Christmas with a Czar by Emily Murdoch

2

It was impossible not to smile at the surprise on the possible Czar’s face, and Anne felt a rush of excitement flow through her. It was evident that this gentleman, in all his finery and gold tassels, was not accustomed to women being so forward.

Anne was hardly accustomed to it either. This was unlike her – not that she was a wilting wallflower most of the time. But young ladies, even those whom society would not class as young anymore, did not walk up to gentlemen they had not been introduced to and speak so boldly to them.

She had never been so bold. Well, not since…

Anne pushed away the thought. She left that part of her life behind, and she had done so a long time ago.

The gentleman described as a Czar recovered quickly. He smiled, charm oozing from every pore, before clicking his heels and reaching out to kiss her hand.

The sudden contact, even through gloves, was alarming and Anne found herself a little flustered but managed to say, “Is that a yes?”

He nodded. “Alexei Dmitry Immanuil Maximilian Konstantinvich, Czar of Russia. My friends call me Maxim.”

Anne raised an eyebrow. “Am I meant to be impressed?”

Maxim – Anne blushed at the thought, and immediately told herself she must think of him as the Czar – grinned. His smile utterly transformed his face, giving it a fresh joy that his laconic boredom simply had not created.

“I would like you to be,” he said quietly, “but I think I would have to go far to impress you.”

“Perhaps,” Anne said with a smile, “but you are the first royalty I have met today, so I am a little impressed.”

She glanced out at the crowd for a moment, unable to continue staring without her cheeks pinking, and saw her father nodding encouragingly.

Anne sighed. Why wasn’t it possible to speak to someone, anyone, without her father getting his hopes up?

Her father was alone – where was Meredith? For a moment, her heart stopped, but her searching eyes quickly spotted her, talking to one of the court musicians. He was showing her the different strings on his violin, and the tension disappeared from her shoulders.

“Are you always this aloof?” Maxim’s voice cut through her thoughts, bringing her to her senses.

Anne turned back and attempted to ignore how handsome he was. “Only when attempting to frustrate a gentleman.”

He laughed, a clipped laugh that nevertheless had warmth in it. “You have already been far more entertaining, Miss…”

Anne tried not to blush. “Anne Marsh. My friends call me Anne.”

“Anne Marsh,” Maxim said, with such intensity that Anne felt her cheeks heat. “Far more entertaining than anyone else in this stuffed court.”

She frowned, trying to ignore the strange desire that was starting to overwhelm her to move closer. “Stuffed?”

“Stuffy,” he hastily corrected, and Anne was surprised to see a little colour in his own cheeks. “English phrases do not come easily to me.”

He certainly had a regal bearing, she could not help but notice, but there was also stiffness there. An unwillingness to be wrong? There was a slight lilt in his voice, but not a strong enough accent that she would have noticed.

“Considering you are speaking in your second language,” Anne said reassuringly, “it is I who should be ashamed to be so uncultured. Your English is impressive.”

“Ah, but culture is not necessary with such radiant beauty,” Maxim said grandly.

The compliment made her smile, but perhaps not for the reason that he expected. “Your Grace, if that is the correct way to address a royal Czar of the Russian court, you do not have to impress me.”

Her words had clearly surprised him, and he took a slight step backwards. “You know, you are the first person to even attempt to speak to me as a Czar.”

“And was I correct?”

Maxim shrugged, his broad shoulders showing their strength as they moved. “There is not really a direct translation for how you would address me, and if we were in Russia, I do not think we would be speaking at all.”

She knew what he meant, and she was not offended by it. “Because my father is a mere baronet?”

His face brightened. “Ah, I did not know – he is here?”

“Somewhere,” she said nonchalantly. She was not interested in a more detailed discussion of her family history. It was his family, his identity, that intrigued her.

“I would not normally ask such an impertinent question,” Anne said quietly, ignoring the looks she was starting to receive by speaking to a gentleman for so long, “but I must know the truth. You are a Czar?”

Maxim spread out his arms with a smile. “Do you think I am?”

She did not know what made her do it. Before she could really think about her actions, Anne was walking around Maxim slowly, taking him all in. He was far taller than she had guessed from across the room, and was formed as though God had decided to build perfection.

He laughed awkwardly when she returned to face him. “Well?”

Anne shrugged with a laugh. “You know, it is impossible to tell who is a czar, and who is just a well-dressed gentleman these days.”

Maxim laughed and protested, “My dear Miss Marsh, you should know me by my bearing!”

She laughed in turn. “My dear Maxim, how many royals do you think I see every day?”

He chuckled and Anne felt a flicker of something hot and heavy in her heart – something she had not felt in a long time. Now her cheeks were blushing not because of the heat of the room, or something that Maxim – the Czar, the Czar – had said. No, now they were pink because of the deep attraction that she felt.

What did she think she was doing? Whether or not this handsome man dressed like some sort of military leader from another country really was a junior member of the Russian royal family, and even thinking it made her feel ridiculous, he would never consider her a suitable bride.

All she was doing was creating more opportunities to feel pain.

But Maxim was charming. Of course he was charming, Anne reminded herself. He was here, at St. James Court this Christmas with the express purpose of convincing Prinny to support him.

Poor Prinny, Anne could not help but think with a smile. She could not conceive of anyone less suitable for ruling a country, and yet all he ended up doing was getting pulled into political matters.

No, Maxim was here to charm people, and if she were not careful, she could convince herself that he was here to charm her.

