Escape of the Grand Duchess
By Susan Appleyard
By Susan Appleyard
Publication Date: 27th July 2025
Publisher: Ingenium Books Publishing Inc.
Page Length: 412
Genre: Biographical Historical Fiction
Escape of the Grand Duchess by Susan Appleyard is a gripping historical novel that shatters the notion that royalty is synonymous with privilege and ease. At its heart is Grand Duchess Olga Alexandrovna, the youngest sister of Tsar Nicholas II—a Romanov who defied a doomed destiny and survived.
Unlike her ill-fated brother and his family, Olga’s story is one of resilience, sacrifice, and daring escape. Trapped in a loveless marriage to a reckless gambler—who harbours secrets of his own—she finds hope in the arms of a dashing army lieutenant. But before she can claim her own happiness, she must first endure the brutal realities of World War I, where she serves as a nurse on the frontlines.
As the Russian Empire teeters on the brink of collapse, the infamous Siberian mystic Rasputin tightens his grip on the imperial court, setting the stage for revolution. With the Bolsheviks seizing power and the Romanovs marked for death, Olga faces an impossible choice: risk everything to stay or flee into the unknown with her true love and their children.
Rich in historical detail and driven by an unforgettable heroine, Escape of the Grand Duchess is a sweeping riches-to-rags tale of survival, love, and the strength it takes to forge a new life in the face of unimaginable upheaval.
Excerpt
It was a fine day, with the grass in the English Garden of the Pavlovsk Palace turning green and spikes of new growth poking through the saturated soil. I sat beside Nicky on the horse Misha had bought me, wearing my Akhtyrsky uniform. Surrounded by high military officers, I watched as the regiments marched by in their colourful uniforms: Hussars and Cossacks, Guardsmen and Marines, each company in precise formation, each button winking in the sun, each boot polished and scuff-free. Each manoeuvre delighted the watchers with its perfect symmetry. When my own regiment marched by, I held my fingertips to my brow in the prescribed manner.
Later, when the review was over, I was talking to some of the officers of my regiment when I saw Misha with a tall, blond man in the uniform of the Blue Cuirassiers who caught my attention. I think it was the pleasant surprise when a smile warmed his handsome but solemn face, and two dimples appeared. But it was more than that. It really was. On that day, I learned that love at first sight did exist. I wanted to know that man; I wanted that smile to warm me.
Misha was a colonel of the Blue Cuirassiers, so at the first opportunity, I asked him about the man who’d had such an impact on me. “That’s Nikolai Kulikovsky. Caught your fancy, has he? And you a married woman.” He grinned, his eyes dancing.
I ignored his teasing. “What do you know about him?”
“He’s an excellent horseman and has extraordinary skill in riding and training Arabians.” To Misha, those were admirable attributes. When it seemed he would say no more, a discreet poke in the ribs elicited more information. “He’s from a military family in the south—actually, I believe they’re from the Voronezh area. Now there’s a coincidence. They also have property in Ukraine. He’s only recently joined the Blues. His fellow officers call him God Apollo. That’s about all I know.”
God Apollo—he was that. Goose bumps rose on my arms. “I can see why. Is he married? Engaged?”
“No. Olga—”
I turned to him and laid a hand on his gold-braided sleeve. “Misha, no lectures, please. I would like to meet him. Why don’t you invite me to your luncheon tomorrow and arrange for us to sit together? Could you do that?”
He weighed the alternatives: morality and possible scandal against my barren marriage and his big-brother desire to please me. Finally, he said, “He’s a lowly lieutenant. I hope you know what you are doing.”
“The male version of a ballerina, perhaps?” I said with a giggle. “I just want to get to know him. Perhaps we’ll become friends. Perhaps not. We shall see.”
The following day, I put aside my dolman and dressed in a white chiffon gown with a pale green sash at my waist. I wore only simple pear-shaped pearl earrings and a fresh rose from a bouquet in my bungalow pinned to my breast. Mimka had learned to style my hair and took particular care that day.
