“Papa, Helen needs to know.”

  Helen looked to Prince Pavel, her stomach dropping. “Is anything the matter?”

  Prince Pavel exchanged a look with his wife.

  “Papa, Helen will find out, and the sooner she knows the better.”

  “Roman, don’t,” Prince Pavel said.

  “You’ve come all this way for nothing, Helen,” Roman said almost angrily. “Alex is not here.”

  Helen’s feet turned to ice. The shattering illusion, the crumbling hope was crushed her. “Where is he?” she asked, voice strangled.

  Roman opened his mouth, but Prince Pavel interjected. “We do not know, Helen. We do know that he is well, that he is alive, but we do not know his exact location. We are looking for him.”

  The floor shifted under Helen’s feet. “What does it mean? Why did he go?”

  “You know Alex. He loves adventure. He needed to have one last caper. Not to worry, darling, he is thrilled to be marrying you,” Prince Pavel reassured her.

  Helen was not sure that was true, given that her groom had run away.

  “Where are you looking, then?” she asked.

  “Southern Europe. Italy or Greece.”

  “Oh,” Helen clutched her the fabric of her dress over her stomach.

  “We will find him before your wedding, my dear,” Prince Pavel said. “We are very close to locating him.”

  “But only a month is left…”

  “And he will be here, I assure you,” Prince Pavel said. “In the meanwhile, to get you acquainted with your new life in Russia, Roman will show you the city and introduce you to the high society of St. Petersburg.”

  As Prince Pavel’s words echoed in Helen’s mind, she looked at Roman, all distant and cold. He met her gaze, and there was nothing in eyes besides boredom and disgust.

  Deep in her gut, she dreaded spending time in his company. What if Alex would never be found? She would be sent back to the aunt who did not want her at all. She might need to get used to the idea of a future as an unwanted spinster. Somewhere in one of her trunks was the dagger Roman had handed her all those years ago, and she might still use it to carve her heart out after all.

  2

  November 25, 1813

  * * *

  The troika flew through the park, the grounds white and fluffy after the snow that had fallen earlier that morning. The sight was pleasing—the trees, the benches, the statues white.

  And yet it was not the park that Roman thought beautiful. It was the woman sitting in his sleigh, gazing upon everything with wide, shining eyes.

  Helen.

  “Are you enjoying the ride?” Roman asked.

  She turned her bright eyes on him, and for the first time that morning there was no anger in their depths. Just wonder.

  “Oh, Prince Roman, I’ve never seen anything like it!” she said, the words steaming out of her mouth.

  Snow blasted from under the horses’ hooves, the sleigh’s runners cutting through the whiteness like butter.

  Yesterday, after learning the news about Alex, Helen had appeared exhausted and had retired to rest from her long journey. She’d excused herself from dinner, claiming a headache.

  But when Roman had seen her this morning, fresh and rested and properly dressed, he could not stop looking.

  Much like now.

  “How did you expect St. Petersburg to be?” he asked.

  Helen squinted and looked somewhere far off, a thoughtful expression on her face.

  She was lovely.

  Why had he not seen this before? He had not noticed her, of course, because she had been a child when he’d last seen her. Now it was clear that Helen was no mousy little girl anymore. She had bloomed into a young woman.

  Her brown hair, which used to be dull, had gained volume and shone. She had a lovely figure—beautiful round shoulders, the full curves of her breasts over the bodice of her dress making dark desires stir deep inside of him. Her eyes were a deep, warm brown, framed by long, thick eyelashes. Her cheeks were rosy, and her lips looked soft and delicious.

  “I heard about the snow,” she said. “And, of course, we have snow in winter in England. But not as much as here. Not like this.”

  She met his eyes again. She looked like a snow princess in the black sable-fur hat and coat his mother had given her to welcome her to the family.

  Perhaps, Roman reflected, it was not even the change in her appearance at all. Maybe it was the way she held herself, sweet and curious and lively. Like a little candlelight in the darkness.

