Minny’s dark eyes flashed fire. ‘I’ve lived in Russia for thirty years. You have been in Russia barely two years. You might do me the politeness of acknowledging that I know what I am talking about. At the moment you are achieving the near-impossible. You are antagonizing not only the court and the public, but the family as well.’

And, sick at heart, she rose to her feet and, without giving Alicky the courtesy of a kiss goodbye, swept from the room.

‘Did you tell her about the charity you will soon be launching?’ Nicky asked, when Alicky told him of what had taken place between her and his mother.

It was late evening and they were in the cosy intimacy of her boudoir. She was seated on his lap, her red-gold hair unbraided and spilling in undulating waves way below her waist.

His arms tightened around her lovingly. ‘About how it will be on the same lines as the Needlework Guild that Aunt Alix, Princess Mary Adelaide and Cousin May give such support to, in England?’

‘Yes, and she was very crushing. She said Russia wasn’t England, and that women of the nobility in Russia would never spend time making and embroidering articles of clothing to be given to the poor. But surely, Nicky, that is only because they have never been asked to do so?’

Nicky was never contentious and never took sides. ‘It’s time to forget Mama and her concerns, sweetheart. It’s time for bed.’

Minny’s hurtful remarks were immediately forgotten. It was only nine o’clock, but that didn’t matter to either of them. As Nicky carried her in the direction of the bedroom, Alicky clasped her hands around his neck. There was a tiny bead of sweat on it and, as he closed the bedroom door behind them with his heel, she licked it away.

She loved the taste of him; the scent of him; the feel of his hair against the palm of her hand; the weight of his legs as they intertwined with hers. Most of all, she loved the rapturous feeling of utter, ultimate surrender. In bed there had never been any shyness or restraint between them. They were good lovers and successful ones, for although no one but themselves knew, she was several weeks pregnant – and this time, after weeks and weeks of praying in front of her favourite icon, she was absolutely certain that the child in her womb was a boy.

A week later and the morning of the coronation in Moscow dawned bright and clear. Once the capital of Russia, until St Petersburg had superseded it, the city was still a glorious sight. Its wide avenues were lined with palaces and mansions. Its skyline was a sea of steeply pitched red-and-green roofs, golden domes and glittering church spires and, at its heart, lay the forbidding medieval walls of the Kremlin, a city within a city.