Realizing the implications of her statements, she quickly clarified her meaning. “No, of course not. It is just something that was said to me. That is all. I took it as a compliment and a show of support, nothing more.”
He roughly let go of her chin and removed himself from the bed. “Who said this to you?”
“Lord Cavanaugh,” she replied.
His head drew back. “Leopold?”
“Yes. He told me that his father and mine were good friends, but that the duke later pledged loyalty to your father, and that he remains ever loyal. I apologize, Randolph. I did not mean to suggest that he is a rebel, nor do I wish to incite conflict.”
He reached for his jacket and pulled it on. “I am pleased to hear that, at least.”
It was a glib reply. She doubted he believed her.
“Must you leave like this?” she asked as he strode to the door.
“My apologies, but it is very late. Good evening, Alex.”
With that, he bowed to her and walked out, and she collapsed onto the bed in frustration.
* * *
Randolph shut the door behind him and strode down the long red-carpeted corridor on a direct path to his brother’s bedchamber, but stopped along the way to utter a few oaths and pound a fist against the wall.
He had never imagined wearing the crown would be easy, but had not expected matters to become so bloody complicated so soon after his father’s death, thanks to a wife who could potentially undo everything he had worked so hard to achieve.
Leaning against the wall, Rand massaged his weary eyes with the heels of his hands and fought to maintain his calm. All along, since the first moment he met Alexandra, his instincts told him that she was destined to be his queen. And dammit, the white-hot desire he felt for her was overpowering. Pray God he had not made a mistake.
And what if Nicholas was right? Rand trusted his brother, perhaps more than he trusted his own mind, for he was inebriated with lust half the time, whenever he thought about bedding his new wife.
For that reason, he simply could not let down his guard. He must remain rational and practical.
Pushing away from the wall and continuing on his way, he headed to Nick’s chamber to inform him of Leopold’s private conversation with Alexandra, and to talk further about the future.
* * *
When the first light of dawn touched the paned windows of the queen’s chamber, Alex woke with a sick feeling in her stomach as she recalled the heated argument she’d had with Randolph the night before. Thoughts of it spun in her head like a hurricane, so she called for her first lady-in-waiting, who quickly came running.
After emptying the contents of her stomach into the washbasin in her dressing room, Alexandra wanted only to go and speak to her husband to resolve their disagreement as quickly as possible, but her first lady pleaded with her to remain in bed.
While Alex waited miserably for the palace physician to arrive, she wondered if this infirmity was some sort of punishment for her pride and lofty ambitions. Was it not enough that her husband had taken his brother’s side against hers and by now probably believed she wanted to rouse a civil war? Was it really necessary to turn her stomach into a torture chamber?
Imagine her surprise when the doctor smiled down at her and congratulated her on a job well done.
“It is my pleasure to inform you, Your Majesty,” he said, “that you are with child. Shall I be the one to inform the king, or would you prefer to deliver the happy news yourself?”
She sat up instantly with eyes wide, laughed with astonishment, then heaved forward and vomited again over the side of the bed.
Chapter Twenty-eight
The king was overjoyed, of course, at the news of his wife’s blessed condition, and that night he raised a glass in celebration at dinner.
It was a private affair for members of the royal family only, which included Alexandra, Rose, Nicholas, and Lucille, who arrived late and apologized for keeping everyone waiting.
Nicholas was as polite and warm to Alex as any brother-in-law could be, which did nothing to ease her mind, however, for she recognized a well-scripted performance when she saw one.
After dessert, the men remained at the table to discuss politics and smoke cigars while the ladies retired to the drawing room.
Rose sat down at the pianoforte and invited Alex to help her select a piece of music. While Alex flipped through the pages, Rose watched her intently.
“May I have your permission to speak plainly about something?”
Alex’s eyes lifted. “Of course.”
“I see you are having some trouble with Nicholas, but don’t judge him too harshly. He is protective. That is all.”
“But I love your brother,” Alex explained as she lowered the pages to her side. “Why would Nicholas wish to protect him from that?”
“Because he remembers what happened the last time Rand gave his heart to an ambitious woman. It did not end well, it took him forever to recover.”
Alex glanced over her shoulder at Lucille, who was shuffling a deck of cards, and lowered her voice. “You are referring to his former fiancée—the lady who jilted him?”
“Correct. Rand was devastated when he discovered her infidelity.”
“He loved her very much, then.”
“Yes, though I am afraid love has turned to hate where she is concerned.”
“He has not forgiven her?”
“No, and neither has Nicholas. Nor I, for that matter. We remember all too well how she pretended to be devoted, and how Randolph suffered at the loss of her.”
Alexandra handed Rose a piece of music. “Where is she now?”
“She is married to Earl Ainsley, the wretched rake who led her astray. They spend most of their time in the country, for they were both banished from court.” Rose set the music on the stand and laid her fingers on the keys. “I sometimes wonder if she regrets her actions. Her family assured Randolph that she could be persuaded to leave the earl and go through with the wedding, but he would have none of that. He couldn’t bear to think that a woman would marry him for the sake of duty. He loved her, and he wanted to be loved in return. Is that not what we all want?”
