“After a few blocks you can set me down,” she whispered.
For even that respite Drexel was grateful.
“Where shall I take my lord?” came over the driver’s shoulder.
“Up Nevsky Prospect,” Drexel ordered.
They turned into bright-lit Nevsky Prospect, thronged with flashing sleighs, and glided without speech over the polished snow. After a few moments she glanced back. She clutched his arm.
“He is behind us!”
He did not need to be told not to turn his head. “The captain?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think he is following us?”
“Perhaps he is only taking the same direction by chance. Let us stop a few times. That will show us.”