“Why come to St. James Court at Christmas?” she said aloud. “Most people prefer to stay at home with their family during the festive period.”

Something like a dark shadow passed over Maxim’s face. “My family is sadly not living.”

Discomfort rose from Anne’s stomach like bile. “I am sorry, I did not mean to – ”

“You were not to know,” he said shortly. “I am here to prove my royal lineage, of course, and to do that I must be where the Prince Regent is.”

He did not seem offended by her previous slip, and something gave her courage to say, “Well, you already call yourself a Czar, you know.”

Maxim grinned. “I am the worst kept secret at St. James.”

* * *

Maxim watched the beautiful woman laugh, as though the words he had spoken were nothing but a clever joke, and sighed inwardly.

If this had been any other time or place, then he would have wooed this woman. Anne Marsh. Her name was so unassuming, and it would have been easy to overlook her. No young spring chit, but not old at all. Maturity without being maturity. Braver than a new girl to the Season, but with all of the elegance that a few years out gave a person.

Yes, he would have wooed her, perhaps even stolen a kiss from her under the mistletoe on Christmas Day. As it was, he must not get distracted.

He already had a huge battle ahead of him, and if he was going to be successful in getting his royal title confirmed by the Prince Regent, he must not take his eyes away from his prize.

Even if the distraction was a dazzling woman…

Who at this point, looked a little confused. “I do not understand. Did you intend to keep your identity a secret, while at the same time attempting to claim your title? How are you meant to be recognised as a Czar if you also want to keep yourself a secret?”

For an instant, Maxim considered just lying. He barely knew this woman; he was not beholden to tell her the truth, and he could not be sure to trust her. But just a glance at her open expression, blue eyes wide and curious, her dark hair piled up in the latest fashion, he felt in his gut that he could trust her.

There was something about Anne Marsh. Something that drew him in. He could tell, though he could not exactly put his finger on why, she made him feel safe – and at the same time, wild and reckless.

He would tell her something. He did not need to tell her the full story, anyway.

“I am a Czar,” he said quietly. “But not the Czar. In Russia, titles are a little more plentiful.”

Anne’s eyes widened. “So, a little like a duke or an earl?”

Maxim shrugged. “I suppose so, although we have those too. The Russian royal family is…complicated. And yes, I have a secret, one that I cannot tell enticing women, even if I wanted to. Enticing as you are.”

He had expected her to simper, to smile at his flattery. But Miss Marsh did not stop surprising him as she threw back her head and laughed.

“Come now, Maxim, I think we are friends now. You do not need to fall back on old habits.”

“Habits?”

Anne’s eyes glittered as she smiled. “Are gentlemen not taught to flatter ladies almost as soon as they are introduced to society? I know I certainly was taught how to accept them, but I am too old to curtsey every time anyone says anything pretty – and besides, you should save your compliments for women who could believe them. Enticing?”

She smiled again, a knowing smile that made Maxim shiver slightly.

How could she not consider herself enticing? Every bone in his body was drawn to her, desperate to be closer.

He looked again a little more closely. Miss Anne Marsh had the kind of beauty that the English were famous for; gentle, elegant, and unshowy. You could walk past her fine eyes and laughing expression and think nothing of her, but if you took more than a minute to examine that expression, you would see more than mere laughter there.

She was beautiful, and Maxim had to swallow down the physical attraction that was welling up within him in a way he had not experienced before. His heart was beating a little faster than he had expected, and he could feel the temptation to step closer, to be nearer, growing in the pit of his stomach.

“You are,” he said with frank honesty, “the most beautiful woman at St. James Court.”

Anne looked around the room and Maxim followed her gaze, taking in the Christmas decorations which had been decked around the room. Holly and other evergreen branches had been brought in, woven with gold and silver bells. Gold ribbons adorned every part of the room, glittering in the weak sunlight pouring through the windows, and there was mistletoe dotted about the room.

Maxim swallowed and looked above him. None there, and it was a good thing too. He would cause quite a stir if he kissed a lady he was not married to, here in public – let alone one he had met merely minutes before.

Anne was shaking her head. “It is clear, Your Grace, that your flirtation has got the better of you! There are scores of women here far more beautiful – but I thank you. I must admit, talking to you has been the nicest part of my visit here today. Will you be here the entire Christmas season?”

Maxim opened his mouth to answer, but was distracted by an elderly gentleman who was waving at Anne.

His heart sank. Surely she could not be married to that old soul? To be sure, you saw marriages with unequal ages all the time, but that would be ridiculous! And he had called her Miss Marsh, and she had not corrected him…

Maxim’s heart sank even further as a young girl, almost approaching womanhood, wandered up to the elderly gentleman and took his hand. They both waved over to Anne, evidently beckoning her over to them.

A child as well!

Why did he feel so despondent? He hardly knew her, and yet already the idea that she was unattainable had cast gloom over his heart.

“You must excuse me,” Anne said quietly. “I can see that my father wants me.”

Her words caused Maxim’s spirits to lift. She was not married to him, then.

“Your sister is waiting for you also,” he said quietly.

She glanced at the girl and then back to him. “Will you be staying at court for Christmas, Your Grace?”

Maxim nodded. “I shall be a Czar by Christmas, just you wait and see. Officially, I mean. Royally recognised.”

Anne smiled and curtsied low, saying, “Well, in that case, I will see you at the ball tonight.”