Chapter 479: The Petrograd Vintage

Chapter 478: The Petrograd Vintage

Lyria’s POV

After my conversation with Lucian—which, if I am to be perfectly honest, occupied no very great length of time—I formed a firm resolution.

I would confront Duke Valenridge.

I would request of him a precise explanation of those words he had spoken in Jim’s house, and why he had taken his leave so abruptly, giving me no opportunity to reply, as though I had wounded him with some venom whose source I could not in the least recall.

Yet when I arrived at the chamber in which he was presently residing, I was informed that he was not within.

Tommy had only just emerged from the room, closing the door carefully behind him. A light perspiration stood upon his forehead, and he carried a brush in one hand.

"Your Highness," he said, offering a small, respectful bow.

"Is H-his Grace in?" I inquired. "I w-wish to s-speak with h-him."

Tommy shook his head. "He and Duke Thorncrest have gone out upon a walk... or so I was given to understand."

"A w-walk?" I repeated.

"Yes, Your Highness. They departed some while ago. I did not inquire where they intended to go, for His Grace is not in the habit of informing me or anyone else of such particulars." He paused, then added, "Indeed, he never does."

I inclined my head, though I confess I felt a little disappointed. I had prepared myself with some care for the conversation, and now that the opportunity had been delayed, I found myself uncertain whether the delay brought relief or merely a quiet frustration.

I made my way downstairs after that brief exchange.

The maids and guards had already begun the cleaning of the inn, and though they had accomplished a considerable amount, much yet remained to be done. Dust still clung stubbornly to the corners, and the windows retained a film of grime; nevertheless, the common room had been transformed from the neglected condition in which we had found it earlier that morning and, indeed, the previous night.

I observed Elara standing behind the bar, yet she was not alone.

Marquess Silverwyn stood beside her, a bottle held carefully in his hand, and I caught the latter portion of their conversation as I drew near.

"—quite sought after, I assure you," he was saying. "This particular vodka was once renowned throughout the kingdom."

"What i-is t-that?" I asked, a slight frown forming upon my brow.

Marquess Silverwyn turned toward me at once and bowed with proper courtesy.

"Your Highness," he said. "I was merely remarking that there are a great many empty bottles of this vodka upon these shelves." He gestured toward the array behind him, where several such bottles stood in dusty ranks. "It would appear that even a place such as Gallowshill once held this spirit in some esteem."

At that moment Lucian approached.

He had withdrawn to his own chamber following our earlier conversation, and now he joined us at the bar. Taking the bottle from Marquess Silverwyn, he turned it slowly in his hand, examining the faded label with quiet attention.

"I remember this vodka," he said. "My father once possessed a bottle of it. He kept it for many years and partook of it only upon the rarest of occasions. Though this vintage is older than I myself, I was permitted to see it."

"What i-is so s-special about it?" I inquired.

Lucian shook his head.

"I cannot say with any certainty. I never drank of it. I was but a child when my father consumed the final drop."

"I too have never tasted it, I confess," Marquess Silverwyn added. "Yet as one who takes pleasure in collecting fine spirits and savouring them, I have encountered many who spoke of the Petrograd Vintage with the highest regard. It was considered most exquisite by all accounts. Numerous accounts were written of its flavour and the particular pleasure of drinking it—accounts which, I must own, rendered me rather curious to taste it myself."

He paused, then continued in a more reflective tone.

"Yet no sooner had the vodka taken the market by storm than it vanished entirely. No one knew where it had been produced, nor who held the rights to its manufacture. Imitations appeared, of course, but once one had tasted the original, the others were recognised at once as inferior counterfeits of considerably lesser quality."

"I never thought to see the bottle again," Lucian murmured quietly. "Least of all in Gallowshill."

I took the bottle from Marquess Silverwyn and examined it more closely.

It was of clear glass, its label faded almost beyond recognition, though the words Petrograd Vintage remained just discernible. Quite curious to discover whether any faint scent of spirit lingered after so many years, I raised it at once to my nose.

Elara, perceiving my intention, made a slight movement as though to stay my hand. I shook my head, silently requesting that she refrain.

She disliked the notion, I could see, yet she obeyed and remained still.

I inhaled carefully, then frowned.

"It d-does not smell of a-alcohol at all," I observed. "It h-has no scent w-whatsoever."

I returned the bottle to Marquess Silverwyn.

"What i-if the bottle is f-fake?"

Marquess Silverwyn considered the possibility with due care.

"I rather doubt it," he said at length. "Yet I must admit I should not know whether it is genuine or counterfeit, for I never tasted of it, nor was I ever granted the opportunity to examine the original."

I turned then to Lucian.

"W-will you k-know?"

He shook his head.

"I never so much as touched the bottle," he replied. "I was but a child when I beheld it, after all."

I nodded, then addressed Elara.

"See that the b-bottles are k-kept safely," I instructed her. "Every e-empty bottle."

Elara inclined her head with quiet compliance.

"Of course, Your Highness."

There was something concerning the vodka and its unexpected presence in Gallowshill that I was most insistent upon discovering. I could not readily believe that so coveted a spirit—one that had disappeared from the market for years—should suddenly appear in a place such as this. Even should the bottles prove to be imitations which, for reasons I could not entirely explain, I doubted, I wished to learn more of the matter.

Just then Lucian spoke in a low voice.

"We have visitors from the town, Your Highness. Two of them—Obadiah and Thaddeus."