The Serenade: The Prince and the Siren [Daughters of the Empire 2] (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (30 page)

“We are so pleased that you could join us, Your Highness,” Lady Ravensdale interjected, an expression of charity on her face rather than dismay or irritation, which surprised him. He was not accustomed to genuine kindness. Certainly her daughter, the high priestess of the black arts, had not extended that emotion.

He allowed his eyes to rest on the scheming enchantress for a moment. She wore an evening
costume
—he would not call it a gown—of copper-spangled lavender chiffon, heavily embroidered and accented with spangle fringe along the sleeves, hem, and bodice. Her gown was low-necked, accenting her best feature, tantalizing as the eye moved upward to a thin shoulder strap that revealed bare skin at each shoulder in the shape of a circle. Below the circular openings were draped pieces of gauze held with satin folds, meeting together in a satin band around her arm from which flowed sheer gauze. The fringe, gauze, and considerable hand embroidery combined made it a dress that the Maharani would have proudly worn.

He doubted that the Maharani would have looked as well in it, however. Nicolette…that is,
Lady
Nicolette…was ravishing but far too exotic in appearance for whatever occasion this was.

Crucify the Monarchy Day
, no doubt.

“It is unusual, is it not?” Lady Ravensdale added gently. “Lady Nicolette is in possession of such an extraordinary gift that we could not let social convention interfere with her sharing that gift.” She spoke as if she were reading his mind, her whimsical expression not quite concealing her amusement. Would there be no end to the surprises this family had in store for him? “Don’t you agree, Your Highness?”

He searched in vain for words, stunned, even going so far as to open his mouth. But no sound was forthcoming. He glanced at Lord Ravensdale, who eyed his daughter suspiciously.

Ah, the father was not fooled by her.

Or was he? Nicolette was too beautiful—and devious!—to be allowed out in company. Without a doubt she could not be contained. Even her hair was exotic and wild. Orange and lavender flowers decorated a bun at the nape of her neck, almost flamenco in appearance, with dark tendrils framing her ivory complexion. Circling her lovely white neck was a black velvet choker with an amethyst brooch.

“Most certainly not, Lady Ravensdale,” Esteban interjected with finesse, coming quickly to his aid. “It would have been a crime.” Just as strangling Nicolette would be, but the idea had great appeal to him at the moment.

Prince Alejandro cast a grateful glance upon Esteban. He made a mental note to have Señor Esteban Xalvador knighted.

Glancing at Nicolette, he observed that she appeared to be in the best of spirits. Thank the saints, God forbid that her ladyship should experience even a moment’s displeasure or discomfort as she destroyed those around her.

Nicolette Genevieve—or whoever she was, that was the question of the century—was definitely at her hot-blooded best this evening, raring for a fight.

I will not give her the pleasure
. Though he relished her exuberance, he began to grow weary of her constant and unrelenting juvenile games. He might greatly value her talent and her gift, but he would not give in to her childish behavior.

“Would you care to take my arm, Your Highness?” Lady Ravensdale asked graciously. “I would be most honored to lead you into dinner. There are several notables of state anxious to meet you.”

“I would be delighted, Lady Ravensdale,” he managed to mumble. Recovering from his state of shock through a sheer act of will, he offered his other arm to Nicolette, who deigned to accept it.

How very good of her. The diva’s gracious condescension warmed the heart.

As Lady Nicolette took his arm, he felt a strange jarring of his senses, as if he were a schoolboy again.
Ridiculous
. He stole a glance at her.

He couldn’t make sense of this having thought of Nicolette in such a way for many days now. She did not need to sing in order to support herself. She had no need of a living.

In fact, singing on the stage was a great detriment to both herself and her family.

But it all fit in a strange sort of way. Nicolette Genevieve had always acted as if she considered herself to be of royal blood. In fact, she generally made him feel as if she were lowering herself to speak with
him
. She expected him to behave toward her as if she were a queen.

And punished him if he did not.

This was one more of her lessons aimed toward him. She had given him the opportunity to escort her. He had refused, and now he must pay the price for that decision.

He did not know why God had given Lady Nicolette the gift of angels, but she was no angel.

“Nicolette sings under a stage name, which preserves her identity to some degree,” Lady Ravensdale continued. It was rather jarring how the lady of the house always appeared to be reading his mind. “And she is not known yet. But it cannot be long until the association is widely known.”

“I wouldn’t think so,” he murmured. It was impossible for Nicolette to remain in hiding. All eyes must be on her.

“We don’t ordinarily reveal the connection, but neither do we conceal it. I think it best to be honest and to lay all one’s cards on the table, don’t you, Your Highness?” Lady Ravensdale asked, her gaze penetrating.

“Absolutely,” he replied, glancing pointedly at Nicolette. “I wish that
everyone
were honest.”

“When the world does not judge according to appearances, no doubt everyone will be,” Nicolette remarked flippantly.

“I fear if everyone waited for approval to put one’s values into place, it would be a shameless society.” He did not return his gaze to her.

He would not give her the satisfaction.

“
Wait
?” She laughed lightheartedly. “I never wait for anything.”

