Love and Splendor: The Coltrane Saga, Book 5 (36 page)

Colt leaned to whisper in Dani’s ear, “Makes me wish I was back on the ranch instead of being at a circus.”

She held a finger to her lips. “Shhh. That’s the Grand Master of Ceremonies. The ball is officially starting.”

Suddenly great mahogany doors inlaid with gold swung open, and the Grand Master boomed, “Their Imperial Majesties.”

Dresses rustled as ladies sank into a deep curtsy, Dani included.

Then Czar Alexander III appeared, bearded and tall. Next to him was his dark-eyed Danish wife, the Empress Marie.

At once, the orchestra began to play a polonaise, and the festivities began.

Dani was besieged by the unmarried Hussar officers, some of whom remembered her from the Bal Blanc. Happily, she enjoyed quadrilles, chaconnes, mazurkas, and waltzes. Then, suddenly, when she was resting between sets with Colt, her breath caught as she realized the Czar himself was by her side. At six feet four inches tall, he was like a great Russian bear.

He reached for her hand, raising her fingertips to his lips, smiled, and spoke in flawless French. “I was told that when I found the most beautiful woman at my ball, I would find
Mademoiselle
Coltrane. Welcome to Russia and Saint Petersburg. I trust you are enjoying your visit.”

Poised and self-confident, Dani did not become flustered before such an important personage. She gave an obligatory curtsy, however slight, before responding. “Quite enjoyable, sire. Thank you for inviting us to the Imperial Ball.” She yielded to Colt, who bowed before the Czar.

Czar Alexander addressed himself once more to Dani. “It was my pleasure to invite you and your brother,
mademoiselle
. I hold your father in high regard and wish that his children will have a nice visit to my country.”

Dani was aware that all eyes were upon them as they chatted. Empress Marie was nowhere to be seen, and she wished she could have met her as well.

“Tell me, my dear, is there anything in Russia you would like that has not been made available to you?”

Having vowed to never allow an opportunity to pass her by, Dani quickly said, “I would love to attend the Imperial Ballet.”

Colt rolled his eyes, wondering how his sister could be so gauche. Didn’t she realize the man was just being polite, for God’s sake, and certainly had more to do with his time than worry about her social life?

Czar Alexander snapped his fingers, and immediately one of his aides stepped to his side. “The Imperial Ballet it shall be. Tomorrow night at our beautiful gold-and-blue Maryinsky Theater. Does that make you happy?” he asked jovially.

Dani curtsied once more. “You’re very kind.”

“If you and your brother would care to join us afterward, the Empress and I are entertaining some friends here at a midnight supper.”

Dani did not ask Colt’s opinion; it did not matter. “We’d love to, and thank you for inviting us.”

He moved away then, and Colt could not help smiling at her happiness. “I guess this is the highlight of your trip.”

The sparkle of joy was replaced by one of bitter remembrance. “No. The highlight will be when I get my painting back. Did you know that Drakar was once close friends with the Czar’s son, Nicholas?”

He shook his head, took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

Dani might have been tempted to confide more, but just then a dashing Hussar officer claimed her for a quadrille, leading her away from Colt’s side.

He leaned back against one of the classic pillars, sipped his champagne and watched, wondering if the evening would ever end.

To one side of the grand ballroom stood a small group of young women, each lithe, lean, and lovely, albeit they were not as richly attired as the other ladies present. They wore modest gowns, very little jewelry. Their coiffures were identical, sleeked back into tight chignons.

They stood quietly watching, a few smiling demurely to catch the eye of young Hussars they fancied. Yet, they did not mingle, did not dance, kept themselves apart from the other guests. They were in attendance merely as decoration on a whim of the Czar’s son Nicholas. They were members of the elite Imperial Ballet, and because Nicholas was very much in love with the star ballerina, Mathilde Kschessinskaya, these other young ladies had been invited.

