But Alex swung the dagger, and the pearls fell on the floor. Roman sank to his knees to grab them when Alex’s boot stomped on them.
Once. Twice. Three times.
The crunching of the pearls exploded like cannonballs in Roman’s ears. Under Alex’s boot lay sparkling, sand-like crumbles and dust, the color ranging from whitish-pink to dark gray to the shiny green of a bottle fly.
With the pearls gone, all hope of standing out amongst Kitty’s admirers was crushed, as well.
Roman launched at his brother’s knees. Alex fell, banging his head loudly on the parquet floor. Roman grabbed the dagger and put it at his brother’s throat.
A girl shrieked. Roman and Alex turned their heads in the direction of the doors, where thirteen-year-old Helen Courtney stood.
Her hands were covering her cheeks, her brown eyes wide in horror.
“Roman, stop!” she cried. “Do not kill him, please!”
Roman stood up, blood pulsing, heart beating like a fist against his ribcage. Like all three Herbert sisters, Helen was in love with Alex, though he’d probably never noticed girl.
With broad strides, Roman walked towards the doors where she stood. He stopped next to her and said, “Listen to my advice, little girl. Take this dagger and cut out your heart. Because no one will ever love an invisible little mouse like you. Especially not him.”
He shoved the dagger into her hand and walked away.
Chapter 1
St. Petersburg
24th November, 1813
The horse-drawn sledge pulled up in front of Lipov Palace, and Helen breathed out a sigh of wonder and relief, her breath steaming in the frigid air.
Tired, disheveled, bone-cold, and wet, she was here.
Her new home.
With Alex.
Her pulse quickened at the thought that she would see her future husband in a few short minutes. The long, cold journey had been worth it.
Pulling the sides of her hooded cape closed over her chest, she gazed up at the mountain of snowed-in stairs leading into the palace. The building was so grand, it was difficult to imagine that the Winter Palace, the residence of Emperor Alexander I, was even bigger.
The palace had three floors, and soaring columns decorated the facade. Tall windows lined the first two floors, the windows on the third floor were smaller. On the roof above the entrance, stood eight white statues, reminding her of a snow-covered Greek Pantheon. Under the statues, on the facade wall, a golden icon glimmered in the sunlight.
This would probably never be her house, since she was marrying the youngest son. Not that she cared about such things when she was about to marry the man she loved.
While the footmen were dealing with her luggage, Helen glanced at her maid, Jane, for support. But it looked as if Jane needed it more than she, goggling at everything with big eyes and an open mouth. The maid Helen had shared with Lilly had remained in England. Jane was the only maid Helen’s aunt could find who was not afraid to move to Russia.
Not until now, at least.
Helen smiled at her. “Jane, be a dear and watch that our luggage gets settled, would you please?”
“Yes, Miss.”
“Thank you.”
Deep breath in, deep breath out. She was going to see her future husband. The man of her dreams.
With her heart fluttering like the wings of a butterfly, Helen lifted her skirts and began climbing. When she reached the upper stairs, the door flew open.
Compared to the blinding light of the day outside, the entryway was dark.
“Madame, please come in. You are expected,” said the butler in French, the commonly spoken language of the nobility in the Russian Empire. He peered at her from behind the opened door.
Helen entered the large foyer with curving double staircases. The space was as big as the ballroom in Bath. Two statues stood between the stairways, and Helen immediately recognized Alex and Roman.
Alex looked handsome, his hair slightly disheveled, as though he had just come back from a wild horse ride or a hunt. The anticipation of seeing him, of finally having his attention all on her, bubbled up in her stomach. She could finally make him see her not as a child but as a woman. Maybe she would have a chance at happiness with him now that Lilly had backed out of their betrothal.
And next to him, Roman… A shiver ran through her. She hoped she would not see him anytime soon considering their last encounter eleven years ago. Never would be even better.
