The Serenade: The Prince and the Siren

by Hollingsworth, Suzette

  Or possibly it was precisely the opening he wished. She remembered well how he had looked at her. This prince would be sorely disappointed if he supposed she would be the recipient of improper advances.

  How absurd. If there was food involved, there would be servants serving them—she didn’t expect the crown prince of Spain would cook the dinner!—so there was no question of that.

  “What is it, Nicolette?” Lady Elaina asked.

  “Oh, merely an invitation to dinner,” she replied with as much boredom in her tone as she could muster.

  Nicolette sighed. At Le Meurice with the prince of Spain. It would be a crime to forego dining at that grand hotel, even accompanied by less notable of a dinner guest.

  The legendary Le Meurice was located in the heart of Paris with a prestigious location between the Place de la Concorde and the Louvre on the fashionable rue de Rivoli overlooking the Tuileries Garden. Queen Victoria, the Sultan of Zanzibar, and the Grand Duchess of Russia were among the hotel's clientele.

  Le Meurice was sometimes referred to as Hôtel des Rois.

  Hotel of the Kings.

  Nicolette smiled to herself. It seemed most fitting given her dinner invitation. The hotel had developed a reputation for lavish entertainment, with dinners lasting from eight in the evening until eight the next morning. And though she had never seen the Belle Etoile, every Parisian knew the suite featured a three thousand square foot private terrace offering a spectacular 360-degree panoramic view of Paris.

  It is impossible. She was promised to her grandparents—and now Enrico. And it was laughable she would wish to dine with anyone who had slighted her.

  Well, she didn't, of course, but the Belle Etoile…

  Nicolette could not erase the image from her mind. His image.

  “You must go then, Nicolette,” Lady Elaina insisted, a hint of disappointment visible in her voice.

  “Of course not! I am promised to you, and there is no one else I would rather dine with.”

  Almost no one.

  Should I reject so illustrious a suitor? She was not likely to have an admirer of that magnitude again.

  And he was so very handsome. Dark, wavy hair, a half-smile, and a twinkle in those delicious chocolate brown eyes.

  Something in those eyes entranced her. Just when he appeared hard and cold, he would break into a boyish grin. Those eyes could stab or melt just outside of a second.

  Staring at the note, all she saw was his expression. He had been utterly charming, despite knowing she was playing him.

  If it weren’t for that unfortunate remark.

  Nicolette motioned to the prince’s servant to await her reply. Forcing herself to proceed to her dressing table she picked up her pen, unwittingly bringing herself back to reality. On a magical evening like this it was difficult to discern between reality and fantasy, or even to believe reality existed. And now, to complete the fantasy, her own personal prince charming had materialized out of nowhere.

  A prince anyway. Charm was relative.

  But something in him attracts me despite my reservations…

  Nicolette tapped her pen on her dressing table. Dinner with a prince.

  That is a mere fantasy, one I cannot afford to indulge. It was one thing to create an imaginary world on the stage, but quite another to attempt to recreate it in real life.

  Her hand shaking, she began to write a polite note of rejection, thanking his royal highness for the honor but stating that she had a prior dinner engagement.

  “Nicolette?” Lady Elaina asked. “Please tell me. Do you have a better offer? Do not refuse on our account…”

  “No, of course not, Grandmamma.” Nicolette shook her head but continued writing. Her instincts told her a man of those looks and wealth was one to be avoided at all costs. To be spoiled and entitled was the worst combination. And as if that weren’t enough, her profession led men to think she was an easy woman of loose morals.

  Nicolette sighed. And it was all a moot point: she was promised to her family.

  Do I wish to dine with the prince? Yes. And no. I wish to dine with the man I met, prince or not.

  If she hadn’t had a prior engagement, would she accept?

  Yes.

  She surprised herself. But it was not wise and it was not meant to be.

  Nicolette tossed her hair over her shoulder. Completing her note, Nicolette glanced in her mirror, her sea-green eyes shining, her red lips parting slightly.

