Once Upon a Christmas Wedding

by Scarlett Scott

  At the door, she slid her small hand from the crook of his arm and then held his hand in both of hers. He found himself swallowing hard.

  “Your brother is being unnecessarily cruel.” She said in soft tones. “I sincerely request you cajole him to join you for dinner. I would be in your debt brother-in-law.” She leaned closer, the flush moving up her neck, then pressed her cheek to his left, his right and then back to his left cheek. Satin soft touches of her skin, the delicate scent of vanilla and cinnamon mixed with body heat. His skin was awake and the press of his military jacket suddenly hot. She stepped back, her cheeks flushed, her eyes meeting his for a moment. He would be a fool not to recognize the attraction between them, to admire that she played the sister-in-law to a tee despite the roaring burn of the heat their proximity generated. Ironic, she would ignore it because she thought he was not her betrothed; and he would ignore it because she was.

  In theory this plan had been much simpler. Make her offended and disenchanted enough to call off the betrothal.

  Chapter 4

  “More Maria, I want to look my best.” The corset was pulled tighter still. She considered her waist one of her best features. Tiny, it fanned out in perfect proportions top and bottom to her bust and hips. Tonight, she would radiate and burn any resistance to her and the betrothal. There must surely be some urgent matter which caused the ongoing absence.

  “I think you should rethink the bodice; the neckline is much too suggestive for an at-home dinner.” Maria scowled.

  “After the Russian blouse choice yesterday, I think I will follow my own judgement.” The threads on her corset were roughly jerked tighter, a clear sign of disapproval. Georgie giggled, “Maria!”

  “You looked perfect yesterday, and this bodice is too low.”

  Perfect for the wrong man but not today. She would put yesterday behind her and focus on her betrothed. The elusive and shockingly beautiful widow….

  “I am wearing it. I must compete with the Salons. No man wants to think he will have a dowdy wife when he is mixing with the demimonde.”

  “It’s not for you to compete with them, Miss, they are supposed to offer different things than those of a betrothed.” Judging by the behavior of her betrothed, that didn’t seem to be the case.

  It was a strange compulsion, wanting to make him realize his enormous mistake, be apologetic and eager to win her. And if that was not forthcoming, she at least wanted to have the satisfaction of stepping away from the betrothal in a state of grace, looking fabulous and indifferent.

  “Well not this betrothed. I want to show him I can be what he likes.” She squashed the thoughts about Demetri, ignored and stopped in their tracks any need to know what he thought, what he felt.

  “Even if he is not what you like?” Maria asked, always far too astute.

  “I will not know that until I meet him.” Maria caught her gaze in the mirror’s reflection, that wasn’t what she meant.

  “His actions over the years should tell you all you need to know of his character. His brother on the other hand has great promise.” She gave a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows and Georgie couldn’t help but laugh.

  On the table in front of the window was the enormous bunch of flowers which arrived an hour after General Demetri had left. His small note, understated yet perfectly comforting pledged to influence his brother to the extent of his abilities. To that end he accepted for both of them the invitation to dinner tonight.

  “Don’t you think that General Demetri was rather lovely?” Maria probed.

  Maria clearly didn’t know the half of how he made her feel. Of the mental steps she was trying to take to reconcile her reactions to him and instill some distance before meeting her betrothed.

  “He’s the wrong brother.” She said with as much indifference as she could.

  “Yes, yes, I know but he is, isn’t he?”

  “If he is so lovely surely Prince Vladimir as his brother must be of a similar ilk?” She countered. Maria’s face soured as she continued to dress Georgie’s hair.

  “Cain and Abel were brothers,” Maria puffed as she gave one last tug on the corset ties.

  “That’s not the way I need to be thinking when I’m about to meet my betrothed.” Georgie said.

