The Girl Who Fought Napoleon: A Novel of the Russian Empire by Linda Lafferty

others.”
    “What are you saying, Alexander?”
    He squeezed her hand. A mischievous smile flashed across his face.
    “You may take a lover,” he said, magnanimously. “I shall not object.”
    Elizabeth’s mouth opened aghast. She withdrew her hand from his.
    “Alexander!”
    “Oh, come now, Eliz—Elise! You know my principles of equality and freedom. They must apply to marriage as well! I cannot bear to see you suffer, my dear. You are my eternal friend.”
    “I don’t want to be your friend! I want to be your wife!”
    “And you shall be my wife forever until we die. But there can be others who share our beds.”
    “What a filthy idea, Alexander!” Elizabeth grimaced in revulsion. “I am not your grandmother Tsarina Catherine, with her many lovers.”
    Alexander drew back as if he had been dowsed with scalding water. How dare she insult my grandmother . . . and me! When I, grand duke of Russia, give her permission to love another!
    “Good-bye, Elizabeth,” said Alexander, turning on his boot heel without giving her another glance.

    Grand Duke Alexander did not neglect his duties and the protocol of Catherine II’s court. The next day after the argument with his young wife, he proposed an outing, a walk along the Neva River together, to demonstrate his devotion to his marriage, and to quell any rumors that might have reached his grandmother’s ears.
    The Neva was the heart of St. Petersburg, flowing in front of the Winter Palace. As great ships sailed into the Russian capital, the flags of every nation flapped in the sea wind. The granite embankments were bordered by sumptuous residences, as ornate as French lace. Swans floated along the canals that flowed from the Neva, winding their way through St. Petersburg.
    As Alexander and Elizabeth walked, sharing a most uncomfortable silence, a green carriage with red trim drew next to them. The gilded moldings and smartly dressed drivers, their plumed hats waving, caught the eye of the fifteen-year-old grand duchess.
    The coach, maneuvering around two slower wagons loaded with white cabbages, came to a partial stop. Inside, Elizabeth saw two young men—one extraordinarily handsome—with dark curly hair.
    “Ah! Those must be the Polish hostages, the Czartoryskis,” said Alexander.
    “Hostages?” said Elizabeth.
    “Peace is never simple. The Czartoryskis are an ancient Lithuanian family and wield great power—Adam Czartoryski could be the next king of Poland and lead a revolt.”
    “Against Russia?”
    Alexander nodded. “Empress Catherine thought it wise to have the two Czartoryski brothers—Adam and Constantine—here at her court. That way she can quell any thoughts of rebellion among the Poles. In exchange she may return Czartoryski properties that Russia confiscated. Perhaps.”
    Elizabeth studied the lush curling sideburns of the elder of the two passengers, black hair contrasting with his ivory skin. As if he felt her eyes, he shifted his gaze toward the grand duchess.
    Their eyes met. Adam Czartoryski, the older of the two brothers, did not avert his gaze but stared directly at the young woman.
    “Oh!” she gasped, instinctively pulling out her fan and spreading it before her face.
    Her husband noticed the motion and recognized the spark in Czartoryski’s eye. It was the same fiery look he had exchanged himself with Princess Maria Naryshkina at court.
    Alexander smiled at the new arrival to St. Petersburg.

    Adam Czartoryski entered the hall of the Romanesque Tauride Palace, his riding boots clicking smartly on the marble floors. A servant took his gloves and cloak.
    Alexander raised his hand. “Prince Czartoryski! Keep the gloves and coat. I’d like to take a stroll around the gardens.”
    Prince Czartoryski bowed. “Yes, of course, Your Excellency.”
    Alexander made a gesture of opening his arm behind his guest, guiding him toward the door. Together they walked past the white columns supporting the portico and down into the