“Ah, I see.” She stilled. “This is supposed to be the part where you give me a hint as to where to settle my affections?”
Malloryn cocked his head. “I think your affections quite fixed, are they not?”
A shock of heat thrilled through her.
He couldn’t know, could he?
The duke’s smile widened as if she’d betrayed herself. “Give my regards to Prince Ivan. He did mention that he’d be awaiting you at the exhibition.”
Malloryn was correct.
The prince lay in wait the second she cut the ribbon and pronounced the exhibition open to the viewing public—which, of course, meant the elite, or at least, it did for the first day.
Alexandra tried to enjoy herself.
The exhibitions were indeed intriguing. Inventors from across the globe had come to try their hand at the exhibition’s prize, which she’d set herself. The Queen’s Purse. And possibly patronage from the royal house. This might have been the inaugural exhibition of its type, but she hoped to continue the tradition. It had been the product of both her and Sir Gideon’s imaginations, a scheme drummed up beneath gaslight as they played chess.
Blue bloods had ruled too much of Europe thus far.
She wanted the human members of her realm to have a chance to compete with them on an even scale, and where better than the mechanical arts?
It was also a chance to push the boundaries of technology and encourage the young scientists of the empire—as well as those from abroad. She wanted her empire to be considered a world leader, and in the wake of the upheaval of the revolution, this had seemed a perfect way to flaunt Britain’s might.
“And which exhibitor has caught your interest?” the prince murmured as they strolled through the galleries, ahead of a pack of his cohorts.
She glanced around. “There are too many to name just one. Which exhibit interests you?” she asked politely, to see if his choices could give her some insight into his character.
He immediately brightened. “The Scandinavian kraken submersibles. Though my interest may have something to do with their latest designs and the way the patrol the Baltic Sea. There have been several encounters with Russian ships.”
“Ah, so you seek further insights into their strengths and weaknesses.”
He shrugged. “Our peoples prepare for the renewal of the Treaty of Stockholm this summer. The terms of the treaty were originally set one hundred years ago, and this is the first time we have had a chance to renegotiate them. It may be… an interesting time.”
“The Scandinavians are allies of Britain,” she reminded him. “They are our good friends.”
“Then perhaps Russia needs to become your ally too? Perhaps we also could be your friends?”
“Perhaps. Is that why you’re here, Prince Ivan? To further the interests of your people? Is it duty that drives your presence?” she teased.
“Duty that insisted I come, though I will concede to being pleasantly surprised.” He smiled at her. “Duty has never seemed so enjoyable before.”
Prince Ivan lifted a hand, capturing her cheek in his leather-clad palm.
Alexandra froze.
Not only was it the height of presumption and discourtesy, but she couldn’t say a thing. Her body simply stiffened, the way it always had when her husband loomed over her. She was shutting down like an automaton, her circuits awry, the noise turning into a fierce babble around her.
Prince Ivan’s nostrils flared, as if sensing prey. He lowered his hand. “I have offended you.”
Relief burst over her like a cascade, and suddenly sound rushed back into her ears. “Offended, no? Presumed, yes.”
She stepped away, and he let his hand drop, a faint, perplexed indent between his brows.
“Pray excuse me,” she said, turning to walk away before he could reply. She almost slammed into one of his companions—the Grand Duchess Xenia Nikolaevna—before staggering away from the voluptuous blonde with a stammered apology.
It was only when she was in the privacy of the hallway that she allowed herself to relax.
She was perspiring so badly, she felt as though she’d run all the way to Windsor and back.
Alexandra looked down at her clenched fists.
Prince Ivan had barely touched her.
He hadn’t meant to offend her in any way, he had simply been attempting to… to court her. And she’d frozen like a deer sensing the hunter’s rifle locking upon her.
“I hate you,” she whispered to her long-dead husband. “And I will not allow you to haunt me now. I will forget you. I swear I will.”
She was the queen. She would not run from her duty.
But she was wise enough to admit that this one time, she might need help to do so.
A knock came at the door of Alexandra’s antechambers.
“Come in,” she called, a flutter of nerves assaulting her. Turning, she swiftly poured two glasses of cordial, almost knocking one of them over in her haste. Damn it. This entire plan had seemed a good idea at the time, but now the moment had arrived, she couldn’t help feeling overwhelmed.
She was a woman. A queen. Married once, and then widowed. It wasn’t as though she was some lily-livered virgin who’d never encountered a man.
Yes, whispered her conscience, but this is different, and you know it is.
Sir Gideon entered, his dark eyes finding hers instantly. He was such a tall, imposing figure with his broad shoulders and well-trimmed physique. At first, she’d found him a little intimidating, for he was prone to stern looks and rarely smiled. But she’d soon grown used to his well-measured voice and the gentle way he could steer an argument without even raising his tone.
He was the sort of man who was polite to all her servants, even when he didn’t realize she was watching—and she had watched him often, from the secrecy of the chambers that had once riddled the Ivory Tower. She’d seen him placate a housemaid who’d spilled an entire bucket of mop water on his elegant shoes with a gentle smile that eased the girl’s tears, and he’d been the first to wade into a carriage accident when it occurred right in front of him, working without care for his attire or even personal injury. When it became clear the lead horse would never draw a carriage again, he’d bought it and put it out to pasture.
Kindness. It had been such a rarity in her life that she’d found herself perplexed by it at first, until she realized that was just the sort of man he was.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, noting the spilled cordial and the way she stared.
Suddenly, she couldn’t do it. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.” Swishing toward the windows, she curled her fingers into a fist in her gloves. What a fool she’d been.
“Alexandra,” he chided.
“I was just…. I was thinking of this entire bloody affair,” she bit out. “There’s barely a week left of the exhibition. And Malloryn will expect an answer, and I-I don’t have one. I don’t care for any of them.”
Silence fell like a lash.
She spun around. “Say something.”
Gideon lowered his eyes. “You don’t have to choose a suitor this week. Malloryn can’t force your hand. There is time, Alexandra.”
Her name. On his lips.
Only here, in the privacy of her chambers.