  His image flashed briefly behind her, as if he belonged in her boudoir.

  The prince of Spain in my boudoir? Have I lost my mind? The excitement of the evening must have affected her sanity.

  Nicolette handed the note to the page, who bowed, departing with haste.

  “Who was the invitation from, Nicolette?” Lady Elaina asked.

  “A gentleman I only met this evening.” Click. She replied softly as she shut the door slowly, feeling an uncomfortable finality. “We spoke only for a few minutes.”

  “Does he travel in political circles? Would I know him?”

  “I doubt you have met. Though it is conceivable he has a certain influence in the arena of politics, I would not expect him to attend London's political parlors.”

  Lady Elaina, the reigning queen of political hostesses, opened her mouth, clearly curious, but then closed it as she watched her granddaughter suspiciously.

  Nicolette walked over to the two dozen red roses in an exquisite stained-glass vase. She closed her eyes and inhaled the delicious scent as she took a single rose and let it caress her cheek.

  An unexpected melancholy swept through the room, a sense of something lost.

  17

  I’ll make you regret it

  “I’ll make you regret it

  You’ll never forget it

  If I can arrange it

  I’ll see you in hell!”

  - The Barber of Seville by Gioachino Rossini

  “Nicolette, you look stunning.” Having emerged from behind her cream-tone mirrored dressing screen for her grandmother's final inspection, Nicolette received Lady Elaina's pronouncement.

  “I am going to find Jon. I shall return shortly.” Lady Elaina sighed. Dr. Stanton had a relentless curiosity which led him to other intellectuals like a homing pigeon, resulting in lengthy conversations from which his wife found him difficult to extricate.

  “Or as soon as I can,” she added.

  Some few moments later Nicolette was pleasantly surprised to hear a knock on her dressing room door. That was remarkably quick given Dr. Stanton’s propensities.

  Giggling to herself, Nicolette hurried to the door, opening it without delay.

  The vision before her was the last thing she expected to see. For the second time this evening.

  There in a black silk cape and exquisite evening dress stood the crown prince of Spain, large and foreboding, his expression not so friendly as it had been earlier.

  His piercing eyes shone dark and deep above ruggedly pronounced features. His chin was strong and determined as he beheld her.

  Nicolette was bewildered at his expression.

  He appears angry.

  He looked more to be more a military commander than a royal prince. There was nothing gentlemanly about his manner of expression. Fashionable dress and thick, dark hair waving about his bronzed face in an impeccably stylish manner attempted to conceal a military man to no avail.

  Prince Alejandro bowed stiffly and abruptly, acting as if he had every right to be there, had every right to be anywhere he chose. His page was noticeably absent.

  “Senorita Nicolette Genevieve,” he acknowledged, pointing to a playbill while simultaneously walking past her—all before she had time to close her mouth. “I have the name.”

  “Your highness,” she murmured, failing to curtsey.

  “I understand you are unable to join me for dinner due to a previous engagement.” He looked about the empty room with interest. “May I ask if your entire party would care to join me?”
The corners of his mouth turned up in amusement.

  How lovely one of us is amused.

  * * *

  Alejandro forced himself to be everything that was polite despite the unnecessary annoyance which this singer had caused him.

  I will emerge victorious from this encounter in the end—I always do—so why I am plagued with a violent uncertainty?

  The young prince took a strong dislike to feeling need—a state of being he would have liked to have forgotten—and this conniving actress had unnecessarily put him in this position.

  “I thank you for the honor, your highness,” she enunciated with an abrupt sharpness which did not suit him. “But this is a very special night for me, and I am promised to spend it with my grandparents and friends. They have nurtured me in my stage performance, and, in addition to what I owe them, I cannot break my commitments.”

  Alejandro seriously doubted if her other engagement—if there was one—mattered that much to her. She had been playing cat and mouse with him since they met.

  Of all things I hate duplicity.

