The forbidden love of Prince Regent Nicholas of Romania: “She doesn’t love you, just as Lupescu doesn’t love Carol!”
By Bucharest Team
- Articles
In the early decades of the 20th century, Romania was undergoing profound political, social, and moral transformations. After the Great Union of 1918, the royal family became the symbol of national unity and stability. Yet, behind the palace walls, passions, betrayals, and personal dramas of almost Shakespearean proportions unfolded. It was in this turbulent context that Prince Nicholas of Romania, the fourth child of King Ferdinand and Queen Marie, became both a romantic and controversial figure.
The young regent caught between duty and heart
Born in 1903, Nicholas grew up in an atmosphere of discipline and refinement. Unlike his older brother, Carol, who was ambitious and domineering, Nicholas was a dreamer—gentle, sincere, and disinterested in power.
However, when Carol renounced his rights to the throne in January 1926, Nicholas was suddenly thrust into the highest responsibilities as one of the three regents who would rule on behalf of the young Prince Michael.
He was only 23, and by his own later admission, he felt unprepared for such a role. He was not made for the intrigues of politics or the rigidity of royal protocol. Deep down, he longed for freedom, for life, and above all—for love. And that love would soon bear a name that would change his destiny: Ioana Dumitrescu Dolette.
The meeting with Ioana Dolette and the birth of a scandal
Ioana was a beautiful, intelligent, and elegant woman from a respected family in Tohani, Buzău County. Married to Nicușor Săveanu, son of the politician Constantin Săveanu, she seemed to lead a comfortable and enviable life. Yet beneath the appearances, her marriage was far from happy. Fate brought her into contact with Prince Nicholas in 1928, at the Automobile Club of Romania, a favorite meeting place of Bucharest’s elite.
Their eyes met only once, but that single glance was enough to spark an uncontrollable flame. That evening, after a formal dinner, Ioana climbed into the prince’s car and left her husband in full view of society. The diarist and politician Constantin Argetoianu, an eyewitness to the times, later wrote with both irony and fascination:
“Mr. Săveanu, betrayed in the middle of the street, rushed after the fugitives but was stopped by the police on the prince’s orders. The whole of Bucharest was laughing and gossiping—never had such a spectacle been seen before.”
The next day, the humiliated husband filed for divorce, while King Ferdinand, gravely ill, received the news with sorrow. The newspapers blazed with headlines about “the romantic escapade of the regent prince,” and the royal family scrambled to contain the scandal. Eventually, Săveanu was appointed to a diplomatic post in Brussels—a discreet way to silence the matter.
For Nicholas, however, this was not a fleeting affair. His love for Ioana was absolute and sincere. In an age when rank and decorum mattered more than feeling, he chose to follow his heart, no matter the cost.
A love that defied the Crown
When Carol II returned to the throne in 1930, Nicholas hoped his brother would understand his desire to marry Ioana. But the king—himself entangled in the notorious relationship with Elena Lupescu—categorically refused to grant his brother permission. The hypocrisy of this decision wounded Nicholas deeply.
Queen Marie tried to intervene, but in vain. In a heartbreaking letter, she warned her son: “She doesn’t love you, just as Lupescu doesn’t love Carol! She will destroy you, my son, and tear you away from all that was once sacred to you.” Yet Nicholas could not give her up. In the autumn of 1931, defying royal command, he and Ioana secretly married in Tohani, in her family’s house.
The gesture was seen as both a personal and institutional betrayal. King Carol reacted with fury: he stripped Nicholas of his official duties and ordered him into exile. Over time, the tension between the two brothers grew into hatred.
Brother against brother: a palace drama
In 1932, Nicholas decided to return to Romania, openly defying the king’s orders. Upon landing, he was met by General Prezan, who informed him he was under arrest. Enraged, the prince drew his pistol and forced the driver to take him straight to Cotroceni Palace, where he demanded to see Carol face to face.
The confrontation was worthy of a film: a romantic, rebellious prince defying his king and brother in the name of love. Carol, cold and authoritarian, offered him a deal—temporary exile in exchange for a generous allowance. Nicholas accepted, only to protect his wife.
