“I’ll see you in,” he said.
“No need.” She moved past him. His face hardened and he didn’t answer rather, asked the driver to wait then saw her into the foyer, slipped off her cape and handed it to the footman. Out came that handkerchief again and he dried her cheeks, the fabric warm from his body. She felt all twisted inside but still she leaned in for any small touch of affection.
“Bushka…rest, sleep and it will feel better in the morning.” A pained expression passed over his face, a rare reveal. He leaned down and kissed first one cheek and then the other. The breadth of his shoulders, the heat off his body sending tingles over her skin leaving her cloaked in the scent of his cologne.
A strange look sat in his eyes.
“Good night, Georgie.”
She waited until she heard the carriage pull out. She would make sure it would be a good night.
Chapter 10
The third tray of coffee arrived, the last had included refreshments as he waited for her. Demetri picked up the paper and read for the hundredth time the social column.
Perhaps we now understand the Russian’s attraction to the neglected kitten. Said kitty was seen in four salons last night, tailed by a known Baron, and proved to be more than delightful. What are the Russians playing at? Which brother has the kitty-cat, and which one wants it? Or are they simply luring a feline out to play with the rest of us?
He slapped the paper back down on the table. She couldn’t have failed to have read it. He had read it, come straight over and was she sitting at home keeping a low profile? No, she was out…for hours.
He didn’t know what infuriated him most. That she had gone out again after he had deposited her safely at home that she wasn’t at home now while he waited, or that he cared.
His being affected by her had never been a part of his plans that was never something he even considered having to contend with. From the moment he first saw her on the stairs, remaining unaffected had been impossible. Beauty she certainly had, and yet he’d known many beautiful women. She sparred with him from their first meeting, and yet Russian women were no push overs; she was an exceptional hostess judging from the dinner she had arranged for him, however one would expect that; and…and she spoke Russian, no small feat for a woman living in England with no Russian relatives.
He knew what it took to learn another language. He spoke four of them well and another three well enough not to be rude or swindled in any negotiation. In preparation for marrying into his family, she had taken it on herself to speak their tongue. Each one of these things was attractive and admirable, together they were quite special, but take them all away and he was sure he would still feel the way he did, like metal placed before a magnet.
He was getting ‘attached’ as his mother was so fond of chastising him. A telegram from her had arrived this morning.
IS IT DONE YET STOP EVEN IF YOUR FATHER DIDNT REMEMBER YOUR FAMILY’S HONOR STOP YOU MUST STOP DON’T GET ATTACHED STOP
Any woman would have taken offence to the slights delivered over the years and especially during this visit, but it seemed that the daughter of an investor and profiteer was made of sterner stuff. It frustrated and pleased him at the same time that she was clearly determined to hold her ground until she had the opportunity to speak directly with her betrothed.
The door opened, and there’s a moment’s disappointment that Georgie’s form didn’t grace the doorway but her father’s.
“General Demetri, our apologies. I have been out, and I think Georgie is doing some last-minute shopping before the trip.”
Demetri stood, clicked his heels and gave a minimal bow as Mr. Franklin entered. This was good. He would work on the father. Although Mr. Franklin had blackmailed his father into the betrothal surely, he didn’t enjoy having his daughter embarrassed or would knowingly send her to a marriage and family where she would be unwelcome.
“I must ask you if you will be allowing the betrothal, given my brother’s actions while here in London.”
Mr. Franklin went over to the sideboard and poured a drink, lifting the bottle and motioning it towards him in offer.
“Thank you.” He needed some fortification. The way he felt at the moment, he was not sure what he would do if Georgie came through the door. What was she thinking? One salon visit was dangerous for a respectable single woman. A slew of them was downright reputation destroying.
“I take it you have read the papers this morning. Why was Miss Georgie allowed out today? It would be best for her reputation that she remained quiet while it blows over.”
The father walked over and handed him the glass of amber fluid. “Blows over….I see. Is it yourself General, who is upset or your brother, the Prince?”
“I know the Prince’s mind in this matter.”
“Ahh.” The father sat down. “That seems a little unfair given the enjoyment your brother and if you’ll forgive me, yourself, have had at the salons. Naturally she wanted to see for herself what it was all about and understandably hoped to meet her betrothed.” The father took a sip of his drink.
Demetri widened his eyes, “You are not upset that she could have ruined any reputation that she might still have? What kind of a father are you?”
“I am the kind of father who trusts his daughter enough to allow her to have the freedom to explore her life.”
“Explore her life as long as she marries a man you have arranged for her.” His chest heaved with frustration. At Georgie who still wasn’t here and at Mr. Franklin who was in no way concerned with managing her and the situation.
Mr. Franklin didn’t seem upset. He simply waved him to sit down. Which he did, taking a sizable swig of the brandy.
“Do you play?” Mr. Franklin nodded towards the chess board.
“Which are you?”
“Black?”
“Your opponent has you in checkmate with bishop or rook four.”
The old man looked equally chuffed and assessing. “Georgie is my opponent.”
