CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Alix
ALIX TAPPED HER SHEPHERDESS STAFF against the flagstones, wondering how much longer this party would last. She had come out to the terrace for a reprieve from the dancing—and from all the stares.
It felt like everyone in England was watching her, wondering when she and Eddy would officially be engaged.
As the queen had promised at Balmoral, there was still no formal announcement, but the month Eddy had requested was rapidly dwindling away. Alix could only assume he’d spent the time arranging things with his mistress, or whatever else he’d needed to do.
Meanwhile, Alix couldn’t stop thinking about the letter she’d written Nicholas at Balmoral, letting him know that she and Eddy were not engaged.
No reply had come.
The letter should have reached St. Petersburg within a matter of days, meaning that the tsarevich could have replied two weeks ago.
Alix marshaled up one excuse after another: Nicholas was at Livadia and his mail hadn’t been forwarded, or the maidservant at Balmoral had never posted it in the first place, or the railway car carrying it to Russia had crashed in a fiery explosion.
She clung to the belief that he hadn’t gotten it, because it was far worse to think that he’d read it and disapproved of her forwardness—or, worse, that he simply didn’t care.
The terrace was growing more crowded, fairies and Greek warriors and Valkyries spilling outside in anticipation of the fireworks.
This might be a good time to fetch a glass of lemonade, or to seek out May of Teck.
After Balmoral, Alix felt like May was the closest thing to a friend that she had in England.
Certainly she trusted May, which was more than she could say for most people.
Just look at what Princess Hélène had done, telling everyone about Alix’s fainting spell.
She’d as good as admitted it when Alix had confronted her at the photography exhibition.
At least she’d had the decency to seem regretful.
There was a burst of noise near the doors that led inside. From the eager tone of the voices, Alix knew it could only mean one thing: royalty. The Prince of Wales must be approaching, or maybe Eddy.
Alix drew a breath into her rib cage and smiled, bracing herself for the onslaught of stares. But when she turned, she didn’t see Eddy or his father.
Nicholas.
It couldn’t be, Alix thought faintly. The Tsarevich of All the Russias was not at a house party in Suffolk. She had simply thought about him so much lately that she’d begun to hallucinate. Yet the figure before her looked startlingly real.
His cousin Tino—Prince Constantine, future King of Greece—stood next to him, wearing an old-fashioned doublet.
Nicholas, on the other hand, hadn’t dressed in costume at all but was wearing the formal version of his Russian dress uniform.
His military jacket fit snugly over his shoulders, medals gleamed on his chest, and at his hip was a gleaming saber.
A real one, not like the painted wood weapons that some men were carrying tonight because the real thing was too heavy to dance in.
Alix sensed that Nicholas didn’t care all that much about dancing, and that this saber was far more than a prop—that, if necessary, he could wield it.
When he saw her, a smile touched Nicholas’s features. Alix’s heart picked up speed as he began threading through the crowds toward her.
“Alix. It’s good to see you,” he said in greeting.
“What are you doing here? I mean—” She flushed and recalled herself with a quick curtsy, which Nicholas waved away. She forced herself to try again. “I hadn’t expected to see you tonight.” I hadn’t expected to see you at all.
In answer, he held out a gloved hand. “Walk with me?”
Alix was powerless to resist. She placed her palm carefully atop his and let him lead her into the gardens, which were a patchwork of shadow and colored lantern light.
The moment was surreal, yet at the same time Nicholas’s presence was substantial and solid. It felt like the rest of the party had become a bright, elaborate dream and he was her only link to reality, the only person she could cling to.
“I’ve been traveling with Tino,” Nicholas began, as they started down a gravel path. “He wanted a grand tour before his wedding to Princess Sophie, and my father suggested I join him.”
Alix nodded distractedly. If Nicholas had been traveling, maybe her letter had never even reached him? “Where did you and Tino go?”
“We started in Ceylon, Singapore, Japan—I had a bit of an incident with a sword there, actually.” Nicholas lifted a lock of dark hair from his forehead.
Alix gasped at the red gash beneath. Her hand itched to reach up and trace it, but she resisted the highly inappropriate urge.
“That looks like it might scar,” she said carefully.
“It’s actually quite shallow. Nothing to worry about,” Nicholas said swiftly. “Japan is fascinating, Alix. Did you know that they have an order of knighthood that dates back over a thousand years, with the same traditions and oaths since the very beginning?”
“No change for a thousand years? Sounds a bit like Russia.”
To her relief, he grinned at the joke. “Probably explains why my father sent me there.”
Alix’s steps slowed as they approached an iron railing bordering one of the parterres. “Where else did you go?”
“We came up through the Suez Canal and have been visiting some cousins. The Greeks, the Italians—and we saw Franz Joseph and Sisi in Vienna.”
