Page 92 of Kiss an Angel

Her father leaned back into the couch. “Alex is the great-grandson of Czar Nicholas II.”

16

Daisy stared at her father. “That’s impossible. I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true, Daisy. Alex’s grandfather was the czar’s only son, Alexei Romanov.”

Daisy knew all about Alexei Romanov, the young son of Nicholas II. In 1918, at the age of fourteen, Alexei, along with his parents and four sisters, had been herded by the Bolsheviks into the basement of a mansion in Yekaterinburg and executed. She said as much to her father.

“All of them were murdered. Czar Nicholas, his wife Alexandra, the children. They found the remains of the family in a pit in the Ural Mountains in 1993. They did DNA tests.”

He picked up his mug. “The DNA tests identified the czar, Alexandra, and three of the four daughters. One daughter was missing—some people think it was Anastasia. And they didn’t find Crown Prince Alexei’s remains.”

Daisy tried to take it in. Throughout the century, there had been a number of people who had claimed to be the czar’s murdered children, but most of them had been women presenting themselves as the princess Anastasia. Her father had contemptuously dismissed all of them as impostors. He was a careful man and she couldn’t imagine him being taken in by any sort of scam, so why did he now believe the crown prince had escaped? Had his obsession with Russian history grown to the point where he wanted to believe this story so much that he’d lost his judgment?

She spoke carefully. “I can’t imagine how the crown prince could have survived such a terrible massacre.”

“He was rescued by some monks who hid him with a family in southern Russia for several years until a group loyal to the czar smuggled him out of the country. That was in 1920. He’d seen firsthand how violent the Bolsheviks could be, so it’s understandable that he lived quietly after that. Eventually, he married and had one child, who was Alex’s father Vasily. Vasily met Katya Markov when she was performing in Munich and, like a fool, he eloped with her. He was only a teenager; his father had just died; he was rebellious and undisciplined. Otherwise, he would never have married so far beneath him. He was only twenty when Alex was born. A little over two years later, he and Katya were killed in a circus train accident.”

“I’m sorry, Dad. I don’t mean to doubt your word, but I simply can’t believe this.”

“Believe it, Theodosia. Alex is a Romanov. And not just any Romanov. The man who calls himself Alex Markov is the direct heir to the crown of Russia.”

She stared at her father with dismay. “Alex is a circus performer. That’s all.”

“Amelia warned me you’d react like this.” In an uncharacteristic gesture, he patted her knee. “You just need some time to get used to the idea, but I hope you know me well enough to realize that I would never make a claim like this if I weren’t absolutely certain it was true.”

“But—”

“I’ve told you many times about my family’s history, but you’ve obviously forgotten. Ever since the nineteenth century the Petroffs have served the Russian czars, all the way back to Alexander I. We’ve been linked through duty and custom, but never through marriage. Not until now.”

She heard the sound of a jet passing overhead, the roar of a truck’s diesel engine. Gradually comprehension seeped through her.

“You planned all this, didn’t you? You arranged my marriage to Alex because of this crazy idea you have about who he is.”

“It’s not even remotely crazy. Just ask Alex.”

“I’ll do that.” She rose to her feet. “I finally understand what all this is about. You’ve made me a pawn in some absurd dynastic dream of yours. You wanted to unite the two families, just like fathers used to do in the Middle Ages. This is so barbaric I can’t believe it.”

“I’d hardly call marrying you to a Romanov barbaric.”

She pressed her fingers to her temples. “Our marriage is only going to last five more months. How can you get any satisfaction out of that? A short-term marriage is hardly the beginning of a dynasty!”

He set down his mug and walked slowly over to her. “You and Alex don’t have to divorce. As a matter of fact, I’m hoping you won’t.”

“Oh, Dad . . .”

“You’re an attractive woman, Daisy. Perhaps not as beautiful as your mother, but still appealing. If you could learn to be less frivolous, you might

be able to hold on to Alex. There are certain secrets to being a good wife, you know. Cater first to your husband’s wishes. Be accommodating.” He frowned at her grubby jeans and T-shirt. “And you should be more careful about your appearance. I’ve never seen you look so sloppy. Do you know that you have hay in your hair? Maybe Alex won’t be so anxious to get rid of you if you try to be the sort of woman a man looks forward to coming home to.”

She regarded him with disgust. “Do you want me to meet him at the trailer door with his slippers?”

“That’s exactly the sort of flippant remark that will drive someone like Alex away. He’s a very serious man. If you don’t curb that inappropriate sense of humor, you won’t stand a chance of holding on to him.”

“Who says I want to?” Even as she spoke, something painful twisted inside her.

“I can see you’re going to be difficult about this, so I’ll go now.” He walked toward the door. “Just don’t cut off your nose to spite your face, Theodosia. Remember that you’re not a woman who does well alone. Setting aside the issue of Alex’s family lineage, he’s steady and reliable, and I can’t imagine a better man to take care of you.”

---