Heirs Book Two: American Lady (22 page)

“Good. A woman of strength and character,”
Lorenzo nodded. “Just like her mother,” he said, wrestling the
ringing phone out of Nikki’s hands. “But, cara, it must be an
emergency. I gave strict orders not to be disturbed unless it was
an emergency,” he pleaded. “Hello? Hello? St John! Is there trouble
with the ponies?” And he was up and off lapping circuits around the
pool.

* * *

Leigh’s dismayed recriminations over the
twenty pounds she had piled on since Easter had devastated what
little assurance Aurelie had felt at the end of a successful year
of study. Her professors at the Sorbonne had praised her academic
diligence and hinted that her grades had her lined up to graduate
next year as Mention Très Bien, or summa cum laude. The Sorbonne
had a reputation for exceptionally high scholastic standards and
the professors graded students strictly so Aurelie’s swell of pride
was justified. However, her high distinctions failed to impress her
mother.

“I must give orders to Hyacinthe to put you
on a diet immediately,” were Leigh’s first words as Thiérry
delivered her from the helipad. Leigh seemed oblivious to her
daughter’s tortured embarrassment in front of Thiérry, Maixent and
her father.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a woman of
substance,” said Henri, testily. “In fact you could do with a bit
more flesh on your bones, Leigh.”

“I might have known you’d defend her. But
carrying around the equivalent of an extra person is not doing your
daughter’s health any good,” Leigh had rebutted him sharply and
Aurelie had cringed wishing she could simply pick up her unpacked
bags and head back to her uncle’s apartment. If it wasn’t for the
chance of seeing Thiérry she vowed she would never return to
Altobello.

Since she knew full well there would be no
improvement in her weight or Leigh’s attitude, her only respite
would be to keep out of her mother’s sight as much as possible.

This evening, however, was the dinner party
between her family and Charley’s. Getting more and more desperate,
she had ransacked her closet for a suitable dress that could
accommodate her now hugely exaggerated muffin top. But it was
obvious that the extra pounds she’d put on during the semester were
determined to make her life miserable when Leigh pushed herself
into the room, demanding to know what was taking so long.

“Here, try this.” Leigh brusquely selected a
rose pink tulle evening gown.

Now as Mignon fluttered around under Leigh’s
beady eye it was quite obvious that the zipper was not going to
meet.

“Well, that’s no surprise,” Leigh frowned
disapprovingly, her sarcasm cutting even deeper into Aurelie’s
self-esteem.

“Il n'importe pas
,”
Mignon said softly. “I’ll pin the dress at back and then put this
over Her Highness and voilà!” She smiled encouragingly at Aurelie
as she draped a long satin jacket over her shoulders.

Under Leigh’s critical stare Aurelie felt
hideous. Her mother’s choice of rose pink tulle fluffed over her
hips like an inflating air balloon. From the top of the tight satin
bodice her breasts bulged like squashed dough and her face, in
spite of being carefully made up by Mignon, looked puffy, pale and
unhealthy with her eyes slitty and tired from too many late nights
over her books.

“That will do, Mignon, I will fix Aurelie’s
hair myself,” Leigh dismissed the lady’s maid.

In spite of Henri’s taunts about being too
thin, Leigh looked sensational in a gunmetal gray slinky cocktail
gown exposing slim tanned legs and with a beaded bodice that
shimmered alluringly as she moved around the room. She picked up
the brush on Aurelie’s dressing table.

“Come over here.” Aurelie seated herself in
front of Leigh as she began brushing with light strokes. Her hair
had been as blond as Leigh’s and Maixent’s when she was a toddler
but the color had ripened like brown flax seeds as she grew up. As
a little girl Aurelie had sat quietly for as long as Leigh would
brush her hair. It was the most intimate contact she could remember
with her mother. She closed her eyes, savoring the sweet memory and
trying to replace the bitterness.

Aurelie knew, because Leigh had drummed it
into her on many occasions, that she had thought her maternal duty
was done when she gave birth to Maixent. She had provided the heir
to the Dragonblood Throne and if there were any more babies to come
then Henri’s young brother, Gaston, could provide them. Leigh had
scarcely lost her girlish figure during Maixent’s pregnancy and
found her muscles bounced back effortlessly once he was born.

