"It was just when I turned fifteen, you know that age of tender love?" Larisa Konstantinovna stood before a small circle of listeners, who hung on her every word with bated breath. "I had come to visit a very distant relative, let's call her my great-great-grandmother on my mother's side. At the same time, a similarly distant relative arrived, whose lineage remained a mystery to me..."
"Was he handsome?" the baroness leaned forward.
"He was French," Vovk lowered her voice conspiratorially and explained, "tall, dark-eyed, Lucas was barely seventeen that year. We fell in love at first sight..."
"But you couldn't be together because you were relatives?"
"Perhaps because he was French! Don't forget, my dear, the Great War had just ended..."
Larisa Konstantinovna surveyed her listeners carefully, accepted all the suggestions, and shook her head: "Bets are in, no more bets!"
"Alas, there was a language barrier between us! I only spoke Russian well, my grandmother always insisted on that. I was sent to London to start learning English, and to this day my relationship with French is strained. My poor Lucas, on the other hand, only spoke French."
The ladies sighed and giggled. Larisa Konstantinovna was a favorite storyteller because she didn't embellish herself. She humorously announced her mistakes and gracefully mocked her own flaws. In just three weeks of being invited by the Grand Duchess, everyone had grown so accustomed to the presence of the cheerful adventuress that it seemed unthinkable to imagine an evening without her.
Initially, the countess's departure was marked by a thorough critique of each of her mistakes, inaccuracies in her dress, and problems with her posture. But habit, as a classic will say, is the greatest blessing. Over time, these small confusions began to seem rather charming than repulsive.
Alexandra Feodorovna, without even realizing it, fell under the countess's charm. She did not notice how, from an aversion and a cunning desire to expose Larisa Konstantinovna, she shifted to complete trust and affection. She couldn't understand what exactly attracted her, but being around the countess always felt warmer. Perhaps it was the inexhaustible determination and courage, or maybe it was that Larisa Konstantinovna supported any idea and repeated that anything was possible. Being around someone with so much energy was always pleasant.
Very quickly, Alexandra Feodorovna convinced herself and others that the rumors about an affair between Nikolai Pavlovich and the countess were absurd. She wanted to believe that her sweet, soulful friend was pure and innocent. In the most tender words, Larisa Konstantinovna spoke about her fiancé. And on the rare occasions when the countess met Nick in the corridors, she reacted rather indifferently. It was Larisa Konstantinovna who made the sharp remark at dinner to the nearest neighbor at the table: "The Grand Duke at the table is like a German in Russia, he doesn't drink at all, hence he irritates."
If any other close associate of Alexandra Feodorovna had said this, the Grand Duchess would have surely been horrified and scolded the rude person. But upon hearing about the incident with Larisa Konstantinovna, she was delighted: firstly, how can you joke about someone you love? Secondly, Larisa Konstantinovna had no idea how to hold her tongue. Thus, she posed no threat at all, and if one did arise, the countess would undoubtedly be the first to spill the beans.
***
One October evening, when Lara stayed too long at her new friend's place, a terrible storm arose outside. It's not that autumn bad weather in St. Petersburg is unusual; the events of the past October were still vividly remembered by everyone. Back then, Lara, newly arrived in a hostile environment, appreciated the full charm of a flooded basement and the friendly company of rats taking refuge in her living room.

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Inventing Wonders
Historical FictionThrown from modern-day St. Petersburg into 1824, journalism student Lara finds herself in the midst of history. She becomes a countess without funds and strikes a daring deal to write under a male pseudonym. Navigating a world of Decembrists, balls...