In the years that followed, the brothers’ relationship became irreparably broken. Carol wrote with contempt in his diary: “Nicholas is a lost man, ensnared by a woman without mind or shame.” Nicholas, quieter and more dignified, would tell his friends: “He took everything from me, but he cannot take away my love.”
Exile and the struggle for dignity
In 1937, King Carol II took the ultimate step: he officially excluded his brother from the royal family through public decree. It was the first time in Romanian monarchy’s history that a royal was removed from the line of succession.
Nicholas lost his titles, his rank, and his privileges. He became an ordinary man, known as “Nicholas Brana,” living off a modest allowance grudgingly provided by the king. Together with Ioana, he left for France and later Switzerland, settling near Lausanne in a small, unpretentious house.
Despite hardship, the couple remained inseparable. Ioana stood by him through financial struggle and declining health. She was not just his wife but his moral compass and his home in exile.
After Carol’s abdication in 1940, Nicholas wrote to Marshal Ion Antonescu, asking permission to return to Romania. Though the request was denied, he was allowed to resume his title “Nicholas of Hohenzollern,” a symbolic gesture that meant moral rehabilitation.
The exiled prince, the man of culture, and the discreet patriot
Far from Romania, Nicholas was more than an exiled royal. He became a respected cultural figure among the Romanian diaspora. He founded the “Romanian Center for Research” under the patronage of the Academy of Paris, financed journals such as Fapta and Libertatea Românească, and supported the “Romanian Library” in Freiburg, which became a vital cultural institution for exiles.
Those who met him in those years described him as gentle, thoughtful, and unassuming. He bore no bitterness, though he never concealed his sadness. He often said: “I lost a crown, but I gained my soul.” For him, Romania remained a land of ideals rather than politics—a spiritual homeland, not a geographical one.
Ioana continued to be his faithful companion, sharing with him the hardships of exile and the quiet dignity of their chosen life far from royal pomp and scandal.
The last love and the testament of a free soul
Ioana Dolette’s death in 1963 was the greatest blow of Nicholas’s life. After more than three decades together, the woman for whom he had given up everything passed away quietly, leaving behind an irreparable void.
Stricken with grief, the prince turned his pain into purpose. He founded the “Princess Ioana Cultural Foundation,” dedicated to supporting Romanian cultural activities abroad. Four years later, he remarried Thereza Figueira de Mello, a refined Brazilian woman who brought him serenity in his final years.
Yet his heart never ceased to belong to Ioana. Whenever he spoke of her, his voice would tremble: “She was everything to me—the beginning and the end.” In his final months, Prince Nicholas began writing his memoirs. The book, titled In the Shadow of the Romanian Crown, was published posthumously in 1991.
It reveals not only the life of an exiled man but also a deeply honest portrait of the royal family, with its flaws, hypocrisies, and tragedies. Speaking of his brother Carol, Nicholas wrote with unexpected tenderness: “He was my brother, my king, and my executioner. But I could never bring myself to hate him completely.”
Nicholas of Hohenzollern died in July 1977 at the age of 74, in Switzerland. He was buried in Lausanne, beside Ioana—the woman who had defined his life. In his will, he requested that, when possible, his remains be returned to Romania, “the land for which I suffered and which I loved with all my heart.”
The legacy of a misunderstood prince
The story of Prince Nicholas is one of the most touching and tragic chapters in the history of Romania’s monarchy. He was a man who chose love over power, sincerity over hypocrisy, and the freedom of the heart over the chains of royal duty.
To some, he was a reckless romantic, a rebel without a cause. To others, he was the last idealist of the royal house. What is certain is that his life illustrates the eternal conflict between duty and passion, between reason and feeling.
Far from being just a “prince in love,” Nicholas was a man who understood that true nobility lies not in titles but in the courage to live authentically. Through his exile, his quiet dignity, and his devotion to culture, he left behind a moral legacy that transcends time.
Today, his story reminds us that sometimes, a man’s greatest victory is not to rule over a country, but to remain true to his heart. Yet, in his own way, Prince Nicholas lived a love that defied time and conquered oblivion. For him, love was not a mistake, it was a form of truth. And truth, however painful, is always royal.
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