  “Well we’ll see tonight, both brothers coming at such short notice. Cook’s been flush beet red all afternoon with more pots on the go than for your father’s fiftieth”

  It was a further forty-five minutes before she was fully dressed. As she looked in the mirror, for the first time in the longest while, Georgie wished her mother was still alive. Wished she could see her daughter now, all dressed to meet her betrothed. Besides there were many, many questions about men and the marriage act that were going to be challenging to deal with. Father was not going to have that talk with her and there were no Aunts or stepmothers to fill the task. In a pinch should could ask Maria, but she really didn’t want to.

  “You look beautiful Miss. One glance and Prince Vladimir will curse the years he has not come to see you.”

  At seven o’clock sharp a carriage arrived on the forecourt. Georgie and her father stood. Her heart thundered in her chest. What if he hated her? What if he was not like his miniature? What if he was so different from her imagination of him… shorter, fatter, and balder, that she recoiled from him? If familiar characteristics were anything to go by, he would be handsome, tall and athletic, like his brother, Demetri. But more over she was desperate to read on his face some pleasure in seeing her, at her appearance. And under it all, pushed to the far reaches of her mind, was fear he would see her response to that very brother.

  The door opened and the butler stepped forward. Her breath froze.

  “General Demetri Petroski.” He stepped aside and the General entered.

  Their eyes locked much like they had that morning, the same strange and delicious zing went through her, even as she tried desperately to push it aside. As he walked into the room it was as if his gaze penetrated into the youthful hopes and dreams she harbored for his brother. Only to witness as they melted into bitter disappointment and shame when she saw he was alone.

  Demetri bowed first to her then her father. “I must send my brother’s sincere apologies. Matters of state have impacted his health and he is not fit to attend.”

  Heat pricked in her eyes as she willed herself to smile.

  “I hope you will convey our best wishes for a speedy recover. Perhaps Maria and I will visit him on the morrow with some broth.”

  “He would be most blessed by the attention, Miss Franklin.” Yet she knew with absolute certainty he would not think so. That should she and Maria call tomorrow he would be away or indisposed.

  “Please you must call me Georgie. We will be family after all. Now, if you will excuse me a moment, I will notify cook.” Georgie closed the door behind her. Her corset was so tight the breaths she heaved in hardly made an impact on the lack of air in her lungs. Tears fell, hot and bitter with disappointment. She walked slowly up the stairs and down the corridor on the first floor to her rooms and rang for Maria.

  She sat at the small dressing table and looked in the mirror at herself. What could possibly be so horrid about being betrothed to her that he wouldn’t even come to dinner? Surely Demetri had relayed that she was passable, that she was well within the bounds a man would expect of a wife, no ugly surprises? The elusive and shockingly beautiful widow….

  The roses Demetri had sent now seemed less of a promise and more of a token to stop her from feeling totally slighted. They failed. She was slighted; slighted, ignored, and shamed.

  The door opened, Maria ran in. “Oh Miss, I heard, I am so sorry. The servants are ready to play him for you. Cook is educating the footmen in profanities.”

  Tears fell in earnest. “Am I so unlovable Maria?”

  Maria wrapped her arms around her. “No, Miss, you are any man’s dream. We all agree the fault is his.”

  “There is, of course, some small chance that he reall
y is sick…” Georgie said getting no answer from the worldly Maria whose gaze shouted out, break the betrothal Miss.

  Demetri looked toward the parlor door as it opened, and Georgie returned. That twist of guilt came again as he noticed the slight redness around her eyes. It had been half an hour. That was too long to leave a guest but, no doubt, the time a heart broken debutant needed to recover and return.

  “All in order Georgie girl?” Her father asked.

  Her elegant hands had the slightest of tremor as they smoothed down her well-chosen dinner gown and gave a commendable smile. “I hope you will forgive me; it all took longer than I intended.”

  “No trouble at all, your father was regaling me with his latest business investment opportunity.” The gall of the man was unbelievable, as if their family would invest with the man who blackmailed their father and left the family beholden to his promise. To her credit, she gave her father a look.

