by Elsa Holland
Mr. Franklin pointed to the chess board.
“A match? It would be an honor to play the son after years playing with the father.”
For some inexplicable reason Demetri drew the small table between them, the board set to play.
Chapter 26
Demetri stalked back and forth in front of the window overlooking the forecourt. He had not slept all night. He had read all the correspondence Mr. Franklin had given him numerous times. He’d verified the script as his father’s before falling into them, finding in their pages the heart of his father, the man and the political leader.
Mr. Franklin had not lied. He and his father had been close friends. The letters contained their views on politics and business. However, more precious were his father’s views on love, family, and life. They shared good times and bad, each lending a helping hand where they could. His father often supplied connections for ventures Mr. Franklin was undertaking. Mr. Franklin, in turn, included his father in some of the most lucrative investments of their time. The financial windfalls from those investments not only saving his family when they faced ruin but establishing the wealth of properties and holdings they now enjoyed. That the Petroski family owed Mr. Franklin a debt of honor was unquestionable.
However, that debt was not paid with a betrothal.
The betrothal was genuinely a heartfelt request his father made of Mr. Franklin after spending time with Mr. Franklin, his late wife, and their small daughter in London. Each of the reasons his mother and the Petroski family had about the lack of suitability of the betrothal, Mr. Franklin had raised with his father time and time again in their letters.
The door to his office opened.
“Demetri darling, I am so proud of you.” His mother glided in, beaming at him. “You must be so relieved to finally be released from the shameful betrothal. Finally, we can search for a suitable bride.” She held his face and kissed both his cheeks. “My beautiful boy, my eldest, my smartest and most precious.”
“You call Vladimir your most precious.”
“You are both my most precious.” She sank into a chair.
Demetri walked over to the letters strewn over his desk. “Mr. Franklin gifted me with the correspondence between him and my father.”
“Forgeries. The man has no shame.” She waved her hand in the air at the idea.
“I checked the script and it is most definitely father’s as are the seals on the envelopes.”
His mother looked bored.
“I am not sure why what Mikhail wrote to this little man and his daughter is of any importance. What is important, is that you are free. We are free of that awful agreement.”
“Father wanted that betrothal. In fact, he was never blackmailed into a betrothal. Rather, he was enamored and enthralled by Mr. Franklin’s wife and the relationship they had. He wanted that for me. He had to cajole Mr. Franklin into the betrothal. Cajole him, mother. This last letter…” Demetri waved it at her, “is from father, days before he died, a deathbed wish that Mr. Franklin do everything in his power to ensure that Georgie meet and spend time with me as her betrothed before he allowed the arrangement to be annulled. Mr. Franklin fulfilled that wish against great prejudice and despite severe insult to his beautiful and delightful daughter.”
“Beautiful she might be, but delightful? She was rude to me.”
A knock came at the door.
“You showed no hospitality, she stood up to you. Enter.”
His secretary stepped in. “You asked to be notified sir.”
She was leaving.
Tightness clamped around his chest.
Could he blame her? No. Did she know? Was she as confused about all of this as he was? Most likely not, as it seemed he was the scoundrel in this story when he thought he had the higher ground.
Demetri walked to the window.
“Don’t be stupid, Demetri,” his mother came to his side. “We have wanted you to be free of this burden for decades. Don’t let a pretty face sway you from what’s right for the family.”
He watched as light snow began to fall. Georgie left the house walking slowly to the carriage. Her head turned as she got to the carriage steps and his heart flipped as she looked over to his rooms.
He started to raise his hand.
“Let it be, Demetri.” His mother stilled its ascent.
Georgie stepped decisively into the carriage as Mr. Franklin hurried cross the forecourt. The man was entitled to want to rush his daughter away.
Demetri watched as a small hand flicked out of the carriage window before withdrawing. A sharp pain twisted in his chest. He knew what that meant. He deserved that too. He had acted poorly, his reasons for doing what he did unravelling with every second and with every review he gave them. Georgie had been right; he was an idiot.
