Della shook her head.

'Hes not on board, Kitty. Im sorry.

I stood at the bottom of the swaying gangway leading up to the deck of the Albertine. It was a neat little working boat, smaller than the Leopold that had carried me and Lucca over to France, and a good deal less fancy. Timber was strapped in piles along the centre of the deck. The smell of it put me in mind of the workshop at The Gaudy.

Something trickled down my cheek and I swiped it away with the back of my hand. Tell truth, I didnt rightly know if I was crying for my brother, for Lucca or for my theatre. Maybe it was all three?

Della tucked Robbie against her hip and reached across to cup my face in her free hand. It was the nearest shed come to a sign of gratitude.

'Josette . . . Joey, she tried to smile, 'is always clever, always resourceful. Hell turn up soon. I know it.

'Do you? In the light things were falling into place, little bits of puzzle that didnt have a home up to now were locking into their corners. Mishas cologne had dripped something into my mind. I didnt think I could ever catch the scent of lemon now without feeling soiled.

I wiped my face again, rubbing my fingers roughly across my stinging cheeks.

'The captain all right with you . . . like that? I nodded at Dellas stained, sodden dress. You couldnt tell it was blood in this light. Not yet.

She snorted. 'The amount Ive offered, hed take me on board if I had the typhus. Anyway, Ive asked for a change of clothes. When we get to Hamburg well be travelling as father and son.

I stared at her. 'And Im sure youll be very convincing, David.

She shook her head and smiled tight. 'And I . . . Im sorry about that too.

She offered me her hand.

'Tell me you wouldnt do the same?

I looked down at her long fingers.

'I wouldnt lie.

'Kitty, it . . . it didnt seem wrong, but now . . .

'Now its too late, Della.

A bell went off up top and the Albertines horn blew twice. Della glanced back over her shoulder at the deck above where crewmen were loosening ropes. A man on the quay beside us pointed up to the top of the gangway and made a swimming motion with his hand.

'Sie mssen an bord zu gehen. Wir segeln. He pushed past and tramped up the boards making them bounce and swing perilously over the river. The tide was high now, I could hear waves slamming and sucking against the creaking wooden hull. We both ducked as something belched deep in the Albertines belly and a cloud of black steam hiccupped from the squat funnel in the middle of the deck.

Della clutched the guide rope to steady herself and then she gently brushed smuts of smoke and God knows what else from Robbies face. He was pulling at her coat and pursing his lips together, making little smacking, sucking noises. He knew he was with his real mother again.

'We have to go. If Josette . . . Joey is already waiting in Hamburg, Ill make sure he contacts you, Kitty. I promise.

She turned to make her way up to the deck, but stopped. She held Robbie away from her and started to unwrap Nanny Pecks shawl from his body.

'I cant take this, its yours. I think it means something to you?

I nodded. 'It belonged to my . . . my grandmother. Lady Gingers black bead eyes bored into my mind, despite the fact she wasnt the grandmother I was thinking of just then.

He is your blood, he is your family. Think on those words. Thats what the old bitch said about Joey, didnt she? Only it wasnt just about him. Blood and family she was talking about Robbie as well.

She said something else too: Protect him. That was for Joey. But what did she mean? Protect him from what?

I swear Della must have read my mind.

'Family is important. Take it. She handed me the shawl and turned away again. I pulled it round my shoulders and watched her tall, straight figure move away from me up the swaying boards. I thrust my hands into my pockets against the chill and my fingers closed over the paper hidden in the poppet along with the emeralds.

'Wait! I called out and Della turned.

I ran a little way up the springing planks. She came back to meet me halfway.

I bit my lip. 'I . . . I think this is something else you need, something important. I held the scrap of paper forward and Della frowned. Then, shifting Robbie to her hip, she reached into the folds of her coat and pulled out the cloth rabbit. Shed had it with her all along.

I watched as she brought the poppet to her mouth and ripped at the right ear with her teeth. My crude stitches tore instantly apart to reveal the strips of rag and knots of wool stuffed inside, nothing else.

She threw the toy down. It rolled over the planks into the river.

'No! He loves it. I gripped the rope and knelt to see where it had gone, but the dark waters had already carried it away.

I straightened up. 'Why did you do that?

'Because the poppet was nothing. This is the prize. She snatched the paper from my hand and it flapped about in the wind.

'Its worth more than emeralds, Kitty. Without this we . . .

She shook her head. 'You took it. Why?

