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luncheon and before dinner, so you would say”—here I switched to English—“Good afternoon.”
    â€œGood afternoon,” she repeated.
    She had an accent, but her smile would make up for any lack in her pronunciation.
    â€œTeach me more,” she commanded.
    I could tell she was smart. And from the considering glances she gave me, I suspected she was judging whether she could trust me. She was learning English for more than a little privacy. I’d just have to wait and see what else she wanted to know.
    When the dragon returned in exactly one-half hour, the princess had learned greetings and her numbers and a few basic nouns. I had no idea how many of these new words she’d remember by the next day.
    â€œLady Raminoff,” she said in French as she stood, “I’ve made good progress for today. I shall meet again tomorrow afternoon with Miss Peabody for another lesson.”
    The chaperone said something in Russian that began a heated discussion. The older woman still sounded like a parrot; the younger one acted like no one had ever dared disagree with her before. This went on for a few minutes and all the time I cursed my lack of Russian. I heard the name “Lidijik” once. Were they giving clues to the murder of the imperial guard in front of me while I stood by in ignorance? I wanted to stomp my foot in frustration.
    Finally, Princess Kira turned to me and said in French, “We will continue my lessons tomorrow afternoon. Alone.”
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    THE NEXT MORNING, I heard a tap on the morning room door and watched Princess Kira slip in, shutting the door behind her. “Miss Peabody, could we do our lesson in the National Gallery today? So I could learn the English names for painting techniques?”
    â€œI’ll try. I’m afraid I’m not as versed in painting as you are,” I replied in French as I dipped a quick curtsy.
    She either didn’t notice or didn’t care that my curtsy was not the deep reverential one she should expect from employees. “That is fine. The duke will come with us, and he’ll be able to help.”
    â€œWhat about your chaperone?”
    â€œWe won’t tell her.”
    â€œHow will you leave the house without her knowing?”
    â€œLeave that to me. Just don’t ask questions. Be ready to go assoon as we finish luncheon.” The eagerness in her voice told me how much she wanted to escape her chaperone. Then she looked me over. Her lower lip curled in scorn. “That is what you wore today?”
    I was dressed in a peach blouse with a gray skirt. No ruffles, no silk, no jewels. I liked the outfit; the shirtwaist didn’t war with my auburn hair color. I held her gaze as I said, “Yes.”
    There was a small sigh. “No matter.”
    I was going to have a hard time putting up with the princess. “What time will you finish luncheon?” I asked in French.
    A smile crossed her face. “Two,” she said in clear English.
    After she left, I waited with mild impatience for my meal to arrive. I ate faster than usual, concentrating not on my food but on what Princess Kira had planned once she left the house. Did she have a flair for espionage and a dislike for her chaperone, or was something deeper going on? A Russian political feud? A plot to sabotage the princess’s wedding?
    And where did the murder of her imperial guard, the only other member of her entourage besides her chaperone and her lady’s maid, fit into her plan?
    I paced the room. Ideas bounced through my mind and were quickly discarded for lack of evidence. When the clock showed it was nearly time, I went into the back hall. I had my hat pinned firmly in place when Princess Kira appeared, her hat and gloves already on.
    She waved frantically to me and hurried into the garden. I grabbed my gloves and followed.
    Leading the way along a path past a fountain and then next to the