Princess in Love (20 page)

My darling Rose, I had this made for you in Vienna by an unknown artist of unparalleled
talent, who I suspect will be quite famous one day. He spent countless hours crafting
it, but it was worth the wait—as are you, my love.

Happy Christmas,

L

She hugged the letter to her chest, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Reaching
for the brooch again, she examined the fine workmanship and longed for the moment
she and Leopold could finally be together.

Chapter Twenty

January 7, 1815

“I am afraid it does not look good for King Randolph,” the palace physician said as
he stepped away from the bed and moved to explain the prognosis to Alexandra and Nicholas.
“I believe it is a hereditary affliction, identical to what ailed his father. It is
a cancer that spreads quickly through the humors.”

For days Randolph had been complaining of fatigue and headaches and had finally collapsed.
His symptoms were the same as her father’s, and Rose couldn’t bear to think of what
the future might hold should anything happen to him.

Please, Lord, do not take my brother, too.

And what about the crown? she wondered frantically. If Alexandra did not bear a son,
would it pass to Nicholas who was next in line to the throne, or would the people
demand that Alexandra be queen in her own right? For she was a Tremaine, after all.

While Rose held Randolph’s hand and bowed her head to pray, Alexandra and Nicholas
left the room to pray in the chapel.

If only Leopold were here. How she needed and wanted him here at her side when she
felt so alone.

For a long time, Rose sat with her brother, but he did not regain consciousness. He
was as pale as a sheet and so very still on the bed. He looked half dead already.

Her stomach churned with misery, and she shook him roughly. “Wake up, Randolph. Please!
You’re young and strong. Whatever this is, you can fight it.”

To her surprise, his eyes fluttered open and he frowned at her. “What is wrong with
you?”

Rose gasped at the sight of his anger. “Nothing! Oh, thank heavens you’re awake!”
Leaning over him, she dropped a kiss onto his forehead. “How are you feeling? Do you
remember anything?”

He shook his head on the pillow. “No.”

Rose tried to explain. “Alexandra found you in your bedchamber last night. You collapsed
on the floor and she couldn’t wake you. The doctor says you are ill, but I am convinced
you will recover in no time at all.”

He shut his eyes. “My head is pounding.”

“You will be all right now.” She fluffed his pillow and tucked the blanket all around
him. “Can I get you anything? Are you hungry or thirsty?”

“Thirsty, yes. Hot broth?”

She tugged on the bell rope to call for a maid. One quickly arrived and Rose asked
for a tray of broth and tea to be brought up.

As soon as it arrived, she stood. “I will go and fetch the doctor and send for Alexandra
as well. Lie still for a moment.”

Rose left him with the maid. She ventured into the corridor to see if the doctor was
waiting outside. There was no one about, so she headed quickly to the library where
the doctor preferred to sit and read while attending the king. That had been his habit,
at least, when her father was ill.

Sure enough, he was seated before the fire with an open book on his lap. He stood
when she entered.

“The king is awake,” she told him. “I believe he is better, but it would be best if
you could come and examine him.”

The doctor set the book on the table and followed her to Randolph’s chamber.

They had not yet reached the door when Rose heard the terrorized sound of Alexandra’s
scream.

“Help us! Please help us!”

*   *   *

Randolph suffered a seizure that morning. Unfortunately, the doctor feared the worst,
for the symptoms had been the same with their father—though King Frederick had not
been afflicted with such violent seizures quite so early on.

The illness appeared to be more aggressive with Randolph, and the doctor had no explanation,
nor could he offer a cure. The best he could do was prescribe laudanum as a sedative
to keep Randolph comfortable.

Alexandra immediately demanded a second opinion and sent for a team of young doctors
from the university who might have more modern knowledge of such mysterious diseases.

The medical men arrived early that afternoon, examined Randolph thoroughly, consulted
with each other, and referred to a number of books before arriving at a diagnosis
that shocked everyone present and set the palace into an uproar.

