The Frost of Springtime

by Rachel L. Demeter

  Aleksender settled against the backing with a low groan. He removed his top hat and laid it in the cradle of his lap. Meddling absently with the stiff velvet, he said, “I had lay awake many of those nights, thinking of you. What you were doing. Whether you were safe. Being so far away—knowing that Paris was under siege, that I had no way to protect you—it was easily the worst part.”

  Sofia smiled at his words and fiercely swiped at her tear-stained cheeks. “Well. I daresay Sacred Heart was one of the safest places in all of France.”

  Aleksender nodded and exhaled a sigh of relief. “That’s what I’d depended on.”

  “So in a way, even though you weren’t here, you still had protected me.”

  Sofia’s palm slid across the upholstery. Her pulse leapt to life as she threaded their fingers together. Beyond the window, the world crept by in a steady blur. And, for the two of them, the light of Paris appeared brighter than ever before.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Although Rue Saint-Honoré lay on the outskirts of the city, it seemed to be a whole other world away. Gas lamps flickered, their lights strong and sure, bathing the cobblestones with collective glows. More ladies and gentlemen were stationed outside of Voisin’s doors than throughout the whole of Paris put together. Within this corner of society, the starving children, grief-struck insurgents, and shady rat sellers were nonexistent … nothing more than a distant nightmare.

  The coach rolled to a jarring halt. All at once, a hush descended as the ladies and gentlemen turned their attention to the rich vehicle. Unused to such excitement and crowds, the horses whinnied unhappily and pawed at the cobblestones.

  “Ah, here we are. Monsieur, mademoiselle,” the driver announced. “Voisin of Rue Saint-Honoré.”

  Wary of his sweeping six-foot-two frame, Aleksender inclined his head as he stepped from the coach. He fished a hand inside his coat and deposited a healthy amount of francs into the driver’s palm. “I suspect we shall be an hour. Two at the most.”

  An indulgent grin formed on the man’s chaffed lips. He nodded and pocketed the coins. “Yes. Of course, monsieur. Take all the time you require.”

  Aleksender returned to the coach’s door, straightened the askew rim of his top hat, then reached through the portal. Delicate fingertips wound about his hand as he guided Sofia into the street.

  “Oh! I remember this place!”

  Aleksender chuckled, charmed by her enthusiasm. “Yes. I imagined that you might. Come.”

  Together, they crossed the threshold and entered one of Paris’s finest eateries. The lush surroundings were intoxicating. An exotic blend of rich scents mingled in the air. Twin chandeliers glittered on either side of the restaurant, romanticizing everything beneath the illuminations. From a far corner, the faint hum of music swelled Voisin’s walls and breathed life into the establishment. A moderately sized dance floor occupied the middle of the room. Reflecting a swirl of colors, its floorboards were brilliantly polished and alive with countless embracing couples.

  Bending into a slight bow, the meticulously attired maitre d’ stepped forward to peel away Sofia and Aleksender’s garments. The man’s wig was powdered a pristine white and slickly combed back without a strand out of place. With a muttered pardon, he handed Aleksender’s hat and coat to the nearby footman. Then gloved fingertips stripped away the material of Sofia’s cloak, exposing two smooth slates of porcelain flesh—one and then the other.

  Aleksender instantly hardened at the vision.

  “Monsieur le Comte, Mademoiselle Rose,” the maitre d’ said through a genuine smile, “how wonderful it is to see you again. Would you prefer a seat by the window?”

  Aleksender cleared his throat, wrenching his eyes from Sofia’s bared flesh. “That shall do just fine.”

  Sofia tensed as Aleksender rested a hand across her lower back. His fingers spanned the entire length with ease. Aleksender increased the pressure of his touch and guided her in his footsteps. Her entire body broke out into goose flesh … every last hair stood attentively erect. His hands were large and strong, roughened from his labor out-of-doors. She could feel the warmth of his skin through the thin barrier of silks that separated them. Thumb and forefinger curled against the small of her back and sent chains of awareness surging through her veins. There was nothing inherently intimate about the gesture. And Aleksender had certainly touched her in this way half a million times, and yet something was different.

  Undeniably and frightfully different.

  “If you two would care to follow me.”

