"Tak, tak, dobrze!" Pani Kaminska beamed at her, clearly thrilled to have helpers, and launched into what sounded like an explanation of her design philosophy.
"Right," Victoria said. "Of course."
The door opened again, and Lukas appeared, looking harried. "Mamo! Przepraszam, I told her to wait in the…" He took in the scene: the rearranged furniture, Victoria and Sasha standing awkwardly with a chair between them, his mother gesturing enthusiastically at the window placement.
"She wanted to redecorate," Sasha offered.
"She always wants to redecorate." Lukas switched to Polish, his tone affectionate but firm. Pani Kaminska responded with what sounded like a detailed justification of her choices, gesturing at the room's proportions.
Victoria still had the ring box in her pocket. Sasha was three feet away, looking bemused. The moment was completely, utterly destroyed.
She let herself be led out of the library, the ring box still heavy in her pocket, her perfect speech still unspoken.
Tomorrow. She'd try again tomorrow.
BREAKFAST WAS, AS always, chaos.
The dining room table groaned under the weight of what Lady Charlotte insisted on calling "a simple morning spread" of eggs, bacon, sausages, toast, pastries, enough food to sustain a small army. Everyone was there except Sasha, who'd texted that she'd be down in ten minutes, she just needed to shower off the mud from helping Lukas in the garden.
Ambrose and Lukas sat close together, shoulders touching, sharing food off each other's plates in a way that would have been nauseating if it weren't so clearly genuine. Even Cathy looked content this morning, her usual pregnancy rage temporarily set aside as she worked her way through a plate of eggs while Archie hovered nearby with toast offerings.
Sir Archibald read his newspaper. Lady Charlotte chatted happily. Grandmother Alexandra presided over it all with her usual air of amused detachment. And Pani Kaminska spoke cheerfully in Polish to anyone who would listen, which was mainly Lukas, who was trying to translate between bites.
It was picture-perfect family happiness.
And Victoria wanted to scream.
She'd been trying to propose for two days. Two entire days of failed attempts, ruined plans, and increasing desperation. The rain had finally stopped this morning, but the terrace was still a muddy disaster. The library was now arranged according to Pani Kaminska's specific aesthetic vision. She'd tried the greenhouse yesterday evening only to find Sophie conducting some kind of emergency calf wellness check that apparently required fourteen different people and took three hours.
She had one day left. One day before Christmas, and then everything would be holiday chaos, and she'd lose her chance at the perfect moment.
"Victoria, darling, are you alright?" Lady Charlotte was looking at her with concern. "You've barely touched your breakfast."
"I'm fine."
"You don't look fine," Sophie said. "You look like you're plotting murder."
"I'm not plotting murder."
"Could've fooled me. You've got that face on."
"What face?"
"The face you get when something's not going according to plan and you're about to have a breakdown about it." Sophie bit into a piece of toast, entirely too perceptive for seventeen. "What's wrong? Did the bank reject you again? Because honestly, their loss…"
"I work for myself now. I’m an independent investment advisor. There’s no bank to reject me."
"Then what is it about?"
Everyone was looking at her now. Even Sir Archibald had lowered his newspaper. Lady Alexandra had paused with her teacup halfway to her lips.
Victoria felt something crack, the careful control she'd been maintaining finally giving way.
"I've been trying to propose," she said.
"To Sasha?" asked Ambrose.
"No, to Fromage," hissed Victoria. "Yes, to Sasha. I've been trying to propose for two days and everything keeps going wrong."
