“Can we call him Nicholas?” Maria asked. It would be lovely to remember her father that way.

Peter glanced at Svetlana, who was making a bundle of the soiled sheets and towels. “Let’s discuss it later,” he said. “He can be little No-name for now.” He ran a finger along the baby’s brow and kissed his button nose. “Everyone says newborns are beautiful, but this one—he is a miracle child. Looking at him, I can tell he will do something very special with his life.”

Maria beamed. “Once we find her, I will ask his aunt Tatiana to be godmother.”

Peter put a finger to his lips and shook his head slightly, warning her not to say more. The baby had fallen asleep in his arms.

“I’ll leave you in peace,” Svetlana said, smiling at the vision of father and son. “Keep the room warm, and call if you need anything.”

“We will be forever in your debt,” Peter told her, and Maria added, “Yes, thank you a million, million times over.”

After Svetlana had gone, Peter sat on the bed by Maria, still cradling the baby.

“I think we should avoid giving the boy a Romanov name,” he said. “And beware of mentioning your siblings in front of our employers. They are good people, but we cannot expect them to keep our secret, should it come out.”

“What do you think we should call our son?” Maria asked, unable to take her eyes off his little face, trying to memorize every inch of it.

“A good honest country name. How about Stepan?”

That felt right. She smiled. “Stepan it is.”

* * *

Maria recovered quickly from childbirth and threw herself into caring for her baby. She loved the sensation of breastfeeding, the idea that she was providing vital nourishment for Stepan. She loved bathing him and spent hours lying on the bed watching him sleep. Svetlana showed her how to fashion a sling to carry him next to her body as she went about her work, so she hardly ever had to put him down.

In the early weeks she kept a close eye out for any signs of hemophilia, but his cord healed normally and dropped off, and there were no odd bruises or unexplained marks. Even as a baby Alexei had been sickly, but this boy seemed hale and strong, like his father.

One of the greatest pleasures for Maria was watching Peter with his son. His large, work-roughened hands were tender as he cupped the downy head, his voice low as he whispered to him, his eyes brimming with emotion. It made her love for her husband deepen as she watched him with the child they had created together.

“I hope Stepan will have your cowlick,” she mused.

“My what?” He was mystified. “I have been licked by a cow?”