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“Of course not,” the Grand Duke snapped, his limited patience at an end. “A lady in waiting
and her maid are with her.”
“Her new lady-in-waiting? Tatiana Orlov?”
“Why should I know the name of a servant? There was a carriage with ladies, headed for the
coast and my wife was among them. If you have anything more to say, I suggest you say it to your own
Queen. Good day.”
And with that the door between the Romanovs and Scotland Yard was closed for good.
The Grand Ballroom
8:18 PM
His first mistake was his promptness. The rehearsal was scheduled to begin at eight o’clock
and Tom had entered at 7:55 only to find himself standing in an empty lounge, waiting for the rest of
the performers. It was the same room he and Emma had been exploring just before they had stumbled
upon Tatiana and Konstantin, he noted, and was evidently the hub of any number of theatrical
activities. He paced around nervously until he finally heard the sounds of others arriving downstairs,
their voices growing louder as they climbed the stairs, and Tom wished, for the hundredth time in the
hour, that he spoke even a smattering of Russian.
At least the first person through the door was someone he recognized. Xenia, the tsar’s
daughter, and Emma had briefed him that she was the first person Konstantin was scheduled to dance
with during the imperial waltz performance. Tom supposed he must greet her, and he sank into an
exaggerated bow, holding his cape out to one side.
“Good evening, Milady,” he growled, attempting an accent so outrageous that she would not
recognize that it was not the voice of her dance master. “Welcome to the hidden lair of the Gypsy