  When their family had visited the Herberts, Helen had always been in the background. The three Herbert sisters had occupied all attention. Especially Alex’s. Roman, too, had always felt left in the background.

  Perhaps that was something they had in common.

  “I do hope you like Russia,” Roman said. “Having been in England, I can understand that certain things might seem strange to you.”

  “No, no,” she said. “I am ready. I look forward to my life here.”

  Then her face fell and she turned away. Because if Alex did not return by Christmas Eve, their wedding day, she would go back to England, Roman realized. She might even get scared and return before that, so it was Roman’s mission to entertain her and distract her from potential humiliation. If he failed, there would be no hope of avoiding the scandal brought on by Alex’s actions.

  But despite his duty, he couldn’t help pointing out, “You would be far from your family and friends, from those who love you.”

  “Certainly, you noticed that my aunt and uncle, despite being very kind, were only too happy for me to go. Although I shall be forever grateful that they took me in and raised me, I have always felt like a burden. I’d like to repay that debt. That is why I took Lilly’s place, to honor the commitment between our two families.”

  Roman clenched his jaws. An honorable young woman engaged to a dishonorable man. If only she knew…

  They had arrived at the end of the Field of Mars Park now, and Foma, the coachman, slowed their speed and turned left. He followed a short street towards the Neva River, three-story buildings in the latest Italian fashion to their left and right. At the end of the street, they turned again, riding on the Upper Embankment now. To their left, the Marble Palace towered. The walls of the ground floor were light-brown granite, and the second and third floors were pale-pink and blue marble. A single balcony in the middle had golden railings. Further down the street would be the Winter Palace where the emperor lived.

  Across the river was the Peter and Paul Fortress with its brown walls. Like a golden spindle in the middle of it, shooting into the sky, was the spire of Saints Peter and Paul Cathedral. It was, no doubt, the tallest building in the whole empire. Inside the cathedral were the tombs of all Russian emperors.

  Vasilyevsky Island was further to the left, with its new white academic buildings that looked like small versions of the palaces. Two red Rostral Columns, which had been erected just three years ago, stood on the bank to serve as lighthouses.

  Helen gasped a little, her eyes wide. “This is breathtaking,” she said. “The river is so broad…and it is frozen! Like a giant, white field. And the architecture…the whole composition is simply magnificent.”

  Roman hid a smile. He hated how much it pleased him to hear her say that. He reminded himself that, no matter how charming and lovely, she wasn’t for him. He needed to keep his distance.

  “Do not get so captivated, Helen,” Roman said. “All this might look stunning, but underneath, it can be cold and heartless and dirty.”

  Helen glanced at him with surprise, and the wonder in her eyes disappeared, replaced by the hurt, embarrassment, and anger he had seen eleven years ago.

  The sight made his stomach twist with guilt. He’d destroyed the innocent wonder she was experiencing. Well, good, he decided. This was proof that he did not deserve to be with someone as good as Helen.

  Neither did Alex.

  3

  December 1, 1813

  * * *

  “What beautiful earrings,” Jane said as she did Helen’s hair for the ball. “Did Prince Alex send them to you?”

  Helen met her eyes in the mirror, then studied the beautiful rose-pearl earrings lying on her dressing table. They were gorgeous.

  Not as stunning as the black pearls, the remnants of which she had found in the sitting room eleven years ago after both Alex and Roman had stormed out. She’d gathered the pearl dust as well as the delicate chips of the coating and studied them under a good light when she was alone. She had wished she could study them under a microscope to really see what made them so pretty. She had been fascinated by natural science ever since she was a little girl and enjoyed reading about flora and fauna.

  “No, not Alex,” Helen said picking up one earring and inserting it in her earlobe. “Prince Roman.”

  “Oh.” Jane’s hands stopped for a moment. She glanced at Helen, then resumed her fiddling.

  Helen frowned. “There’s nothing to be oh-ing about, Jane. He wants me to feel welcome, that’s all.”

