Page 58 of Royally Romanov
CHAPTER
TWELVE
Questions.
So many questions.
They were spinning in Finley’s head so quickly that she couldn’t seem to actually ask any of them.
How had Anastasia escaped?
How had she managed to get all the way from Russia to Paris?
Had Maxim’s parents known the truth about who she was?
How had the church managed to keep her identity a secret for all these years?
And most importantly, what about the Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovna, who’d been the Tsar’s mother, and grandmother to Anastasia? The Dowager Empress hadn’t been with her son’s family in exile. After the Bolshevik Revolution, she’d spent the remainder of her life in London and Denmark, staunchly refusing to believe that the Romanovs had actually been killed.
Wouldn’t the real Anastasia have contacted her grandmother? Had the Dowager Empress known Nadia Laurent? Did she believe Maxim’s grandmother was the real Anastasia?
Anastasia had survived. The church had helped her start a new life, and now her grandson was sitting beside Finley. Finley hadkissedhim.
Twice.
She’d made out with Anastasia’s grandson.
Stop thinking about the kiss!Kisses. Plural. Finley’s face grew unbearably hot. She blurted out a question, if only to stop her mortifying inner dialogue. “Did Nadia Laurent ever contact Maria Feodorovna?”
Father Kozlov leaned forward with his hands clasped on his desk. “Yes. The jewels Anastasia had hidden inside the bodice of her dress protected her from bullets during the execution. A lower-level Bolshevik soldier smuggled her out of the building in the chaotic aftermath of the shooting. She traded the jewels for passage to Paris, and waited to contact her grandmother after she arrived here at the church. The two of them exchanged letters until the Dowager Empress’s death in 1928. The Dowager believed Nadia was indeed Anastasia, but feared for her safety. They both thought it best for them to remain apart.”
Finley’s throat grew thick. How incredibly sad.
She wrapped her arms more tightly around Gerard. She needed something to hold on to while she processed everything she was hearing. Something solid. Something real. Gerard burrowed into her chest, and she searched Maxim’s face.
What must he be thinking right now? She couldn’t even imagine. For all practical purposes, the priest had just told him he was a Romanov.
He was royalty.
Finley should have found it impossible to believe, despite what the church had to say on the subject. She didn’t, though.
She’d known. Somehow, some way... deep down, where it mattered... she’d known all along.
“How can we be sure?” Maxim asked. His voice had lowered an octave, and his eyes had gone dark. Serious.Regal.
A little chill went up Finley’s spine.
“You need a DNA test,” Father Kozlov said.
“How do we get Prince Philip to agree to that?” The prospect seemed daunting, at best.
And when had she started thinking of this entire royal mystery in terms ofwe?
“We don’t have to,” the priest said. “The church still has a copy of the original DNA test. I’ll need to get an order signed by the other church leaders. Once that’s in place, you can be tested and your profile can be compared to Prince Philip’s.”
“You have his DNA profile on file,” Finley heard herself say. She felt like she was having an out-of-body experience.
Her gaze slid toward Maxim. In a matter of days, he could prove that he’s the Tsar’s sole living heir.