The butler was just taking her coat when the doors to the left opened and Roman and Alex’s father, Prince Pavel Lipov, came in. He was in his fifties, his hair still thick but almost completely white along with his side-whiskers. Helen had always liked him—he was a kind and well-educated man, a perfect diplomat, always able to make a conversation flow easily. Behind him was his wife, Princess Anna Lipova. She was still lovely, with soft, beautiful features, and dark, graying hair.
Prince Pavel opened his hands and smiled broadly.
“Helen!” he exclaimed, and Helen beamed back.
“Bonjour,” she said.
Pavel walked to her and squeezed her hands. “No French in my house! English only. I miss London so dearly. Finally, my dream to have an English daughter-in-law will come true. Speaking English to my grandchildren. Capital! I cannot imagine anything more delightful.”
Helen’s cheeks began warming up at that.
Princess Anna came to Helen and smiled warmly at her. “Hello, Helen, dear. Welcome,” she said. While Prince Pavel had almost no Russian accent, Princess Anna had always had a strong one. And now, after they’d spent the last eleven years in Russia, it had deepened. They’d had to leave London in 1802 due to the increasingly difficult relationships between the Russian and British Empires that led to war in 1807. Last year, the peace treaty had been signed and both countries had united against Napoleon, making the wedding possible.
“Thank you,” Helen said.
She removed her jacket and the thick shawl the butler took it.
Prince Pavel gestured towards the doors they had just come through. “Come to the drawing room, Helen. Let us have tea.”
“Oh no. You must excuse my appearance after the journey.” Helen drew her hand across her hair.
“Nonsense.” Prince Pavel gently took her by the hand, and she had no choice but to follow him. “It is only us, family. Here is Roman.”
Helen jerked back her hand instinctively, stopping dead at the entrance to the drawing room.
It must be gorgeous, with its pale yellow and taupe walls, exquisite furnishings, and portraits by the best French and German artists. But Helen could swear the room grew darker when she saw him.
Roman stood by the fireplace, one hand on the mantel, the other in the pocket of his breeches. He was even more striking, handsome, and intimidating than she remembered him—tall and broad-shouldered, hair so dark it was almost black in a rather long, wild hairstyle with short sideburns. His blue eyes held her in their power as memories came rushing back: the dagger at Alex’s neck; those wild blue eyes so raw and furious and pained that it hurt to look at him; the smooth feel of the dagger handle in her hand, still warm from the heat of Roman’s palm.
“Cut out your heart…no one will ever love an invisible little mouse like you…especially not him…”
And he was right.
No.
She could not let him ruin her new start in life, in a new country, with a new family. A family that might truly come to love her, to accept her as their own.
A family with Alex.
She had to be civil with her future brother-in-law. She took a deep breath and pressed out a smile. Roman gave a short, polite bow. “Helen,” he said. “You grew.”
His eyes traveled up and down her body, and her neck and chest began burning. But when his eyes met with hers, they said that she was still a little mouse.
“Good day, Roman,” she said, hoping that her eyes told him she would like to see him set on fire.
Prin
cess Anna gently cleared her throat. “Please, dear, take a seat. I’ll ring for tea.”
Helen walked over and sat on the elegant French-style sofa. Her frozen limbs were finally beginning to thaw.
When tea had been brought and Helen held the most delightfully hot cup in her hands, the aroma of a black Ceylon tea with milk steaming into her face, Prince Pavel said, “How are my friends, the Herberts? Did you leave them in good health?”
A delicate topic. She knew he really wanted to ask how she felt about taking Lilly’s place and marrying Alex. “Oh, everyone is in good health, thank you. Lilly is happily married. She is Duchess Abercrombie now. The wedding was beautiful.”
