The Third Son (25 page)

“Who knows?” said Isabelle with another giggle. “Perhaps someday you and Damien will marry and we will be sisters-in-law.”

When Esmeralda did not respond, Isabelle turned slowly and studied her friend’s face. She was silent, but her eyes sparkled and her lips could barely contain a smile. She looked as if she were ready to burst.

“He didn’t!” Isabelle squealed.

Esmeralda nodded. “He did! Last night at the masquerade ball, in the garden.”

“Oh it must have been so romantic!” Isabelle sighed. “This is so exciting, we’re going to be sisters!”

They embraced tightly before they remembered their gowns and pulled away quickly, smoothing away the wrinkles. 

“Oh, I almost forgot!” said Esmeralda, digging around in the bottom of her reticule. “A gift from my grandmother.”

She produced a small vial, holding it out to Isabelle. Isabelle opened the tiny bottle and sniffed, surprised by the heady fragrance that drifted up. “Perfume?”

“Grandmother made it herself. It’s a special blend. She said it was for your wedding night.” Esmeralda cleared her throat. “It is meant to attract the groom.”

“In that case I’d better put it on right now!” Isabelle said with a laugh, dabbing the sweet smelling oil on her wrists.  

“Not too much!” Esmeralda exclaimed. “It is very potent. We wouldn’t want Prince Lionus trying to lay you over a table at the reception.”

Isabelle lifted an eyebrow before dabbing more behind her ears. “Then perhaps this will get me to the marriage bed much faster.”

The pair doubled over with laughter and this was the way Queen Alexandra found them when she entered the room.

“What on earth could be so funny?” she asked frostily, her eyes narrowing as she glanced at Esmeralda. She had objected strongly when Isabelle had announced her intentions of making Esmeralda her maid-of-honor. Isabelle had been unwilling to change her mind and the queen had had no choice but to suffer Esmeralda’s presence in silence. 

“Nothing, Your Highness,” said Isabelle, fighting to hide her smile behind her hand. Esmeralda turned her back to the queen and fought back laughter. She pretended to fix her hair in the mirror, watching their reflections behind her.

Alexandra held a large box out to Isabelle. “My dear, I came to give you this. It was given to me by Adare’s mother on the day that we wed. It has been worn by Largess women for generations.”

Isabelle lifted the lid of the box, finding a thin silver circlet encrusted with diamonds resting on a black cushion. Isabelle gasped and fingered the delicate tiara. Alexandra lifted it from its box and placed it on top of Isabelle’s head over the veil. The circlet came to rest over Isabelle’s forehead, where a small diamond dangled between her eyebrows.

“Today you become a part of our family,” she said, clasping Isabelle’s hand tightly. “We have waited a long time for this day. Soon you will be queen. I could not be prouder.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Isabelle said graciously.

Alexandra patted her hand before turning toward Esmeralda. “As for you,” she said, lowering her voice and stepping close. Esmeralda turned to meet the frigid eyes of the queen. She felt as if the temperature in the room had lowered considerably. “My husband has told me of your so-called engagement to my son.” She emphasized the word engagement as if the word were repugnant to her. 

“Yes, Your Highness,” Esmeralda said, squaring her shoulders resolutely. She would not allow this woman to intimidate her, and if she were going to be Damien’s wife she would have to learn to respectfully but firmly put
Alexandra
in her place. “Damien and I love each other very much and he has asked me to be his wife.”

“You may think to wile your way into the palace by marrying my son, but I promise you that I will do everything in my power to stop it. You may look the part,” her eyes swept over Esmeralda’s pale blue silk gown and elegantly dressed hair with contempt, “but you and I both know that you are merely a Gypsy girl who climbed her way out of the gutters and onto my son’s arm.”

Before Esmeralda could issue a scathing retort, Isabelle was between them. “Your Highness,” she said, her usually sweet voice cold and hard, “I hope you are aware that once I am queen I would have the power to have you banished from Largess Hall.”

“Isabelle!” Alexandra placed a hand over her chest and gasped in horror. “How dare you speak to me this way? I am surprised at you.”

“I dare to speak to you this way as Lionus’ bride and the future queen. You would do well to keep yourself in my good graces, for we both know that a queen has great influence with her king.”

“You wouldn’t!” 

“I would!” Isabelle’s voice rose an octave and she drew herself up to her full height, which was nowhere near that of the queen’s, though that hardly seemed to matter at the moment. “You welcome me into your family and within the same breath tell this lovely girl that she is barred from it? Well, I won’t have it! Should I find you acting ungraciously toward Damien’s future wife I shall do everything in my power to see you banished from here.”

Alexandra stood silently for a moment, her eyes lowered. Her icy glare was no match for the chilling fury that radiated from Isabelle’s pale blue eyes. She had clearly been beaten. 

“My apologies,” she said so quietly, they had to strain to hear her. “I shall go down and tell them that you are ready now.”

Alexandra turned and made her exit, but not before spearing Esmeralda with another hateful glare. Esmeralda ignored her and turned back to Isabelle.

“You should not have done that for me,” she said. “But I am grateful that you did.” 

Isabelle grabbed up her bouquet and linked her arm through Esmeralda’s. “Nonsense,” she said, pausing to allow her maids to lift her train, “We princesses have to stick together!”

Chapter 15

The wedding had gone beautifully. Damien now watched the newly wedded couple as they danced their first waltz together as man and wife. Lionus had eyes only for Isabelle as he twirled her gracefully around the ballroom. He was elegant in a dove gray morning coat, matching trousers and snowy white linen
. S
he was exquisite in her wedding gown and sparkling tiara, an heirloom passed down by the women of his family. His normally hard expression had softened around his eyes, and Damien could have sworn he saw the beginnings of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. 

