The Serenade: The Prince and the Siren [Daughters of the Empire 2] (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (31 page)

Delcassé had the expression of a bulldog. A pleasant bulldog but not one with which to tangle. He stood in great disproportion next to his wife, a tall, full-figured lady in the Nordic vein, elaborately gowned as if she were British royalty.
Unlike Lady Nicolette, who didn’t know what country she was in
, as evidenced by her provocative gypsy attire.

Madame Delcassé gazed down upon her spouse with manifest amour not unlike a puffed-up peacock.

“Very true,” agreed Lord Ravensdale. “Delcassé concluded the
Entente Cordiale
, representing France, while I represented Great Britain.”

“I did a miserable job. Your country received the better end of the bargain, Lord Ravensdale,” remarked Monsieur Delcassé, without the slightest lilt to his voice. Everyone laughed.

“I am in France, so it would be dangerous to disagree with you, your Excellency.” Lord Ravensdale chuckled. “Your Highness, may I present my wife’s parents, Dr. Jonathan Stanton and Lady Elaina.”

“I am pleased to finally make your acquaintance.” Alejandro bowed very deeply. “Lady Elaina, I can’t help but be struck by the fact that you are the matriarch of a family of accomplished and interesting women.”

“Thank you, Your Highness. I would be lying if I disagreed with you.” Lady Elaina smiled widely and tilted her chin toward him as she curtseyed, as if she recognized one of a like mind immediately. She was strikingly beautiful and extravagantly dressed, not looking old enough to have a full-grown granddaughter.

“And”—he motioned to the remaining gentleman—“Hamilton Bromberg, a lawyer from the Americas and a friend of Combes’s.” Mr. Bromberg was irritated at being introduced last and at requiring an explanation for his presence, it seemed to Alejandro. Routed in a democratic tradition, Americans were disdainful of hierarchy, in his experience.

“Shall we be seated for dinner?” Lady Ravensdale motioned graciously. “Your Highness, ” Lady Ravensdale murmured in a near whisper to him as she drew him to his place at the table. She stopped short.

“Yes, Lady Ravensdale?” he coaxed. She surprised him with her warm openness and completely at-ease manner, combined as it was with a soft femininity. Rather like a breezy summer day.

While her daughter was the storm before the apocalypse.

“Prince Alejandro, I do wish to thank you for the kindness you have shown Lady Nicolette, as yet unbeknownst to my husband. Your patronage…well, let me just say that without your influence and notoriety, Nicolette’s singing career might have been destroyed.” Just at that moment the recipient of his benevolence shot him a look of daggers rather than of appreciation even as her mother raised disapproving eyebrows.

“Ah, think nothing of it, Lady Ravensdale. As yet I have done very little.” Alejandro bowed most gracefully, displaying as much deference as he could muster. “To be the recipient of Lady Nicolette’s sweet disposition is more than reward enough for me.”

Chapter Twenty

So you ruin some poor devil

with a tiny breath of evil,

So you beat him and mistreat him

’till he trembles in disgrace!

—
Gioachino Rossini,
The Barber of Seville

“Ouch!”
He had been kicked under the table!
Had someone actually had the audacity to kick the heir to the Spanish throne—deliberately?

Was it necessary for him to wear his royal robes? If he were to be shown the respect due a street beggar, that would be an improvement over his current situation. Was there no limit to the atrocities that abounded in this corrupt city?

Ah, but was it fair to blame Paris for Lady Nicolette? No one entity could claim her. Only a bevy of demons.

“What is the meaning of this, Lady Nicolette?” he asked pointedly. He felt his jaw tighten even as he kept his voice controlled. She had not hurt him, barely tapping him, but he rubbed his calf in acknowledgement of the insult. No one,
no one
had ever dared…this woman desperately needed to practice having a thought about something other than her own glorious existence.

“Excuse me? Oh I
am
sorry, Your Highness,” she whispered.

“I hope that you won’t misconstrue my remark in that manner that you have of misinterpreting compliments and gifts, but may I just say that your impertinence approaches barbarity, Lady Nicolette,” he replied under his breath.

“Oh, la! That should not surprise you, Your Highness!” She laughed gaily, with no indication of feeling the embarrassment that was her due. “My mind was elsewhere, and my foot slipped. Women in my
profession
are not subtle in our advances, you know.”

“Advances?” he asked in low tones, raising one eyebrow. “The day you make an advance toward me will be the day the Kaiser sings me a lullaby.”

She giggled, and it seemed to him that her pleasure might be genuine. Thank the heavens—one hated to see the diva lacking in amusement.

“And may one inquire where your mind was when it lost track of your foot, Lady Nicolette?”

“I was reflecting on the presumption of judging someone one does not know,” she whispered. Her expression was confident even as the fire returned to her eyes and her luscious ruby-red lips formed a wide smile.

He glanced down the long mahogany table. Its width provided some privacy. Lady Ravensdale, to his left, was conversing with her husband, and Nicolette, to his right, seemed intent upon monopolizing his attention.
There was a large lavender hydrangea bouquet in front of them, just under a magnificent crystal chandelier, which he moved behind strategically.

