Mother is gone when we arrive. A note tells me she is in meetings with Count Lestocq all afternoon. I breathe a deep sigh of relief at her absence. The maids bring up a few bowls of hot water, and my ladies help me strip down and wash before lacing me into one of my new gowns.
“How is she creating them so quickly?” I ask, not really expecting an answer.
“The empress has an army of women down in the sewing rooms working on them,” Elizavetta says curtly. “By the end of the week, you’ll have a closet full of new gowns.”
“The empress is very kind,” I say gently.
Rina agrees. “That she is. And she’s quite fond of you.”
“Of my family,” I correct her.
“Oh, I don’t think it’s just that,” she says. “And Lord Peter certainly seems smitten.”
Elizavetta snorts, and I frown.
“Men can be quite fickle in their attentions. And quite cruel to delicate hearts,” I say, looking her in the eye. “You understand my position here, don’t you?”
Elizavetta raises her chin boldly, her words like knives. “I understand that if you are unfit to wed Peter, another must be chosen.”
I nod slowly. “And you must also realize that Peter will marry to secure an alliance, either with Prussia or Austria. Even now, there is a Saxon princess on her way to the palace to vie for his hand. Which of us wins will be determined by the empress and which country she chooses to make a treaty with. But either way, it will be one of us.”
I say the words as gently as I can, but sternly enough so she realizes she’s not a second option, but a distant third at best.
“You must understand, my lady.” Rina steps forward as Elizavetta backs away, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. “Since we were children, our parents have been bringing us to court. As soon as Peter was made heir, they began grooming Elizavetta as a potential bride for him. She’s been told that she was high in his esteem. Last night at the ball, when he lavished such attention on her, she thought…”
I nod. “You thought he would go against his empress, choosing to marry for love and not politics.” I hold out my hand to Elizavetta and she takes it hesitantly, her already-round face puffy and red with emotion. “It is the dream of all women to marry a man we are deeply in love with, who is deeply in love with us. But we must also be practical.” Even as the words escape my mouth, I hear Alexander’s voice in my head.
Love is never practical.
I brush the thought aside. “Sometimes, we must learn to open our hearts and grow to love someone we think we might not be able to. It’s the lot of women, especially noble women. We are little more than property, bargaining chips, or chains that hold alliances together. That is the price we pay for our comfort, riches, and titles.”
She snatches her hand away. “But you will get both. You will get to marry a man you love, who loves you in return. What makes you so special?”
Her words are like a slap in the face. I stand and she takes a small step back, as if she thinks I might strike her.
“I assure you that if I marry Peter, I will love him because I will be his wife and that will be my duty. Not because of some silly, childish sentiment or romantic fantasies.”
She stares at me, her eyes wide.
“Then you do not love him at all.” She challenges. I’m not sure how to respond so I wave her off.
“Go down and tell the seamstress I’ve ordered you to get a new gown. Tell her you need it urgently, at my request.”
She curtsies and bolts from the room, leaving Rina and me alone. I slump down in my chair.
“I didn’t mean to be cruel,” I say softly, as Rina begins to brush my hair.
“I know, my lady. And Elizavetta will come to understand. She’s a silly girl, always imagining herself madly in love with someone or other. Once it was a stable boy named Benjamin. Father nearly had a stroke when he found out.”
“I can imagine.”
“The worst part was that the poor boy had no idea. He genuinely thought she had taken up an interest in horses.”
I laugh.
“I will try not to be too hard on her. It’s not her fault after all; Peter is a terrible flirt.”
At that, my guard enters the room. “My lady, General Salkov to see you.”
Sergei steps into the room. Though he’s only a few years older than I am, he carries himself like a true man, tall and confident. There’s a hint of stubble along his jaw still, and he bows deeply, offering me a warm smile that makes his eyes crinkle in the corners. His arms are full of books and papers.
“Princess, I thought we might continue your lessons today.”
“Of course,” I say, nodding to Rina. She takes her cue, wandering to the far corner of the room with a bit of embroidery while Sergei and I sit.
We go over a few basic greetings, he reads a few passages from Paradise Lost, and then I repeat them. He corrects me, and we repeat them again until I’ve got the pronunciation correct. When we finish, he snaps the book closed with one hand, turning his body so he is facing me, though we are sitting very close.
“It’s nice to see you, Sergei,” I say honestly. He’s one of the few people in the palace I feel like I can really trust. Even my own mother seems to be keeping something from me, not a fact, just a feeling I get when I see her scurry in and out of the chambers. But something about Sergei puts me completely at ease, as if I could tell him anything, and he would still be on my side.
Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but Sergei is more than a friend. He’s my ally.
“And you, Princess. I hear you’ve had an eventful morning.”
I nod. “I had a ride, and then breakfast with Peter. It was quite a surprise.” I bow my head just a bit. “And he gave me this lovely gift.”
Sergei smiles. “Good. I assume Count Lestocq told you about our expected guest from the south?”
I nod again. “He did.”
“Sophie, there are a few things we need to discuss. First, before you can marry Peter, there are a few matters you must attend to.”
“Like what?”
“Foremost, you will need to convert to the Orthodox Church.”
I feel a wave of nausea wash over me. My father is a devout Lutheran. My whole family is, myself included. It was the only thing he asked of me when he agreed to allow me to travel here, that I keep his faith. To convert would be like turning my back on him. I lower my head into my hands.
“Is there no other way?”
He reaches his hand out and places it on the back of my neck. His touch is firm but gentle, his hands soft but strong. Even though he’s very warm, the places where he touches me are chilled.
“They aren’t such different faiths. Fundamentally the same actually. I will have Bishop Todorskey come speak to you. He confesses the empress herself. Perhaps he can ease your worries.”
I look up at him. His green eyes are deep with concern.
“My father will never speak to me again if I do this.”
“And you know what will happen if you refuse.”
I close my eyes, forcing myself to breathe in and out calmly. The reminder is unnecessary. I know well the cost of my failure. My family’s name, their very existence, is at stake, and it weighs on my shoulders every moment.
“What else?”
He sits back, releasing me.
“There is a matter of some delicacy in the next two things. The first is a test. The court physician must verify… your virtue.”
I feel my mouth drop open.
“Verify how?”
He flushes, looking down at his boots.
“It is a procedure that all potential royal wives must endure. You cannot come to the royal bed unless you are fully intact. I’d hoped to have your mother discuss this with you, but she seems quite occupied. It’s a simple thing, really.”
“It sounds awful.”
“Don’t be afraid, Sophie. You know I would never harm you or allow anyone else to harm you. You trust me in this, don’t you???
?
I stare at him for a minute. He had risked his life to ride out and protect me, late though he was, and he was here now, preparing me for the things that must be done.
“I do,” I say finally.
He breathes a sigh of relief. “Good. The final thing you will do, well, they are lessons of a sort. With Madame Groot.”
“What kind of lessons? Language?”
“No. Something of a more personal nature. The empress herself has demanded it. You see, she needs not just an heir for herself, but to secure the dynasty, she needs Peter to have an heir also, and as quickly as possible.”
I blink rapidly.
“I don’t understand.”
“There are ways… for a woman to…” He stops, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and middle finger. “Lord, how I wish I didn’t have to say these things—not to you. Madame Groot is going to tutor you in the wifely arts.”
At his words, I leap to my feet.
“What sickness is this? You would have me trained as a whore? Is Russian court so depraved? I will not consent. Not to this. How humiliating.”
He stands, taking my arms in his hands and stepping close.
Too close. Our bodies are nearly pressed together. I can feel his breath on my face and neck and it feels—good. Too good, I realize. I put a hand on his chest to steady myself, and I can feel his own heartbeat pick up speed under my fingers. My heart jumps as he whispers into my hair.
“Learning to please your husband is not depraved or sick. A man has needs. If you cannot meet them, he will tire of you quickly. I assure you, the lessons will be academic, not practical. Many young ladies have tutored with Madame Groot, and none have been shamed by it. But you are young, beautiful, and naïve to the wiles you possess, to the way even your subtle gestures and words affect the men around you. Your feminine nature will be one of your greatest weapons, but it must be honed, and you must be taught to wield it.”
I look up at him, our faces only inches apart. Why do all these Russian men have to be so devastatingly, frustratingly handsome?
“You speak of me as if I possess a sword, and swing it recklessly.” My voice cracks, unable to contain the tidal wave rolling in my belly.
“You are the sword,” he whispers, releasing me and stepping back. I nearly stumble, because my legs have gone weak. I have to turn away from him, wrapping my arms around myself to calm my shaking.
“Fine. See to it then,” I say, managing with great effort to hold my voice steady.
“And you will be attending the banquet tonight, I presume?”
I nod, my back still to him.
“Of course.”
“May I make a suggestion?”
I slide my hands down my bodice before turning back to him.
He hesitates, a flush rising to his cheeks. “Perhaps, you might consider the red gown this evening. The color flatters you greatly.”
“I will consider it. Thank you.”
He clicks his heels together and bows, leaving the room slowly, pausing once to glance back at me. As soon as he’s out the door, I relax and Rina hurries to my side.