“Look at them,” Serge said, coming up beside him with two glasses of champagne. He handed one to Damien. “They look happy.”

Damien nodded, accepting the glass. “Yes, they do.”

“I envy him.”

Damien turned to his brother. His eyes were lowered to the contents of his glass and his jaw was tense. He had not said much, but those three words revealed much more than Serge had meant them to. Damien felt a stirring of pity for his brother. He had not realized that Serge’s admiration of Isabelle had gone beyond appreciation of her unflawed beauty. 

“Someday you will feel the same for a woman.” Damien scrambled for the words to comfort his brother.

“I fear I already do.” Serge left his side, draining his glass as he went. Damien hoped his brother would find a way to rid himself of his feelings. They were dangerous and inappropriate and would serve to drive him and Lionus even further apart. Besides, lovesickness had turned Serge into a brooding shadow of his former self, a man that Damien hardly recognized and he longed to see his brother smile and laugh again.

His thoughts were quickly turned from Serge when Esmeralda appeared at his side. His eyes came to rest on the daring neckline of her gown, causing her to blush demurely. 

“My love, you have no idea how much I want to whisk you away to my chambers,” he whispered, resting a hand at the small of her back. Esmeralda swatted at him with her painted fan playfully, sipping at a glass of champagne.

“Damien, it is still early! Besides, it would be rude to abandon the reception when dinner has not been served and the bride and groom have not yet left.”

“Very well then,” he replied with a heavy sigh. “I suppose we will be polite this time. But mark my words woman, when you and I are married we will shock many with our rudeness, for I will carry you away to our bed whenever the urge strikes.”

Esmeralda flushed an even deeper shade of crimson. She drained her champagne glass and fanned at her heated face.
Esmeralda
had been distracted through the entire wedding by Damien’s heat-filled gaze upon her. Everyone else had been captivated by the bride
.
Damien had spent the entire ceremony staring at her. His eyes spoke volumes, and she knew he was thinking of the night before. He watched her now as she accepted Nicolai’s arm and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.

As Damien stood watching Esmeralda dance with his cousin, Lionus crossed the room toward him purposefully. “Damien, a word,” he said curtly, gesturing toward the open doors leading out to the garden. Damien followed, resolute, knowing that only one order of business could be important enough for Lionus to pull him aside at his wedding reception.

“I have heard about your engagement,” he said once they were alone. He stared at Damien, waiting for an explanation.   

“Have you called me out here to offer your congratulations?”

“I called you out here to talk some sense into you. What can you be thinking, marrying a Gypsy girl?” Lionus grinned cynically at Damien’s shock. “Did you think I would not find out? I have not revealed her true identity to keep from embarrassing our family, though the knowledge brings me shame.”

“I love her, Lionus.” Damien turned his back on his brother, unable to hide the hurt that his brother’s words had caused. He knew that they had never understood each other, but Damien had hoped he would understand him in this. “No one needs to know who she is, although I can’t understand how it should shame you.”

“That is because you are so unbelievably selfish.”

Damien winced as if he had been struck, anger welling up rapidly within him. His hands curled to fists at his sides. He kept his back turned to Lionus for fear that he would reach out to strike his brother. “Nothing I’ve done has ever met with your approval. You lectured me when I gambled or drank or kept women you did not approve of. I have stopped doing all of those things, as you have always wished and you would have Esmeralda to thank for that.”

Lionus grasped Damien’s shoulder and spun him around to face him. “Listen damn you, I am not going to stand out here on my wedding day and argue with you about this. You have a responsibility to this family-“

Damien shrugged out of Lionus’ hold. “And what responsibility does this family have to me? Love? Acceptance? I have received none of those things, least of all from you.”

Lionus shook his head. “I won’t allow you to marry her.”

“Until you are king, you can do nothing to stop me. Esmeralda will be my wife well before your coronation.”

Damien crossed his arms over his chest, daring his brother to strike out at him. The desire was apparent on his brother’s face and Damien would gladly oblige him with a brawl if that was what it took to get his point across.

“I thought you would understand,” Damien said, a pleading edge to his voice. “I love her Lionus, as you love Isabelle.”

“It is hardly the same thing,” replied Lionus. 

“It is exactly the same thing!” Damien railed, threading his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Am I to be denied my happiness because Esmeralda is not of noble blood and Isabelle is?”

Lionus sighed, running his hand through his own hair in the same unconscious gesture shared by his brother.  “I must return now or I will be missed. If you insist on doing this foolish thing, then you had best do it before I am king.” He turned on his heels and strode back into the ballroom, leaving a deflated Damien behind.

“How sad,” Damien whispered to Lionus’ retreating back, “Isabelle is fortunate to be rewarded with your love and I, your own brother, have stood on the outskirts of your affections my entire life.”

****

Esmeralda stood in the doorway of the balcony, watching Damien as he stared out into the darkness of the early morning. He had seemed distracted at the wedding reception and had hardly spoken a word since bringing her upstairs to his chambers. He had made love to her heatedly, scorching her with hot kisses and fiery caresses. She had fallen asleep immediately after, but had awakened hours later to find him gone. 

She slipped into his dressing gown, belted it tightly at her waist and ventured toward the balcony where he stood, his back to her, wearing only his breeches. The soft breeze ruffled the hairs at the back of his neck, but the rest of him was hard and unmoving as he stared silently into the distance. Esmeralda came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face against his back.

“You should be sleeping,” he said, clasping one of her hands.

“I was sleeping until I found the bed beside me empty.” He turned to face her, taking her into his arms. His face was drawn and his eyes were sober. Esmeralda frowned. “Something is bothering you.”

“Yes.”

“Will you tell me what it is?”

Damien rested his head on top of hers, burying his face in her fragrant hair. “I do not wish to trouble you as well.”