Chapter 28 #2
“Magpie, at this point in time, the Tsar and the Queen killing one another is the thing I am least concerned will happen.”
The Cossack standing at the Grand Duchess’s servant’s entrance opened the door to… chaos.
“—Her Ladyship fled England, it is true. But surely you were aware of the accusations that she had committed theft and had been accused of treason. We cannot be blamed if Russia regrets its decision to choose to make a pet of a viper!” the Queen informed the Tsar coolly, her eyes glinting.
The Tsar gave the Queen his customary Sphinx-like look. “I was well aware that betrayal is her only allegiance,” he remarked. “Nevertheless, I would have been the greater fool to overlook the ripe gift of so many of your government’s secrets for the plucking.”
And the Grand Duchess was having her own argument with the Regent. “England should be careful about casting stones.” She looked down her nose at the Regent. “At least our line of succession has more heirs than scandalous affairs.”
“And yet, Your Imperial Highness,” Prinny barked, “I require no fingers to count the number of traitors who have married into my line.”
Ravenscroft turned a look on Sidmouth that so clearly said I told you so that Perry could practically hear it in the magpie’s voice.
Irritated at the Regent’s implications that his sister was a traitor, Perry coughed loudly into his fist, drawing the attention of the bickering sovereigns.
“You.” The Tsar’s attention speared Peregrine, fixing sharply on his hair. “I question the value of bringing Lord Fitzroy into these discussions, given his relationship to the accused.”
The Grand Duchess leaned over to her brother, whispering something, and the Tsar held up his hand to her after a moment, silencing her. “I cannot take such a thing on faith. The alleged poisoning of his paramour does not mean it is not a trick to make Fitzroy appear to be on our side.”
“The woman your sister speaks of is not my paramour,” Peregrine said, bristling. “She is my wife. And never would I have risked her life in that manner.”
That gave the Tsar pause. He glanced at Catherine, who shook her head. She did not know they were married. Then he looked at the Queen and Regent, who nodded.
When no one said anything, Ravenscroft ventured, “If you are worried about the possibility Lord Fitzroy may be playing a deeper game, Your Imperial Majesty, I was present when Fitzroy was stabbed by his mother’s man last month.
” The magpie paused for emphasis, adding dryly, “Some deceptions are not worth the effort.”
The Queen nodded in agreement. “The only reason you are aware of your younger brother’s actions is because of Lord Fitzroy and his allies.”
The Tsar gave a small wave of his fingers, accepting the point.
“Perhaps it would benefit us to assume that everyone present has a vested interest in seeing Marian Fitzroy captured and punished,” Sidmouth said as neutrally as possible. “We believe an attempt is to be made on your life, Your Imperial Highness—”
“Yes, so my sister informed me already,” Alexander interrupted, getting to his feet and pacing the room restlessly. “She informed me that you think it will occur at the banquet tomorrow. And that my death will be aided by traitors from my own court.”
The Tsar stopped in front of a painting on the wall, his shoulders stiff while he contemplated betrayal and his own death.
“Sasha.” Catherine got up from her chair and went to stand behind Alexander, standing close. “Nikolai adores you. This is not the same as what happened with Papa.”
“No?” he asked her softly. “It is always the same, Katya. I let them whisper in my father’s halls. Does the ignorance of my youth lessen my guilt? My father trusted too deeply. I, not enough. Both of us were fools in our own way. Perhaps this is God’s punishment for me. It would be fitting.”
Catherine lifted her chin, clearly deciding that if the people in this room couldn’t be trusted to hold their tongues, then no one could. “There is no sin here. Our father was dangerous, Sasha. To the people and our empire. You are not him, and you made the choice to protect that. Not our name.”
Peregrine nodded to himself, relating to the Tsar’s private shame.
He had never believed that Alexander had conspired with the rebels who had murdered his father.
But that Alexander had looked the other way while other men talked of sedition, hoping that his father might be forced to step down or see reason? That he would believe.
