The Romanov Bride Read Online Free PDF Page B

becoming too distant not simply from society but from events in general.
    Oh, poor, poor Alicky, I thought, glancing out the window at the snowy courtyards of the Kremlin. For ages the entire Empire had been waiting and praying for a miracle, which was finally delivered upon us this past year: Alicky had given birth to a beautiful boy, Aleksei.
    And yet…
    I shook my head with grief. Yes, Russia had her heir to the 300-year-old House of Romanov, and, yes, the treasured boy was a wonderful, handsome child. But I knew the horrible truth, I knew what only a small handful did, that the dear, sweet baby was a bleeder. Only three or four of us in the immediate family knew this sad story, while to the rest of the Ruling House, the Empire, and the entire world, this fact was guarded as nothing less than a state secret. And so my poor sister suffered alone and in silence, forever fearful that her precious baby, her Alyosha, would befall the same fate as our own brother Frittie: he would simply bump himself and bleed to death. In the past year poor Alicky had aged ten.
    Hopeful that my husband might know more, I wiped my eyes and rose from my desk. Stopping in front of a mirror, I checked myself, for Sergei expected nothing less than perfection from me. I primped at my fair hair, pinched at my cheeks, and made sure that the pale-pink satin dress I wore-which was decorated with a delicate pattern of acacia and was of my own design-was flattering. Although I had a weakness for jewels, Sergei was even more fond of them, and he was forever showering me with precious gifts. He often informed me which jewels he wanted to see on a specific day, and today he had told me to wear the large freshwater pearl earrings and long pearl necklace, all so perfectly matched in color and size. Yes, they were beautiful, I thought, straightening them. Then, as confidently as I could, I headed out, making my way toward the large front staircase and down to Sergei’s office on the ground level.
    My husband was loath to be interrupted during his workday, but nevertheless the large, uniformed guard opened the double door for me. Entering Sergei’s cabinet, I found him in undress uniform at his large walnut desk, which was covered with photographs in Fabergé frames, jeweled mementos, and other bric-a -brac. After a moment or two of my standing there, he raised his head.
    “What is it, my child?” he said in his slow Sankt Peterburg drawl.
    Sergei was tall and thin, with both his light beard and hair cropped short, and while he was pleasing in appearance, he was forever hesitant to smile. Though he had received much criticism for his stern rule of Moscow, I could honestly say none worked harder, which was why he was clearly annoyed by my presence during his working hours.
    “I’ve just received a letter from Alix,” I said. “Apparently there’s a group that plans to march upon the Winter Palace.”
    “Yes, I’m aware of this. I’ve been receiving steady reports for the last week.”
    “Oh…” I replied, surprised, though I shouldn’t have been that Sergei had not mentioned it. “Well… is there danger? Is there anything to worry about?”
    Sergei reached for a pen and bottle of ink. “I’ve been informed this morning that this band of dissolutes means the Emperor harm.”
    “Dear Lord…”
    It had been over 20 years since Sergei’s father-and Nicky’s grandfather-was assassinated by revolutionaries, who’d thrown a bomb at the royal carriage and blown off the Emperor ’s legs. Ever since the entire Ruling House had been living in the shadow of that nightmare, forever fearful that it would happen again. For this reason, Sergei had practically dedicated his life to ridding the Empire of ungratefuls, which was why, sadly, his tenure as Governor-General had begun with the expulsion of the Jews from Moscow. Though I hadn’t been privy to great information at the time, I’d since heard that altogether some 20,000 souls had been herded out