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Chapter Nine
The Streets of St. Petersburg
June 19, 1889
10:40 AM
“Where are we going?” Alix asked Nicky. The rumblings of the carriage were so loud that she
was forced to all but shout the words, which was unfortunate. She wished to appear feminine,
dignified, and remote, not like a child shrieking questions.
She had journeyed six days and more than a thousand miles to see him, but it had taken nearly as
much effort to arrange this brief bit of time alone. Or at least relatively alone, for Emma and a sternlooking
guard were wedged on the bench at the back of the carriage, staring straight ahead, while Alix
and Nicky sat facing each other on the red velvet seats at the front. With a chaperone and a guard in
attendance, and a noise level more suitable to a bull fight than a courtship, it was not the most perfect
setting for romance, but a girl must seize her chances in whatever form they are offered.
“I am taking you to the place where my grandfather was killed,” Nicky shouted back, with what
appeared to be a reassuring nod. Or perhaps he was merely being jostled by the movement of the
carriage.
Emma could not help but overhear this exchange, and Nicky’s planned destination struck her as
a most improbable choice. She peered out the window at the passing scenery, which was a jumble of
people, animals, vehicles from various centuries, and shops, the chaotic nature of the city evident as
once. There were all manner of citizens standing in the street, quite heedless of traffic, as well as
others who were sitting squat on the sidewalks, smoking, drinking, and conversing. The carriage had
slowed in acknowledgement of an inconveniently placed cart and the rattling inside diminished to the
degree that she could more easily hear the rest of the conversation between Nicky and Alix.
“My grandfather was a good man,” Nicky was saying. “I want to be a good man.”
“But you are a good man,” Alix said.
The remark must have pleased him, for he flushed, but evidently Nicky had more to get off his