Rose seemed especially melancholy that night, and Alexandra suspected she was lamenting her dutiful engagement to the Austrian archduke.
The gentlemen arrived just as Rose began to play a sorrowful tune, and Alex turned expectantly to face them.
* * *
“I wish to propose a truce,” she said privately to Nicholas, who was pouring himself a drink from the brandy tray.
He faced her with curious interest.
“I believe we both have Randolph’s best interests at heart,” she continued. “I am carrying his child now, and I assure you, all I want is a happy home and a country that is at peace. I am in love with your brother and will never do anything to jeopardize our marriage.”
Nicholas swirled his drink around. “I don’t doubt your passion,” he said, “but what if you are a dangerous addiction?”
“Dangerous?” She frowned. “I think you are confusing me with the woman he almost married but was fortunate enough to have escaped. I understand it was an ugly situation and did not end well, but I promise nothing like that will ever happen to him again.”
Nicholas said nothing for a moment. “We shall see.”
“‘We shall see’? That is the best you can do?”
He smirked gallingly as he backed away to join Randolph and Lucille at the card table.
“What will it take, then?” Alex demanded to know, stepping forward and loathing the fact that she had to prove herself to this man who thought so little of her.
“Just time,” he replied. “That is all. Now if you will excuse me…”
Alexandra watched him join Randolph for a game of whist, then wrestled with her umbrage as she went to sit with Rose at the piano.
Chapter Twenty-nine
October 2, 1814
Dressed in a newly made go
wn of crimson silk trimmed with gold lace, which she wore beneath the green velvet Imperial Robe of State, Alexandra took hold of her husband’s hand and stepped out of the coronation coach to a chorus of cheers from thousands of Petersbourg citizens, who had lined the streets along the procession route from the palace to the Abbey of St. Peter.
She and Randolph paused briefly to wave at the people and allow the Master and Mistress of Robes a moment to arrange their heavy velvet trains, trimmed in ermine and woven with national symbols.
When at last they proceeded up the steps to the massive front gate and entered the ancient Gothic abbey, Alexandra glanced up at the high cathedral ceiling, listened to the angelic voices of the choir that led them up the wide center aisle, and could scarcely believe all of this was happening.
Not only had she succeeded in winning the hand of the Prince of Petersbourg; she was now to be crowned queen consort, would pledge her oath to the people, and in her womb she carried an heir, quite possibly the future king.
They reached the altar and climbed the steps to the two ancient medieval thrones that stood side by side, where they sat and listened to another hymn. Next, the Great Lord Chamberlain of Arms, robed in navy and wearing the heraldic coronet of the Royal Guard, called for the archbishop to come forward and begin the ceremony.
Randolph took the sacred coronation oath and solemnly swore to govern the people of Petersbourg and uphold the sacred laws of the church. A communion ceremony followed, and he was then crowned and presented with the Royal Bible and the Sceptre of the Imperial State.
He stood for the removal of the state robe, which was replaced by the blue velvet Robe Royal, with a mantle of white fur.
The archbishops and peers of the country pledged their loyalty to him; then Alexandra was crowned as queen consort in a shorter, simpler ceremony. She, too, was presented with a Bible. She then stood for the removal of her state robe, which was replaced by the queen’s Robe Royal.
While the congregation stood and the choir sang another hymn, she was overcome by an emotion so powerful, it caused her flesh to tingle and her eyes to fill with tears. It was followed by an overwhelming sense of pride and a deeply profound joy that took her breath away.
In that moment, Randolph turned his head and looked at her. They stared at each other as the hymn rose to a crescendo and the congregation sat down.
The ceremony was all but complete, except for one last ancient ritual.
The doors to the abbey swung wide open, and a knight in armor upon an enormous black warhorse with a purple plume at his forelock rode into the basilica. The horse’s giant hooves clopped noisily upon the gray stone floor and echoed up into the rafters, then quieted as the knight urged his steed onto the red carpet and trotted up the center aisle.
The horse reared up before Alexandra and Randolph, and the knight lifted the visor of his helmet.
Her heart raced with exhilaration as she beheld her brother-in-law, Prince Nicholas, who had been given the traditional honor of being King’s Champion at the coronation.
He drew his sword and looked Alexandra straight in the eye as he shouted, “Let it be known throughout this land—within and beyond its borders—that our Lord Sovereign shall be protected by this Champion! Any enemy who dares challenge his rule must raise a sword against me, as divine Lord of the Royal Guard!”
He held the sword upright before his helmet and eased his mount into a courtly bow. The warhorse dipped down on one knee, lowered his plumed head, then rose again and reared up on his hind legs, clawing at the air in a fine display of courage and valor.
Nicholas shut his visor and wheeled the beast around to gallop back down the aisle and out of the abbey. He was not yet gone before the congregation erupted into a chorus of cheers and applause.
Again Alexandra turned to look at her husband. This time he did not meet her gaze. He was smiling and watching his brother.
* * *
“Why must you go?” Alexandra asked. “It is too soon. The coronation was only a week ago.”
Randolph slipped naked into bed beside her and laid a hand on her belly. “All the allied sovereigns will be there,” he replied. “I cannot possibly remain at home.”
