Love and Splendor: The Coltrane Saga, Book 5

by Patricia Hagan

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 nodd
ed 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.”

  “Drakar, be serious,” she chided.

  The light left his eyes. “I am serious. It doesn’t matter now what I ever felt for Dani. She hates me. That’s the way it is. But I’ve got to get my hands on that painting.”

  Because she cared so deeply for him, wanted him to be happy, Jade said, “Can you really be so sure she hates you?”

  “I’m sure,” he snapped. “Now let’s not talk about it. I’d just like to know what she and her brother are doing here, why Dani would leave Paris and travel with Arpel.”

  He had confided to Jade about the painting, and she thought for a moment, then suggested, “Maybe he’s told her the story behind the painting and agreed to divide the reward for the egg with her if she’ll help him find it.”

  “Good logic, but you don’t know Dani. Granted, she might go on a treasure hunt for fun, but not money. She doesn’t need it any more than you do.”

  Jade’s expression did not change. It was common knowledge that, as a Romanov, she had a generous inheritance. She would never have to worry a day in her life over money; she even gave her meager earnings as a dancer to charity, for she did not need it. Material things had never been important to her, anyway.

  She walked over to where Drakar stood staring pensively out the window into the night. Pressing herself against his back and wrapping her arms around his strong chest, she gently inquired, “Can I do anything at all to help?”

  Drakar did not respond at once. He was wondering how to find a way to see Dani and finally confide everything. Then, if she were involved with Cyril in any kind of ploy to recover the egg from its hiding place, he might be able to change her mind and help him instead.

  Slowly a plan began to form. Turning, he drew Jade over to sit beside him on the sofa. “I need to get to Dani, to tell her the truth about everything. Getting her away from Arpel is no problem. No doubt she’s staying at the French Embassy because of her father’s importance, and Arpel has his own place.

  “The problem will be Colt,” he went on thoughtfully. “He’ll be staying nearby. That’s where you come in if you’re willing to play a little game.”

  “Tell me everything, and then I’ll decide.”

  He then explained what had happened his last night in Paris, how he’d tried to help Colt. “Now it seems from what you tell me, he’s soured on all women. What he needs is to become interested in a girl who, for all intents and purposes, is not wealthy. A hard-working girl, who would seem to have every reason to want him merely for his money, only,” he continued after flashing a mischievous grin, eyes twinkling, “the poor girl turns him down and says she doesn’t care how rich he is, she just isn’t interested.

  “That,” he finished with a satisfied nod, “should show Monsieur Coltrane that not all women are alike, and then I won’t have to feel so bad about the way my other scheme turned out. It’ll also give me a chance to be with Dani. Will you do it?” he asked hopefully.

  Jade did not have to ponder for long. It sounded intriguing. No one would get hurt. Colt would be disappointed, of course, when she had to tell him he just wasn’t the sort of man she could love, but ultimately he would be happier, have a healthier outlook concerning women. Besides, he seemed nice and was certainly attractive. But would he find her attractive enough for the scheme to work? She revealed her thoughts to Drakar, and he told her she was ridiculous.

  “All men find you beautiful. Colt will be no exception, believe me.”

  So they finalized their plans. Jade recalled that one of the students at the ballet school was having a romance with one of the couriers stationed at the embassy. So she was confident that, through her friendship with the girl, it could be arranged for her to pose as an embassy maid.

  “Just leave Colt to me,” she finished confidently. “I’ll play the role of seductress yet restore his confidence in women so he won’t regard each one he meets as someone out to get his fortune.”

  “But what about tomorrow night at the ballet?” Drakar was quick to point out. “If he sees you onstage, he might recognize you later.”

  “No, that’s not a problem,” she said, waving away his fears. “My hair will be styled as it is now, and I’ll look quite different in costume than I will as a femme de chambre—starched uniform and cap, hair braided.” She gave a mock curtsy and winked.

  He chuckled. “Very well. We’ll set things up for tomorrow night, when they return to the embassy after the Czar’s midnight supper. I’ll leave Colt to you, and I’ll slip into Dani’s room and attempt to make her believe me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Dani was enthralled to actually be at the breathtakingly beautiful Maryinsky Theater and see the famed Russian ballet. The fact that she was sitting in the back row of the Imperial box was merely frosting on the cake, for it was grand enough just to be in attendance.

  The audience glittered with finery and jewels in complement to the crystal-and-gold chandeliers sparkling throughout the hall. Dani’s own costume was in competition with Empress Marie herself. Fashioned of emerald velvet, the bodice was crusted with hundreds of tiny topazes. Impressed by his sister’s beauty, Colt had marveled at how the stones caught the happy glimmer in her cinnamon eyes that night.

  The performance was Coppélia, which had been created during the Franco-Prussian War. Tears of joy had come to Dani’s eyes at watching Mathilde Kschessinskaya perform as the mischievous heroine, Swanilda.

  Dani applauded with respectful delight at the introduction of Marius Petipa, the brilliant ballet master and choreographer of the Imperial Ballet.

  The colorful costumes, the precision and lightness of the dancers, held her entranced throughout the performance. She could close her eyes, pretend it was actually her onstage so gracefully maneuvering the battements and pirouettes.

  All too soon it was over, and they were at the Winter Palace once more. Supper was served in a long mirrored hall, the food displayed on damask-covered tables amid delicate carvings of ice. They enjoyed bliny—small pancakes served with caviar; fish served with melt
ed butter; pyelmeni—meat dumplings; borshch—a beet soup; stakan kiselya—a dessert of thickened cranberry juice; and marozhnoye—Russian ice cream.

  There was rich steamed coffee, unbelievably dark in color, as well as champagne, a variety of wines, and, of course, vodka. Dani had to stifle a sneeze at the taste of the Ghorilka s pertsem variety, Ukrainian in origin and seasoned with hot peppers.

  Dani was not surprised when the Czar’s daughter Princess Xenia attached herself to Colt and made herself his unofficial hostess for the evening. She was pleased to see them walk together into an adjoining parlor to view some of the palace’s art collection.

  She herself found the company of the Czar’s son, Nicholas, to be quite enjoyable. She was tempted to ask him questions about the dancer she admired, remembering Cyril’s gossip about the future Czar’s romance with Mathilde Kschessinskaya, but did not dare. She did, however, when responding to his polite inquiry as to how she’d enjoyed the ballet, enthusiastically comment, “All the dancers were good but none equaled Mademoiselle Kschessinskaya. She is truly wonderful.”

  There was no missing the look of pride and affection in his dark, piercing eyes, as he agreed. “Yes, Mathilde is an artist Russia can be proud of.”

  As Nicholas kindly took her on an intimate tour of one wing of the palace, Dani’s mind raced to think of a way to bring up the subject of Drakar. Just thinking of him brought bitter bile to her throat. Cyril had told her Drakar and Nicholas had once been close. Perhaps now that Drakar was no doubt back in Russia, the two had been in contact.

  Suddenly, a large mural on the wall of a parlor caught her eye, and she cried in recognition, “The Alexandrovsky Palace.”

  Nicholas was mildly surprised. “You recognize that?”

  She mutely nodded, momentarily mesmerized.

  A servant appeared with a tray containing glasses of champagne, and Dani absently took the glass Nicholas gave her. He was curious about her strange reaction and asked, “Then you’ve been to Tsarskoye Selo?”