Her accidental pregnancy with Aurelie went
badly from the start. Leigh had regaled Aurelie with stories of
horrendous morning sickness dogging her throughout the nine months.
During this pregnancy her feet, ankles and calves swelled so much
she could barely walk and had to spend most of her days with her
legs elevated.

Aurelie had heard the affection in her voice
when Leigh spoke of the joy and delight of rearing Maixent. Her own
memories were of a nanny and trying not to irritate the gorgeous
fairytale princess who was her mother.

As Leigh expertly swept Aurelie’s
nondescript brown hair into a chignon and fastened it with
pearl-headed pins, she began lecturing.

“Now that you’re getting older you’ll need
to start pulling your weight at official functions, Aurelie. I know
you’ve still got study at the Sorbonne for another year, but
there’s no reason why you can’t attend some events over the
summer.”

Aurelie felt tears prick her eyes and kept
them resolutely shut so her mascara wouldn’t run. Her mother knew
she hated public appearances.

“There’s the Red Cross Variety Gala coming
up which would be perfect. You can accompany your father. As well
as sticking to Hyacinthe’s diet I want you to start an exercise
regime. You need to lose weight because you know how unkind the
camera is – it always adds pounds to your figure. You really can’t
afford to let yourself go like that.”

As Leigh prattled on Aurelie felt the old
familiar hunger pangs start.

* * *

Further down the corridor Prince Maixent
held out his hands for Thiérry to insert the solid gold cufflinks
embossed with the two-headed Altobesque dragon and the Marchessini
family motto Aut vincere aut moeurs into his dress shirt cuffs.
Dressed in a freshly ironed soft cotton white Nehru shirt, complete
with a sapphire stud at the collar, and black trousers with a
crease so sharp they could cut butter, Maixent looked handsome but
grim. His Oxford Blue dinner jacket with black satin lapels hung on
his warm cherry maple wood valet stand.

“You look like you’re about to face
Altobello’s two-headed dragon,” Thiérry remarked to break the
ominous silence. “Cheer up, they’re only potential in-laws.”

“Absolutely,” Maixent said with no
conviction. He took a deep breath and then expelled it, trying to
release his tension. Tonight his father was going to broach the
dowry to Lorenzo.

“Well put a smile on for the firing squad.
Feeling lovesick or just horny?” he asked cheekily. “If it’s the
latter I think I have a solution.”

Maixent jokingly shook his hand at his
aide-de-campe. “No such solutions for me any more – I’m happily
spoken for. Perhaps I could interest you in someone more
permanent,” he teased. “I could arrange a blind date with one of my
exes who would be more than happy to help you settle down.”

“Don’t be too sure of that,” Thiérry said
bitterly. “Keep in mind I’m a penniless Count with no
prospects.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” Maixent punched
his friend playfully on the arm. “Once I’m on the throne your
prospects will improve immeasurably.”

Thiérry frowned dispiritedly. “Anyway, I
don’t believe in blind dates only blind destiny.”

“Sounds more serious than a date,” Maixent
quirked an inquisitive eyebrow in Thiérry’s direction, pushing his
arms back so that he could be helped into his dinner jacket. “Is
there someone in your life you haven’t told me about?”

Hastily moving behind Maixent to hide his
tell-tale flush, Thiérry eased him into his jacket. Maixent felt
he’d hit a nerve and that Thiérry had some secret he was loath to
unburden. But right then, he had more than enough worries himself,
including wondering what the Mafia wanted with Altobello, that he
didn’t have the energy to pry it out of his friend.

“You know me, your Highness, I’m the eternal
bachelor,” Thiérry said lightly. Modestly he lowered his head and
held out Maixent’s shoes which had been buffed to a mirror-finish.
Using the shoehorn he helped Maixent slip his shoes on. Technically
his gentleman’s valet should have helped him get dressed but
Maixent preferred the informality of Thiérry’s presence unless he
was going out to a very formal affair.

“Well it would certainly take a very special
woman to capture you,” Maixent admitted, remembering Thiérry’s host
of girlfriends, but realizing that he had been so caught up with
his own life that he didn’t know if his friend had been dating
since his split last year from Veronica, the English Ambassador’s
daughter. “You don’t have someone on the sly, do you?”

