Kira peered down from the top of the stairs to see Colonel Mikhail Vershinin standing in the foyer. Her memory did not recall him as a stout man with a scruffy beard. The Colonel wore a dark blue high-collared double-breasted tunic with a thin belt cinched around his belly and straight-legged trousers.
“Daughter.” Her father waved. “Come down and welcome your fiancé.”
Kira slowly descended with thoughts of feigning an illness. The closer she got the more repulsed she became at the sight of his puffy eyes and a pug nose that was too small for his face. Mikhail clicked his heels, bowed and kissed her hand. Kira pulled away before he had a chance to upright himself. She spotted her father’s frown but disregarded it.
“How lovely you look, my dear,” Mikhail said.
Kira rendered a polite smile.
The trio retired to a pastel drawing room with its ornate ceiling and heavily embossed wall covering. Kira sat on a chair rather than the settee to avoid Mikhail sitting next to her. Alexander nodded to a white clad servant who held a tray of food and drink.
“How have you been, Mikhail?” Alexander said.
Mikhail plopped down on a chaise and took a cup of tea and some sweets from the gloved servant. “It is difficult these days with the street skirmishes and peasant revolts.” He pushed a petit four into his mouth and continued, “There is even talk that Japan might be stirring something up…” He swallowed and continued. “At Vladivostok.”
“I hope that doesn’t mean war.”
“We shall see.” Mikhail slurped his tea.
“What we need is a celebration,” Alexander said. “The union between you and my daughter is long overdue.” A sudden cold clamminess raced across Kira’s skin.
“Yes, a wedding.” Mikhail clapped his hands. “When?”
“Within a few weeks.” Alexander said. Kira shot her father a fierce look. He continued, “It will be June and the weather in Moscow should be suitable for an outdoor reception.”
“But Papa.” Kira swallowed hard. “What about Mamma, she can’t possibly be here in time to help with all the preparations and I won’t marry without her presence.”
“I wired your mother before we left St. Petersburg. She and the family should be here within a few days.”
Kira’s stomach clenched. She was trapped, helpless like a butterfly ready to have its wings pinned and mounted in a display box. She ached to see Roman.