  “Men love to know about business opportunities Georgie, that’s what we do. Don’t we General?”

  He was saved from answering when dinner was announced. Instead, he stood and offered his arm to Georgie. “Perhaps you will allow me to walk you in?”

  It was painful to see the gratitude in her eyes as he stepped forward and her arm slipped over his. She gave his arm a small squeeze. “Thank you,” she whispered between them and he felt like a cad.

  Three hours later he walked with resolve into Madam Debuverey’s salon.

  “Oh, finally Brother, I thought you had fallen for the wench after all. Three bloody hours. How slow can a man eat?” His younger brother, Vladimir Demetri Ilya Petroski had agreed to masquerade as him, to be Prince Vladimir while they were in London, and help him do whatever was necessary to have the betrothal broken.

  The deception was easy if they used Vladimir as they were both named Vladimir Demetri, as were all the Petroski boys. As the elder, he took Demetri as his familial name and his brother moved one name further down to Ilya. They were both Vladimir, a thing that worked well as they grew up and….now in this task they undertook for their family’s honor.

  They had been careful to play up their similar names as they caroused around the salons, gaming halls and theatres. The more Vladimir was reported, the better their chances the Franklin family would become incensed and break the betrothal. An outcome which was taking much longer than either of them anticipated.

  It was not honorable, but neither was her father’s blackmail for the betrothal, all those years ago. Even as a boy he swore never to be reconciled to the betrothal, A Petroski does not get manipulated or bribed into acting.

  A lesser man, at the sight of Georgina re-entering the parlor, her eyes still showing signs of tears, would have called the whole plan off. However, her father was a swindler and blackmailer.

  Demetri lowered himself on the couch next to his brother.

  “We are playing theatre.” Ilya said. “Romeo and Juliet but we have paused at the balcony scene to determine ‘who is the best kisser’.” He smirked.

  Just then a man and a woman in a slightly disheveled state came from behind a curtained bay window to the hoots and howls of the room. A small apothecary bottle lay on its side. They all clapped and repeated ‘Spin, spin, spin,’ as two more were selected to go behind the curtain.

  “I need this to end.” Ilya said in Russian next to him.

  “As do I brother.” He was not looking forward to facing Georgina again after the next stage of their plan.

  “No, I mean I need it to end.”

  Demetri turned to his brother and swore in Russian. “This is not the time to be getting caught up with anyone. I need you to stay focused. The family needs you to stay focused and do what you do best.” Demetri waved to the debauchery around the room. “Join in and cause a sensation.”

  His brother scowled. “It’s different.”

  Demetri swore again. “It’s always different. Stay focused.”

  Ilya swore, stood and dragged the closest woman against him, kissing her hard to a cheering room.

  On the fourth spin the bottle pointed to him and a pretty diminutive blonde. Demetri stood and extended his hand. The plan was that he and his brother would now go on the town and leave a trail of indiscreet gossip leaving the ever-hopeful Georgina ignored by them both. A betrayal and slight big enough that the father would be sure to support her request to annul the betrothal and they would all be set free.

  Chapter 5

  The roses were waiting for her alongside the morning papers. Georgie went instead to the breakfast servery. Which Petroski brother had sent the flowers? No one else had cause to send them. Would it be a thank you for the dinner the night before from Demetri or an apology from Vladimir? Bacon, a poached egg, grilled tomatoes, wilted spinach and toast arranged on her plate, she sat, flower card in hand. Tea poured, she opened the envelope and drew out the card:

  Good morning Miss Georgina,

  The dinner was delightful and the company more so, a man couldn’t wish for a more accomplished and charming sister in-law.

  Salute,

  General Demetri

  Foolish, how she warmed at the sentiment; how she felt only the smallest disappointment that Vladimir had not sent them. She was halfway through breakfast before she picked up the paper. As was her habit, she scanned the headlines as she made her way to the gossip column. She bet herself a crumpet with honey that her betrothed featured there again.