The king—and most likely his father before him—had been poisoned with arsenic.

Nicholas immediately ordered a search of the palace kitchens where a supply of arsenic
was indeed detected in the food stores. All members of the staff were questioned,
which led the High Constable to suspect a young kitchen maid who had been hired last
spring but had disappeared early that morning.

The poison was uncovered in her room within minutes and a search began throughout
the city. But who had hired her? Surely she was not working alone.

That evening, Rose helped Randolph out of bed so he could sit by the fire, where Alex
and Nicholas were setting up a game of chess.

“How long before you will begin to feel more like your old self?” Rose asked her brother.
“The doctors said the poison will eventually leave your system, and you will be fine
as long as you do not ingest any more of it, but they did not say how long it would
take.”

“I am not sure they know,” he replied. “One of them suggested at least a week, but
it was only a guess. They said it was a near lethal dose to have caused me such a
rapid decline. I am lucky to be alive.”

“We are all lucky,” Rose added as she helped him into the chair. “But what if the
High Constable does not find the maid? How will we know who was behind this?”

“There will be a very thorough investigation,” Nicholas assured her. “We will leave
no stone unturned.”

“Good.” She sank into a chair beside them and let out a heavy sigh.

Alexandra laid a hand on her knee. “You should go and get some rest, Rose. “You’ve
been up all night tending to your brother, but all is well now.”

“What about you? Are you not exhausted, too?”

“Of course, and I will retire soon enough, once I have beaten Nicholas at this game
he claims to know so well. Go, Rose. Thank you for all you’ve done today.”

Reluctantly, she stood up and left them to their chess game.

A short while later she slipped into bed. For a long time, she lay staring at the
silk canopy above.

She wanted desperately to tell Leopold about the attempt on Randolph’s life before
he read about it in the newspaper. She also wanted to talk to him about her father,
for months ago she had accepted his death as a natural passing, but now—to learn that
he was poisoned while she and her brothers were abroad in England—it was like opening
an old wound and filling it with salt.

Perhaps if they had not been out of the country, they could have discovered the plot
and saved his life. How she wished her father could have been here to celebrate Christmas
with them and enjoy the prospect of becoming a grandfather.

Rolling to her side, she rubbed the pad of her thumb over the surface of the medallion
Leopold had given her in the apple orchard. Not once had she been without it. She
raised it to her lips and kissed it, and forced herself to be strong for a few more
days until they could be together again—this time out in the open, with her brother’s
permission and blessing.

Thank God Randolph was all right. Thank God they had stopped the wretched culprit
in time.

*   *   *

The following morning, Rose slept very late and woke to another clear but cold winter
day. A light snow had fallen through the night and the palace grounds were cloaked
in a silvery blanket of white.

Rose’s maid entered with a cup of tea. Later, while Mary helped dress Rose for the
day, she assured her that His Majesty was feeling much better. In fact, Mary had just
seen him heading out to the courtyard to meet someone.

“Really?” Rose asked, as she sat before the looking glass, watching Mary slide a decorative
mother-of-pearl comb into her upswept hair. “Who would he meet outdoors on such a
cold day? Should he not be resting?”

“I believe it is the Marquess of Cavanaugh, madam. At least it looked like him from
a distance. He’s very handsome, that one.”

In her mad haste to rise to her feet, Rose nearly knocked over the stool. “Cavanaugh,
you say? Are you certain?”

“Yes, madam. He was waiting by the cedars.”

Rose was momentarily stunned; then she dashed for the door to ascertain that this
meeting was indeed taking place and to learn what it was about.

Perhaps Leopold had not been able to wait any longer. Perhaps, not knowing of Randolph’s
illness, he had requested an audience today.

But why would they meet outside? Why not in the library or Randolph’s private apartments?

Without taking the time to fetch a cloak or shawl, she hurried through the palace
corridors, descended the stairs, and reached the back hall window just in time to
see her brother draw his sword and knock Leopold to the ground by the frozen reflecting
pool.

