“Madame Seward, I apologize for coming to your home unexpectedly. May we come in?”

“Of course.” Eve saw her eyes shift to the furniture that had yet to be dusted, to toys that had yet to be tidied. “May I offer you coffee, Your Highness?”

“No, thank you. May I present Miss Eve Hamilton.”

“How do you do?” The woman offered a hand. “Please sit down.”

Alexander took a chair, knowing the woman would remain standing if he did. “Madame Seward, there was news from Paris this morning.”

Seated beside Alena on the sofa, Eve felt the other woman tense. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“Two bombs were planted at our embassy. One detonated before it was discovered.” He knew from experience that bad news, the worst news, was best given quickly. “Your husband was killed.”

“Maurice?” Her fingers tightened on Eve’s hand, though she was unaware that it had been offered. “Dead?”

“He was killed instantly, madame. My father sends his grief and his condolences, and I and the rest of my family give ours.”

“There is a mistake?” There were no tears, but the fingers around Eve’s hand were like clamps.

He hated the helplessness more than anything else. He could give her no hope, and sympathy was such an empty gift. “No, madame. He was alone in the office when it exploded.”

“Brandy.” Eve forced Alena’s attention to her. “Madame Seward, where is your brandy?”

“Brandy?” Her voice was as blank as her eyes. “There is brandy in the kitchen.”

Eve only looked at Alexander. He rose and went to find it himself.

“But I spoke to him just yesterday,” Alena murmured. “He was well—tired. The meetings drag on so long. He’d bought a little jeweled pin for our daughter. Her birthday is next month.” On this her voice began to quiver. “There’s a mistake. Mademoiselle?”

Then the tears came. Eve did the only thing she knew how. She held. When Alexander entered the room again Eve had the widow’s head on her breast. Her own eyes were overflowing as she stroked Alena’s hair. Grief filled the room, replacing disbelief. In a movement that had nothing to do with protocol and everything to do with compassion, he knelt in front of them and urged the brandy on Alena.

“You have a sister, madame,” he said gently. “Would you like me to phone her now?”

“My children.”

“I’ll have them brought home.”

She took a shaky sip of brandy. “I would like my sister, Your Highness.”

“Where is your phone?”

“In the office. Maurice’s office, down the hall.” She turned back into Eve’s shoulder and wept.

* * *

“You were very kind,” Alexander said when they were back in his car.

Eve shut her eyes, leaning her head back against the seat. “Kindness often doesn’t seem to be enough.”