  Sofia was jolted back into the moment as Aleksender gently urged her forward. They shadowed the footsteps of the maitre d’, bodies connected in a transient, barely-there touch. Sofia’s heart fluttered as she basked in the pleasure of his nearness. She felt remarkably safe, secure and complete.

  A wave of silence crashed down as they wandered past the endless rows of patrons. Her flesh tightened at the burn of over three dozen scrutinizing eyes. And, for a horrifying instance, she swore all of Voisin could read her thoughts.

  She and Aleksender settled into parallel seats and exchanged the briefest of glances. The maitre d’ unfolded a napkin with a suave flick of his wrist and laid it across Sofia’s lap. Voisin and flowered swags were embroidered in the damask, awarding the linen with a hint of elegance.

  Sofia played with the fringe, unsure of how to act around Aleksender, unsure of exactly what to say. She ached to ease his pain, but was clueless how to do so. The situation was delicate and demanded a gentle approach. Indeed, it required wisdom well beyond her nineteen years. Would he favor a distraction? She cautiously wondered. Or, perhaps, he’d prefer meaningful conversation—the opportunity to express his sorrow and voice his burdens?

  “Your server shall be with you in but a moment,” the maitre d’ announced, interrupting her thoughts. “In the meantime, allow me to fetch drinks? A finely aged wine, perhaps?”

  Aleksender nodded. With a last smile, the maitre d’ drooped into a bow and departed from sight. A pregnant silence filled the air. Only the cheerful rhythm of clinking silverware alleviated the quiet.

  Then light chatter and the melodic drumming of hooves wafted from the window, each sound carried by a mild spring breeze. Tickled by the wind, an abundance of lacy curtains twitched against the wooden pane. Enticed by the sensuous sounds, Sofia gazed outside and into the star-filled sky. Beyond Voisin’s walls, the night was an oily black and entirely moonless.

  “You are so beautiful.” Aleksender’s words were sultry and soft—little more than a whisper. For an instant, Sofia wondered if she’d imagined them. Her eyes snapped from the window and settled upon his strained features. A distinct, pained passion embedded his gaze.

  No, his expression quickly confirmed—she hadn’t imagined those words.

  Silence swelled between them like a palpable force.

  “Th-thank you,” Sofia awkwardly stuttered.

  Aleksender offered no response. The corner of his lip merely quirked into a subtle and almost shy smile.

  “Mademoiselle, monsieur …” The maitre d’ shuffled forward and interrupted the moment. A slender bottle of wine was cradled in his hands and held at a slant, allowing light from the chandelier’s crystals to illuminate the scripted label. “Cidre de Normandie. Compliments of the house.” He poured a serving for Aleksender and Sofia, filling the hollow glasses with waterfalls of chilled wine.

  Then he withdrew a pair of menus from his apron and arranged them atop the embroidered cloth. “Enjoy your supper. Au revoir.” With a quick nod, the maitre d’ departed from the table and continued on his way.

  Sofia’s stomach growled as she eyed the delectable columns of entrees. Aleksender cocked his brow, which caused her blush to significantly deepen. “We’re not a moment too soon, I see. Err, I hear.”

  Sofia gasped and leaned forward. Eyes beaming, she drew back her arm and swatted Aleksender with the menu. He laughed at her teasing and dodged the assault by sheer inches. The robust sound fi
lled the room to its rafters and warmed Sofia’s insides. Seduced by the playful banter, several patrons exchanged murmurs and glanced over their shoulders.

  More laughter bubbled inside Sofia as a fond memory came to mind. Shoulders rolling in a fit of giggles, she pressed a palm to her lips to better stifle the sound.

  Aleksender studied her with keen interest, his own smile quickly forming. Such laughter was contagious—and he was far from immune to his ward’s charms.

  “What, pray tell, is so amusing?”

  “Oh, I was just thinking. When I was a girl—remember what I’d do to your poor dinner guests?”

  Aleksender stretched against his chair with a small chuckle. He cradled the wine glass and gently swirled it, stirring the liquid to life. “Mmhm. How could I forget? You, chérie, were always right on cue. Alas, as soon as Grace would begin—”

  “I’d slip beneath the table—”

  “—and fasten the guest’s shoelaces together. Each and every time,” Aleksender finished with a sly wink, tipping the wine glass against his lips.