No…!

Her brother must have learned of their clandestine meetings before Leopold left for
Vienna, of that night in the orchard when Leo had claimed her, body and soul, before
he had the right …

But who had told him? How in the world did he discover it? She hadn’t shared any of
that with a single soul.

Rose watched in horror as Nicholas and five palace guards appeared from behind the
row of cedars. Two guards pulled Leopold to his feet. He shouted something at Randolph
as they dragged him away.

Rose’s blood went cold in her veins. What in God’s name was happening?

Randolph resheathed his sword, staggered slightly, and collapsed to his knees. Rose
watched Nicholas rush to his side, and the next thing she knew she was pushing through
the palace doors and darting outside onto the terrace.

The cold air shocked her with its stinging intensity, but nothing could slow her pace
as she ran toward her brother, who was rising weakly to his feet.

“What is happening?” she demanded to know.

“The marquess has been arrested for high treason and attempted murder,” he explained.

Rose drew in a quick breath that chilled her lungs. “No, that cannot be…”

It was some kind of mistake. Leopold had done none of those things. He was guilty
only of improper intimacies with her. That had been wrong—yes, she knew it was—but
there was no need for such extreme punitive measures.

Did he say attempted murder?

What?

Rose felt dizzy all of a sudden. Her vision clouded over with a strange and sickening
white haze. Randolph had already left her side. He had returned to the palace.

Nicholas appeared suddenly in front of her and took hold of her arm. “You shouldn’t
be out here,” he said. “It’s freezing. You’re not wearing a coat.”

She realized she was shivering uncontrollably. “I don’t understand. Where are they
taking Lord Cavanaugh? Surely there has been some mistake.”

He glanced uneasily in the direction of the palace prison. “There is no mistake, I’m
afraid. Cavanaugh is a devout Royalist and has been secretly engaged to Alexandra
since the day he was born. He and his father plotted for years to put her on the throne.
The duke financed her debut in London so she could meet Randolph. He paid for all
her gowns and jewels. It was all a deep and complex conspiracy.”

Rose frowned in bewilderment. “You mean to say that
Alexandra
was Leopold’s fiancée? That she was involved in the poisoning?”

Good God! It couldn’t be true! This was madness!

“No,” Nicholas firmly replied. “As far as we can tell, she was a pawn and knew nothing
of the plot and has never even met the duke. Their plan was for her to return to Petersbourg,
secure the throne, and win the love of the people, and then, when Randolph was out
of the way, Leopold would step into his shoes, marry her, and sire the next king.”

Rose felt sick to her stomach and feared she might faint. None of this was making
sense. Leopold never mentioned anything about this. He told her his engagement was
over and done with.

But all his secret visits to the palace … Had she unknowingly helped in the plot?

“Has he confessed?” she asked as they crossed the terrace and approached the door.

“Not yet,” Nicholas replied, “but I will interrogate him personally and get to the
bottom of it.”

Rose swallowed uneasily. She would have to confess her relationship with Leopold.
She could not allow anything to be missed.

“How did you discover all of this?” she asked.

“The Countess of Ainsley, Randolph’s former fiancée, came forward this morning to
confess her involvement. Evidently she was paid a handsome sum to seduce Randolph
in Vienna, make him look like an adulterer, and create a scandal that would ruin the
Sebastian name once and for all. I’ve been a victim of it myself as you well know.
The press is always dragging me into the gutter. You’re lucky they haven’t tried to
turn
you
into damaged goods.”

She remembered the night at the orchard. The seduction in the library. Was that all
part of this terrible plot to bring shame to her family?

No, she refused to believe it! Leopold loved her. He wanted to marry her.

“Nicholas,” she said, still shivering as they entered the palace. “There is something
I must tell you. It is important that you know everything before you question the
marquess.” A lump rose up in her throat. “Oh God, I don’t even know where to begin.”

*   *   *

He is accused of murder. The murder of my father and the attempted murder of my brother.