Keeping his back to his friend Thiérry
busied himself tidying away the prince’s jewelry box. Then he
pulled a white gardenia from its container, gently attaching the
flower to Maixent’s lapel. The waxy petals nestled against the
black satin and Maixent sniffed in its delicate, yet rich,
fragrance.

Finally Thiérry raised his eyes to
Maixent’s. “When would I have time to have someone steady in my
life?” he said with a self-effacing smile. “Come on, or you’ll be
late for dinner.”

* * *

The two men sat in comfortable ease in
Henri’s private smoking parlor. Here his influence had prevailed
over Leigh’s and the room was decorated in masculine browns with
deep burgundy overtones. In two deeply padded, nut brown Saxon
Canterbury recliners, Lorenzo and Henri puffed contentedly on Juan
Lopez Petit Corona cigars. On the occasional table between them
rested a brandy decanter, ice bucket and two half-filled slender
glasses.

“I’ve never tasted cognac over ice before.”
Lorenzo sighed with satisfaction.

“Ah, for a real treat add a dash of jus de
canneberge,” Henri assured him.

Lorenzo smiled. “It’s a treat for me to have
a cigar before dinner.”

“I enjoy it also. That’s why I have these
petite coronas on hand.” Henri exhaled contentedly. “They are not
so full they will overwhelm the tastebuds and not too strong so we
can avoid a stomach ache before our evening meal. Nor will these
little beauties outshine a bigger cigar if we care to indulge after
dinner as well.” Henri seriously regarded the glowing tip. The
diminutive cigars burnt on average around half an hour and after a
session of small talk they were now half-way through. Time to get
down to the business end of the discussion with Lorenzo.

Henri had at one time seriously wondered if
he would ever have this conversation with a prospective bride’s
father. Now the occasion was here he found himself somewhat
embarrassed.

Both men wore evening dress, with their
coats currently unbuttoned to reveal Lorenzo’s white brocade vest
and Henri’ scarlet cummerbund.

Henri scratched his stomach meditatively. He
had been enjoying Lorenzo’s company and he was looking forward to
tonight’s dinner and catching up with his brother. Gaston and
Marie-Francoise usually visited for two weeks every summer, which
was the right amount of time to enjoy each other’s company but not
get on anyone’s nerves.

“My son tells me that he is enamored of your
stepdaughter, Charmagne, and that he would like to marry her,” he
began.

Lorenzo puffed and blew out an enormous
smoke ring.

“And Charley has strong feelings for your
son. She has accepted Prince Maixent’s proposal.”

“Royal engagements have certain formalities
which the Marchessini dynasty adheres to, and one of them is to
sort out the matter of a dowry. Historically a dowry formed an
essential part of the negotiations for marriage between royals. In
ancient times it was an insurance for the woman in case her husband
died, it gave her something substantial to fall back on. Between
royal couples, dowries often masked treaties between countries or
annexures of land. If resplendent jewels were involved they would
end up with the rest of the crown jewels.”

“In that case my stepdaughter is a jewel
beyond price,” Lorenzo beamed benevolently, slowly sipping his iced
cognac.

“There is no question of that,” Henri
returned. “When I married, my wife was also a pearl beyond price.
But her father was not a traditionally wealthy man. He had a timber
business though and she brought with her a cord of New England
cherry wood.” Henri indicated the walls of the smoking room which
Lorenzo had admired upon his entry. The beautiful paneling was in
fact built from the wood Leigh had brought with her. “My
grandmother, on the other hand, brought with her a sapphire and
amethyst necklace which had been in her family for three hundred
years and now forms part of the Altobesque crown jewels. So as you
can see, a dowry has its own interpretation.”

The two men puffed in silence while Lorenzo
considered Henri’s words. Beaming, in quick succession he blew two
dense, aromatic smoke rings into the air to waft towards his
host.

“My stepdaughter would like to provide an
equally lasting impression with her dowry,” Lorenzo said.
“Something that will hopefully last for many generations. Something
that will give an insight into the world of the Royal House of
Marchessini.”

Henri smiled in response. It was good when
two men found themselves on a similar wavelength, he thought. He
savored the last mouthful of his cognac. Yes indeed, he anticipated
it would be a very pleasant evening.