CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Alix
IN THE WEEK SINCE THE Cadogans’ fancy-dress ball, Alix had seen Nicholas nearly every day. It was always in a group setting—a musicale evening, a ride in Hyde Park—but whatever the occasion, the two of them would find a way to dance, or sit together, or simply talk.
She relished Nicholas’s stories about his family, and most of all about Russia.
His words painted a vivid picture of his vast empire: from the barren reaches of Siberia to the windswept mountains of the Caucasus to the glittering waters of the Black Sea.
He told her of the chyerti, the magical beings of Russian folklore: “Mother would have been angry if she knew, but our nurse always left out a sip of milk for the domovoi. The house spirit,” he explained, with a wink.
In exchange Alix told him her own stories, of drinking mulled wine at Christmas and playing blindman’s bluff at the lake, of how Ernie used to bang at the family’s organ to wake her up.
“You have an organ in your house? Do you live in a church?” Nicholas had teased.
Alix explained that the organ was located directly beneath her bedroom; Ernie delighted in blasting it when it was still dark out. “That organ is worse than the bagpipes at Balmoral,” she added, which only made Nicholas laugh harder.
She loved his laugh, a bright, easy chuckle that felt so at odds with the polite laughter of society. She loved it most when she had made him laugh.
There was no more sneaking around; Nicholas didn’t even reach for her hand unless the steps of a dance required it.
But sometimes she caught him looking at her with a smoldering heat in his gaze, and Alix would shiver, thinking about their kiss.
She wanted more of it—more of the delicious, illicit sensation of his mouth on hers, but also more.
She wanted to be touching him in all ways possible.
It was a terrifying thought, and yet thrilling, too: the realization that kissing him didn’t seem to be enough. She had never felt this way about anyone, hadn’t even known she was capable of such a feeling.
Yesterday at breakfast, Grandmama had informed her that Eddy would be stopping by Buckingham Palace on Monday. “You will join us, Alix,” she’d said crisply, as she tapped a spoon against the side of her soft-boiled egg. “We have much to discuss.”
Alix couldn’t let this engagement become official. Which meant that she and Eddy needed to be on the same page, and face Queen Victoria together.
Accompanied by one of the Buckingham Palace parlormaids, whom Queen Victoria had assigned to be Alix’s lady’s maid during her stay, she began the short walk down the Mall.
It was a misty afternoon, and the few people she passed—other women strolling with their maids, or stern-looking nurses pushing perambulators—hardly seemed to notice her.
“I’m here to see His Royal Highness, Prince Eddy,” Alix told the butler of Marlborough House, presenting her card.
Though Nicholas was staying with the Waleses, she knew he would be out; he always spent the mornings riding with Tino.
But Alix still feared she might run into Aunt Alexandra or Maud, and would be forced to explain why she was visiting her so-called fiancé unannounced.
The butler hesitated, clearly thinking along the same lines. “His Royal Highness is in his study. If you’ll accompany me to the salon, I shall send for him.”
“There’s no need; I will call upon him directly,” Alix declared. A new energy crackled through her, a bold and uncharacteristic sense of daring.
The butler had no choice but to point her down the hall. Technically Alix wasn’t breaking the rules; she had a maid with her, and besides, couples were allowed unchaperoned time together—within reason—once they were engaged. Which everyone apparently thought she and Eddy were.
Outside Eddy’s office, Alix turned to the maid, Amelia. “Would you mind waiting in the hall? I shall leave the door open,” she offered, in concession to propriety. Then she knocked once and, without waiting for a response, pushed open the door.
Eddy was seated in an armchair, one leg crossed over the other knee as he studied a leather-bound tome. Without looking up he said, “Can it wait, Jonathan?”
“I’m sorry, but it can’t.”
Eddy startled, nearly dropping the book. “Alix?”
“I know you weren’t expecting me, but I was hoping we could talk,” she explained, taking a few cautious steps into the room.
Unlike his father’s study, which occupied a whole corner of the ground floor, Eddy’s was an extension of the Marlborough House library.
A pair of double doors connected it to the main space, though they were currently shut.
It was a handsome room, despite the half-eaten meat pie on the desk and scattered papers on the tables, the faint hint of tobacco smoke lingering in the air.
Eddy obviously hadn’t planned on receiving company here. Especially female company.