I couldnt look at her direct. 'It . . . it was the day Joey showed me where the stones were. The ear came free and I found the paper rolled inside. He knew what it was, but he wouldnt say anything other than that it should never be parted from Robbie. When you came tonight I was angry. I just wanted to . . . to . . .

To punish her for not being David.

I trailed off and stared into the water. Of an instant I felt like a child, a stupid, stupid child. Della was a grown woman with a little one to look out for and Id been playing a game.

I took a deep breath. 'Im sorry. I would have given it to you, truly I would, but with everything else- Up on deck someone called out to us again.

'What is it, Della why would a strip of paper be worth more than emeralds?

She stared at me for a long moment and then she smiled.

'Do you remember I said there was someone I needed to find in Paris before I came to London?

I nodded.

'It was a priest a Russian Orthodox priest. He was in hiding. It took so long to find a way to reach him. Hold this.

Della handed the paper back to me, reached into her coat and took out the tapestry purse where shed stowed the emeralds. It hung on a cord from her waist. She pulled the strings to open it and fished another small roll of paper from inside. She hoisted Robbie into a more secure position and deftly rolled open the scrap of paper from the purse. It was covered in Russian script, just like the one Id found in the poppet.

I shook my head. 'I dont see- 'Wait.

She reached forward and held it against the torn paper in my hands. They fitted together exactly two halves of one page.

'Our marriage certificate, Kitty. I was married to Grand Duke Sergei Alexandrovich Romanov in Paris on the first day of June 1880. The ceremony was conducted by Father Pavel Suvorin, a priest of the Russian Orthodox Church. There were witnesses it is a legal and binding match and this document is proof. Father Pavel kept half of it for safety. They knew that its why he went into hiding. I finally found out where he was last week and I went to take the burden from him.

Robbie watched with fascination as Della eased the paper from my fingers, folded it with the other half and pushed them both back into the purse. She looked at me. In her dark skin, those beautiful glass-green eyes shone in the first rays of the morning sun.

'Misha was wrong. Robbie is a not a bastard. He never was. I am a Russian princess by marriage and our son is a prince of the blood.

I didnt need to knock again. Luccas door swung open into the darkness of the hallway. Disappointment washed his face before he could mask it, but he stepped aside to let me in. I gave a curt nod and went over to the fireplace. Despite the hour a little pile of coals glowed in the over-sized hearth. I glanced at the table. A fancy four-armed brass candle piece holding a couple of low-burning wax stubs sat in the middle. Next to it a bottle and two glasses stood ready.

Hed been waiting up for Misha all through the night.

I knelt and stretched my hands out to the coals. I couldnt feel the heat. Tell truth, I couldnt feel a thing, not the bruises, not the burns, not the scratches, not the cuts. I was numb to the core. Back there on the quay I was so certain that this was the right place to come, but now . . .

Lucca closed the door and I heard him sigh heavily.

'I dont know whether to say its too early or too late for a visit. He crossed the room and his knees cracked as he knelt down beside me. Instantly he covered his nose and mouth.

'Dio! Lodore! Where have you been?

He stared over the hand clamped across the lower half of his face. I must have looked like a bedlam crouching there in my sodden, ripped dress, my filthy hair matted to my head and my face covered in scratches and spatters of sewer. Lucca muttered in Italian and reached out to push sticky strands away from my forehead. I winced as they pulled at something dried on my skin, opening a wound that began to sting. My teeth chattered now.

'You are frozen. Lucca scattered another handful of coals into the hearth. 'You must change, immediately. He stood up. 'I have some things, Ill get- 'No! I caught his arm. I couldnt have him bustling around, fussing over me like a mother hen, not now. It didnt seem right.

'Take this at least. He went to the bed and pulled a blanket free. Returning to the fire he bent to drape it round my shoulders.

'And your face! Luccas eye widened in alarm as I stared up at him.

'You are injured, your clothes are scorched and yet they are wet through and you reek of smoke and sewer. What has happened?

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Luccas scars were hidden by the shadows cast from the fire and by the thick dark curls that fell to cover the burned side of his face.

How could anyone love a ruin? His question ran through my mind again, but the young man I saw was beautiful. How was I going to tell him about Misha?

My eyes flicked to the glasses and the bottle. Lucca saw it.

'He . . . he didnt come, Fannella. I waited and he didnt come.

I swallowed hard as he continued. 'I think he knew I wouldnt go with him. But I thought at least that he would . . .

'You werent going to leave? I found a voice at last, but it was thin as the pap in Robbies bottle.