Demetri nodded his head. “I didn’t know she played.”
Mr. Franklin leaned back in his chair. “Quite an oversight failing to visit her, don’t you think? Poor form.”
Demetri’s jaw tightened, the plan had seemed so much easier when he hadn’t met Georgie, when he hadn’t come to have some feelings for her. Yet his obligations to his family were clear.
“The Prince has had matters of state to attend to.”
“The salons?” Mr. Franklin spoke softly. Not the anger he expected he sounded disappointed.
“If you don’t mind me saying, not at all the fashion in which your father would have wanted my daughter to be treated, I expect.”
“What my father would have wanted?” The anger which had grown over the years over the betrothal, over his father’s weakness in accepting it and how it had upset his mother, rushed to the surface. “Oh, and you would know what my father would expect?” He stood as he spoke and found himself glowering at the man who had locked them all into this farce.
“Yes. You may not be aware, but I knew him quite well.” The man then had the audacity to indicate the brandy bottle over on the sideboard and lift his glass for a refill.
Demetri walked over, poured more into his glass, then went over and filled the blackguard’s glass.
Demetri stiffened. “What my father owed you and the deference he gave in accepting the betrothal is not a matter the family has understood, if you don’t mind me saying.” He then sank back into the chair and forced another large gulp of the warming liquid. “Where is Miss Georgie?” he growled.
“She’ll come along in her own time.” The father leaned forward. “This betrothal was something that your father was most eager to see take place between our families.”
Demetri scoffed and leaned forward in his chair. “The Prince suggests that Miss Georgie call off the betrothal. He is unsuited to marriage.” A tightness settled in his chest at the words. Words his and his family’s honor demanded.
“We
will not do that. Do you know anyone who makes caviar and vodka? I have investors in the passenger liner business.”
Demetri looked over at the man as if he were mad.
“So, you will force Georgie to marry a man who has little regard for her.”
“He has no knowledge of her. I am confident that, if he is as your father wrote, he will do the honorable thing. And I am confident that, when he finally takes the time to get to know her, he will become as enchanted with her…as even you are, General Demetri.”
Demetri sat back. “Me?” His heart beat faster and he took another much-needed gulp of brandy.
“Perhaps your father selected the wrong son….?”
Demetri stood. “You go too far.”
The father stood. “And you and your brother do not go far enough. Your behavior has hurt Georgie, the indifference over the years but most notably this week. It is a testament to her character that she has stood by the betrothal despite wishing otherwise.”
A strange flurry went through his chest, pleasure and yet…not.
“Miss Georgie has expressed a desire to break the betrothal?”
“Do you blame her?”
“And you will not allow her?”
“It is not as your father or I wish.”
“My father is dead, and the rest of the family do not understand the arrangement.”
The father poured another glass. “Here,” he motioned to the bottle, “you’d best have another as well.” Demetri strode over with his glass and her father filled it.
“So, you don’t know anyone in caviar and vodka?”
“I would not introduce you if I did.” Again, Mr. Franklin did not take offence to the slight.
“Pity. What of the travel plans?”
“So, you are holding us to the agreement?”
“I am.”
“And Georgie?”
“She has agreed.”
Demetri threw down the liquid and felt its warmth as it went down. His strategy of making Georgie and her family so incensed with their behavior they would call off the betrothal had failed. There was some hope in that Georgie had wanted to, the knowledge gave him an unexpected pleasure. Her blackmailing father would not let the arrangement end.
Well, two could play at blackmail. He would change tactics.
The journey to St Petersburg would put them all in close quarters.
He would woo the delightful Georgie and establish an indiscretion.
Chapter 11
“I was led to believe…. That is to say I have heard….” Georgie scanned the bookshelves and soft furnishing of The Bond Street Bookshop as if they could give her guidance on how to word the request. The balding gentleman who had introduced himself as the manager looked at her earnestly, not at all the kind of face and demeanor she expected of a man who hid a sexual establishment like The Velvet Basement, under his rather lovely bookshop. She had in fact been here on numerous occasions and never in a million years would she have guessed what lay in the basement.
Last night at the salon she had gone back to ask Lord Marsden the address of The Velvet Basement. The manager, Lord Marsden had whispered between laughs, would be the person who could ensure discreet access to the infamous shop which held the kind of knowledge her betrothed would be eternally grateful she had and then he’d grinned like a Cheshire cat. She had discreetly asked about The Velvet Basement at the other Salons after Prince Demetri thought he’d safely deposited her at home and was reassured it existed and that it did indeed hold the knowledge she sought.
“Perhaps madam is interested in periodicals? Historical memoirs?”
“No, no nothing like that.” She rung her gloved hands together, how on earth was she going to say it? Surely the man could give her some kind of clue that she would not embarrass herself beyond measure if she asked him about The Velvet Basement.
