Matty looked across at Nicholas. “I’m sorry, Nicholas. I never wanted to embarrass you or put you in this awkward position, but I can’t let the man I love be accused of a crime I know he didn’t commit.”

Nicholas nodded. “I applaud your bravery, Maria,” he said.

“Then how do we know that the man this English lady saw was not Mr. O’Mara?” Patrascue asked. “I am still not satisfied that we have not all been barking up the wrong tree, since Lady Georgiana made these accusations against the princess. I think she was trying to throw us off the scent.”

“As to that, I’m afraid I have the same alibi as Princess Maria,” Darcy said. “At the time the poor woman was being pushed down the stairs, I was in bed with Lady Georgiana.”

Of course I turned scarlet as I felt all those eyes on me.

“Then this is true?” Siegfried asked me. “You do not deny it?”

“I’m afraid it is true,” I said. “Darcy was with me when we heard the screams from down below.”

“But if these people have an alibi for the second murder, what then?” Patrascue said. “I would like to discount one of these alibis but I see from the guilty looks on the faces of these young highnesses that their stories are true. Is the murderer someone quite different? Someone we haven’t considered until now?”

Someone behind me cleared his throat and Dragomir stepped forward. I hadn’t noticed him in the room until that moment. His cloak swirled rather impressively around him. “Your Majesty, this has gone on long enough. I do not wish to put your daughter through any more pain. I should like to plead guilty to the murders.”

The king stepped toward him. “You, old friend? You tried to kill Prince Nicholas? But why? Why would you do this?”

“I have my reasons,” Dragomir replied. “Let us just say that this is my ancestral home and I am avenging the ghosts of my ancestors for the wrongs done to them.”

The door behind us was thrown open, letting in a great gust of cold wind. “Don’t be ridiculous, Father,” said a voice and the elusive Vlad stepped into the room. By daylight he was even more handsome than his portrait, but there was something wild about his eyes and in his right hand he held a gun.

“Father? He called you Father?” the king stammered.

“That’s right,” Dragomir said. “He is my son. I couldn’t marry his mother because of her lowly rank but I have done my duty by him. I paid for his schooling and sent him off to study in Paris. And I love him as any father loves his only child.”