“Then why can’t I go with you?”
“Because you are with child,” he gently explained with more charm than she cared to observe in that moment, for when he spoke to her like that he had the power to sway and appease her, make her agree to anything. “Quite possibly carrying the future monarch,” he continued. “We must take great care with your health, darling.”
She narrowed her eyes flirtatiously and set out to challenge him in every possible way. “We could take great care of me in Vienna. Or perhaps I could take great care of you.”
He leaned over to kiss her. “I will miss you terribly while I am away.”
She laid her open palms flat on his chest and pushed him back. “You will write to me?”
“Yes,” he replied with a chuckle. “Each night before bed, when I am longing for you like a schoolboy. And I promise to have a dreadful time,” he added. “I will enjoy myself not in the least.”
She rose up, flipped him onto his back, pinned his wrists to the mattress, and straddled him. “I am sorry to hear it, sir, because I intend to enjoy myself quite tremendously while you are gone. I will host a dozen parties in your honor and create a new holiday. I will call it…” She swiveled her hips alluringly. “Randolph’s Rising.”
He grinned and thrust his pelvis upward, nearly bucking her onto the floor.
“Relax, Your Majesty,” she said. “You are not trapped here. I only wish to pleasure you.”
She slid up the length of his manhood and dipped her naked breasts low. He lifted his head to taste her, but she playfully drew back, just out of reach.
In short order, his muscular brawn won the day and he rose up and flipped her over again. Suddenly she found herself on her back, sinking into the feather mattress beneath the glorious weight of his virility.
“It is our last night together for at least a month,” he said, “possibly longer, so you must permit me to pleasure you this evening.” He gazed down at her with tenderness. “And also promise me … there will be no tearful good-byes.”
His mouth covered hers in an intimate kiss, and she melted into the warmth of his body.
Later he used his mouth to bring her to climax, and she reciprocated with an equal measure of generosity.
Finally, exhausted and well-satisfied, they slept for an hour or two, then woke again to fill their cups for the coming drought when he would leave Petersbourg to attend the Congress of Vienna.
If she were not already with child, it was very likely they would have conceived at least three more that night.
When she woke in the morning, however, Randolph was gone, and she was strangely thankful for her husband’s quiet decree: There will be no tearful good-byes …
She was therefore left only with the memory of his final kiss before dawn, and the rapture to which she would cling in the coming weeks while he was gone.
When her dresser arrived to draw the curtains and welcome in the new day, Alexandra rose from bed to look out at a heavy downpour of rain outside her window, ran her hands slowly over her belly, and said a silent prayer for her husband’s safe journey overland and his swift return to her side—with their hearts still entwined and their passions still burning as hot as the sun.
PART IV
Enemies and Allies
Chapter Thirty
To Her Majesty the Queen
Petersbourg Palace
October 20, 1814
My dearest Alexandra,
Nicholas and I arrived in the capital three days ago and are privileged to be occupying suites in the Imperial Court Chancellery of Emperor Francis’s palace, Hofburg. The King of Prussia is also here in a separate section of the palace called the Schweizerhof, where the King of Denmark is housed.
The four of us shared a fine bottle of brandy last night while overl
ooking the Danube, and enjoyed a heated debate about what will happen to all the artistic masterpieces—the sculptures, jewels, and paintings—that were pilfered by Napoléon during the war and packed into the Louvre. Naturally the French don’t wish to part with anything, but I am convinced that by the end of this important congress much of it will be returned to its rightful owners.
I wish you could join me here and see the city proper. Everywhere I look, I see white domes and towers and, below that, a spirit of victory and celebration has overtaken the streets. There are elaborate banquets at the palace each night, and the emperor has appointed an official Festivals Committee to keep us all entertained with operas and balls and other such frivolities.
All that is incidental, however, to my true purpose here, for I believe this will be the greatest peacemaking venture in world history, and I feel privileged to be among those who will decide upon the future of Europe. Maps are already being redrawn, and a new balance of power is being decided upon. I shall do my best to keep you informed of our progress here, but my schedule is full, so forgive me if I do not write every day.
Devotedly yours,
Randolph
* * *
My love,
I was elated to receive your letter and devoured every word. Please write as often as you are able and tell me of the operas and balls, and be sure to include the sort of thought-provoking gossip that will keep my ladies-in-waiting adequately entertained, for they seem quite fed up most of the time since you and Nicholas departed. There are so few social events for which to prepare, and you know how they enjoy their gowns and jewels and all those frivolous evenings that last until dawn. They have made no secret of the fact that they long for nothing more than a dull banquet with dry beef, but it seems every person of any stature worth entertaining has left our great city for Vienna.
But that is enough talk of gossip and balls. I am eager to hear of the work you are doing, as I believe you will accomplish great things. Before you left, you mentioned the possible abolition of the slave trade in France. I do hope you will persist in that most noble of objectives. And please continue to keep me abreast of what is happening with the French border, and let me know if Russia will be allowed to keep quite so much of Poland. I long to hear every detail, but of course I understand that much of what is happening must be kept confidential until treaties are signed and the new balance of power is established.
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