Prince Pavel and Princess Anna nodded enthusiastically, but there was tension in their smiles. Roman’s frown deepened. She shifted slightly, uncomfortable. Were they offended that Lilly preferred to get pregnant rather than marry their son? Were the Lipovs, in truth, unhappy that she has been sent as a substitute for the daughter-in-law they had wanted from the beginning? The thought stabbed her, and she was used to the pain. Ever since her parents had died, she had been familiar with the feeling of being unwanted. She only hoped it would be different here because Prince Pavel and Princess Anna had always been kind to her.
Helen cleared her throat to relieve the painful tension. “She sends her deepest regards.”
“Thank you, dear,” Prince Pavel said. “You must have been surprised when your aunt asked if you would consider marrying Alex in Lilly’s stead.”
Helen smiled. “Well, naturally, I was. But I think it works out for the best. We have known each other almost our whole lives.”
During her childhood, Alex and Roman had visited the Herberts every summer and stayed for several weeks. Alex had been fun and a little wild, putting frogs in Lilly’s dollhouse and reciting naughty poems that made the governess to shriek in horror. All of the girls had loved him, though. He’d even paid attention to Helen, sometimes asking for her help with a prank or in French and arithmetic.
But Roman—he had always been so distant, so perfect. He’d read or gone hunting with the men and had often been invited to have tea with the adults because they’d wanted to know how things were in Russia.
She glanced at Roman’s stern face. What did he hide behind those cold eyes?
She shook her head, returning her attention to her hosts, and continued. “Lilly is happy. I just hope Alex’s heart is not broken.”
Prince Pavel’s face fell. Princess Anna looked at her hands. Roman’s expression became a mask of ice. This was too strange, discussing Alex’s feelings with everyone in his family except for him.
“Forgive me for my straightforwardness, but will Alexander be joining us soon?”
Prince Pavel laughed nervously and looked around the room. Roman was watching him with reproach.
“Papa, Helen needs to know.”
Helen looked to Prince Pavel, her stomach dropping. “Is anything the matter?”
Prince Pavel exchanged a look with his wife.
“Papa, Helen will find out, and the sooner she knows the better.”
“Roman, don’t,” Prince Pavel said.
“You’ve come all this way for nothing, Helen,” Roman said almost angrily. “Alex is not here.”
Helen’s feet turned to ice. The shattering illusion, the crumbling hope was crushed her. “Where is he?” she asked, voice strangled.
Roman opened his mouth, but Prince Pavel interjected. “We do not know, Helen. We do know that he is well, that he is alive, but we do not know his exact location. We are looking for him.”
The floor shifted under Helen’s feet. “What does it mean? Why did he go?”
“You know Alex. He loves adventure. He needed to have one last caper. Not to worry, darling, he is thrilled to be marrying you,” Prince Pavel reassured her.
Helen was not sure that was true, given that her groom had run away.
“Where are you looking, then?” she asked.
“Southern Europe. Italy or Greece.”
“Oh,” Helen clutched her the fabric of her dress over her stomach.
“We will find him before your wedding, my dear,” Prince Pavel said. “We are very close to locating him.”
“But only a month is left…”
“And he will be here, I assure you,” Prince Pavel said. “In the meanwhile, to get you acquainted with your new life in Russia, Roman will show you the city and introduce you to the high society of St. Petersburg.”
As Prince Pavel’s words echoed in Helen’s mind, she looked at Roman, all distant and cold. He met her gaze, and there was nothing in eyes besides boredom and disgust.
Deep in her gut, she dreaded spending time in his company. What if Alex would never be found? She would be sent back to the aunt who did not want her at all. She might need to get used to the idea of a future as an unwanted spinster. Somewhere in one of her trunks was the dagger Roman had handed her all those years ago, and she might still use it to carve her heart out after all.
Chapter 2
25th November, 1813
The troika flew through the park, the grounds white and fluffy after the snow that had fallen earlier that morning. The sight was pleasing—the trees, the benches, the statues white.
And yet it was not the park that Roman thought beautiful. It was the woman sitting in his sleigh, gazing upon everything with wide, shining eyes.
Helen.