“He’s right, you know, about Madame Groot,” she offers, pouring me a glass of wine and holding it out to me.
I raise an eyebrow, and she blushes. “She’s well known and very respected at court. Her husband was a great general and when he passed away, she took many lovers. Eventually, the wealthy and privileged began to seek out her counsel on everything from infertility to how to guarantee a child would be male.”
“It seems like everything here at court is managed in some way or another,” I say before taking a sip. “I dislike being managed.”
She smiles bashfully, her slender face flushing.
‘I assume you overheard everything?” I ask lightly. She blushes again and nods softly. “Good. I need someone who knows when to keep their ears open. So you know I have some competition arriving tomorrow. Princess Charlotte of Saxony. “
“And she seeks a marriage as well?”
“She does. And more than that, Chancellor Bestuzhev will be pressing for it. He is close to the empress, and she relies heavily on his counsel.” I sit and motion for her to do the same. “Of course, I have Sergei on my side, and that is a great advantage. But perhaps not quite enough.”
“Sergei has the empress’ ear, surely. They were lovers once, though now just friends.”
I feel my mouth fall open. I’d been unaware of their relationship. But looking at Sergei, I can certainly understand it. Though he is far younger than she is, he has a very rugged, manly cut about him. And he is infallibly charming. As I think upon him, an image of him appears in my mind. I push it away. He is my friend, yes, I am comfortable calling him such, and my advisor. I appreciate his counsel and his help. Beyond that, there can be nothing.
I continue, “My only chance is to make certain Peter is so enamored of me that he doesn’t even look in her direction. I think you can help me with that.”
She smiles warmly. “Of course, anything I can do.”
“Tonight, after the banquet, I am going for an evening stroll around the palace. It would do well if Peter were not too drunk to join me, so please have the kitchen staff water down his wine. Then tomorrow morning, have the maids set up an archery station in the meadow near the west wing just after sunrise, so that it will be visible from his window.”
“I can do that,” she agrees, just as the door swings open and Mother breezes into the room. She’s wearing a new gown—one of the ones the seamstress made for me—a golden brocade with yellow lace and black buttons that is so tight across her chest I’m surprised she hasn’t burst out of it. Her hair is tall, curled in rings, and powdered white, and she’s drawn a small beauty mark on her left cheek. Over all, she looks quite comical.
“Mother, what have you been up to this fine day?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light.
She pulls a lace fan from her sleeve and begins fanning herself quickly.
“I have been securing our family’s fortune. And what have you been doing?”
I straighten my back. “I took lessons with Sergei today, and we discussed a few other things as well. He is arranging for me to speak to a cardinal about conversion. Did you know that would be a requirement of marriage to Peter?” I know I shouldn’t ask, that it might upset her, but I can’t help the nagging feeling that she’s known quite a bit more about all this than she let on.
As I expect, she waves me off. “It’s all the same thing really. Nothing to prickle yourself over.”
“Father will be devastated,” I say gently.
She snaps, slapping the fan closed in her hand.
“That is precisely why your father was not invited to take this journey with us. He’s too stubborn for his own good.” She pauses, looking at me, and her tone softens, “Don’t worry. Once he sees how greatly this union will benefit him, he will have only good wishes to send your way. Why, the King of Prussia has already sent him a chest of gold and increased his lands two fold. Imagine the favors he will lavish upon your family once you are the Empress Consort of Russia!”
I try to smile, but it’s hollow. Of course, I want my father to be happy and have his lands and title secure; I only wish I didn’t have to sell my soul to Russia to do it.
Mother excuses herself to go have tea with the empress while Rina and I begin a game of chess. Soon, Elizavetta interrupts us.
She curtsies.
“My lady, I must apologize for my behavior before, and for the way I acted last night. I meant you no disrespect.”
Her face is still red and puffy, though it looks as if she’s tried to cover it with powder. I smile, patting the seat next to me.
“Of course I forgive you. Here, sit with me and watch as I thoroughly defeat Rina in this battle of wits.”
She takes her seat, relaxing into the chair beside me.
We finish our game, which I am almost certain Rina allows me to win, then the girls scuttle off to make the arrangements
I’ve asked for. Two maidservants arrive with the seamstress as she delivers my gown for the evening. They set it across my bed and leave just as my page announces my visitor.
“His Lordship Peter von Holstein-Gottorp,” the young man announces just before Peter strides into my chamber. He’s changed into a pale green suit and breeches with golden trim. His hair is combed back tightly into a small tail at the back of his neck.
He bows.
“Princess, I have come to give you the tour as promised.”