After the events of the Christmas Eve ball, the palace had been buzzing with gossip. Some pitied Ekaterina’s fate, while others sniffed and basked in her misfortune. But all were excitedly guessing at which suitor she would choose. All that was, except for Andrey. Andrey had spent most of the night pacing, his mind awhirl. After Empress Anna’s announcement, he hadn’t been permitted a moment alone with Ekaterina. Instead he had been rudely ushered from the hall as his mentor, Rastrelli, had erupted in panicked appeals. His last stolen glance was of Ekaterina’s pale, stone-faced expression as she surveyed her potential husbands. Now, finally released from his suite by the Empress’s personal guard, he walked briskly into the reception hall of the palace, where a Christmas day luncheon was being served. But as he strode into the room, he was nearly shoved out of the way by a burly noble barrelling past. He blinked, surprised.
