It was a ludicrous notion. Babette knew far too little of Carantia and its royal history. Surely di Reinardus would know if there had been a second princess…a princess who had a wildly different background than Alese di Reinardus. And Babette knew she had absolutely nothing to back her peculiar theory except the intuition of a woman who, even in her most cynical moments, had always recognized the possibility of miracles. She glanced back at Yuri, who was pouring himself a glass of the vodka he’d found in the sideboard. He would only scoff if she shared her suspicions. For now, she must concentrate on what she could be sure of. And she still intended to save Yuri from his own worst impulses. As she intended to save Anna, whoever she might be. “I’m coming,” she said, giving the words a subtle flavor of resignation. She joined Yuri at the table. “Let us go up to bed.” He downed the rest of his drink. “Are you sure you want me in yours?” She laid her hand on his shoulder.