  “Yes, Miss.”

  “The whole family does. Look at this room. It’s bigger than the Herberts’s dining room. They just want me to feel at home.”

  “The room is lovely.” Jane gazed around before returning to Helen’s hair.

  The room had French-style furniture with golden finishings, the walls were a gentle lilac, and the curtains had lilac fleur-de-lis patterns on pale gold. There was always so much light, even now. Helen’s windows looked over the back gardens, and thanks to the snow, everything outside glowed with a brilliant white. She hoped she could see what plants grew here in spring and summer. Maybe she could have some rose bushes planted—if she was still here…

  “You are living in a palace,” Jane whispered, giving a little squeal of excitement. “Like a princess. What am I saying? You will be a princess in just three weeks!”

  Helen inserted the second earring in her right earlobe. “You are quite right,” she said, bewildered. “I have not given it a thought. All I could think was—”

  That she would marry Alex. That he’d kiss her. That he would call her his wife. That she would sleep with him every night. That they would have dinners and talk every day and have children…

  She’d forgotten that she would be a princess.

  The earrings went well with the pastel-pink dress that Jane had suggested to her, making her lips look plush and her cheeks rosy even without pinching, and highlighting her dark eyes.

  She had never looked so pretty.

  Jane put the last pin in her hair and took a step back, cocking her head and studying Helen. “Miss, you look beautiful! The pearls do you justice.”

  The pearls were a beautiful present—though Roman had given them with such a cold face, as though he had been forced to give them to her! Oh, what a strangely insolent man he was. He could be all gallantry and politeness one moment, and the next he would say something that made her want to throw a heavy and easily breakable object at him. Then at other times, he made her nervous, and her skin tingled when he stood near her or even looked at her.

  “Thank you, Jane,” Helen said standing up. “If I look good, it is thanks to you.”

  Jane smiled. “I only allowed your natural beauty to shine through. Now, go. They are all gathered downstairs for you.”

  Ah yes, the ball in her honor. All of the English elite of St. Petersburg were invited. Whereas back in England she had too little attention, here she was the center of it. And very uncomfortable.

  Helen made her way into the hall, then towards the grand double staircases leading to the brightly lit foyer. Downstairs, the three Lipovs were greeting the arriving guests. Helen watched Roman for a moment as he stood by his mother.

  He was tall and very handsome, like Alex, only dark in his black suit jacket and vest, his light trousers highlighting his long, strong legs. He bowed curtly to greet the newly arrived family and flashed a polite smile. Helen’s breath caught. While the guests talked with his parents, he stood still for a moment, then suddenly turned around and glanced up at her.

  No! Her feet froze to the ground.

  Their eyes met.

  His widened. Could it be that something resembling admiration ran through them?

  It was like being under a magnifying glass in sun. Hot. Burning hot.

  Sweat broke out all over her body, her stomach filling with a million of dancing snowflakes.

  He gave her a slow bow without taking his eyes from hers. She curtsied on wobbling knees and began descending, not feeling her legs, afraid that she’d trip and go tumbling.

  “Ah!” Prince Pavel exclaimed as he saw her. “There is our dear Helen. Come, come, my darling. You look stunning! What beautiful earrings. Mr. and Mrs. Hedgewood of Berkridge and their two sons.”

  Helen gave them a polite smile as curtsies and bows were exchanged. She answered polite mechanical sentences while being acutely aware of Roman. Even standing a couple of steps away from him did something to her skin, as if she was being tickled by something soft and invisible. At breakfast, during tea, when he walked with her in the park, it was as though his eyes scorched her skin through her layers of her clothes—fur coat and all.

  “Allow me to get Helen acquainted with the rest of the guests,” Roman said to his parents. He turned to her. “When the ambassador arrives, we shall go to dinner.”

  “Naturally, Roman, go ahead,” Prince Pavel answered. “We shall wait for the ambassador of the British Empire.”

