In the spring of 1914, court gos­sips began whis­per­ing about an engage­ment between eigh­teen-year old Olga and Prince Car­ol of Roma­nia. Why else, they spec­u­lat­ed, would the Impe­r­i­al Cou­ple plan to vis­it there? Indeed, a union between Olga and the prince would be advan­ta­geous for Rus­sia. Roma­nia was too close­ly aligned with Ger­many. Mar­riage to a Romanov might break their alliance.

Aware of the talk, Olga turned to Pierre Gillard. Since learn­ing the truth about Alexei’s ill­ness, the French teacher had been tak­en into the Empress’ con­fi­dence. Now, Olga hoped to whee­dle the truth out of him.

“Tell me… mon­sieur,” she asked. “Do you know why we are going to Romania?”

Flus­tered, Gillard replied, “I believe it is a cour­tesy visit.”

Olga brushed his answer aside. “Oh, that’s the offi­cial rea­son… but what’s the real rea­son? I know… that you know it.”

Gillard nod­ded.

“All right!” she exclaimed with­out him say­ing anoth­er word. “But if I don’t wish it, it won’t hap­pen. Papa has promised not to make me… and I don’t want to leave Russia.”

“But you could come back as often as you like,” Gillard point­ed out.

“I’m a Russ­ian,” she replied res­olute­ly, “and I mean to remain a Russian.”

Weeks lat­er, the fam­i­ly sailed for Roma­nia. En route, Olga sat on the upper deck, her face tilt­ed toward the sun, hop­ing for a burn. She want­ed to look as unat­trac­tive as pos­si­ble to the young prince. She obvi­ous­ly suc­ceed­ed. By the time she arrived at the Roman­ian port of Con­stan­za, she was “very flushed,” not­ed one observer.

Although it was brief vis­it – less than twen­ty-four hours – the day was packed with activ­i­ties. There was a morn­ing cathe­dral ser­vice, a state lun­cheon, a mil­i­tary review, and a for­mal tea – all giv­en with pomp and fan­fare. Flags flew. Can­non boomed. And crowds of Roma­ni­ans gath­ered to stare at Olga. Could this Russ­ian girl be their future queen?

That evening, the King and Queen of Roma­nia held a ban­quet in the Romanovs’ hon­or. Despite its opu­lence, it was an awk­ward and uncom­fort­able meal. Ill at ease, Alexan­dra made “brave efforts to be as gra­cious as pos­si­ble,” recalled one guest. Nicholas chain-smoked ner­vous­ly between cours­es. And Olga and Prince Car­ol, seat­ed next to each oth­er, had lit­tle to say. She replied to his bored ques­tions with “cold reserve,” while he fid­get­ed with his silverware.

Her sis­ters were no help. Gig­gling and elbow­ing each oth­er, they kept wink­ing sly­ly at the couple.

Only Alex­ei and Prince Carol’s lit­tle broth­er, Nicholas, enjoyed the evening. As high-spir­it­ed as the tsare­vich, Nicholas taught Alex­ei how to spit grape seeds into the punch bowl when everyone’s back was turned.

Hours lat­er, the relieved Romanovs sailed away, their plans for a roy­al wed­ding aban­doned. “Olga Nicholaiev­na,” wrote Pierre Gillard, “had won.”

Mate­r­i­al not includ­ed in The Fam­i­ly Romanov: Mur­der, rebel­lion and The Fall of Impe­r­i­al Rus­sia , by Can­dace Flem­ing, copy­right © 2014. All rights reserved.

Pho­to Cred­it: Romanov Col­lec­tion, Gen­er­al Col­lec­tion, Bei­necke Rare Book and Man­u­script Library, Yale University.