I’m shaking. “No, you didn’t, Georgie!”
“Yes, I did. You get to make amends or at least start. Then we both will pray for him to live, for Lydia’s sake and ours.”
A breeze filters the honeyed fragrance of frankincense and chamomile to my nose. Then I remember that scent surrounding me in the gardens of the Winter Palace.
A first kiss—Jahleel’s arms became tight about me, supporting me as if I could float away. His hazel eyes filled with mischief and more. His mouth formed words of love, some French, others English and Russian. He whispered compliments and debated his heart out loud. In two days, he’d already confessed his love. I couldn’t understand it all, but everything felt perfect. We had a future. Or so I thought.
“Can I be that woman again, the woman Jahleel loves?”
“Do you want to be? Katherine, you’ve made no secret in hating him. But you two have to reconcile or we will never reconcile with Lydia.”
“My baby? Did you see her?”
“No. She’s upstairs with the duke.” Georgina looks down. “Get out of the carriage. Come, let’s go see him.”
“Jahleel has to be alright. How else can I make things up to him? I’m ready to yield.”
The breeze makes the yellow floppy petals of the flowers swing. They wave me into Anya House. “Mama sent a sign. I can do this. I’ll be strong like Papa. I’ll make you both proud again.”
“Katherine? Katherine. You’re scaring me.” She clutches my fingers. “Easy now. We can do this. Leave the dray.”
I give the dray’s reins to a groom.
She draws me closer. “All will be well. Remember how many scares Mama had, but she always pulled through. She lived—”
“Lived into her forties. Jahleel is now in his late thirties. That’s five more good years. He should’ve told me. He should’ve given me the choice.”
“Katherine?” For a moment, she puts her hand to her mouth. “I’m just going to say this: You’re not mad at him for being ill. You’ve been mad at the duke because he didn’t tell you he was ill. Which is it?”
I can’t look at my sister. Instead, I barge forward, barreling past the pungent chrysanthemums and the memories, and walk into the long, gilded hall.
Gold trim plasters every wall. Emerald-green malachite marble columns buttress the doors to the drawing room where balls and the duke’s science meetings take place. My heart beats fast. “Did Jahleel use up his energy overseeing all these designs? He loves marble. I’ll bet the marker he put on our son’s tomb is Carrera marble. That’s the most expensive.”
“Tomb? Your son’s … oh … his son, too. The grave, next to our parents’ plots.”
My face feels wet. “Andrew’s grave. His name is now Andrew, after Jahleel’s father.”
I turn to the grand stairs. “Jahleel should be well and down those steps. Remember how he makes a grand entrance? A new cane. Playing with Lydia on the top step.”
Wiping tears from my eyes, I shout, “I’m ready! Ready to be done with all the fighting! I surrender!”
My voice echoes. Servants stop in their duties and stare.
Georgie grabs my arm and drags me into the first room. It’s a parlor, one of the seldom used rooms in Anya House.
Sconces by the mantel are dimly lit. They illuminate two portraits. One resembles a family portrait of the Charleses—Jahleel’s parents, his baby sister Anya, and a young Jahleel. The other picture is the one that Princess Elizaveta brought to Ground Street. “It’s hung now. Anya and Lydia look so similar. How did he not know, the moment he entered our house?”
Georgie grips my arms with the tightness of ropes. “Katherine, I’m the one who panics and runs.”
“Where do you think you learned to do this, but from your older sister? I’ve had to be responsible. I had to figure everything out when inside, I wanted to run.” I put my face in my hands. “The first time I’m truly free, I ruin everything by falling in love with a handsome stranger in St. Petersburg.”
“Katherine, calm down.”
“I hate myself. I hate how I feel. Believe me, Georgie. I want the duke well and know I must become the woman he remembers, the woman he loves.”
She spins me toward the mantel, the place befitting where a coffin would be placed for mourners to say goodbye. “Katherine, your face is pale, like you are about to faint. Talk to me. Or hold on to me and let me bear the strain. Tell me the truth. All of it. What did he do that made you flee from him and hide his child?”
“It’s my fault, Georgie. If I could turn back time to when the most handsome man in the world rescued me and made me feel like a queen, this time I’d say …” I glance at her through watery eyes. “No. It’s not going to end well for us. Better to part as friends.”