“Sire, guilt is one of the easiest tools to turn against a man. How well I know this, and oh— my mother is an expert in using it!” Perry uttered, feeling keenly in sympathy.
The Tsar slowly turned to Peregrine, a wary, heavy curiosity shadowing his eyes.
“Do not let my mother’s favourite kind of weapon poison your soul,” Peregrine told him.
“She wants you as isolated and alone, afraid to trust others, just as she wanted me to be. Your sister is right. Do not simply assume Prince Nicholas covets your throne. My mother lied to my sister, telling her they could convince you. She would not hesitate to whisper lies to Nicholas about the possibilities of love.”
“That simply makes doing what I must more tragic, Lord Fitzroy,” the Tsar said solemnly. “For I could easily picture such a thing. Nicholai is a lonely lad. But I cannot sanction their marriage, even if it posed no threat to my life.”
“Nor would I ask you to, Sire,” Peregrine murmured. “The only thing I ask for is compassion. For both of them, though you may wish to consider the matter longer. Can we agree we must stop my mother and the traitors in your court?”
The Tsar’s eyes flickered slightly as the barest traces of emotions surfaced and were buried again. “We can. I am willing to put myself at the centre of whatever trap you feel is necessary.”
Queen Charlotte didn’t like the idea of Alexander playing bait, but she couldn’t argue against the need. “Lord Sidmouth, I charge you with safeguarding the Tsar’s welfare as though it were our own. The Princess and I will not attend, to lighten the effort and protect the succession.”
“And we will not bring Nicholai,” agreed the Tsar. “Ekaterina, you also should not attend.”
Catherine shook her head. “No, I must. The Dowager Lady Fitzroy knows I am going to be there. If I change my plans, she may grow suspicious as to why.”
The Tsar looked unsatisfied, but eventually he nodded. “And the assassin?”
“Lord Fitzroy’s allies have given us a description,” said Sidmouth. “We should be able to identify the man—this Moxley. Given the scar on his face, I am confident the guards can catch him before he sets foot inside.”
Perry rubbed his temple. “If the assassin is stopped too soon, we have the same problem. We will tip our hand to my mother and the Tsar’s traitor. If Moxley does not show, the traitor may not make his move at the dinner, and we will not find out who it is.”
“Then what do you propose?” Alexander asked, sarcasm edging his voice. “To let this Moxley enter the banquet with a weapon in hand?”
“Nothing of the sort. The timing will be difficult, but if we can catch Moxley outside and question him as to his part of the plan, we can possibly arrange for one of ours to stand in his place. As long as it seems all is proceeding as expected, the traitor should rise to do his part—whatever that part is,” Peregrine finished.
“It is difficult to believe that one of my men will betray me like that, Lord Fitzroy. But I confess, I am in no position to disbelieve,” the Tsar hissed through his teeth, finally showing some passion. “When I find out who it is, he will regret his own birth.”
“Fitzroy’s man told you the person attempting to hire a sellsword was pretending to be Austrian, Lord Ravenscroft?” Sidmouth asked. “Should we warn the Austrians that someone is attempting to frame them for this crime? I mislike the idea of involving more people…”
“He did,” drawled the magpie. “I know you would prefer not to warn the Austrians formally, but what about an informal warning?”
Perry chuckled, knowing immediately who the dandy had in mind. “The Propagandist.”
“The Propagandist,” agreed Ravenscroft.
The Tsar looked from one man to the other. “Do you actually mean to trust Baron von Gentz with this information?”
“The trickster is sly as a fox, to be sure. But he likes Lord Fitzroy, and I believe he would be a useful ally. More importantly, he is no friend of Marian Fitzroy. I will be positioned near the table, on the Regent’s side. But we have no one except guards on the Tsar’s other side.”
Peregrine closed his eyes, envisioning the table. He wondered if anything had ever come of Gentz’s request for England’s support at Vienna, but now was not the time to ask—not in front of the Russians.
“Von Gentz will be further along at the head table, past the Tsar. I agree, Ravenscroft. I think we should approach him.”