  Sofia felt her cheeks warm as she eyed the sculpted skin of his mouth. It was lush and full with the slightest hint of a smile. A few beads of wine clung tantalizingly to the flesh. “I suppose I deserved a proper flogging,” she admitted, the flush rapidly spreading down her neck. “But you’d never hear of such a thing—even when Elizabeth insisted otherwise. Why is that?”

  Aleksender lifted his shoulders with a dry shrug. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, sucking away the rivulets of wine. “You were happy. Not to mention adorable. And besides, such antics never harmed anyone.”

  Sofia shrank against her chair with a guilty smile. “Expect for that one time.”

  “Ah, yes, that one time. Those damnable knaves wouldn’t step foot in the de Lefèvre chateau ever again.”

  Sofia sipped at her wine. She hid a growing smile behind the stemware. “Well, how was I supposed to know the knot would be impossible to unfasten, and that they really couldn’t stand each other’s company? Goodness. How could a husband and wife loathe each other with so much gusto? Why, I thought binding them together would force them to kiss and make up!”

  Aleksender chuckled and folded both arms over his chest. “Innocent little thing, you were. You assumed every match was made purely from love.”

  “Well, it served the old toad right, anyhow. He just wanted to scurry on back to his mistress.” Sofia smiled once more, her delicate shoulders rolling with giggles. “Your father got quite a kick out of it. More than once he caught me red-handed, you know. Oh, I was quite afraid of what he might do, but he simply lifted the tablecloth and winked at me. He winked, all while his snobby guests were ready to blow their tops. Can you believe it?”

  Sadness and pleasure crossed Aleksender’s features by turns. Then his lips lifted into that rare, crooked grin. It was a grin that warmed Sofia’s insides—a grin she had come to love nine years before. “Indeed, I can,” he whispered. “Sounds like him.”

  “He was an exceptional man. And I see him in you. I always have.”

  Aleksender swallowed as something remarkable stirred within his chest.

  Sofia absently gazed forward, a nostalgic smile curving her lips. When she spoke, her voice quavered with emotion and fond memories. “But what I’ll always remember most is the stars.”

  “The stars?” Aleksender echoed, transfixed.

  “When I’d wake up from a nightmare, you’d point out the constellations and tell me each of their stories,” she whispered, locking his eyes. “You showed me peace, showed me that beauty could be found within darkness. You, Alek, gave me reason to be happy.”

  “I wouldn’t have had it any other way.” Lightening his tone, he cleared his throat and poured himself another helping of wine. “And I hope that hasn’t changed. You’re still happy? Still at peace?”

  Sofia nodded, though her eyes subtly flickered in disagreement.

  “And you? Are you happy?” The simple question rendered him speechless.

  “I have my moments.”

  “Such as now? Such as this moment?”

  He responded with a sharp nod. Then he cleared his throat once more and nudged the menu aside. “So. Tell me. How is Salle Le Peletier? I take it things have been faring well?”

  “Yes—” She briefly hesitated. “For the most part things have been quite well. In fact, I made prima ballerina just last season,” Sofia said as she took a delicate sip of wine.

  “And you deserve nothing less.” Aleksender’s crooked grin transformed into a true smile. Romanticized by the surrounding candlelight, the gesture reeked of sensuality. “In all these years, you’ve never ceased to amaze me.” Aleksender raised his glass in a silent toast. Sofia followed suit and clapped their stemware together. A sweet chime rang out as the glasses shared a kiss.

  Sofia’s cheeks heated, blushing a shade of red that rivaled the table’s vase of roses. Then she glanced into her lap and neurotically toyed with the napkin.

  “Sofia? What is it, ma chérie?”

  She sighed and shook her downcast face. “Oh, it’s nothing worth speaking of. Really.” She fetched the menu and buried her face behind it. “Mmm … roasted lamb? How wonderful that sounds right about now!” she mindlessly babbled, nose crinkling in time with her words. “You know, last Christmas, during the seige, they served animals from Bois de Boulogne’s menagerie. Poor things. Can you imagine it?”

  Aleksender chuckled low and hooked two fingers around the menu’s border, yanking the makeshift shield from her grasp.

  “You know you can tell me anything,” he said. She smiled and gave a hesitant look. “So? What’s on your mind, ma petit?”

