Good for Eddy,Alix thought, trying to hide her satisfaction.
“Of course, you cannot speak of this to anyone until it is announced,” her grandmother commanded. “And in the meantime, we must think of you. Now that Eddy is spoken for, we should consider other options. I was wondering if you had ever considered the Danish princes—Christian, or perhaps Carl?”
Alix must have blanched, because her grandmother smiled indulgently. “Denmarkisquite far. Which brings me to Maximilian of Baden, a good German prince only a few years older than you. Of course, he is not as handsome as one mighthope, but Vicky assures me that ever since he grew a beard, his nose does not seem so terribly oversized….”
If the prospect of more arranged courtships hadn’t terrified her, Alix might have been amused. Her grandmother was alarmingly shallow sometimes.
“I’m afraid I’m not ready to make such a choice,” she said hastily. “Why don’t we discuss it next summer?” She needed a stay of execution, at least until she knew how things stood with Nicholas.
Now, as she stepped into the gallery that ran the length of Marlborough House’s second floor, Alix was quite grateful that Eddy and Hélène had bought her some time.
Etiquette demanded that she speak to the Princess of Wales first, so she obediently turned to the hostess, who gave her usual, politely bland smile. “Alix, it’s such a treat to have you in town this long. You look lovely, as always.”
Alix nodded and made an appropriate reply, but her eyes had drifted eagerly past her aunt. Normally an at home was attended exclusively by women, but there were always exceptions, especially when the hostess had out-of-town guests.
Sure enough, there they all were: George and Eddy, along with their visiting cousins, Tino and Nicholas. Uncle Bertie and Uncle Alfred were there as well, clutching wineglasses and laughing uproariously. The haze of male energy made the space, filled with gilded chairs and sofas, feel smaller than normal.
Nicholas saw Alix at once, his eyes lighting up. He said something to the rest of the group and immediately made his way toward her.
“Aunt Alexandra, I am having the most wonderful time,” he murmured, inclining his head ever so slightly. Then heturned to Alix. “It’s such a beautiful day that I was thinking of strolling the grounds. Would you care to join me?”
She beamed at him, ignoring her aunt’s startled expression. Aunt Alexandra probably didn’t know that she and Eddy had broken off their so-called engagement, but it wasn’t Alix’s place to tell her. And there was nothing improper about a walk on the grounds of a private home.
“I would love that,” Alix told the tsarevich.
Outside, Nicholas led her onto a path alongside a row of clipped hedges. Sunshine glinted over the parterres filled with golden-brown chrysanthemums.
He cleared his throat. “I am so glad you came today, Alix. It feels like every day I don’t see you is a day lost.”
She knew exactly what Nicholas meant. They had been apart for less than forty-eight hours, since the dinner party two nights ago, but it had stretched on like an eternity.
Alix smiled. “I agree. Really, I owe Tino a debt of thanks, for going on a Continental tour before his wedding and giving you an excuse to visit.”
“That is actually what I wanted to discuss with you.” Nicholas let out a breath. “My parents have finally sent for me. I go back to Russia in two days.”
Alix stopped in her tracks. Then, recalling all the people who could surely see them from the gallery—who might be snooping through the mullioned windows that looked out over the back lawn—she forced herself to keep walking.
“I understand. They need you with them, of course.”
Hadn’t she known that this would happen eventually? Nicholas couldn’t keep pushing back his departure date the way she could. He had an empire to help run.
“I shall miss you,” Nicholas said urgently. “Surely you know by now how much you occupy my thoughts.”
They had come to stand near a thicket of beech trees, out of sight of the house. It was improper, perhaps, but Alix couldn’t bring herself to care.
Nicholas must have realized the same thing, because he fell to one knee, right there in the gravel path, and clasped her hand in both of his.
“Marry me, Alix.”
For a moment all she could do was stare at him. She had thought—had hoped—he might declare his affections for her, or ask if they could keep writing while he was gone. She certainly hadn’t anticipated aproposal.
Reading her silence as indecision, Nicholas fumbled to keep talking. “I’m sorry that I don’t have a ring; we can get one in Russia, if you like. I know this is a lot to consider. I am asking so much of you, hoping that you will move with me to Russia, say goodbye to England and to Darmstadt—”
“I love you.”
Alix had dreamed of saying those words to a man ever since she first read an Ann Radcliffe novel at age twelve, yet the declaration didn’t come out like she’d always thought. It wasn’t histrionic and passionate, the way a romantic heroine might say it. Instead the words seemed to float out of her, escaping her lips of their own accord.
Nicholas’s features flooded with relief. “I love you, too,” he said softly. “So is that a yes?”