“Your father had strange ideas, he felt he owed Mr. Franklin because of some minor business venture.” His mother was on her usual path.
Demetri turned and stalked back to his desk.
“Those business ventures have been at the heart of the wealth of this family. Father repaid Mr. Franklin by assisting with introductions. Their relationship was one of mutual benefit and neither was beholden to the other. However, without Mr. Franklin’s support, the Petroski family would not have the wealth it has today.”
She waved her hand again. “The same could be said for him. Without your father’s generous introductions, the man would be nothing.”
“Mr. Franklin is one of those natural businessmen who find the seeds of opportunity well before they become apparent to others. Had he not established the fruitful relationship with my father, he would have established one elsewhere. My father would have had considerable difficulty finding an investor as successful as Mr. Franklin who was not a charlatan.”
There was another knock at the door.
“From Mr. Franklin.” His secretary handed him a thick envelope. Demetri knew what it was. It was the funds he’d paid Mr. Franklin to cover his loan. If not before, it was now abundantly clear that Mr. Franklin never needed money. The man who helped his father build a fortune, would never have allowed himself to fall so short as to be obliged to encumber his daughter with a marriage where she was not wanted. He was a father who valued his daughter’s right to freedom enough to allow her free rein to visit salons and travel to India to meet a male friend. Demetri rarely made an erroneous assessment of a person’s character but it seemed he had made three. His mother and her anger at his father, Mr. Franklin, and most of all, Georgie.
Demetri called for his secretary.
“Mother, you have disappointed me in this matter and led us to behave poorly.”
“They are commoners.” Damn her petty aristocratic views.
“I love her.”
The door opened.
Boris, have my horse readied in the forecourt.” His secretary bowed and retreated. His mother flew to her feet.
“Do not be so foolish Demetri, you owe them nothing!”
He held up his hand, his voice authoritative, the voice of the Prince. “I love her. Father was right. She is delightful. Any man lucky enough to have her will be thankful for the rest of his days. I will be that man if Georgie will have me.”
Demetri walked over to his mother and kissed her cheeks. “I love you but do not cross me in this.”
His horse was brought around to the front. The snow had stopped falling and bright rays of sunshine showed through a rare break in the clouds. He scoured the snow near where the carriage had stood, track markings showing where Georgie and her father had entered the carriage. The sun caught something on the ground. He bent down and retrieved the small miniature, clasping it tight. Georgie had discarded the miniature of him. Was it too late, had she really let him go? Could he blame her? He had acted abominably, self-righteously. He got on the horse and rode at full speed for the station.
Chapter 27
The horse powered through the streets eating the distance with each stride. Carriages cluttered
the roads and other horsemen moving at varying speeds created obstacles. It was going to be a close call at Nikolaevsky Station but only a matter of time before he caught up with them. He was already mentally making plans to get her off the train if he missed her here. The train would travel express, he could telegram to the next station asking them to disembark, arrange a hotel. He could be there for dinner. His heart flipped in his chest. He could see her tonight.
He should have found a way to keep them at the house longer. Maybe he had needed final proof of his mother’s machinations on the betrothal…maybe he wanted her to choose him anyway, to somehow be the wiser one and stay until it all played out. An unrealistic and foolish hope after the way he had treated her, the way his family had.
The two-story building came into view, its clock tower chimed the hour, giving him a burst. The train left ten past the hour; he might just catch her. A carriage blocked his path, the roof visible as he came to a trot. Then the large Venetian windows and Corinthian columns came into view as a carriage turned off the street.
Demetri jumped off his horse and ran up the stairs. The signage board indicated her train was at platform three. The grandeur of the station meant he had to run some distance down the stairs, between people and luggage to the platform. The sounds of a whistle and the churning of wheels. He leaped down the last few stairs.
The train was in motion. Steam was everywhere. It billowed and twirled as people were partially revealed and hidden. Some waved at the train. Porters carried the suitcases of those who had disembarked.
He scanned the steam as it blanketed the platform, hope beyond hope thundering through him. Total foolishness, he ought to be heading up and sending that telegram now.
He was about to turn and stilled.
