“I don’t know if she ever found a way to get rid of it. Only to get through it.”
The German princess said nothing in reply. She just stared down at her gloved hands, pensive.
“Shall I walk you back to the royal box?” Hélène offered.
“No!”Alix cried out, then lowered her voice. “No, I just want to leave.”
“Fair enough. I can’t stand the final act ofLa Traviata,either.” Hélène attempted to sound lighthearted. “Why is it that all operas end with the woman’s death? I don’t mind tragedy, but it’s never themanwho dies in these stories. Probably because they were all written by men,” she added ruefully.
For a moment it seemed like Alix might smile at that. Then she seemed to recall where she was, and sighed.
“I’m waiting for my brother Ernie to return from the gentlemen’s lounge. He’ll escort me to Buckingham Palace.”
“I can find him for you. Just…wait here.”
“Thank you.” In the dim light of the hall sconces, Alix’s eyes had turned a deep, mercurial shade of violet.
Hélène hurried down the hallway toward the gentlemen’s lounge. There was no placard on the door, nothing to distinguish this room from a broom closet, except for the fact that everyone in this building knew precisely what it was.
She lingered outside for a few minutes, foot tapping asshe waited for a man to emerge. From within she could hear the low roar of voices, the tantalizingly indistinct sounds of clinking glassware and raucous laughter.
Eventually her impatience got the better of her, and she threw open the door.
It was exactly as she’d always imagined. Men in jackets and cravats reclined in armchairs or bent over card tables, gambling. On the walls hung portraits of even more men, who looked eerily similar to the ones they frowned down upon, save the occasional addition of a hunting dog. At a bar in the corner, a white-haired man poured amber liquid into a pair of tumblers. The entire scene was cast in the glow of bronze lamps, a haze of cigar smoke hanging over it all.
Hélène’s heart leapt. This was nothing like the ladies’ lounge, where everyone perched on settees with their backs ramrod-straight and spoke in low voices. Here, the room crackled with laughter and lewd jokes and thrilling male energy. This room felt alive; it felt…fun.
“Miss!” A portly, red-faced man near the door gasped in horror. “The ladies’ lounge is at the other end of the hall. This room is reserved for gentlemen only.”
He stepped forward, using his massive bulk to herd her toward the door as if she were an unruly farm animal, but Hélène dug in her heels. “I’m not lost. I’m looking for Prince Ernest of Hesse!” She called out the name, craning her neck as she searched for Ernie in the crowds. More gentlemen turned toward the door, curious as to what had caused this unprecedented and highly inappropriate female intrusion.
“Miss, you really cannot be inside,” the attendant protested. He clearly longed to drag Hélène outside by the wrists,yet manners forbade him from touching a lady without her express permission—a fact that Hélène would use to her advantage. She deftly sidestepped the man and raised her voice.
“Prince Ernest, are you in here? Your sister is looking foryou!”
“Hélène?” called out an all-too-familiar voice.
Obediently, the men in the room parted to reveal Prince Eddy.
“Your Royal Highness.” Hélène inclined her head but didn’t bother curtsying, though technically, since they were in Eddy’s country, she should have. He smirked, seeming amused by her breach of protocol.
A young man next to Eddy stepped forward, and Hélène blinked, noticing him for the first time. He had the same blond hair and pale blue eyes as Alix.
“Prince Ernest of Hesse, at your service,” he said quickly. “You said that Alicky sent you here? Is she all right?”
Hélène heard the nickname for his sister, the concern and affection in his voice, and immediately warmed to him. “She’s not feeling well, and wants you to escort her home.”Not feeling wellhardly did justice to the vortex of panic gripping Alix, but Ernie’s eyes flashed in understanding. He’d obviously seen this happen to his sister before.
“Thank you.” He nodded to Eddy and left.
Hélène stole one last glance around the forbidden male sanctum of the gentlemen’s lounge, since she would never get another look. Then she turned back into the empty hall, her skirts snapping around her ankles.
“Hélène! Wait!” Prince Eddy trotted to catch up. Hélène tried to quicken her steps but nearly tripped on her hurt ankle.
“Careful,” Eddy exclaimed, grabbing her elbow to steady her. Hélène sucked in a breath, and he let go.
“I’m sorry. Can we talk?”
“I don’t know what we possibly have to talk about.” She felt prickly and defensive; somehow, she couldn’t shake the sense that their meeting in the woods had put her at a disadvantage.
