Read Online The Romanov Bride by Robert Alexander - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Robert Alexander
Tags: Fiction, Literary, General, Suspense, prose_history, Historical, History, Europe, Kings and rulers, Russia & the Former Soviet Union, Russia (Federation), Succession
Ads: Link
either as tall as a tree or as big as a bear, on occasion both. Sergei was among the former. His posture was always impeccable, if not unnaturally stiff, and he was toying then, as he so often did, with a jeweled ring on his little finger. And that night as he studied me with his small, intense eyes, he wore a brilliant blue uniform jacket with gold-thread epaulets and numerous diamond-studded medals.
I stopped before him for inspection, and stood as beautifully as I could. How could he possibly find fault with me?
“Open your cloak, my child,” he commanded as he screwed up his eyes and studied me with great intensity.
I did just that, pulling aside the sable and exposing my pale-yellow dress and sparkling diamonds.
Finally, he all but grumbled, “Fine.”
The Grand Duke then turned to the children and suddenly smiled, stretching out his arms. His obvious joy at seeing them did nothing but hurt my heart.
“Why, my children, don’t you look ever so beautiful tonight! ” exclaimed Sergei. “Come here, come into my arms and give your new Papa-yes, I’m your Papa now!-a great big kiss!”
I just stood there, my face stern, my anguish hidden, reluctantly watching as my husband scooped these children up into his eager arms. Yes, I had always wanted children of my own-I had wanted them almost as much as I still wanted the intimate affection of this man whom I had once so tenderly loved and looked up to.
Suddenly a footman rushed forward, placing a fur cape over the Grand Duke’s shoulders, and we were off. With great pomp, two uniformed guards threw open the Palace doors, and we four royals stepped into the cold, snowy night, followed immediately by my Starshiye Freilini and my husband’s aide-de-camp. As we approached the large, old-fashioned carriage-a remarkably heavy brougham, its carbide lamps now blazing brightly-the Grand Duke’s driver, Coachman Rudinkin, silently bowed his head and tipped his stubby top hat. A footman hurried ahead of us all, opened the carriage door, and the Grand Duke and I and our young charges climbed in, settling on the silk cushions. Once our attendants were settled in a lesser carriage behind us, the whips began to crack and we went dashing across the inner territories of the mighty Kremlin, soon to pass through its gates.
Chapter 14 PAVEL
By the time I reached the end of the Upper Trading Row, the snow, which had promised to be heavy, had faded to a handful of flakes. Crossing onto the vast Red Square I could see no carriages or sleighs, merely a handful of peasants wandering this way and that, as they did round the clock. I imagined that I looked just like them, a lonely man, his purpose unknown and certainly not of interest, merely in a rush to cross the rather desolate space.
As I passed the corner of the tall redbrick History Museum, I eyed someone emerging from the shadows. They said half of the city’s street janitors were spies for the police, and at first I couldn’t tell who this person was. I pressed on, pretending not to have noticed him, thinking only that we were so close, so very close, to seeing our dreams fulfilled. All I had to do was deliver this bomb, which I cradled as dearly as if it were my unborn child. And then, of course, my next duty would be my greatest.
Suddenly the man behind me, the one who had blossomed out of the shadows, hurried alongside me. When he was right by my side, I glanced over and saw the familiar face of Kalyayev, our poet. I smiled, he grinned back, and in a single gentle movement I passed the bomb from my arms to his. It only took a second. No one could have noticed. And, with the goods delivered, I crossed the cobbles and melted into the white shadows of the snowy Aleksandrovski Gardens. Meanwhile, Kalyayev pressed farther on, disappearing into the gardens as well.
I felt such elation. Such happiness. We were assured success now, weren’t we? All I had to do was spy the carriage, cross onto the street, and if I saw the Grand
I stopped before him for inspection, and stood as beautifully as I could. How could he possibly find fault with me?
“Open your cloak, my child,” he commanded as he screwed up his eyes and studied me with great intensity.
I did just that, pulling aside the sable and exposing my pale-yellow dress and sparkling diamonds.
Finally, he all but grumbled, “Fine.”
The Grand Duke then turned to the children and suddenly smiled, stretching out his arms. His obvious joy at seeing them did nothing but hurt my heart.
“Why, my children, don’t you look ever so beautiful tonight! ” exclaimed Sergei. “Come here, come into my arms and give your new Papa-yes, I’m your Papa now!-a great big kiss!”
I just stood there, my face stern, my anguish hidden, reluctantly watching as my husband scooped these children up into his eager arms. Yes, I had always wanted children of my own-I had wanted them almost as much as I still wanted the intimate affection of this man whom I had once so tenderly loved and looked up to.
Suddenly a footman rushed forward, placing a fur cape over the Grand Duke’s shoulders, and we were off. With great pomp, two uniformed guards threw open the Palace doors, and we four royals stepped into the cold, snowy night, followed immediately by my Starshiye Freilini and my husband’s aide-de-camp. As we approached the large, old-fashioned carriage-a remarkably heavy brougham, its carbide lamps now blazing brightly-the Grand Duke’s driver, Coachman Rudinkin, silently bowed his head and tipped his stubby top hat. A footman hurried ahead of us all, opened the carriage door, and the Grand Duke and I and our young charges climbed in, settling on the silk cushions. Once our attendants were settled in a lesser carriage behind us, the whips began to crack and we went dashing across the inner territories of the mighty Kremlin, soon to pass through its gates.
Chapter 14 PAVEL
By the time I reached the end of the Upper Trading Row, the snow, which had promised to be heavy, had faded to a handful of flakes. Crossing onto the vast Red Square I could see no carriages or sleighs, merely a handful of peasants wandering this way and that, as they did round the clock. I imagined that I looked just like them, a lonely man, his purpose unknown and certainly not of interest, merely in a rush to cross the rather desolate space.
As I passed the corner of the tall redbrick History Museum, I eyed someone emerging from the shadows. They said half of the city’s street janitors were spies for the police, and at first I couldn’t tell who this person was. I pressed on, pretending not to have noticed him, thinking only that we were so close, so very close, to seeing our dreams fulfilled. All I had to do was deliver this bomb, which I cradled as dearly as if it were my unborn child. And then, of course, my next duty would be my greatest.
Suddenly the man behind me, the one who had blossomed out of the shadows, hurried alongside me. When he was right by my side, I glanced over and saw the familiar face of Kalyayev, our poet. I smiled, he grinned back, and in a single gentle movement I passed the bomb from my arms to his. It only took a second. No one could have noticed. And, with the goods delivered, I crossed the cobbles and melted into the white shadows of the snowy Aleksandrovski Gardens. Meanwhile, Kalyayev pressed farther on, disappearing into the gardens as well.
I felt such elation. Such happiness. We were assured success now, weren’t we? All I had to do was spy the carriage, cross onto the street, and if I saw the Grand
Similar Books