  Roman offered her his bent arm and Helen wrapped her gloved hand around it. It felt steady and firm under her fingers.

  “You look lovely,” he said while they walked towards the drawing room where their visitors were gathered.

  She raised her brows slightly. She did not know why he’d decided to compliment her, but she knew it could not be sincere. “Surely you are joking.”

  Roman frowned, looking surprised and hurt for a moment. But as soon as they entered the room, he assumed his cold, polite social expression and announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you Miss Courtney, future Princess Lipova.”

  A murmur went through the room as tense smiles and the small bows of her countrymen and countrywomen, as well as local St. Petersburg high society, were directed at her. Helen shrank internally as the attention of so many people washed over her.

  Roman led her through the room and introduced her one by one to the guests, who met her with curiosity and genuine warmth. And Roman seemed to be so amicable to her. Surely, it was just a social mask.

  Finally, Prince Pavel came into the room with a beautifully dressed woman in her forties by his side, followed by Princess Anna and a tall, elegant man with a balding head.

  “Ambassador Lord Fenwich and his wife,” Roman whispered as he leaned close to her ear, making the small hairs stand up on her neck.

  After short introductions and greetings, the procession moved into the dining hall in order of importance. Helen entered with Roman right after Prince Pavel paired with the ambassador’s wife and Princess Anna with Lord Fenwich. The rest of the guests followed them.

  The dining hall was grand and brightly lit, the walls in light, rosy marble. Paintings by French and German artists hung on the wall. The footmen began pulling out chairs, the prince’s household band began playing in the gallery, and the murmur of guests settling down in their places filled the room. Princess Anna sat at one end of the table with the ambassador’s wife on her right and Helen on her left, while Prince Pavel took the opposite end of the table with the ambassador and other men. Roman sat next Helen, among the women.

  The dinner started with hors d’oeuvres. Caviar, salt fish, cheese, and radishes served with small glasses of vodka, brandy, and very expensive rum were distributed by the footmen.

  “You must try the caviar with vodka,” Roman said to Helen as he served himself the black caviar and took a glass of transparent liquid.

  Helen followed his lead. She could not refuse the serving for the fear of offending her hosts, although the idea of eating fish eggs did not particularly appeal to her. But when she tried the caviar, she was surprised to find it tasted like a tender, fresh fish in butter, and the sip of freezing cold vodka—which she had never drunk before—burned her tongue and throat pleasantly and went surprisingly well with the caviar, highlighting and smoothing out its taste.

  “It is very good,” she said.

  Lady Fenwich smiled at her. “I understand your surprise, my dear. Before I first tried it, I was terrified. But now, we do not dine at home without caviar and vodka. You do warm up to the local habits, which may appear strange in the beginning, admittedly. What was your initial impression of Russia?”

  Even though Helen did not look at Roman, she was acutely aware of his presence by her side and his eyes on her as the question was asked.

  “Oh, I think it’s lovely. St. Petersburg is fresh and beautiful.”

  “Hmm. I suppose. You must miss your fiancé though, do you not? We are most anxious to come to your wedding. What an unusual notion, a wedding on Christmas Eve! How is Prince Alexander, anyway? I hear he is in Baden-Baden.”

  Helen held her breath. She had been prepared by Princess Anna about what to say, but she hated pretending and lying.

  Roman came to her rescue. “Indeed. Baden-Baden. He writes he is recovering and will be home in time for the wedding.”

  Helen physically stopped herself from pursing her lips. She was grateful to Roman for his help because she would have blurted that Alex was still in Italy.

  “Ah, how wonderful. You know, the word is out that he is not ill at all. But I do not believe that. I believe you, of course. What a scandal it would be if he did not return in time for the wedding.”

  She laughed, then sipped more vodka. Helen thought she heard Roman grind his teeth.

  “You know,” Lady Fenwich said narrowing her eyes at both Helen and Roman. “It is a pity you are engaged to Alexander. You two make a beautiful couple.”

 

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