A ripple of whispers spread through the room.
The grand duchess’s brow furrowed. “De Rohan, de Rohan . . .” She shook her head. “There is something, but I cannot recall. She was at the court at Versailles, yes?”
“Yes, Your Highness, my grandmother was one of the queen’s ladies.”
“I knew all the queen’s ladies—poor Marie Antoinette, such a terrible fate. She was a sweet lady. Your grandmother, was she . . . ?” She faded off delicately.
“No, Your Highness, Grand-mère escaped the Terror, though she lost her husband and son and most of her relatives. Maman escaped by marrying an Englishman.”
The grand duchess tutted sympathetically. “Dreadful, the things people were driven to. It could never happen in Russia, thank God.” She crossed herself.
“Maddy’s grandmother survived by hiding among the beehives,” Nash told her.
“The beehives?” The grand duchess stared. “She was Marie Antoinette’s lady of the bees? But I remember her! She gave me honey. And it was delicious.” She tilted her head like a little bird, examining Maddy, then nodded. “You have, I think, the same hair, now I come to recall her.”
Maddy touched her hair wonderingly. “Do I, your Highness? Grand-mère’s hair was white, as long as I knew her.” It had turned white after her husband and son had been torn apart by the mob, she knew, but she’d never thought to wonder about the original color.
“That lovely dark auburn. I admired it greatly as a girl.” The grand duchess beamed at Maddy. “And so, Marianne de Rohan’s granddaughter has married my dear Mr. Renfrew. How delightful. You must visit me often in St. Petersburg. Give me your arm, child, and find me a chair. I would talk further with the granddaughter of my friend from Versailles.” And she led Maddy across the room, followed by a buzz of conversation.
“A triumph!” Aunt Maude said in Nash’s ear. “A complete triumph! I couldn’t have planned it better if I’d tried.”
Nash stared after his wife, dazed. “She’s . . . amazing.” He caught his breath. “I never knew. Why did she never tell me her grandmother was a countess?”
“Would it have made any difference?”
“No, of course not.”
Lady Gosforth smiled. “She told me something of the sort when I first met her, but I dismissed it as empty boasting. So many people claim noble French relatives, knowing they’re conveniently dead. ”
“And what an extraordinary coincidence, Maddy’s grandmother being an old friend of the grand duchess.”
Lady Gosforth gave a genteel snort. “I very much doubt she was.”
Nash gave her a sharp glance. “What do you mean? Why should the grand duchess make it up?”
“I don’t mean she’s lying. It’s my belief that your wife reminded an old lady of her girlhood, and she has seized on the memory. She wants to remember a friendship with Maddy’s grandmother and so she does. And why not? In a strange country, at the end of her life, when so many of her friends are dead . . .” She shrugged.
“Frankly, I don’t care one way or the other,” Nash said, gazing across the room to where his wife was getting the grand duchess settled. “That wonderful old lady has set my Maddy on the road to success.”
Lady Gosforth nodded and took a deep, satisfied breath. “You can thank me later.”
Nash gave her a stunned look. “Thankyou? Even you could not have planned this amazing coup. For arranging the ball, yes, of course I thank—”
“No, foolish boy. You told me you wanted an excellent marriage,et voila!” Lady Gosforth gestured, suddenly Gallic. “You have one. And after tonight, the whole world will know it. That curtsy! I couldn’t have taught the dear child better myself! And she even has connections, even though they’re all dead. It doesn’t seem to matter. With your grand duchess eating out of her hand, my niece will become all the rage in the Russian court, just mark my words.”
“I didn’t marry her for her curtsy or her connections,” Nash said. “And you had nothing to do with it.”
“Of course not, dear boy. You fell off your horse—”
“I did not fall, the horse slipped.”
“—and gave that stubborn Renfrew head the crack it needed to let you tumble into love. A perfect outcome for all concerned. And a personal triumph for me!” His aunt patted him on the cheek and sailed off to circulate and gloat.
The orchestra struck up a waltz. Nash cleaved a determined path through the crowded ballroom where a crowd had gathered around the grand duchess and her newprotégée.
Her Imperial Highness, Grand Duchess Anna Petrovna Romanova, could find someone else to talk to. Nash wanted to dance with his wife.
Epilogue