  Finally, the moment arrived where there was nothing to do but turn the page, sight snagging on the evil little column, brace and read…read and re-read.

  The Petroski Brothers reigned the night at Madam Debuverey’s salon. The writer was informed that the salon was introduced to a range of Russian salon games that, rumor has it, touched the lips of many a female salon member, especially the elusive widow. Invites abound as the Petroski brothers spend their last few nights in the city.

  Georgie, slapped butter and honey on her toasted crumpet, ripped it apart with her teeth and masticated it into oblivion….brothers. She picked up the nasty little column and read it again. And, sure as eggs, there it was again, the Petroski Brothers.

  Her father came into the dining room whistling, “Morning sweet-cheeks. Paper? Anything of note?” He piled his plate with kippers, sausage, bacon, eggs, tomatoes, mushrooms and pan-fried potatoes. Then stepped towards the table.

  “Spinach!” Georgie growled.

  “Yes, yes must have been an oversight.” He placed a few leaves on his plate.

  “Don’t make me come over there, father.”

  He enlarged the portion of spinach.

  Were all men weak willed? Did they all simply follow where the senses led, for better or worse? Was there no man related to her or her future who actually cared about what that future would be and what was needed to build it? The Petroski brothers certainly didn’t.

  Her father picked up the paper and settled down the other end of the table. She watched as he took a sip of tea. Unlike her he didn’t skim the headlines, nor read the articles. He went straight for the columns. That’s where the world is played out Georgie girl, in the events between people, behind the stage and in the wings. Garner as much as you can because it will explain the course of events.

  He choked, put the paper down as he coughed and patted his chin with his napkin.

  His eyes lifted to meet hers. “A man needs to sow his oats sweet-cheeks; it doesn’t mean anything. And that dear boy Demetri, he is single, he owes no allegiance to either of us, he can play up as much as he likes.”

  “Prince Vladimir hasn’t even COME TO SEE ME.” She could feel the tears racing to burst out of her eyes and splatter all over her cheeks and she tried her damnedest to stop even one from falling because of those hell rakes. And it was both of them, Demetri was not her betrothed, she rationalized, but he was her lifeline. She counted on him to draw his brother to her, to tell his brother that she was passable, more than passable, as a woman. The dinner had flowed beautifully, Demetri
had complimented every course and left with what she felt were genuine thanks for an enjoyable evening.

  Her tears had nothing to do with the fact that he sent sparks through her when he smiled. That when he complimented her, she glowed. That he was everything she hoped the Prince would be. That try as she might, deep into the night when everything was dark, that warm assured ball in her chest radiated - he is the one. It didn’t matter that there was no obligation between them, that he was out touching lips all night tore at her heart and made her want to break things.

  She slapped her napkin down. “I simply cannot abide anymore. I know their late father was a close friend of yours and you have asked me to be patient and wait, but enough is enough.”

  “Now, now dear. We talked about this. You promised to give it a chance.”

  She threw her hand up in frustration. “I have given it a chance and he hasn’t bothered to show. I am being made a laughingstock by their behavior! And if I haven’t said it before HE. HASN’T. EVEN CONTACTED. ME!”

  Her father waved her to calm down, “He was under the weather yesterday, Demetri said so himself.”

  “Father! They were out all night playing parlor games and kissing the demimonde.” Those blasted tears of self-pity and humiliation burned at the rims of her eyes, but she refused to let them spill.

  “Did you stay out all night getting yourself in the morning papers while you courted mother? While you were together?”

  He sobered up. “I never did such a thing to your mother. She was a woman in a million.”

  “And I am not?” Those blasted tears broke through her most determined barriers and cascaded down her cheek, much to her frustration and shame. “Am I so different from her, father?” She whispered. “Will I not have someone special, a man of my own? One who can’t believe how lucky he is to have won me? Will that not be my lot?” Her father’s arms came around her, pulling her to her feet, against his barrel chest, and patted her back.