However, it was not Mathilde who discreetly watched Dani’s every move, but a green-eyed beauty with fiery red hair who was oblivious to the appreciative looks from the men around her. Neither did she notice the envious glares from women who silently, resentfully, acknowledged that she was easily one of the most beautiful ladies present.

She was not even aware of the way Mathilde herself, the only dancer dripping with expensive jewels and appearing wealthy, fired glowering looks at her now and then.

The young woman was intent on watching every move Dani Coltrane made.

Finally, when heads were turned in the direction of the Czar and his Empress as they moved to the center of the ballroom to lead a waltz, the girl quietly backed into the shadows and made her way to a terrace door where she exited to disappear into the night.

She knew Drakar was waiting to hear what she had seen at the Imperial ball.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Patrick O’Bannon was a handsome Irish seaman who had captured the heart of a Russian beauty—Natasia, a member of the distinguished Romanov family.

As a Romanov, Natasia, by education, language, and taste, was a member of the cosmopolitan aristocracy of Europe. The Romonovs spoke French better than they spoke Russian, and were considered among the elite of society.

Natasia had been titled a princess by virtue of being a cousin of then reigning Czar Alexander II. It was to him that she made her request to be blessed in marriage to Patrick, whom she had met on a sojourn to Dublin during a particularly boring summer.

The Czar and the entire Imperial family were shocked by Nastasia’s wish to marry a man who was not only a commoner but a foreigner as well. The marriage was forbidden, and Natasia then turned her back on her country and family and ran away to Ireland to wed her beloved there.

A year later, she gave birth to the only child she was destined to have. Patrick took one look at his newborn daughter and said, “Irish eyes! By glory, even at birth, you can tell the lass will have Irish eyes.”

He had thus named his child Jade, confident she would possess eyes the color of the fine gemstone. His prediction came true, and she further blossomed into a child so beautiful that passersby turned to stare, marveling at her loveliness and the rich, vibrant red of her thick, lush hair.

“A pure-blood colleen if ever there was one, b’gorra!” Patrick would crow ecstatically while Natasia would beam proudly, not caring one whit that her daughter’s Russian heritage was being denied.

Life was happy for the O’Bannon family during those golden years, despite Natasia’s periodic bouts of homesickness.

Then, when Jade was eight, tragedy struck—during a storm at sea, Patrick O’Bannon was lost and presumed drowned.

Stricken with grief too deep to bear, Natasia wilted like a flower in the sun.

A year later, Alexander II was assassinated. With renewed sorrow and plagued by a desire to see her homeland, Natasia took her daughter to Russia for the funeral of her distant relative.

Jade, with her rare and special beauty, at once caught the eye of Marie Pavlovna, sister-in-law of the new Czar, Alexander III. Marie and her husband, Vladimir, had three sons…but not the daughter Marie yearned for. From the moment she saw Jade for the first time, with her brilliant green eyes and silken hair the color of the cardinal, Marie coveted her fiercely. And it was obvious to everyone that Natasia was not well, certainly not able to raise her daughter alone. Marie began to badger her to allow her to adopt Jade.

Natasia resisted with a mother’s love, wished only to return to Ireland and her home there, where Patrick’s relatives could help her with Jade until she grew stronger.

But Natasia became weaker, was stricken with a fever. Finally, as she breathed her last, she signed away Jade’s care to Marie Pavlovna.

On the surface, at least, her mother’s disfavor with the royal family was forgotten through the years as Jade grew up at court, the darling of all who knew her, including Czar Alexander III. She grew up in the company of his children, was tutored by the same instructors.

The summer she was twelve, Jade’s foster mother took her on a holiday to Paris. It was there, while attending a ballet at the Eden Theater, a hall given over to musical extravaganzas, that she fell in love with the dance while watching Virginia Zucchi, a virtuoso ballerina, said to be possessed of genius as a dramatic dance performer.