Despite his misgivings, Misha had arranged my seat beside the lieutenant’s. When I slid into the chair, he rose, bowed, making a good attempt to hide his surprise, and said, “Good day, Your Imperial Highness.”
“Good day, Lieutenant.”
He reclaimed his own seat. At the same time as he looked my way, I looked at him, admiring his sculpted lips beneath a shapely moustache, and eyes: brown, warm, velvet, surrounded by thick, dark lashes. He had the figure of an athlete, slim but muscular.
“Would Your Imperial Highness permit me to introduce myself? I—”
“I know who you are. I asked my brother.”
He smiled, and the dimples bracketed his mouth, and I smiled back. There it was. An instant connection. I can describe it no other way. Warmth wound its way through my veins to my fingertips and toes, and I felt sure I was blushing. I had never felt that way before. I wanted to kiss those dimples. No, what I really wanted was to kiss his mouth. Lips and moustache, two different textures against my lips. I felt sure it would be thrilling. Did he know what I was thinking? Did I look like a besotted schoolgirl? I knew the colonel on my other side had asked me a question, but I couldn’t look away until Nikolai did, releasing me to respond to my neighbour. The spell was broken but the feelings it awoke had not. I thought, This is so unlike me, to behave so with a stranger.
After speaking briefly with the colonel, I turned back to Nikolai so that I could further admire that lovely profile. Lunch was smoked salmon and caviar with early greens, washed down by champagne. I barely tasted the food and drank only in sips. I was amused to see that Misha was keeping an eye on me and raised my glass to him as a thank-you.
“My brother tells me you are a keen horseman.”
“Horses,” he said in the tone of voice another man might have said, ‘Sweetheart.’ “Very intelligent creatures. You can talk to them, and they listen and obey.”
“Unlike women?” I teased.
“Um …” he said, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean …”
“No, of course you didn’t. I have a wicked sense of humour. What else do you like about horses?”
“They are loyal, brave, full of grace and dignity, and they dance prettily. Like a woman.” We both smiled—oh, those dimples. Captivating—and I was pleased to know that he had a sense of humour.
“Does Your Imperial Highness ride?”
“I learned to ride at Gatchina when I was a girl. My brother and I rode around the estate and sometimes had races. He always won.”
“His Imperial Highness is an excellent horseman.”
“He said the same of you.”
I took a bite of the salmon, and the colonel spoke to me again. I supposed he might be annoyed that I was giving most of my attention to a subordinate. A rather attractive lady was on his other side, whom he was ignoring, so I suspected she might be his wife. After giving him the requisite attention and laughing at a bad joke, I turned back to Nikolai, who, to my vexation, was engaged with his neighbour. The colonel addressed me again. When Nikolai and I were both free, I quickly captured his attention.
“I understand you come from a military background. Is that why you became a soldier?”
“It was preordained. My grandfather fought in the army that defeated Napoleon. I’ve been riding since I was a small boy. I went to the Nikolai Cavalry College, where I earned a degree before joining the Blue Cuirassiers. I’m now studying marksmanship and light machine-gun shooting.”
How extraordinary. He might have joined any of the many regiments, but he chose the Blues, bringing him here on this day when I had joined my brothers to watch the review. We spoke no words of love, exchanged no tokens, and I did not tell him about my unhappy marriage. But after speaking with him throughout most of the luncheon, I knew that something had been set in motion—something that I felt was intrinsically good—and I was not willing to let it end.
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Susan Appleyard
Susan was born in England, which is where she learned to love English history, and now lives in Canada in the summer. In winter she and her husband flee the cold for their second home in Mexico. Susan divides her time between writing and her hobby, oil painting, although writing will always be her first love. She was fortunate in having had two books published traditionally. Since joining the ebook crowd, she has published nine books, some of which have won various awards.
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