreciation of its practitioners.”
“Lady Shashavani,” Constantine said, bowing respectfully, “I am certain that you must be well engaged for the evening, but I wonder if you might grant me the honor of a dance.”
A dance? Varanus wondered. But of course, it was a ball. She should have expected nothing less. She was fortunate to have escaped such approaches already. And there was something in Doctor Constantine’s countenance that caught Varanus’s attention. Something unspoken.
“I think, liebchen,” Korbinian said, “he wishes to speak to you without being overheard. About what, I cannot imagine. But how better to speak amid the crowd than in the midst of the waltz?”
He did have a point. And if Constantine had felt it necessary to resort to such a contrivance.…
“Yes, Doctor Constantine,” Varanus said, “I think that shall be most agreeable. I believe that the next dance is a waltz, and I am particularly fond of the waltz.”
* * * *
Despite Varanus’s initial uncertainty, Constantine proved to be a most remarkable dancer. He was light on his feet, more like a bon vivant than a man of medicine, and as he stood no more than five and a half feet tall, the difference in height between them was far more manageable. Varanus had only once before met a man above six feet with whom she could dance, and that had been Korbinian—and no other man, living or dead, could ever hope to match him. But Constantine was indeed a pleasant surprise, and Varanus allowed herself to enjoy the experience amid the swirling gaiety of the ball.
Once they and the other dancers had settled into the comfortable motions of the waltz, Constantine spoke just loudly enough for her to hear him clearly:
“Lady Shashavani, I hope you will forgive me, but I have another reason for requesting this dance. I had hoped to speak with you without the appearance of a private conversation.”
“Oh?” Varanus asked, feigning surprise.
“Indeed,” Constantine said. He paused. “How shall I put this? I know the truth about Doctor Sauvage.”
Oh, Hell, Varanus thought.
“My physician?” she asked, eyes wide and innocent. “What about my physician? Has there arisen some sort of problem? Related to the hospital, perhaps?”
Constantine cleared his throat and said, “Your Grace, I do not wish to be indelicate, but I know. You and Doctor Sauvage are…one in the same.”
Hell indeed.
Varanus maintained her composure and merely smiled in polite bewilderment. Inside, however, she felt her temper boiling. How dare he have seen through her pretense? It was intolerable!
“What ever can you mean, Doctor?” she asked.
“Let us not play this game, Your Grace,” Constantine said. “I have not seen you unveiled until this evening, but I know your face quite well. You wear your hair differently, your bearing is altered, your accent distinct, but you are Doctor Sauvage. I was surprised to see my dear friend and colleague here tonight, so surprised that I inquired about her. What further surprise for me to learn that the woman I saw was not Doctor Sauvage, but the Lady Shashavani.”
“What do you want of me, Doctor?” Varanus asked, barely hiding her teeth.
Constantine’s expression quickly softened and he said, “Please do not mistake my intentions. Your secret shall be completely safe with me. As a man of medicine, I understand the wish to help those least fortunate in London. And as a man of Society, I understand the impossibility of Lady Shashavani operating a clinic in the East End. I think that what you are doing is very right and noble, and I only wanted you to know that I wish to help however I can.”
Varanus considered his words. Constantine did sound very sincere. His eyes were honest.
Yes, she could trust him in this.
“I am grateful, Doctor Constantine,” she said. “My charitable work is very important to me. Obviously, I cannot openly practice medicine in light of my marriage and my station, but I must still practice.”
“As I said, I quite understand,” Constantine agreed.
“You are very light on your feet,” Varanus noted, as they conducted a particularly swift twirl.
Constantine smiled and held his head a little higher.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” he said. “I have had many years of practice.”
“If you wish to help,” Varanus said, returning to the matter, “there is something that you can do for me.”
“Name it,” Constantine said.
“I must depart London to attend to a family matter,” Varanus said. “I will be detained for several days at least, possibly several weeks.”
“And in your absence, the clinic must be seen to,” Constantine said, understanding the problem.
“I shall be leaving a man to look after the clinic and the environs, naturally,” Varanus told him. “I must protect my property and my patients. But I fear that he is not trained in medicine. I must have a doctor who can do the work in my absence.”
“Ah,