Prince of Dreams (Stokehurst #2)(106)

Two months later, Emma sat in bed and cuddled her infant daughter, while Nikolas sat beside her. With the tip of her forefinger, Emma brushed back the tiny fluff of red hair on the baby's head. The crescents of her red lashes fanned the pink curves of her cheeks. “What shall we call her?” she asked. “Somehow not one of the names I considered seems appropriate.”

“I have one to suggest.” Nikolas's hand settled on the blankets, covering the shape of Emma's knee. “I'd like to call her Mary, after your mother.”

Emma was silent for a moment, bending her head over the baby. When she looked back at Nikolas, her eyes glittered with tears of happiness. “Yes, I would like that. Her name will be Mary Nikolaievna Angelovsky. God knows she'll never learn to spell it.”

They were interrupted by a gentle tap on the bedroom door. “Yes?” Nikolas asked, turning to regard the maid who had appeared in the doorway.

“Your Highness, a parcel was delivered for you not five minutes ago. Mr. Stanislaus said it was from Sir Almay. Shall I leave it in the library, sir?”

Emma watched as a peculiar blankness came over her husband's face.

“No,” he said. “Bring it here.”

“What is it?” Emma asked when the maid had left. “Who is Sir Almay?”

Nikolas seemed not to hear, but after a few moments he replied distantly. “The historian I hired to research the Angelovsky records in Russia.”

“Oh.” Her gaze traveled from his expressionless face to the restless clenching of his fingers in the bedclothes. Then she understood. “You asked him to find out about Emelia.”

“I had to.”

“Yes, of course.” Emma reached for his hand, stroking the taut backs of his fingers. She could only guess what this meant to him. That time was still so real to him, affecting him in countless small ways; he would certainly grieve if he discovered that harm had come to Emelia Vasilievna. “Nikki, whatever happened to her…it wasn't your fault. You know that, don't you?”

Nikolas didn't answer, staring at the door as if he half-expected a ghost to appear. The maid returned with the parcel, coming forward to hand it to Nikolas. At Emma's gesture, the maid took the baby and carried her to the nursery for a nap.

Slowly Nikolas slid the strings from the parcel and parted the layers of brown paper. Emma leaned forward in eager curiosity. The package contained a folded letter, two or three volumes with Cyrillic characters on the covers, and another object Emma didn't have a chance to see. Nikolas reached for it and turned his back to her, staring at whatever it was he held. Silently he rose and walked to the window. She saw him lift a hand to his face, whether to blot sweat or tears she couldn't tell.

Emma picked up the letter and saw that it was written in English.

To His Highness Prince Nikolas Dmitriyevich Angelovsky:

Having completed the research you requested, I would like to thank you for the experience of traveling to Russia. The accommodations were superb, and I found the translator, Mr. Sigeyov, most effective. Should you have questions regarding the materials I have sent, I would be happy to meet with you and provide further details. Most of the information regarding the fate of Emelia Vasilievna was contained in personal correspondence written by her son, Prince Alexei Nikolaievich Angelovsky. The letters were in the possession of your oldest sister, Katya, a charming woman who gave them to me along with her affectionate wishes for your well-being. There was also a mention of Emelia's residence in her latter years, a small Moscovian estate which Empress Elizabeth reputedly visited in the company of Alexei—”

“What happened to her?” Nikolas asked hoarsely, still facing the window.

Emma scanned the letter rapidly, jumping forward a page or two. “Emelia left the convent seven years after you…after Nikolai died,” she said. “Angelovsky relatives kept her and the child with them in St. Petersburg for a brief time. They were harassed by city officials and agents of the Imperial government, until Emelia virtually disappeared with her son for the next ten years. It's possible they lived in her former home of Preobrazhenskoe—one year the village church listed an unidentified woman and her fatherless child in its register. That could have been Emelia.” Emma found another significant passage from Almay's report and read it aloud.

Two years after Tsar Peter's death in 1725, Emelia and her son finally came out of hiding. At that time Alexei was around nineteen or twenty years of age. He claimed complete ownership of all Angelovsky holdings, and assumed his place as Nikolai's rightful heir. Apparently no one in the family was able or willing to contest him. Alexei established Emelia in a palace outside Moscow, where she lived in comfort for the rest of her days. For the next twenty years, he applied himself to increasing the Angelovsky fortune. There are several letters preserved from this period, written in Alexei's own hand and addressed to his mother at her home. These are included in the materials I have sent. From this correspondence it is apparent that Emelia objected to her son becoming the private consort of Empress Elizabeth, Peter's daughter. However, she lived long enough to see her son marry a Russian noblewoman and produce two children, Sergei and Lida. Emelia's death was recorded in 1750. She was sixty-three years of age. Among your sister Katya's collection we discovered a miniature of Emelia Vasilievna, painted not long before her death…

Emma's voice faded as she realized what Nikolas was holding. “Nikki?” she said quietly, setting aside the letter. She rose from the bed and joined him at the window. At first the glare of daylight made the image impossible to see. She touched his hand, and he tilted the miniature until the face became clear.