“It sounds like you’ve had quite the adventure. Why, you’ve probably met more royal families than anyone I know except for Grandmama.”
“Oh, it was all for Tino’s sake.” A funny expression darted over Nicholas’s features, but Alix couldn’t quite parse it out.
“Did he enjoy his grand tour? I imagine you were there to keep things calm,” Alix said tactfully.
A woman never did anything to mark the occasion of getting married, except perhaps for a tea with friends when she returned from her honeymoon, but it was different for men.
Apparently on his own pre-wedding tour, Uncle Bertie had left a string of angry husbands and gambling debts all over Italy.
“Something like that,” Nicholas said vaguely.
Alix’s hand rested on the iron railing. Nicholas put his hand next to hers, close enough to touch without quite daring to do so.
“You look lovely tonight,” he said quietly.
The air felt cold against her overheated face; she looked down at her feet to avoid Nicholas’s gaze. “It’s a silly costume. I don’t really care for fancy-dress balls.”
“Neither do I.” Nicholas made a self-deprecating gesture that encompassed his military uniform. “We only arrived in town this morning; we’re staying with Eddy and George at Marlborough House.”
It was as jarring as always, hearing Nicholas refer to Eddy. The two of them occupied such vastly different roles in Alix’s life.
“How long will you be in London?” she ventured.
“That depends.” He cleared his throat. “I was disappointed when Ella told me that you and Ernie weren’t coming to St. Petersburg this year. I had been hoping to see you—I have quite missed your conversation.”
Her conversation?
“It has been a long time since we said goodbye,” Alix agreed, heart pounding.
“Alix.” One of Nicholas’s hands had strayed to the handle of his saber, as if he might draw it and run someone through. “What you wrote in your last letter…is it true?”
At that, the world seemed to stop.
“You got my letter?” she whispered.
“Why else do you think I’m here? We were supposed to head back after Austria, but I convinced Tino to extend our tour. I needed to see you.” Nicholas swallowed. “Are you engaged to Eddy?”
“No!”
The word escaped her lips in a single cry, like a plea.
“No?” the tsarevich repeated. “Because everyone in England seems to think that you are. Why, Aunt Alexandra told me just this morning that you and Eddy would be making an announcement soon.”
“Grandmama wants us to get engaged, but I have not agreed to it,” Alix insisted—because she hadn’t, not technically. “Nothing has been decided.”
The world felt unnaturally sharp around her, Nicholas’s eyes a gleaming blue against the dusky night sky.
“So you are not promised to Eddy?” he asked again.
The sounds of the party felt impossibly distant; there might as well have been no one on earth but the two of them, together in this garden, beneath the star-flecked sky.
“I am not promised to Eddy, or to anyone.”
Nicholas did not draw in a breath, or reach for her hand, or even smile. But there was a new brightness in his gaze as he turned to her, his breath fogging little clouds in the air.
“Do you remember your last night in Russia, at the Winter Palace?”
“Of course,” Alix said softly.
“I thought for a moment that we almost kissed, but I wasn’t sure…”
Wasn’t sure if he’d meant to? If he ought to?
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to.”
Her reply was as quiet as his. “I did want you to. Very much.”
Nicholas sighed at that, a deep sigh that Alix could feel in her own chest, and then he reached his hands around her torso and pulled her close. Alix had never been kissed before, but some instinctive part of her knew exactly how to tip her face up and press her lips to his.
The kiss was soft, and tender, and infinitely sweet.
Alix knew they were being reckless, embracing like this in public—at a crowded party, no less—but she could no longer bring herself to care.
She was drowning in the moment, in the feel and taste and scent of him, allowing her body the closeness it had craved since the moment she first saw Nicholas, all those months ago.
Her hands crept up to settle around his shoulders, drawing his body even nearer to hers.
It all felt so utterly right, as if her palms had been seeking those shoulders for years and now, at last, knew where they belonged.
Alix had no idea how long they might have spent entwined like that if a staccato sound hadn’t flung them apart.
Her hands flew to her mouth. Oh god, she thought, someone had fired a gun—but then she realized that it was nothing to worry about; the pyrotechnics expert had begun setting off the fireworks down the lawn.
“I’m sorry.” Nicholas took a hasty step back. “I should never have—it’s my fault that—”
“Please, don’t,” Alix said breathlessly. “I do not regret anything that has happened, nor should you.”
She only regretted that it hadn’t happened sooner.
“Still, I am determined to do this right. Which means that we should get back to the party,” Nicholas insisted.
Alix reluctantly started back toward the terrace, toward the other guests in their garish costumes and headgear, all of them transfixed by the colors in the sky. She knew he was right; they needed to return before their absence was noted.
Still, as they walked, Nicholas held her hand in his. His thumb traced small, delicious circles over her glove, sending shivers across her skin. It felt like a promise that whatever was between them had only just begun—that everything she felt for him, he felt, too.