It was now highly probable that there would never be a marriage. Her betrothal was now something to bide her time with until her father sorted out his funds, a situation most unlike him to risk their lifestyle and assets on a venture. However, what did remain… what smarted was that she was considered to be part of a segment of women who were not meant to be knowledgeable about matters of sex. That she and those in her group were considered best kept ignorant, when clearly there were a slew of people, men and women, who enjoyed all manner of intimacies; who were empowered by knowledge of their own sexuality and that of others.
She wanted that.
She wanted to be empowered next time her heart fell for a man. She wanted to be alluring and enticing, all the things she clearly was not now.
In amongst the parlor games, poetry readings and debates on art, social reform and fashion, she discovered her betrothed was now in Bath embraced and adopted by a group of elite hedonists who had been called the Wolves of Hyde Park.
The Wolves of Hyde Park, Georgie unlocked her hands from each other and glanced at the door as the bell clanged discordantly and gentleman came in. How was she to remotely interest a man who wanted to run with wolves? The gentleman who had just entered the bookshop walked briskly in their direction then, after the briefest of nods to the store manager, went down an aisle of bookcases. A spicy scent she had smelled when she had taken the trolley bus for fun at the end of summer followed him.
“If you will excuse me.” The shop manager followed the gentleman, disappearing down the same aisle. They spoke in hushed voices, not the usual volume used when one enquired about books.
Her heart raced. Her chest tightened. Georgie approached the aisle in time to see some notes which passed between them slip into the store manager’s vest pocket. A bookcase pivoted open; the gentleman walked through before it closed behind him.
She approached the manager whose face remain impassive. “Have you found what you were after Miss?”
As the organ in her chest beat faster, she gave the smallest of nods, extracted a pound from her purse and held it out. He took her toll, motioned her to the bookcase and walked away as the bell at the entry to the bookshop clanged again. Georgie pushed the bookcase open and stepped through the opening before she lost courage.
Inside was a narrow staircase leading down to the basement. The cologne of the gentleman who had preceded her lingered in the close confines.
Heart pounding, she made her way down the narrow, dimly lit staircase. She clutched the slender brass handrail as she took each step down.
At the bottom, she stilled and pushed open the door, quite surprised by the sight that confronted her.
She didn’t know what she had expected. Maybe something along the same lines as the medical establishments where all matters concerning her body were dealt with or an apothecary but with more sexually oriented items. This was opulent more as she imagined a bordello would look, with an atmosphere similar to the infamous Madam Debuverey’s salon!
The Velvet Basement was larger than she imagined, and it didn’t feel claustrophobic. The lighting was soft yet ample for viewing the myriad items on display. A rather clever balance between mood and brightness. The brown and burgundy covered walls and shining wooden floors indicated the space was well cared for.
When a couple of men blatantly turned up their collars it occurred to her that she too may be recognized. She immediately unpinned the light veil curled and pined to her hat. It was not difficult to see her through the lace but as she took the first step into the shop other clients averted their gazes allowing a modicum of anonymity.
She wasn’t quite sure what to do now that she was here. It wasn’t like she could sign up for an afternoon class on how to go about congress with a man and how to excel.
A small woman with a most beautiful face came around the corner…sounding out consonants… p.p.p.t.t.t.b.b.b. She moved with ease and confidence as she selected a tuberous item from a display cabinet and called, “I’ll be with you in a moment ma’am, make yourself comfortable and look around.”
Make yourself comfortable and look around. A more unlikely gree
ting she could not have expected on entering the rather infamous Velvet Basement.
Georgie decided to stay around the open tables rather than venture down the warren of shelves. Even only curiously glancing down them, only acted to increase her sense of being overwhelmed. The open tables contained images that were equally hard to look at or to look away from. Nakedness and all kinds of arrangements of that said nakedness. Individuals, couples, and groups of men and women, naked or scantly clothed. Here was humanity unveiled. A glimpse of our carnal natures which was anything but civilized.
She picked up a postcard of a man in a dinner suit with his head between a woman’s legs. Was that meant to convey pleasure or punishment? Another of two women, both kneeling in front of a man licking his erect phallus.
Her mouth was suddenly dry, it was all too much. Too much to take in.
“Ma’am, can I help you?” the incongruously beautiful attendant asked.
“I…I think I need to sit down.” She felt faint. She never felt faint. In moments she was seated on a large leather chesterfield with potted palms on both end and a small table before her. To one side of the shop, she was somewhat shielded from the sofas in front of the counter.
“Here, drink this Ma’am.” A glass of fresh water was placed in her hand which Georgie very quickly downed.
“I may have made a mistake…”
The attendant sat down and her confident, strikingly beautiful face calmed the tightness in Georgie’s chest. Clearly the woman was an angel.
“If you don’t mind me saying, nobody comes here by accident, Ma’am. Just take yer time and I’ll tell you a bit about the place.”
Georgie nodded and took another large gulp of water.
“Here’s a place of secrets,” the attendant motioned to the room and all its unfathomably contents, “It a place of desires and a window into the world of ‘Eros’.”
“Eros?” That was familiar and comforting academic speech. “I have read the classics.”
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