It might be to your advantage to wait on your tongue on occasion
. She might be a peer of the realm, but she was far from equal in birth to himself, though one would never guess it from her demeanor.
Even a very rare occasion would be an improvement.

And yet, in truth, with Lady Nicolette’s birth and her looks she could have married well.

Exceedingly well. What was Ravensdale? An earl? Passable. The combination of the diplomat’s rank and his profession was enough to gain his daughter entrance into the right circles—into
any
circle. And with that entrance, the moment one saw her, one was smitten. She could have married a person of very high rank indeed.

Possibly even a sovereign ruler.

He, of course, could not consider marrying someone of her station. Nothing less than a princess would be Spain’s due. Aside from the fact that Spain badly needed a powerful alliance, and the Spanish monarchy in particular was on shaky ground, there was a type of individual he was expected to marry.

But a gentleman of very high rank in a strong position who had no need of an alliance, that was a different matter.

Ave Maria
, why was he analyzing the hoyden’s marriage prospects? Of what possible concern could it be to him? He wouldn’t marry this sorceress if she were the last woman on earth. She lived to torture him.

He let his eyes rest on her ivory skin for a moment, and he wished he hadn’t. So white against her coal-black hair. Ordinarily he did not like pale women, but there was nothing pale about Lady Nicolette.

And what did he know of her values, her character?
Too much
. He wished he could only hear her sing and know nothing about her. So far as he could tell, she only lived to please herself. The fact that she sang on the stage revealed quite poignantly that she had no regard for her father’s profession.

“Lady Ravensdale, your parents reside in England?” Curiosity, that’s all it was. And polite conversation, of course.

“Yes, Your Highness. My father is Dr. Jonathan Stanton—you will know of him, he invented the four-stroke piston engine, transporting the world into the technological age we now find ourselves in—and my mother was Lady Elaina Lancastor prior to her marriage. My grandfather was the Duke of Salford. My husband, whom you have just met, is, of course, the fifth Earl of Ravensdale.”

Nicolette smiled sweetly at him.

“A family which has had a great deal of impact on the world.” He cleared his throat.

“All have merely pursued their interests with vehemence.” Lady Ravensdale chuckled. “It is a family characteristic.”

“I believe that you lived in Tibet for some years and have traveled extensively.”

“Indeed, we have led a fascinating life.” Lady Ravensdale nodded warmly. “My husband and Lady Nicolette share a gift for languages. They are both fluent in Spanish, which no doubt you have observed.”

As they entered the dining room, he was somewhat startled by the vivid color. There was the typical long Louis XV table and crystal chandelier. But the walls were painted in a vivid red-orange color. Arrangements of red flowers were on all the side tables and on the white marble fireplace while bouquets of lavender-blue graced the long table. Candles were lit, and a glow was cast upon the walls. Over the fireplace was a painting of Lady Ravensdale, Nicolette, and a boy favoring Lord Ravensdale. Both children appeared to favor their father, in fact. No doubt in temperament as well as in looks, from what he had seen of Lady Ravensdale.

Let’s see, gentile and proper—or hoydenish and vain. It was difficult to believe that the fragile, blonde Lady Ravensdale had raised the prima donna.

Glancing quickly from the decor to the persons present, he observed that there were several standing in attendance, as if he were the guest of honor. And yet he recognized their importance at once.

“The President of France,
Émile Loubet, and his wife Marie-Louise, are well known to you,” Lord Ravensdale remarked, beginning the introductions.

“It is the greatest pleasure always, President and Mrs. Loubet.” Alejandro nodded and bowed deeply, as did Loubet, and Madame Loubet curtseyed. “You will remember Señor Esteban.” He motioned to his friend.

He reflected that the years had not been nearly as good to Madame Loubet as to her husband, feeling some concern for her health. Émile was vigorous and dashingly handsome with a full head of white hair and deep-blue eyes while Madame Loubet was looking almost elderly. Possibly it was Émile’s farmer-peasant upbringing, while Marie-Louise was the daughter of the wealthiest manufacturer in Marsanne.

Born a peasant and now the president of France. Does it offend you, my prince?
His eye caught Nicolette’s, and he was shocked to find himself guessing what she was thinking. He shook his head in the hope of rearranging his brain cells. Now he was hearing things. Generally the first stage of madness.

She had driven him to it.

“May I introduce
Émile Combes, the French Prime Minister,” Lord Ravensdale continued. Alejandro smiled slightly and bowed. Combes held views in great opposition to his own. He knew Combes to be an intelligent man, being in possession of a degree in medicine in addition to political acumen, and Alejandro made a mental note to watch the prime minister closely.

“You are acquainted with
Théophile Delcassé, the Minister of Foreign Affairs”—Lord Ravensdale motioned—“and Madame Delcassé.”

“My countrymen and I are forever indebted to Monsieur Delcassé,” remarked Alejandro, smiling broadly. “A brilliant statesman.” This was an understatement. It was well known that Delcassé had acted as mediator between the United States of America and Spain, bringing the peace negotiations to a successful conclusion.

It was not a subject that Alejandro wished revisited, but he had the greatest respect for Delcassé, a short, stocky man who wore his hair very short in grand disarray, had a large, bushy moustache, and balanced his glasses on his nose.