  “Sometimes … sometimes it feels as though I’m trapped between two worlds.” Aleksender nodded as she spoke, understanding deepening his eyes. “At Sacred Heart, I’m one person, and at Salle Le Peletier I’m someone else entirely. It’s a strange thing. The future is so obscure.”

  Indeed, after Sofia had been rid of her mother’s abuse, Aleksender had sheltered her from society’s cruelty and malice. He’d spent a small fortune building Sacred Heart, one of Paris’s most prestigious convent homes. Sofia—alongside dozens of other young girls, many of whom had been orphans—were raised within those conservative walls. Such a thing had proved to be both a blessing and a curse. Aleksender had yearned to gift wrap the world and all of its possibilities for her taking. He’d kept her safe within Sacred Heart’s walls, brought the prospect of God into her life, and cleared her way to stardom.

  Unfortunately, within the Paris Opera, the road to success is often paved with ridicule and disdain. Prostitution and the performing arts were considered to be close equals. If not for Aleksender’s loyal patronage and social standing, Sofia would have never been fit to set foot in a place such as Sacred Heart.

  “Be true to yourself,” he whispered, settling against the seat. “That’s the best any of us can do.”

  Lost in thought, Sofia shook her head and breathed the words without taking notice. “But only with you do I ever feel most like myself.”

  The waiter came forth at that precise moment, which proved to be a small mercy for the both of them. His face was long, lean and severe. Sofia was overcome with the temptation to make him laugh. “Bonsoir. Are the two of you ready to order? Or would you care for a few more moments?”

  “No. No—we are quite ready,” Aleksender replied.

  “Wonderful. For you, mademoiselle?”

  Aleksender and Sofia ordered their dinners: two servings of tossed greens, plum pudding and roasted lamb. Afterward, the waiter departed from the table, leaving them alone once more. Sofia demurely lifted her glass in a toast. Aleksender followed suit as the grin returned to his lips.

  “To many more moments such as these,” she declared with passion, tapping their glasses together.

  “Many more moments.”

  All at once, a lively melody swelled the bistro. Hand in hand, couples ventured to the
dance floor by the dozens, sending a colorful swirl of skirts whirling across the room. Sofia’s eyes brightened in anticipation. Setting down her stemware, she rose to her feet and held out a hand for Aleksender’s taking.

  He cocked a stubborn eyebrow and crossed both arms across his chest. “You’re sorely mistaken, ma chérie. In no way shall I be dancing tonight.”

  “Oh, come now, you stubborn mule of a man. It would do you some good.” Sofia gave his shoulder a firm yank. “Please?” Relentless, he stayed rooted in his spot. “Oh, fine then. You’ll know where to find me.” Sofia gave a small sigh of defeat and spun on her heels, making way to the dance floor. She stood off on the sidelines and watched the happy couples with a faint smile.

  After a few moments, a handsome young man approached Sofia and offered his forearm. Smiling wide, he arched into a chivalrous bow. “Would you care to dance, mademoiselle?”

  “Why, yes. I would adore it!” And without another word, she was swept into the gentleman’s arms and across the brandished floorboards.

  •

  Aleksender sulked from his spot in the corner. That boy—that foppish peacock strutting as a man, his mind amended—was holding Sofia far too intimately. And she appeared to be enjoying herself far too much. The two of them waltzed this way and that, laughter beaming from their eyes, dancing like a pair of bunny rabbits during breeding season.

  Boasting locks of gold and elaborate garb, the boy resembled a cross between Prince Charming and a cherub figurine. Something that felt remarkably like jealousy blackened Aleksender’s insides. He latched onto the neck of his stemware, erupting with the need to destroy something.

  Instead, he bellowed a low grunt, downed a mouthful of wine with mutinous fervor, then chased the burn with two more helpings. Aleksender shoved the forelock from his eyes as he surveyed the display with an unsettling intensity. A curtain of chocolate tresses fanned in the air as Sofia was tossed into a spin.

  Much to Aleksender’s horror and disdain, their bodies realigned once more and shuffled together. Enraptured by Salle Le Peletier’s prima ballerina, many of the patrons paused their dinning to watch the apparent show. Damn it to hell. Aleksender had been afraid to accept Sofia’s dance proposal. He’d been afraid to get too close to her.