Page 27 of A Queen's Match
Clearly, Nicholas had seen her distress, and was covering for her; in a firm voice that warned everyone else to mind their own business. Hélène couldn’t help noticing that he’d called her by her royal title, unlike everyone in England who referred to her asMiss d’Orléans.
“I hate Rembrandt,” Hélène muttered, her words shaky. She was still on the verge of tears.
“Let me guess, his works are too dark for you.” Nicholas almost sounded like he was teasing. “You’d rather look at something bright and colorful—Monet’s water lilies, perhaps—than a shadowy Rembrandt.”
“It’s not my fault that France has produced the world’s greatest artists.” Hélène let Nicholas put a hand on the small of her back.
He steered her gently toward the wall until they stood before an Impressionist scene of a beach at sunset, all golds and blues and shining amber. “Will this do?” Nicholas asked, an eyebrow lifted.
“Exceedingly. Thank you.”
“If you truly hate darkness, you should avoid Russia in the winter. There are months when we only get a few hours of sunlight a day.”
“In that case, it’s a good thing our courtship is a farce.”
He coughed. Hélène realized he was hiding his laughter. It almost made her want to smile.
Nicholas must have sensed her sadness, because his laughter died. “I saw you talking to my cousin. Dare I ask…is he the one you…”
“Yes,” Hélène confessed, because there was no point in hiding it. She and Nicholas were in this together now.
“And you’ve quarreled?” Nicholas guessed.
“It’s more complicated than a quarrel.”
He didn’t ask what she meant. Instead he simply said, “How can I help?”
“If only you could.”
“Nothing? Please, Hélène, ask me for a favor, because I’m about to ask a very big one of you.” Nicholas was still speaking in low tones, as if they truly were courting, and were whispering sweet nothings. “I was hoping you would accompany me to the Isle of Wight, to see the Cowes Regatta.”
“The Isle of Wight,” Hélène repeated.
“The Waleses are all going. Whatever has happened between you and Eddy, you would be near him….” Nicholas trailed off as if uncertain.
Hélène saw at once why he had invited her. “I take it Alix and Ernie are going as well? And you need me to cover for you while you see her in secret?”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. It was thoughtless of me—you might not want to go anywhere, not when you and Eddy…” He floundered uncomfortably.
Hélène forced a pale imitation of a smile. “Of course I’ll help. We promised to aid each other, didn’t we? And Alix is my friend.”
Nicholas looked visibly relieved. “I’ll ask my parents if we can borrow one of the yachts. ThePolar Staris smallerthan the others, but it’s already anchored in the Baltic, and we’re not a large party. I’ll invite your parents, unless you have a dowager aunt who could chaperone instead?” Because, of course, it wasn’t as if she and Nicholas could travel alone.
Hélène was too distracted to even marvel at the fact that the Romanovs had multiple yachts to choose from. She merely said, “My parents will be delighted.”
“I’m sure my own parents can’t get away, but I’ll ask Uncle Vladimir to join.”
Hélène nodded, making a silent plan of her own. Because she didn’t doubt that May would be at this regatta, too.
Things were moving too fast for her to play it safe any longer. Eddy was being threatened with a world tour, being pushed toward his cousin, losing hope.
Hélène had no other choice. She would have to steal the letter back from May.
Chapter Twelve
May
May couldn’t believe she wasreally here, on a paddle wheel steamer headed for the Isle of Wight. Spray misted up from the waves, dampening the hem of her traveling gown. The ferry was nearly full; Cowes was a popular regatta, even more so this year, since the queen herself had announced her attendance. Surrounding Victoria, all wearing sashes and wide-brimmed hats, were a few ladies-in-waiting and various children. The Coburgs had come, and the Waleses, and Alix and Ernie—plus a rather plain and serious-looking German prince, who seemed to be included for Alix’s sake.
