“I agree.” Again Alix marveled at how different Nicholas was from Eddy. She broke off a small corner of bread and buttered it, trying to keep from staring. “When did you serve in the army?”
“I was in the Preobrazhensky Regiment for a few years. Under Sergei’s command,” Nicholas added, naming Ella’s husband.
“And you saw active combat?”
“I saw enough to make me dislike it.” He shook his head. “Forgive me, we should speak of happier things. How long will you be staying with us?”
“Six weeks.” Suddenly Alix wished it were longer.
“Well, I hope you find Russia as captivating in winter as you did in summer.”
Alix glanced out the window. It was snowing again, great flakes swirling behind the glass pane in a gentle dance. “It’s beautiful.”
“Yes, it is,” Nicholas agreed, though his eyes were on her.
CHAPTER NINE
May
MAY NODDED, PRETENDING TO LISTENas her mother and the Duchess of Abercorn debated the merits of French versus British ladies’ maids (so far the verdict was British, though French superiority in hairstyling had been much discussed). She dared a quick glance at Prince Eddy, tracking his slow progress through the ballroom. Soon enough he would be near the buffet table and the entrance to the front hall, and then she could make her move.
Thank god she was finally out in public again—and at Prince Eddy’s investiture, no less. Today he’d been formally granted the titles Duke of Clarence and of Avondale, and now most of London was crammed into the ballroom at Marlborough House, celebrating.
May had hardly seen Eddy since that strange night at the opera a few months ago. When Alix had stumbled out of the box, May had followed, worried that Alix might chase after Prince Eddy and change her mind. But the German princess had just collapsed onto a bench and cried. These weren’t ordinary tears, May had seen at once. They were something far more sinister, something—what was that word that people used now?—psychological.
For a moment May had stood there, watching Alix heave great lungfuls of air. Perhaps she should go comfort her? But what if May said the wrong thing, as she was wont to do, and somehow made it all worse? What if Alix was embarrassed and preferred her solitude?
When she heard footsteps coming from the opposite direction, May quickly retreated to the royal box.
Eddy had reappeared half an hour later, and May knew at once that something had gone wrong. The prince had seemed hurt by Alix’s rejection, far more than May had anticipated.
But surely he was ready to move on. He hadn’t seen Alix in the months since the opera; she’d been in Darmstadt, and then visiting her older sister in Russia, while the Waleses had spent the shooting season at Balmoral. Only May had been stuck here in London—and even if Eddyhadbeen in town, she couldn’t have seen him, because her grandmother haddied.
The Duchess of Cambridge had been the sort of stern, uncompromising woman who insisted on being laced into stays and starched petticoats even after a stroke left her half paralyzed. “Thisis her?” the duchess had demanded the last time May visited, then turned to May’s mother with a plaintive “Mary Adelaide. Really.”
May knew better than to complain about her grandmother’s brusque dismissal. The duchess was the only person who occasionally took pity on the Tecks and helped stem the tide of their colossal debt; no one dared speak a word against her intheir household.
As etiquette demanded, May and her parents had spent the last ten weeks in mourning, and were only now reemerginginto society. May was just glad to have left the house, though her joy had dimmed a little when she entered the ballroom and was met by a sea of fashionable new gowns. She’d gone to such pains selecting her dress for tonight, a rose-colored silk with full sleeves, but it was from last Season, and now seemed pitiful.
“Mama. Why don’t we visit the buffet?” she suggested once the Duchess of Abercorn had left them.
“Of course.” Mary Adelaide’s eyes drifted eagerly toward the table, which was laden with sweetmeats—sugar-dusted tarts, biscuits, candied chestnuts—as well as an enormous bowl of champagne that a footman ladled into crystal flutes.
When they were close enough, May stepped near Eddy with a deft maneuver, then pretended she’d only just noticedhim.
“Oh! Your Royal Highness!” She sank into a reverential curtsy, knowing that the gesture would gratify any of the family members who happened to glance over—Eddy’s mother, or especially the queen. They might be family, but it was never wise to skip over the formalities.
The various courtiers or aristocratic young men who had been hovering near Eddy retreated. Thankfully, even May’s mother was perceptive enough to step away. From the corner of her eye, May saw her heaping candied walnuts onto one of the filigreed gold plates from the sideboard.
“Congratulations!” she exclaimed. “I so enjoyed the investiture today.”
He didn’t seem to have heard her. “It was all a bit tedious, wasn’t it? Ceremonies always are.”
“Yes,” May hurried to agree, though really, Eddy shouldhave known that the tedium was thepoint.How else would mere mortals know that their royal counterparts were elevated so far above them?
“How have you been? I haven’t seen you in months,” she added, then regretted the remark; it sounded needy.
“Has it been that long?” Eddy’s careless question made it clear just how little time he’d spent thinking about her.
