Ekaterine said, more than a little amused at the idea.
Friedrich answered with an especially polite and genteel sigh of disinterest.
“Yes, I know,” he said. “Her father’s idea, no doubt. I suppose that socially it is a rather good match. She may be English, but she is the daughter of an earl while I am merely a baron.”
“And do not forget,” Ekaterine added, “that the Wodesleys are a particularly distinguished family as earls go.”
“Quite,” Friedrich said, noncommittally.
Ekaterine ate a bite of sandwich before adding, “It must never come to pass. It would be a terrible match.”
“You truly think so?” This seemed to relieve Friedrich.
“Beyond a doubt,” Ekaterine said. “I fear the girl lacks a certain severity that I suspect a man like you desires in a wife.”
“Well, we are of a mind on this point,” Friedrich said. “The woman I am to marry must have singular qualities.”
Friedrich turned sideways, as if to regard something of interest on the refreshment table, when really it allowed him to take another step closer to her. Ekaterine felt like shaking her head at him. He really was incorrigible.
“Singular qualities?” Ekaterine asked. She turned in place to exchange nods with a passing acquaintance and used the opportunity to move a pace back from Friedrich, counteracting his advance. “What sort of singular qualities?”
Friedrich smiled. He had noticed her maneuver but did not seem angered by it.
“Subtlety,” he said, “grace, intellect, and wit. And above all, a challenge.” After allowing the statement to linger for a moment, he changed the subject of conversation: “I was not aware that you were a lady.” He seemed rather amused by the revelation. “Though I did suspect it. I knew that you were no servant.”
“How clever of you,” Ekaterine said.
“Why would one do such a thing?” Friedrich asked.
What to tell him…?
Ekaterine smiled slightly and replied, “A private joke at the expense of the French.”
“One can never have too many of those,” Friedrich said. “And how do you find yourselves here, in England? I would have thought my mother would wish to return home to Russia straight away, especially in light of.…”
His voice trailed off, but Ekaterine knew something of what he meant: the kidnapping, when a group of ruffians in service to the des Louveteaux had assaulted Varanus, gunned her down, and dragged Friedrich away to be sacrificed in some pit beneath their manor house. He had nearly been killed, and Varanus would have died from her injuries had she been mortal. After the night’s conclusion, Ekaterine suspected, both Varanus and Friedrich had been keen to get the other safely back home. It was not at all reassuring to be reunited with one’s long lost mother or son, only to have them either kidnapped or nearly killed the same evening.
But concern went both ways.
“I should ask you the same question,” Ekaterine said. “I was there when your mother put you on the train to Paris. From there, you were to return to Germany where you would be safely away from the reach of the des Louveteaux. Your mother will not be pleased to learn of this.”
Friedrich shifted his stance uncomfortably, but he kept his smile and did not relent.
“In Paris, I realized that it did not please me to return to Germany,” he said. “And so, I decided to travel.”
“Where did you go?” Ekaterine asked.
“I went to America,” Friedrich said. “It was…interesting.”
“Interesting?”
Ekaterine could tell that he was hiding something.
“Yes, interesting,” Friedrich repeated. He did not elaborate. Instead, looking over Ekaterine’s shoulder at something behind her, he added, “And I met some very interesting people. Including.…” He made a beckoning motion and called, “Doctor Thorndyke, a word! There is someone I should like you to meet!”
Ekaterine turned slightly and looked behind her. She saw a middle-aged man in evening dress, his hair slightly graying, his face adorned with a Van Dyke beard and moustache of tremendous size. The man stood just inside the door, looking awkward and more than a little out of place. But at the sight of Friedrich waving, his face lit up, and he hurried to join them, walking with a strange little waddle made by shuffling his feet.
What a peculiar person, Ekaterine thought.
“Doctor Thorndyke,” Friedrich said, “I’m glad that I found you. May I introduce Princess Ekaterine Shashavani?”
“Uh…oh!” Thorndyke adjusted a pair of small spectacles that sat perched upon his nose. Clicking his heels together, he bowed stiffly, which somehow involved bobbing his head. “A most distinct honorable pleasure, if I may say so.”
Ekaterine smiled politely at him and flashed Friedrich a curious look. Thorndyke was not the sort of person she would have expected to be in Friedrich’s company.
“Princess Shashavani,” Friedrich said, “this gentleman is Doctor Harold Thorndyke of Vermont. His is one of the finest medical minds in all of America, and he is truly the genius of wellness.”
“W-wellness?” Ekaterine asked, taken aback by the peculiar use of the word. “What is a genius of wellness?”
“Health, Madam,” Thorndyke said. “Health and longevity are my trade. Where other doctors seek to correct bodily ills, I endeavor to prevent them entirely.”
“Oh yes?” Ekaterine flashed another look at Friedrich before turning back to Thorndyke and asking, “And precisely how does one accomplish this?”
“Exercise, Madam,” Thorndyke replied, “cold baths, cereals, vegetarianism, and yoghurt.”
Ekaterine blinked a few times, wondering if she had heard correctly.
“Yoghurt?” she asked.
Yoghurt was a fine food, but Ekaterine had never regarded it as a cornerstone to health. And the avoidance of meat? Madness, surely.
“Yes, yoghurt,” Thorndyke said. “Yoghurt and cereals are the keys to digestion, and digestion is the key to health.” He began feeling about his person. “Now, I am certain I have a pamphlet on the subject.”
“That is quite unnecessary, Doctor Thorndyke,” Ekaterine quickly said. “I shall take your word on the matter.”
“If you are ever in the United States, you must visit my sanatorium in Vermont,” Thorndyke said. “We have served royalty there before.”
“I shall…remember that,” Ekaterine said politely.
Thorndyke suddenly seemed to remember himself, and he quickly clapped his hands together.
“My apologies, Princess Shashavani,” he said, bowing again, just as stiffly as before. “I remember now why I came looking for Friedrich…uh…that is to say, the Baron von Fuchsburg. I fear that I must depart at once. A crisis of a medical nature has arisen, and I must attend to it.”
Friedrich looked surprised and protested, “Nonsense, Thorndyke, you have only just arrived!”
“Yes, yes,” Thorndyke said, bobbing his head. “But a message was sent for me. I have only just received it, and it is of the utmost importance. I fear that I must take my leave. A pleasure as always, Friedrich…that is to say, Baron. And an honor to meet you, Princess Shashavani.”
As he spoke, he bowed again and backed away in his strange, shuffling walk.
Ekaterine looked at Friedrich and said, “I have met some very eccentric people in my years, but that man is especially curious. Is he