“Of course.” Eddy stood and took a few steps forward, glancing toward the windows. Storm clouds hung low and ominous in the skies, mist fogging the glass. Still, he half-heartedly asked, “Shall we head outside?”
“I’m quite all right here.” Strangely enough, Alix rather liked that she’d caught Eddy off his guard. She was in no mood for artifice and social niceties.
The door to the hall was still open. Eddy kicked it partially shut—don’t kick at doors like a common innkeeper, their grandmother would have said if she were here.
Seeming to decide that leaving it half-open was good enough, Eddy gestured to the pair of armchairs near a bookcase. “Shall I ring for some tea, or…”
“I only need a few moments of your time.” Alix settled onto one of the armchairs, a heavy, masculine thing that seemed to swallow her up. She shifted so that she was perched on its edge.
“Of course,” Eddy agreed, bemused. He lifted the book he’d been reading and set it on a small wooden table. Alix stole a glance at the title: The Old Regime and the French Revolution, by Alexis de Tocqueville. Not what she’d have expected Eddy to be reading.
“Did you receive a summons from Grandmama?” she asked, cutting right to the chase.
A nervous expression darted over Eddy’s features, and he ran a hand through his hair so that it stood up like a dark halo.
“Actually, Alix, I’m glad you stopped by.
I wanted to discuss it with you. That is…
” He fumbled, started again. “I will always have the utmost respect for you, and I meant the sentiments that I expressed to you last year—or at least I meant them at the time—”
He looked so utterly miserable that Alix decided to interrupt. “If you’re saying that you would rather not announce the engagement, I am in agreement.”
“Oh. Yes—exactly.”
A strange silence fell between them. Alix was acutely aware of the hiss of the wind outside, the rustle of her skirts as she shifted in the enormous chair.
“Should we formulate a plan?” she suggested. “We could still go to Grandmama’s for tea, as she requested, and then together we can explain that the wedding is off.”
When Eddy nodded morosely, Alix let out a breath. “I don’t understand. Are you upset?”
He leaned forward, head in his hands. “It’s just that…even without being engaged to you, I hardly expect Grandmother to approve of Hélène.”
“Hélène?” Alix repeated the name slowly. “You mean Hélène of France?”
Eddy looked at her in surprise. “I thought you knew about us.”
Eddy was interested in Hélène? Now Alix understood why he’d wanted to delay the engagement announcement. “What? How would I know about you two?”
“I have no idea! Hélène was very upset that you’d figured it out,” Eddy proclaimed. “She said that you spoke to her at Mother’s photography show. You told her that she should have been ‘more discreet.’ ”
“I was angry that she’d been gossiping about me!” Alix burst out.
It all made so much more sense. Alix had never understood why Hélène had started talking about that fainting spell a year after it happened, but now she saw: Hélène was trying to undermine her, to break off Alix and Eddy’s engagement in the hope of getting Eddy for herself.
Eddy frowned. “What do you mean, Hélène has been gossiping about you?”
Every fiber of Alix’s being screamed at her to stop, to keep the awful truth of her illness hidden. Yet she’d already broached the subject—and she felt an unexpected urge to be honest, for once.
“I have a…condition,” Alix said haltingly.
“Hélène knows, and has apparently been telling people about it.” Briefly, Alix explained that she’d suffered from a crippling panic ever since her brother died.
She told him how Hélène had found her having an episode last year at the opera, and was now spreading the word about Alix’s illness.
Eddy listened to her confession thoughtfully, without judgment. Perhaps she’d never given him enough credit.
When she’d finished, he shook his head. “Someone else must have spread those rumors. It wasn’t Hélène.”
“No one else saw me!”
“That you know of,” Eddy insisted. “You said it yourself: you were out in the walkway of the opera house. Anyone might have been watching. I swear, Hélène would never hurt you like that. Actually, she’s always liked you, in spite of…um…”
“In spite of Grandmama’s plans for us?”
“Yes.” He lifted his deep blue eyes to hers. “I realize that I’m in no position to ask a favor, but will you agree not to tell anyone about me and Hélène? I want to protect her reputation.”
Oh. Alix had assumed that Eddy and Hélène were engaged in a secret courtship, that they had exchanged whispers and flowers and perhaps even a scandalous moment like her kiss with Nicholas.
But if Eddy was genuinely worried for Hélène’s reputation…
Well, Alix highly doubted that they had left it at longing glances. Or even at kisses.
“I won’t tell anyone,” she assured him.