In the mist he saw a silhouette and his heart soared.
There was nothing in the shape except an undeniable recognition. His heart thumping hard, his breath tight, he walked through the steam to that indistinguishable shape with more confidence than a foolish man like himself had a right to have.
If there had ever been a moment to bring him to his knees it was when the steam cleared and there she stood, suitcases by her side, his Georgie.
She turned. Their eyes met. It was as their first moment all over again. The fission of recognition, the absolute knowing that the two of them belonged. That he’d found the other side of his soul, that there was a part of him that had roamed far and wide and finally returned. He recognized those feelings now. Freed from stories of blackmail and the pressing weight of family honor, he recognized how he’d felt about her from the first. His father’s gift.
Demetri moved towards her as she did the same. In seconds, her arms entwined around him and his around her. He crushed her to his chest, then found her lips and said with them everything he should have said in the weeks preceding this moment.
“You didn’t leave.” He pressed a kiss into her hair.
“Father suggested I could find a supplier for caviar and vodka. He has great plans.” She muttered as pure nonsense.
“Caviar and vodka?”
She nodded. “He said he will be back at the end of the week…for Christmas.” The pulse at her neck beat fast and his breath shortened even though he knew the answer their dialogue had yet to complete.
“I can give you letters of introduction.” His hand stroked her cheek. “Is that the only reason you stayed?” He knew it wasn’t.
“Maybe I wanted you to show me a Russian salon.”
“Not a chance,” he growled, and the minx looked pleased.
“Maybe I stayed for another reason.” She whispered against his lips, eyes going sultry.
He gently lifted her chin so they looked into each other’s eyes. “Did that have anything to do with a foolish Russian?” His chest all of a sudden tight.
His beautiful Bushka drew herself up, lifted her chin and looked directly at him.
“Now that I am no longer betrothed, there might be a foolish Russian I have my eye on…”
His heart filled his chest as he sank down on one knee and reached into his pocket for the only thing he had to offer her.
Around them people stopped.
“Miss Georgina Franklin, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” He reached into his pocket and drew out the small portrait she had dropped in his forecourt and offered it to her. “You have been looking over me for many more years than I have known. My life would be blessed beyond measure if you would consider doing so in person.” He pressed the portrait into her hands.
She looked down at him for what seemed like the longest time.
“Prince Vladimir Demetri Petroski, I would be honored to be your wife.” She lifted the hand that held the portrait miniature to her heart.
And then she drew him to her and kissed him as around them, people clapped.
Chapter 28
Epilogue
The chapel was ablaze with candles, pews and windows decorated with pine boughs and pinecones. A long red carpet ran between the pews toward the altar where he was, her wonderful, challenging, and delightful betrothed. A choir sang as she waited at the top of the aisle. Her father held her arm beside her.
“Did you know he was the Prince?” She asked as they waited for the wedding march to start.
“I came to suspect. It stood to reason. If he was like his father, he would see it as his duty to work through the betrothal himself, not relegate it to his brother. And there was his interest in chess. Mikhail loved chess, said he played with his eldest, that it was nothing to his youngest son who preferred the arts. And even if he wasn’t, I saw how he made you happy, sweet-cheeks.”
“There never was a loan was there.”
Her father looked evasive. “We have not needed loans for some time.”
Demetri looked over his shoulder with an endearing nervousness, making sure they were there. To his right was Ilya, a rascal rake who had slinked home, apparently heartbroken after playing the Prince in London. Georgie did not feel any sympathy for him.
In moments, the wedding march rang out through the church and her father looked at her.
“Are you ready?”
Nerves and excitement fluttered through her, but she knew…knew without a shadow of a doubt. Always had. “Yes.”
“Are you sure? I can get you out of here in an instant if you don’t want to marry him.”
Forever mine. “I want him, Father.”
He patted her hand and walked her down the aisle and handed her to Demetri.
Demetri took her hand and drew her up the steps to the altar, leaned down and whispered.
“You have that look in your eyes.”
She smiled and whispered as they both turned to the priest. “I have one more postcard.”