Lucca shook his head. 'I was . . . tempted, but no. There is more for me here. Everything I know, everyone I . . . love. He tried to smile. 'Besides, Russia is cold and I was not born for snow.

He leaned down to kiss my forehead, but then he straightened up, brought his hand to his lips and wiped the foul taste of me away. He frowned. 'And you need me by your side. What has happened tonight, Fannella?

I didnt know where to begin. I tried to find the right place maybe with Joey and Della or perhaps the fire at The Gaudy? But as I looked up at Lucca I knew it kept coming back to Misha Raskalov. That was what I had to tell him and I dreaded it.

We were a pair of blind fools, me and Lucca, werent we?

I reached under the blanket and shawl and felt beneath the scratchy damp collar of my dress for the chain. I needed to hold Joeys Christopher and his ring tight between my fingers. I pushed deeper under the fabric, trying to catch the links of the chain. I loosened the knot of the shawl and then I pulled at the buttons forcing my hand down into the ruffled neck of my dress. I caught at something and pulled it free. The chain had broken somewhere along the way tonight.

It was an omen. Frosted lips kissed the back of my neck.

I felt my nails scrabble across the skin of my throat and then lower across my breasts nestled up in the bodice as I delved frantically under the fabric. Perhaps the ring and the Christopher were lodged somewhere?

When, truly, I knew they were gone I began to cry.

Lucca stroked my head and rocked me from side to side as heaving sobs tore me apart. I could hardly breathe for the tightness in my chest, but all the while my lungs kept pumping away like a pair of knackered foundry bellows. Eventually I was able to snatch down enough air to make a voice.

'He . . . hes gone.

'Who? Whos gone? Lucca sat back and took my hands in his. His eye was huge in the firelight. 'You must tell me, tell me everything.

Something hardened in my throat, blocking the words. 'B . . . but you wont want to hear it. I cant- 'You can, Fannella and you must. Lucca stood and went to the table. Collecting the bottle and glasses, he came back to the fire. 'Here. He unstoppered the bottle and poured clear liquid into one of the glasses.

'This will help. Take it.

As I reached out my hands were shaking so violent that the liquor splashed over the rim and onto the boards. Lucca placed his own hands over mine to steady me and helped bring it to my lips. My throat and stomach burned as I sipped down a mouthful, but the feeling kicked something to life inside. I swallowed again and then again and again, greedily revelling in the churning, burning sensation.

In less than a minute Id drained the glass. Lucca took it from my hands and filled it to the brim again.

'Take this one more slowly, Kitty. Now, tell me.

At first I could hardly make the words form on my lips, but the liquor helped. Once I started they came tumbling over themselves like the filthy water running through that drain. Lucca listened in silence. He didnt look at me as I spoke. Instead he stared down at the boards in front of the great marble fireplace in his room, circling the tip of a finger around a knot in the boards. When Id told him everything he stopped. His hand hovered just above the wood like hed been turned to stone.

His hair had fallen forward to cover his face. I could see the place on his head where the burns crept up across his scalp. Pink furrows of skin were visible through the dark curls. He was usually careful to cover them.

I looked away. Pinned to the wall just behind him was a sheet of paper. The sweeping charcoal lines dashed confidently across the page to form a mans face. It was Misha, his slanting eyes and curved lips taunted us both.

I folded my hand over Luccas. 'I . . . I dont know what to say.

He didnt answer for a long time. When he finally looked up both sides of his face were wet.

'Theres nothing you can say, Fannella.

I gripped tight. 'Hes not worth your tears, Lucca.

'I am not crying for him, Fannella. Amit, The Gaudy, the fire, Della, the child . . . He faltered. 'These are tears of shame. I should have been there with you, but instead I was so caught up with . . . He shook his head and something hot splashed onto the back of my hand. 'Ill never forgive myself. I should have listened to you all along you felt- 'You didnt know! He lied he tricked us both. Misha was clever, Ill give him that.

'And I was a fool. Lucca reached for the bottle between us. 'A stupid, selfish, lovesick fool.

His hand faltered. Instead of taking the bottle he span round and stared at the drawing behind him. I saw him hesitate for a moment and then he lashed out, ripping the paper from the wall. He flattened it out on the boards between us, dug into the pocket of his breeches and produced a fat black stub of charcoal.

I watched in silence as Lucca slashed thick black lines across Misha Raskalovs grinning face, swiping down hard again and again until the features were cancelled by a jagged cross. He raised his hand above the paper, clutching the charcoal like a blade, and then he slammed it down again, circling wildly until there was nothing but a storm of scrawl.