“For our…” His eyes grew wide as the paper fluttered out of his fingers and onto the floor. “B-baby?”
She nodded with a smile. “Yes,” she said, her words coming out in a whisper that was half sob and half laugh.
“Oh, Jane,” he said reverently, reaching out and drawing her close, “perhaps there is something magical about Christmas after all.”
“There most assuredly is,” she said. “Let’s never forget Christmas ever again.”
“How could I?” he responded. “It’s given me everything I never thought possible yet is more precious than anything else. Family.” He paused, giving himself a moment to keep from choking up. “You’re the best present I ever could have asked for, Jane. This year, and every year to come.”
Ellie has always loved reading, writing, and history. For many years she has written short stories, non-fiction, and has worked on her true love and passion -- romance novels.
Ellie and her husband love nothing more than spending time at home with their two sons and Husky cross. Ellie can typically be found at the lake in the summer, pushing the stroller all year round, and, of course, with her computer in her lap or a book in hand.
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The Victorian Highlanders Series
Read the stories of Duncan and Jane’s children in The Victorian Highlanders series:
Callum’s Vow
Finlay’s Duty
Adam’s Call
Roderick’s Purpose
Peggy’s Love
Bedeviled : A Russian Pursuit
by Elsa Holland
Prologue
London
December, 1900
Excerpt from Snowdon’s social column
in the London Times
Was it just five and a half months ago the Petroski brothers came to London? Had regaled the salons, theatres and house parties with their charming wit, their physique, and their devastating accents? The charade was on London as it seems the handsome Prince Vladimir, the toast of the town, was not the elder brother at all but the younger. It is whispered, he led a distraction, so that true love could blossom for the long-time betrothal of his brother, the true eldest Prince.
Delightfully romantic but, who likes to have the wool pulled over their eyes so successfully? Certainly not all the fawners. Not the men of commerce who spoke in earnest about their business opportunities, who sought connections and introductions from the wrong man. And what of all those whispered liaisons, their trysts now relegated one step further down the royalty ladder than portrayed.
One would assume the culprit would give London a rest this season. Yet he’s back stalking the salons and needing his fur coat more than ever with the cold not only on the outside, but in the turned shoulders of those he once called friends.
And what of last year’s elusive widow?
Part I
How It All Began…
Chapter 1
November 15, 1899
The internal lamps cast an amber glow over the plush brocade and leather interior of the carriage they’d hired for the duration of their stay. Ilya tugged at his shirt sleeves exposing the cuffs and smoothed down the form fitting red jacket with golden epaulettes.
“Ready?” his brother Demetri asked.
“To plow London’s demimonde senseless?” Ilya grinned at his scowl faced brother. “Always.”
They’d arrived in London the previous day, had made themselves known to the Russian Consulate, dined with a small enclave of Russian expats sharing the latest news and political undercurrents from St Petersburg. Afterward they’d joined two of the younger Barons in sampling London’s night life and were now in possession of the best recreational establishments for their plan. The list contained: salons, a hive of artists, philosophers, and women; theatres and the latest offerings; coffee houses; tea houses; gaming halls. And of course, the obligatory brothels. Advice on which ball and which house party was important to attend, and which would not serve their family’s purpose – to cause enough scandal to ensure Demetri’s childhood betrothal to the daughter of a blackmailing businessman and swindler, would be called off. As the family’s libertine, Ilya had the dubious privilege of playing the lead role.
The carriage came to a stop. The conveyance swayed as the driver climbed down to open the carriage door.
“Try and leave something of my reputation intact.” Demetri growled in warning as the carriage door opened and the damp December air rushed into the interior.
Not bloody likely.
“Nothing worth anything is achieved without spilling some blood brother,” Ilya replied.
His all-too-proper brother’s spotless reputation was now in Ilya’s hands as they fooled London into thinking he, Ilya was the betrothed Prince, allowing his brother to arrange the end of the betrothal while hiding his identity.
Ilya’s jaw tightened.
The lack of trust this strategy implied, slapped him across the face every time he thought about it. The easiest course of action would have been for Demetri to simply be himself, and for Ilya to negotiate the end of the Betrothal. But no, negotiating something so sensitive was considered past his capacity. So here they were, identities swapped.
Always underestimated.
Never taken seriously.
Well he would do his part and do it in stellar fashion, but he would leave as many smears on Demetri’s reputation as he wanted.
“Family honor brother.” Ilya reached for the door frame to steady himself as he rose to step out. “You’ll have to take the hit to your reputation!” Ilya intended to drown it in a bloodbath of debauchery as only he could do.
Demetri flicked his head indicating Ilya get on with it. “Do what you do best brother. Rut London into a frenzy.”
Ilya stilled in the carriage door. “I am not a dog. Nor a perverted caricature.”
Demetri rubbed a gloved hand over his face then looked back at him. “No. No you are not. I am in your debt brother; I mean no offence.”
“Of course not.” Ilya gave him a curt nod. They were both wound tight.
It was not strictly true to say that Demetri’s comments hurt. His family thought him a rabble rouser, a rake, a libertine. He had certainly lived as one. And in all fairness to himself, he’d been encouraged from youth to play the part. His mother doted on him. Sought him out for tales of fun and to introduce her to the most fashionable and popular in the Russian court and St Petersburg elite. He had simply obliged. It was more that they thought him capable of nothing else, that cut. This event, the dark spot on their family’s honor, their father blackmailed into the betrothal of his eldest son, was something he could be trusted to help fix. He wanted to show them he could be counted on, that enjoying life didn’t mean that he didn’t know how to do what was required when needed.