She looked disappointed. She leaned closer, whispering so Princess Alix could not hear. “With my mother’s faerie sight, I can see glimpses of the future,” she said. “And I see you and my brother embracing. I thought tonight he would tell you to get rid of that black-hearted prince Danilo and run away with him instead.”
If only he had. If only I could have told him yes. But I had made it quite clear to the grand duke that I was committed to the crown prince. He would not ask me again. It was not safe to have such fantasies about the grand duke. Not for him or for me.
I shook my head.
“Is that what this was all about?” Princess Alix asked, looking shocked. Her hearing was extraordinarily acute. “You were walking in the woods with the grand duke?”
“I went for a walk for the fresh air. The grand duke must have decided he needed fresh air as well, for he came upon me after I slipped on the wet embankment. He behaved like a perfect gentleman.”
“Who behaved like a perfect gentleman?” my fiancé asked, entering the drawing room. I glanced at the grand duchess and princess, silently pleading with them not to say anything about the grand duke. “I do hope you are speaking about me.” He took my gloved hand and pressed it to his lips. I squirmed with revulsion.
“Of course, Danilo.” I slipped my hand out of his grasp. “Do we have time for one last dance?”
“They are about to begin the cotillion. That is why I came looking for you. Did you enjoy your card game?”
“Yes, very much,” the grand duchess Xenia said, stepping on Princess Alix’s foot before she could say anything. George’s sister looked at me reproachfully with her huge dark eyes. But she would help me keep my secret.
“Then we shall have the princess and the grand duchess over every night to play cards with you when we are married.” Which of course was not true, since the heir of Montenegro and his bride would have to reside in his home country. I would probably never see the princess or the grand duchess ever again. Danilo placed my arm in his with a possessive smile. “This way, my love.”
I knew Grand Duchess Xenia was shocked, and probably more than a little peeved that I would choose the crown prince over her brother. If only she knew that I preferred to keep the grand duke alive and safe, she would understand. Perhaps one day the grand duke would understand as well.
That was the last large ball before Lent. There would be no more dances or operas or ballets for the season, and in a way I was relieved. I hated parading around on the crown prince’s arm. Especially when I saw the way it disturbed the grand duke. How I wished it were his hand on my waist.
CHAPTER FORTY
The Lenten fast was upon us, which meant no meat during the week. Our days and nights were quiet, spent reading or doing needlework. Maman even gave up her tarot cards for forty days and forty nights. Princess Alix and her father and brother returned to Wulfgarten. The Montenegrins left for Cetinje, with Prince Danilo promising to return before Easter.
“It is only for a little while, my love,” he said. “You must write me every day.” I did no such thing, and I burned all the letters he sent me.
With my royal wedding back on, our trip to Biarritz was, of course, postponed. Maman now made plans for us to journey to Cetinje in the summer. She was eager to meet the King and Queen of Montenegro.
Once a week I went with Maman to the hospital to visit with the sick and to the Oldenburg Infant Asylum to bring food and clothing to the orphans.
Papa was still busy with the planning of his institute of experimental medicine. He had been corresponding with several leading scientists across Europe for their suggestions. The building of the institute had already begun. Papa hoped it would be completed within two years. In the meantime, he was collecting a massive medical library, which he kept in his own library at Betskoi House. I’d heard no word from either Paris or Zurich, but it was just as well, I told myself. A crown princess could not become a doctor. I continued to study the medical journals and textbooks, soaking in the knowledge, all the same.
On a cold and dismal day in March, we were visiting the hospital when Dr. Kruglevski received another patient with his throat ripped out. The smell of the blood was horrible.
Maman would have swooned and fallen to the floor if the head nurse had not caught her and settled her down onto an empty cot nearby. I fanned her while another nurse brought her a cup of tea.
The nurses gave Maman a cool wet rag for her forehead, and I went to see the body. “Do you think it was an animal?” one of the nurses was asking. She crossed herself and prayed for the poor man’s soul.
Dr. Kruglevski shook his head. “No man could do something this hideous,” he said. There was a hole in the victim’s neck bigger than my hand. The jugular had been shredded and mangled. The doctor pulled me back. “Don’t look, my dear. I wouldn’t want you to have nightmares.”
“But a doctor must be objective,” I said. “And truly, it doesn’t bother me much.” Not anymore, at least. I realized with shock that I sounded like a coldhearted monster myself. Perhaps that was what I’d been all along. Just another monster.
“Seeing men injured by war or disease is one thing,” Dr. Kruglevski said. “Cold-blooded, senseless violence like this disturbs even an old man like me, Duchess.” He patted me kindly on the shoulder. He pulled a silver flask out of his pocket and took a long drink.
The dead man’s hand was clenched shut with rigor mortis. I could see something shiny hidden in his fingers. I took a handkerchief and wiped away some of the blood and tried to pry his hand open. His fingers were cold and already a bluish gray.
“Duchess, what are you doing?” the doctor asked.
“He’s holding something. He must have struggled with his attacker.” I gently opened his fingers and pulled the shiny object out, holding it to the light. It was a button. From a military jacket.
“Mon Dieu.” The doctor frowned. He took the button from my hand and held it against the buttons on the man’s torn coat. It was a perfect match, yet none of the man’s buttons were missing. There was some sort of crest on the button. The shape of a Maltese cross.
I sighed sadly. Another Knight. “Do you know who the victim is?” I asked.
“No, but I am sure another member of the Order can make an identification.”
“Will you send for the commander?”
“Yes.” He asked the nurse to send a message to Vorontsov Palace requesting General Tcherevine’s presence for the identification of the body. He took another long drink from his silver flask. I’d never seen the doctor look so tired and old before. It appeared as if he hadn’t slept in days.
“Is there anything I can do for you, Doctor?” I asked. “Can I get you a cup of tea? Or something to eat?”
He shook his head and smiled. “I thank you, but no. And I hope you are getting a good glimpse at the unglamorous side of being a physician. It is not all glory and praise for medical breakthroughs.”
“Of course. This is where the real heroism is seen,” I said quietly. I laid a hand on the doctor’s shoulder before leaving him to check on my mother.
I sat with her until General Tcherevine arrived with several of his officers. Petya was with him. “Mother?” he said, rushing to her side.
“She’s fine,” I told him. “We were here when they brought the young man in, and she swooned. She should be feeling well enough to ride home soon.”
“When will this nightmare end?” Maman asked, starting to grow hysterical again. I gave her my handkerchief.
Petya and I both followed the general to the exam room, where the dead soldier lay. I heard my brother draw in a sharp breath. I turned and grabbed his arm, squeezing his hand. “Who is it?” I whispered.