Lady Alexandra sat in her usual chair by the fire. "Victoria. You've lost weight."
"Hello, Grandmama. Lovely to see you too."
"I'm not criticizing, simply observing. Sasha, dear, come sit by me. Tell me about this horticulture business you’ve learned. Your last letter mentioned something about new propagation techniques."
Sasha, who had somehow charmed Grandmother Alexandra through a shared love of Latin plant names and a complete lack of fear, immediately settled into the chair beside her. Which left Victoria standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, watching her perfect proposal weekend begin to crack at the edges.
Because there, visible through the French doors that led to the terrace, was Fromage.
Fromage, who had grown from gangly potato to slightly-less-gangly larger potato, and who was currently eating her way through what looked like the entire contents of the terrace planters.
The terrace planters that were supposed to be full of winter roses and trailing ivy and everything else Victoria had specifically needed for the perfect proposal backdrop.
"Sophie," Victoria said, her voice very calm. "Why is your calf eating my flowers?"
"Your flowers?" Sophie looked offended. "They're family flowers."
"I asked Lukas to plant those. For… aesthetic purposes."
"Oh." Sophie squinted through the glass. "Well, Fromage probably thought they were for eating purposes. She's not great with nuance."
Victoria groaned. So much for the perfect proposal backdrop.
"Victoria, dear," Lady Charlotte called. "Come help me with the seating arrangements for dinner. We've got Lukas's mother arriving tomorrow, and I'm not sure where to put everyone."
"Lukas's mother?" Victoria turned slowly. "As in, his mother from Poland? Who's visiting?"
"Yes, didn't Ambrose mention? She's staying through New Year. Lovely woman, though her English is somewhat limited."
More people. Still, Victoria couldn’t blame Lukas for wanting his mother around at Christmas. Her plan was falling apart, she’d need to re-think. But she could do this.
She still had time to pull this off.
Right?
VICTORIA WOKE AT six a.m. to the sound of rain hammering against the windows.
Not gentle, romantic rain. Not the soft pitter-patter that might add atmospheric charm to a marriage proposal. This was aggressive, Biblical rain, the kind that suggested God had personal grievances.
She grabbed her phone from the nightstand, careful not to wake Sasha, who was still deeply asleep with her face half-buried in the pillow. The weather app loaded with agonizing slowness.
Heavy rain throughout the day. 95% chance of precipitation. High of 7°C.
No mention of snow. Not even a suggestion of snow. Just rain and more rain and temperatures that were somehow both freezing and wet.
Victoria refreshed the app. Then refreshed it again. Then switched to a different weather app, because surely one of them had to be lying.
They were not lying.
"Why are you murdering your phone?" Sasha mumbled into the pillow.
"I'm not murdering anything. Go back to sleep."
"Can't. You're radiating stress. It's very loud." Sasha rolled over, squinting at her. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Just checking the weather."
"Why?"