“Are you enjoying the ride?” Roman asked.
She turned her bright eyes on him, and for the first time that morning there was no anger in their depths. Just wonder.
“Oh, Prince Roman, I’ve never seen anything like it!” she said, the words steaming out of her mouth.
Snow blasted from under the horses’ hooves, the sleigh’s runners cutting through the whiteness like butter.
Yesterday, after learning the news about Alex, Helen had appeared exhausted and had retired to rest from her long journey. She’d excused herself from dinner, claiming a headache.
But when Roman had seen her this morning, fresh and rested and properly dressed, he could not stop looking.
Much like now.
“How did you expect St. Petersburg to be?” he asked.
Helen squinted and looked somewhere far off, a thoughtful expression on her face.
She was lovely.
Why had he not seen this before? He had not noticed her, of course, because she had been a child when he’d last seen her. Now it was clear that Helen was no mousy little girl anymore. She had bloomed into a young woman.
Her brown hair, which used to be dull, had gained volume and shone. She had a lovely figure—beautiful round shoulders, the full curves of her breasts over the bodice of her dress making dark desires stir deep inside of him. Her eyes were a deep, warm brown, framed by long, thick eyelashes. Her cheeks were rosy, and her lips looked soft and delicious.
“I heard about the snow,” she said. “And, of course, we have snow in winter in England. But not as much as here. Not like this.”
She met his eyes again. She looked like a snow princess in the black sable-fur hat and coat his mother had given her to welcome her to the family.
Perhaps, Roman reflected, it was not even the change in her appearance at all. Maybe it was the way she held herself, sweet and curious and lively. Like a little candlelight in the darkness.
When their family had visited the Herberts, Helen had always been in the background. The three Herbert sisters had occupied all attention. Especially Alex’s. Roman, too, had always felt left in the background.
Perhaps that was something they had in common.
“I do hope you like Russia,” Roman said. “Having been in England, I can understand that certain things might seem strange to you.”
“No, no,” she said. “I am ready. I look forward to my life here.”
Then her face fell and she turned away. Because if Alex did not return by Christmas Eve, their wedding day, she would go back to England, Roman realized. She
might even get scared and return before that, so it was Roman’s mission to entertain her and distract her from potential humiliation. If he failed, there would be no hope of avoiding the scandal brought on by Alex’s actions.
But despite his duty, he couldn’t help pointing out, “You would be far from your family and friends, from those who love you.”
“Certainly, you noticed that my aunt and uncle, despite being very kind, were only too happy for me to go. Although I shall be forever grateful that they took me in and raised me, I have always felt like a burden. I’d like to repay that debt. That is why I took Lilly’s place, to honor the commitment between our two families.”
Roman clenched his jaws. An honorable young woman engaged to a dishonorable man. If only she knew…
They had arrived at the end of the Field of Mars Park now, and Foma, the coachman, slowed their speed and turned left. He followed a short street towards the Neva River, three-story buildings in the latest Italian fashion to their left and right. At the end of the street, they turned again, riding on the Upper Embankment now. To their left, the Marble Palace towered. The walls of the ground floor were light-brown granite, and the second and third floors were pale-pink and blue marble. A single balcony in the middle had golden railings. Further down the street would be the Winter Palace where the emperor lived.
Across the river was the Peter and Paul Fortress with its brown walls. Like a golden spindle in the middle of it, shooting into the sky, was the spire of Saints Peter and Paul Cathedral. It was, no doubt, the tallest building in the whole empire. Inside the cathedral were the tombs of all Russian emperors.
Vasilyevsky Island was further to the left, with its new white academic buildings that looked like small versions of the palaces. Two red Rostral Columns, which had been erected just three years ago, stood on the bank to serve as lighthouses.
Helen gasped a little, her eyes wide. “This is breathtaking,” she said. “The river is so broad…and it is frozen! Like a giant, white field. And the architecture…the whole composition is simply magnificent.”
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