Be My Prince (26 page)

They reached the altar and climbed the steps to the two ancient medieval thrones that stood side by side, where they sat and listened to another hymn. Next, the Great Lord Chamberlain of Arms, robed in navy and wearing the heraldic coronet of the Royal Guard, called for the archbishop to come forward and begin the ceremony.

Randolph took the sacred coronation oath and solemnly swore to govern the people of Petersbourg and uphold the sacred laws of the church. A communion ceremony followed, and he was then crowned and presented with the Royal Bible and the Sceptre of the Imperial State.

He stood for the removal of the state robe, which was replaced by the blue velvet Robe Royal, with a mantle of white fur.

The archbishops and peers of the country pledged their loyalty to him; then Alexandra was crowned as queen consort in a shorter, simpler ceremony. She, too, was presented with a Bible. She then stood for the removal of her state robe, which was replaced by the queen’s Robe Royal.

While the congregation stood and the choir sang another hymn, she was overcome by an emotion so powerful, it caused her flesh to tingle and her eyes to fill with tears. It was followed by an overwhelming sense of pride and a deeply profound joy that took her breath away.

In that moment, Randolph turned his head and looked at her. They stared at each other as the hymn rose to a crescendo and the congregation sat down.

The ceremony was all but complete, except for one last ancient ritual.

The doors to the abbey swung wide open, and a knight in armor upon an enormous black warhorse with a purple plume at his forelock rode into the basilica. The horse’s giant hooves clopped noisily upon the gray stone floor and echoed up into the rafters, then quieted as the knight urged his steed onto the red carpet and trotted up the center aisle.

The horse reared up before Alexandra and Randolph, and the knight lifted the visor of his helmet.

Her heart raced with exhilaration as she beheld her brother-in-law, Prince Nicholas, who had been given the traditional honor of being King’s Champion at the coronation.

He drew his sword and looked Alexandra straight in the eye as he shouted, “Let it be known throughout this land—within and beyond its borders—that our Lord Sovereign shall be protected by this Champion! Any enemy who dares challenge his rule must raise a sword against me, as divine Lord of the Royal Guard!”

He held the sword upright before his helmet and eased his mount into a courtly bow. The warhorse dipped down on one knee, lowered his plumed head, then rose again and reared up on his hind legs, clawing at the air in a fine display of courage and valor.

Nicholas shut his visor and wheeled the beast around to gallop back down the aisle and out of the abbey. He was not yet gone before the congregation erupted into a chorus of cheers and applause.

Again Alexandra turned to look at her husband. This time he did not meet her gaze. He was smiling and watching his brother.

*   *   *

“Why must you go?” Alexandra asked. “It is too soon. The coronation was only a week ago.”

Randolph slipped naked into bed beside her and laid a hand on her belly. “All the allied sovereigns will be there,” he replied. “I cannot possibly remain at home.”

“Then why can’t I go with you?”

“Because you are with child,” he gently explained with more charm than she cared to observe in that moment, for when he spoke to her like that he had the power to sway and appease her, make her agree to anything. “Quite possibly carrying the future monarch,” he continued. “We must take great care with your health, darling.”

She narrowed her eyes flirtatiously and set out to challenge him in every possible way. “We could take great care of me in Vienna. Or perhaps I could take great care of
you
.”

He leaned over to kiss her. “I will miss you terribly while I am away.”

She laid her open palms flat on his chest and pushed him back. “You will write to me?”

“Yes,” he replied with a chuckle. “Each night before bed, when I am longing for you like a schoolboy. And I promise to have a dreadful time,” he added. “I will enjoy myself not in the least.”

She rose up, flipped him onto his back, pinned his wrists to the mattress, and straddled him. “I am sorry to hear it, sir, because I intend to enjoy myself quite tremendously while you are gone. I will host a dozen parties in your honor and create a new holiday. I will call it…” She swiveled her hips alluringly. “Randolph’s Rising.”

He grinned and thrust his pelvis upward, nearly bucking her onto the floor.

“Relax, Your Majesty,” she said. “You are not trapped here. I only wish to pleasure you.”

She slid up the length of his manhood and dipped her naked breasts low. He lifted his head to taste her, but she playfully drew back, just out of reach.

In short order, his muscular brawn won the day and he rose up and flipped her over again. Suddenly she found herself on her back, sinking into the feather mattress beneath the glorious weight of his virility.

“It is our last night together for at least a month,” he said, “possibly longer, so you must permit me to pleasure
you
this evening.” He gazed down at her with tenderness. “And also promise me … there will be no tearful good-byes.”

His mouth covered hers in an intimate kiss, and she melted into the warmth of his body.

Later he used his mouth to bring her to climax, and she reciprocated with an equal measure of generosity.

Finally, exhausted and well-satisfied, they slept for an hour or two, then woke again to fill their cups for the coming drought when he would leave Petersbourg to attend the Congress of Vienna.

If she were not already with child, it was very likely they would have conceived at least three more that night.

When she woke in the morning, however, Randolph was gone, and she was strangely thankful for her husband’s quiet decree:
There will be no tearful good-byes …

She was therefore left only with the memory of his final kiss before dawn, and the rapture to which she would cling in the coming weeks while he was gone.

When her dresser arrived to draw the curtains and welcome in the new day, Alexandra rose from bed to look out at a heavy downpour of rain outside her window, ran her hands slowly over her belly, and said a silent prayer for her husband’s safe journey overland and his swift return to her side—with their hearts still entwined and their passions still burning as hot as the sun.

PART IV

Enemies and Allies

Chapter Thirty

To Her Majesty the Queen

Petersbourg Palace

October 20, 1814

My dearest Alexandra,

Nicholas and I arrived in the capital three days ago and are privileged to be occupying suites in the Imperial Court Chancellery of Emperor Francis’s palace, Hofburg. The King of Prussia is also here in a separate section of the palace called the Schweizerhof, where the King of Denmark is housed.

