fell. Immediately it became impassive. Had Nicholas not been so attuned to the child, or such a keen observer, he might not have noticed her disappointment. The kitten remained in her arms.
"And please, put the cat back where it belongs," Taichili said, arms folded beneath her narrow chest.
"Perhaps you should do as Madame Taichili says," Nicholas suggested. "You can play with Alexander after your lessons."
"Yes, Father." They both watched Katya exit the room, hugging the Persian kitten to her chest.
Nicholas faced the dark-haired governess. "She is more despondent than usual?"
"I do not think so," Taichili said. "Katya is a serious child, and there is no harm in that."
"Has she spoken at all about her mother?"
"No. She has not referred to the princess even once."
Nicholas hesitated. "Allow her a special dessert tonight. Tell the cook to make her favorite."
"You will spoil her by coddling her. Excellency."
Nicholas said tersely, "That is my right," and he left the room.
He strode downstairs to the second floor, grim. Katya's governess had no sensitivity because any fool could see that Katya was more remote and self-contained than usual since her mother had almost died.
His wife's door was closed. Nicholas did not bother to knock. He crossed the sitting room, ignoring two maids who blanched, and strode into the bedroom. It was brightly lit, a fire blazing m the hearth. He wasn't sure what he expected, but Marie-Elena was sitting up in the four-poster bed, leaning against several huge pillows, clad in an exquisite dressing gown of beige lace. She was extraordinarily pale herself, huge circles beneath her eyes. A tray of food.
most of it uneaten, was on the table beside the bed. A flute of champagne was also on the tray, half full. Someone had sent her dozens of roses and they were everywhere, on the bedside table, on the bureau, and the windowsill—cloying and annoying. Vorontsky remained in Russia, or so Nicholas thought, so clearly they were from another lover.
"Hello, Niki," Marie-Elena said, her tone low and weak. "Join me for some champagne?"
His fists were clenched. He had done his best to block out the events of that morning all day. "I am glad that you have survived your ordeal," he said tersely. "But it is too early for champagne."
She was regarding him searchingly. "Please, do not be angry at me, Niki. I am so weak. But I am so glad to be alive." Tears spilled down her cheeks. She was the only woman he had ever seen who remained beautiful while crying.
' 'Perhaps you should not be drinking champagne if you are so ill," he said flatly.
She smiled tremulously at him. "You seem very angry. Niki, I was dying. I did not know what I was saying!" She tried to sit up straighter and failed. Because he was not heartless, he went to her and placed several pillows behind her back and helped her to sit more fully upright. "Thank you," she whispered, reaching for his hand. But he shifted so she could not touch him.
He folded his arms across his chest. ' 'The roses. Are they from Sasha?"
Her eyes widened. She was already pale, but the last vestiges of color seemed to drain from her face.
"Well?" he demanded unpleasantly.
"They are from an admirer—an anonymous admirer," she said huskily. "The card is over there."
He walked to the bureau and flipped over the small white parchment card, which read, "To a True Beauty, Your Devoted Servant." He tossed it aside and faced her. Very, very softly, he said, "You have gone too far."
"I don't know what you are talking about!" she cried.
He came forward and towered over her and the b^d. "When you are well, you shall be escorted to Tver, under an armed guard, where you shall stay—indefinitely.'*
Her eyes widened. Her nostrils flared. "You cannot imprison me against my will!"
"As I have said, you have gone too far. And Katya remains here with me," he added.
"It's not true!"
"What is not true, Marie-Elena?"
She stared back at him, her breasts heaving. "What you
"And please, put the cat back where it belongs," Taichili said, arms folded beneath her narrow chest.
"Perhaps you should do as Madame Taichili says," Nicholas suggested. "You can play with Alexander after your lessons."
"Yes, Father." They both watched Katya exit the room, hugging the Persian kitten to her chest.
Nicholas faced the dark-haired governess. "She is more despondent than usual?"
"I do not think so," Taichili said. "Katya is a serious child, and there is no harm in that."
"Has she spoken at all about her mother?"
"No. She has not referred to the princess even once."
Nicholas hesitated. "Allow her a special dessert tonight. Tell the cook to make her favorite."
"You will spoil her by coddling her. Excellency."
Nicholas said tersely, "That is my right," and he left the room.
He strode downstairs to the second floor, grim. Katya's governess had no sensitivity because any fool could see that Katya was more remote and self-contained than usual since her mother had almost died.
His wife's door was closed. Nicholas did not bother to knock. He crossed the sitting room, ignoring two maids who blanched, and strode into the bedroom. It was brightly lit, a fire blazing m the hearth. He wasn't sure what he expected, but Marie-Elena was sitting up in the four-poster bed, leaning against several huge pillows, clad in an exquisite dressing gown of beige lace. She was extraordinarily pale herself, huge circles beneath her eyes. A tray of food.
most of it uneaten, was on the table beside the bed. A flute of champagne was also on the tray, half full. Someone had sent her dozens of roses and they were everywhere, on the bedside table, on the bureau, and the windowsill—cloying and annoying. Vorontsky remained in Russia, or so Nicholas thought, so clearly they were from another lover.
"Hello, Niki," Marie-Elena said, her tone low and weak. "Join me for some champagne?"
His fists were clenched. He had done his best to block out the events of that morning all day. "I am glad that you have survived your ordeal," he said tersely. "But it is too early for champagne."
She was regarding him searchingly. "Please, do not be angry at me, Niki. I am so weak. But I am so glad to be alive." Tears spilled down her cheeks. She was the only woman he had ever seen who remained beautiful while crying.
' 'Perhaps you should not be drinking champagne if you are so ill," he said flatly.
She smiled tremulously at him. "You seem very angry. Niki, I was dying. I did not know what I was saying!" She tried to sit up straighter and failed. Because he was not heartless, he went to her and placed several pillows behind her back and helped her to sit more fully upright. "Thank you," she whispered, reaching for his hand. But he shifted so she could not touch him.
He folded his arms across his chest. ' 'The roses. Are they from Sasha?"
Her eyes widened. She was already pale, but the last vestiges of color seemed to drain from her face.
"Well?" he demanded unpleasantly.
"They are from an admirer—an anonymous admirer," she said huskily. "The card is over there."
He walked to the bureau and flipped over the small white parchment card, which read, "To a True Beauty, Your Devoted Servant." He tossed it aside and faced her. Very, very softly, he said, "You have gone too far."
"I don't know what you are talking about!" she cried.
He came forward and towered over her and the b^d. "When you are well, you shall be escorted to Tver, under an armed guard, where you shall stay—indefinitely.'*
Her eyes widened. Her nostrils flared. "You cannot imprison me against my will!"
"As I have said, you have gone too far. And Katya remains here with me," he added.
"It's not true!"
"What is not true, Marie-Elena?"
She stared back at him, her breasts heaving. "What you
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