“And how does that failing compare to secrecy, dishonesty, and untrustworthiness?” he asked, baring his teeth in an effort to hold his tongue. Keeping his voice low so as not to be overheard, he added, “It is your subterfuge, as usual, Lady Nicolette, which is responsible for the misunderstanding. How could I have known your true identity if you did not reveal it to me?”

“You did not
know
…” She spoke with a smile on her face, as if she were discussing Covent Garden or the Palace of Versailles. “…that I was a British peer deserving of respect instead of a wanton requiring your censure and bribery?”

“I never thought of you as a wanton!” He cleared his throat. “Until I actually
met
you.”

“Oh, you…
you
…” she exclaimed, and it seemed as if smoke might come out of her ears.

Then she started giggling!

It was settled. She had gone mad.

“I beg you will calm yourself, Lady Nicolette!” he whispered, glancing about him.

“At least be honest with me, Prince Alejandro! The very talent which touched your being caused you to judge and diminish me!”

“I have done neither. Explain to me how I have done this. I wish to know. Your absurd fabrications provide me with continual amusement.”

“How could my singing both elevate your soul and seal my character in your eyes? As the daughter of an earl, I am acceptable. As a stage singer, I am a loose woman! You said as much to me in the lobby when we met.”

“Do not blame me for societal convention. At any rate, prove the presumption wrong by being the lady that you claim you are.” He cleared his throat. “Your temper is showing, Lady Nicolette.”

“You have
not
seen my temper, Your Highness!
But you will
.”

“Ah, threats. Very ladylike.”

“Knowing you as I do, no doubt you receive them often. Oh! The hypocrisy is unfathomable! The insult to my person I can bear, but I can never endure the insult to the music.” Fire leapt from her eyes. “Now you know why I was apprehensive to sing for you privately, Your Highness.”

He glanced around the table, smiling to insure that others were not listening to them and, in fact, everyone appeared absorbed in their own conversations. But he knew very well that it was simply pretense—all would note their whispers and implied prior relationship with interest.

But he had no intention of leaving the conversation there. He placed one hand in front of his mouth and twirled his water glass with the other.

“And why is that, may I inquire?” he asked patiently, looking past her, which he knew would annoy her.

“You must revere Her to receive Her, Prince Alejandro.” She shook her head, her eyes large and glistening.

“Believe me, I do, Señorita Nicolette.”

“I noticed a very beautiful carpet in the hallway, Lady Ravensdale,” he remarked in a raised tone of voice to his hostess. Determined to ignore Nicolette, he caught the eye of Lady Ravensdale and brought up the only subject which came to mind. Women generally liked to speak of the decor of their homes, though he considered that he had to tread carefully not to imply that he found anything amiss in this unusual style of home.

“I remarked it also,” added Esteban, across from him. “The design was very intricate. What is its origin?”

“The carpet was woven in Tibet.” Lady Ravensdale beamed. “
Th
e background flower is the chrysanthemum, which confers honor. No doubt you know that brocade was more prized than gold during the time of the Silk Road and was therefore an effective bribe with tribal lords to keep the peace. Being in possession of the carpet brings friendship and harmony.”

It was difficult to picture harmony in a home where Nicolette dwelled, but Alejandro mentally applauded Lady Ravensdale for extending every effort.

“I was gratified to see the fountain in your entryway, Lady Ravensdale,” Esteban added. “It reminds me of home, though it would be tiled in bright colors in Spain.”

“There is no shortage of bright colors in this home, Señor Esteban, as I am sure you have noticed.” Lady Ravensdale laughed easily, and Alejandro could not help but be charmed by her genuine manner. “To be honest, the home is decorated in French design influenced by our years of living in a Buddhist country.”

“Few westerners know that a Buddhist temple is actually rich with color,” added Lord Ravensdale. “We have rock inlays, fountains, marble, and plants—with much color.”

“The grounds are very pleasing,” Madame Delcassé added, fluffing her bountiful skirt around herself.

“Oh, yes, I simply must know who your gardener is.” Madame Loubet smiled. “I will immediately set out to steal him away from you.”

“You cannot have
her
,” stated Lord Ravensdale with finality, smiling proudly. “My wife does almost all the gardening herself.”

“You can’t be serious,” remarked Madame Loubet incredulously.

“It is only a few hours per day and excellent exercise. It is wonderful sharing the outdoors with my son while he plays. And, of course, the servants assist me as needed.”

Madame Loubet and the French president’s wife looked at each other in astonishment.

“Knowing my great love of gardens, my husband found this home for me,” Lady Ravensdale continued graciously. “Sometimes we lean toward simplicity, sometimes not, but always peacefulness and warmth. I could not be happier here.”

Alejandro glanced at Nicolette. How did such a nice woman beget a demon child?

Nicolette smiled sweetly at him.

Alejandro cleared his throat and looked straight ahead. “I noticed that the entryway, though done in stonework, looked more like pebbles than geometric squares.”

“That was my design,” explained Lord Ravensdale, his expression turning noticeably somber. “It reminds me of the walk up to the Tibetan monastery.”

Lady Ravensdale took his hand, surprising at a formal dinner party. Also surprising that they sat next to each other instead of at opposite ends of the table. At least that fit the pattern—convention flew out the window with this family.