Jade announced, with all seriousness, that her desire was to become a prima ballerina, and she was willing to make every sacrifice to achieve her goal. Marie was delighted and saw to it that she was properly enrolled in the Imperial School of Ballet in Saint Petersburg.

Jade had been aware, during her youth, of how some of her cousins at court snickered behind her back, called her names because of her mixed blood. Determined to prove herself as a dancer, thereby meriting the respect necessary to overshadow her mixed lineage, she studied and practiced diligently and was heralded by her instructors to be destined for greatness.

Jade never behaved like a spoiled Romanov brat. Witty, industrious, she possessed a kind of pixie humor, sometimes suddenly pretending anger then smiling and exuding charm once again.

She continued to follow the career of her mentor, the Italian Virginia Zucchi, who went to Saint Petersburg at a time when the Maryinsky audience was somewhat apathetic to ballet. Zucchi had danced first at a summer theater in some pleasure gardens, causing such a furor with her intense dramatic acting and a solo danced entirely on pointes that all Saint Petersburg rushed to see her. When the Imperial Theater reopened for the winter season, she was offered an engagement that resulted in continuing visits and a strong revival of enthusiastic public attendance.

Jade was thrilled to be named as her understudy in a performance of
The Lily Pond
—and was determined to one day be as great as her idol.

But on this crisp winter night, ballet and her career were the farthest things from Jade’s mind as she hurried away from the palace in the snowy night, making her way toward the small hotel on the square. She wrapped her white fox cape tightly around her against the wind. No carriage this night, she vowed. She was too well-known, and no one must discover her destination.

Pulling the hood of her cape down to hide as much of her face as possible, she entered the hotel from a side entrance, opting for the stairs rather than the lift. It was an arduous climb to the fifth floor but she did not care. The dear and beloved friend who awaited was worth every effort and inconvenience.

She had but to knock once before the door was jerked open. She flung herself into Drakar’s arms, the two embraced, and Jade blinked back furious tears at the thought of the heartache inflicted upon her companion of so many years. They had known each other well while she was growing up with the children of the Czar, when Drakar had been such a good friend of Nicholas’s. All too intimately she knew the tragic story concerning his family and his ensuing banishment from court, which she termed unfair and said as much loudly and clearly, much to the dismay of her foster family.

“She was there.”

Drakar nodded grimly. So, his suspicions were correct. When first he’d learned there was no cousin with knowledge of the infamous egg, and subsequently realized the message summoning him to Russia was a fake, the wheels within had begun to turn.

“Was she with Arpel?”

She removed her cape, tossed it aside. “I didn’t see him all evening.” She went to stand before the fireplace to warm her hands.

Drakar was puzzled once more. He’d finally concluded Cyril Arpel was the only person who’d want him out of Paris, for, since he was knowledgeable about art and had traveled extensively in Russia, it was logical he might have heard about the painting, recognized it. He’d had friends watching his office, was not surprised when he’d heard he was in town. What did stun him, however, was hearing about the beautiful woman who’d traveled with him. Her description fit Dani. More checking proved he was right on that point too. So he’d called on Jade to help, knowing in her position she had access to the most intimate circles of society. But where was Cyril tonight and why was Dani at the Imperial ball alone?

He spoke his thoughts to Jade, who promptly shook her head. “I didn’t say she was there alone. I said I didn’t see Cyril Arpel around her. She was with her brother.”

“Her brother?” he echoed, truly mystified then. “Are you quite sure?”

“I’m positive it was her brother because when I saw the Czar walking toward her, I positioned myself so I could overhear their conversation, and I heard the introductions.”

She continued to tell him all she knew, particularly the part when the Czar invited Dani and Colt to attend the ballet as his guests.

She finished by saucily declaring, “I knew she’d be pretty.”

“And what made you think that?” he asked, amused.

“Because it would take the most beautiful woman in the world to win your heart.”

He reached to playfully tweak her nose. “You have already won my heart. Years ago. And you know it.”