The four of us shared a fine bottle of brandy last night while overlooking the Danube, and enjoyed a heated debate about what will happen to all the artistic masterpieces—the sculptures, jewels, and paintings—that were pilfered by Napoléon during the war and packed into the Louvre. Naturally the French don’t wish to part with anything, but I am convinced that by the end of this important congress much of it will be returned to its rightful owners.

I wish you could join me here and see the city proper. Everywhere I look, I see white domes and towers and, below that, a spirit of victory and celebration has overtaken the streets. There are elaborate banquets at the palace each night, and the emperor has appointed an official Festivals Committee to keep us all entertained with operas and balls and other such frivolities.

All that is incidental, however, to my true purpose here, for I believe this will be the greatest peacemaking venture in world history, and I feel privileged to be among those who will decide upon the future of Europe. Maps are already being redrawn, and a new balance of power is being decided upon. I shall do my best to keep you informed of our progress here, but my schedule is full, so forgive me if I do not write every day.

Devotedly yours,

Randolph

*   *   *

My love,

I was elated to receive your letter and devoured every word. Please write as often as you are able and tell me of the operas and balls, and be sure to include the sort of thought-provoking gossip that will keep my ladies-in-waiting adequately entertained, for they seem quite fed up most of the time since you and Nicholas departed. There are so few social events for which to prepare, and you know how they enjoy their gowns and jewels and all those frivolous evenings that last until dawn. They have made no secret of the fact that they long for nothing more than a dull banquet with dry beef, but it seems every person of any stature worth entertaining has left our great city for Vienna.

But that is enough talk of gossip and balls. I am eager to hear of the work you are doing, as I believe you will accomplish great things. Before you left, you mentioned the possible abolition of the slave trade in France. I do hope you will persist in that most noble of objectives. And please continue to keep me abreast of what is happening with the French border, and let me know if Russia will be allowed to keep quite so much of Poland. I long to hear every detail, but of course I understand that much of what is happening must be kept confidential until treaties are signed and the new balance of power is established.

Sincerely,

Alexandra

P.S. Have you spoken to Rose’s fiancé, the archduke?

*   *   *

Dearest Alexandra,

You write to me of borders and treaties and the boredom of your ladies-in-waiting, but you have said nothing of your heart. Do not forget me while I am gone. I think of you constantly, even when I am arguing with that devious French diplomat Talleyrand over the freedom of the seas. I wish you were here to argue with him as well. I have no doubt you would put him in his place.

And yes, I did speak with the archduke. I told him she’d had second thoughts. I believe he was genuinely disappointed.

Devotedly yours,

R.

*   *   *

Dear Randolph,

Forgive me, Husband, for not writing of my heart, but I did not wish to burden you with words of woe and longing, and heaven forbid someone might intercept my letters and discover that the Queen of Petersbourg is a wanton woman who ignores politics and demands only that her lover return to her bed. I am of course dreaming of you each night.

But there is another more important matter that I must relay to you. Rose has been melancholy since you left. I suspect she is disappointed as well, but I do not believe she is longing for the archduke. Therefore I am of the opinion you did the right thing in ending their engagement. I believe she is in love with someone else, though she refuses to name the gentleman. I will certainly relay the information if I can discover the secrets she keeps hidden in her heart.

Come home soon. I long for your touch.

*   *   *

Over the next two weeks, Alexandra received no further letters from Randolph, but she did her best not to worry and reminded herself that he was occupied with very important matters of state.

That did not stop her, however, from longing desperately for his return, and her heart ached when she heard reports that the congress was nowhere near completion. Evidently the kings, princes, emperors, and diplomats were all having too much fun.

She rather wished it were not so.

*   *   *

Another week went by, and still Alexandra received no letters. She sought out the palace post officer personally and asked if there had been any delay in correspondence from Vienna.

He informed her that a few letters had indeed found their way across the border and Prince Nicholas’s official reports from Vienna to the Privy Council had been received, but no personal correspondence had come from the king.

He apologized, and she did her best to appear cheerful as she thanked him.

*   *   *

Three days later, a visitor was announced to the queen’s chamber.

Alexandra set down her embroidery and stood to receive the Marquess of Cavanaugh, who bowed deeply upon a gallant entry. “Your Majesty.”

“Lord Cavanaugh, what a pleasure to see you.” She crossed toward him while making a sincere effort to ignore the anxious little gasps from her three ladies-in-waiting, who rose quickly to curtsy. One nearly knocked over a chair in the process.

It did not take a fool to recognize the fact that they were all foolishly besotted, for the future Duke of Kaulbach was a devastatingly handsome man and one of the most sought-after bachelors in Petersbourg. He would one day inherit an ancient and illustrious dukedom and would be one of the highest-ranking peers in the realm.

“What brings you to the palace?” she asked. “I thought you were in Vienna with everyone else.”

“I was, madam,” he replied, “but I have come home with an important dispatch.” He stepped forward to hand over a stack of letters tied in a red ribbon. “For you, from the king.”

Her heart ignited with joy and it took great strength of will for her to resist rushing forward to snatch the letters out of his hands.

“Thank you, my lord,” she said as she accepted them. “I am in your debt. Tell me, did he send you home just to deliver these letters?”

“No,” the marquess replied. “I had already announced my desire to return home, and His Majesty knew I could be trusted to deliver them to you without risk of loss or tardiness.”

She smiled. “Very well, then. You must join me for tea and allow me to thank you—for the second time, it seems. I am still deeply touched by the wedding gift you sent. I have had it mounted in my private chamber, and I cherish it deeply.”