Free Rebel Princess by Evelyn Anthony

a horror! The beggars outside Kazan Cathedral are scarcely more repulsive.…”
    The Roumiantzova threw up her arms in despair.
    â€œI knew it! I knew it was terrible by the Empress’s words to me. How am I to tell her, Leo? What a responsibility! Suppose she screams or swoons; the Empress will blame me! ”
    Narychkin abandoned his stance by the door and caught the Countess in a most ungentle grip.
    â€œThink of your mistress for once and forget yourself! Damnation,” he exploded, “it would have been better for her if the young German pig had died. God help us, that we may help her! As for you, Countess, in with you and break the news to her this instant, and see that you do it as gently as may be, or I’ll pour a tale of your inefficiency into the Empress’s ear that’ll send you to Siberia!”
    He thrust the Countess towards Catherine’s door and watched her knock and disappear into the bedroom with a mixed expression of anger and concern.
    He was a courtier and a man of the world, he reminded himself. Only a fool would have made such an open display of his feelings before a gossiping featherhead like Roumiantzova. However it was too late now. He, the clever, sharp-tongued Narychkin, hero of a hundred amorous intrigues, had fallen victim to the charms of a mere girl.
    What an age had passed since he had met the nervous Princess Augusta of Anhalt and taken her to that first meeting with her bridegroom!
    Now the child had gone and a woman had taken her place, a lovely, gay creature, warm and eager for life, shining like a bright star at Elizabeth’s court, and her easy, friendly glances had stabbed Narychkin with a longing and tenderness that he knew must remain for ever undisclosed.…
    â€œLeo,” said a well-known voice, and turning, he dropped on his knee before the Grand Duchess.
    Catherine smiled down at him, but she was very white.
    Countess Roumiantzov coughed discreetly in the background. She caught Narychkin’s eye and her expression said clearly that she had done her best.
    â€œThe Grand Duke is here,” Catherine said, “and you are to being me to him. As before,” she added, half to herself.
    Narychkin’s courtly training came to his aid as he released her hand and straightened up.
    â€œHis Highness is waiting for you with great impatience, Madame. As soon as the risk of infection had quite gone, he came at once to Petersburg to see you.”
    Catherine thanked him for the lie with a wry smile, then her eyes sought his and held them with a look that demanded nothing but the truth.
    â€œRoumiantzova tells me that he is much changed, Leo. Have you seen him; is he very—marked?”
    Narychkin looked away from her as he answered.
    â€œI fear so. You must be prepared to find him greatly altered.” Still the full significance had not sunk in.
    On her way to the Empress’s apartments, Catherine wondered sadly why Narychkin and her lady-in-waiting should be so concerned. Did they imagine that she loved him and would weep over a few pock-marks?
    He was alive, but he was still Peter, and she could not visualize how even smallpox could have altered him for the worse.
    â€œHer Imperial Highness, the Grand Duchess Catherine!” announced Elizabeth’s Court Chamberlain, as Catherine and her retinue sank down in homage inside the doorway.
    Elizabeth sat in a raised chair, gorgeously dressed as usual, sipping wine out of a golden cup. Her delicate face was lined and puffy with fatigue beneath a generous coating of cosmetics, for in her desperate anxiety the Empress had returned to Chotilovo to nurse her stricken nephew herself.
    Her nerves were frayed with the ordeal and she was still quivering with tiredness and ill-temper. She greeted Catherine with irritable haste and the girl’s heart began to beat uncomfortably as she became aware of an atmosphere of extreme tension.
    Where was Peter?
    Then she saw him, standing