  “Very commendable. Certainly there can be no shortage of admirers who would wish to spend time with you, Mademoiselle Genevieve. I would not ask if it weren’t of the greatest consequence to me.”

  Rather than being subdued by his words, she raised her chin disdainfully.

  He felt the muscles around his mouth tightening. He did not appreciate being refused, and certainly not by someone whose station in life was so far beneath his own. This dinner was of a supreme importance to him and he resented her ridiculous game.

  Every fiber of my being tells me there is an answer for me in this woman. Even as he beheld her defiant expression, he knew it to be true. He had experienced it this evening; there was no denying it.

  He was on the brink of illumination. Of life. He was at a crucial turning point, and if he could not make this encounter work, there might not be another chance for him.

  Possibly ever.

  And this insolent but sublimely talented woman not four feet from him held the key.

  Why is she toying with me? Alejandro doubted very seriously she was telling the truth. Let's see, this seductress was spending the evening with her grandparents.

  Is she laughing at me behind my back yet again? And why? What have I done to offend?

  Nothing. Prince Alejandro knew well he had done absolutely nothing discourteous.

  “Might I have a private word with you, Mademoiselle Genevieve?” he asked deliberately. With effort he determined he must force himself to present a courteous manner despite being privy to her game.

  She looked about her, lifting her eyebrows in conspicuous disapproval, feigning confusion with the question. “This is an odd time to ask permission to speak with me when you have already invaded my room without my invitation.”

  Santa Maria! She is ill-tempered and sharp tongued. I have given her no reason to treat me with such contempt.

  Mademoiselle Genevieve made no move to shut the door, nor did she nod, so he closed the door in her stead. “I assure you my motives are honorable, but I do require a private audience, if you could but offer me that courtesy, Senorita.” He made it clear she had not been courteous on any other front.

  She frowned but said nothing. She maintained her distance, he observed, but she clearly considered herself in control of their encounter—a display of prickly confidence which he was unaccustomed to in his female acquaintances—and which he found supremely distasteful.

  And in truth, she is in control. Senorita Nicolette had something he wanted desperately, and he had, as yet, offered nothing she wanted, a point she was conveying with more clarity than was necessary.

  I am soon to change all that.

  Alejandro cleared his throat as he studied her beauty with appreciation, something he had been attempting to overlook, but which repeatedly crept into his consciousness.

  She looked every inch a lady at the height of sophistication. Her lustrous hair was designed into an elaborate coiffure dotted with pearls.

  No mere jewel could improve her looks. She wore a burnished apricot silk gown, with antique lace hanging over her elbows. Belgian lace formed a gentle V-shape from her ample bodice to a small waist. Her gown was complimented by dainty pearl and diamond earrings which offset her black hair and sea green eyes to perfection.

  She is petite Alejandro suddenly realized. And shorter than he remembered from the Grand Staircase. It was astonishing that someone with such a magnificent stage presence, someone who kept two thousand people entranced for hours and filled an entire room, was, in person, quite diminutive.

  In the most feminine manner possible.

  This is all unchartered territory for me. Alejandro almost laughed out loud with the absurdity of it. He was alone in a room with the most beautiful woman he had ever encountered—and he was not here for her physical delights.

  And I need her. He made a point never to need anyone, and the circumstance infuriated him.

  “Let us be frank with each other, Mademoiselle Nicolette, and waste no more time with games.” He made every effort to bestow his most charming smile upon her despite his impatience. “I can pay you well for your time. You refused me to raise the price; name your requirements now and I will meet it. I beg you will have dinner with me.”

  He kept his eyes glued to hers. And what eyes! There was a flash in her eyes like a storm at sea that made him weak in the knees, despite his singular purpose.

  “Pay me? With…money?” she whispered, barely audible.

  “With money, with jewels, with whatever you wish. I leave that to you, Mademoiselle. It is your choice,” he offered graciously. Sometimes he was too generous, Alejandro knew it to be a fault.

  “I see. My choice? Just dinner?”

  “Dinner and music. This is all I require.”

  “I do not know why you suppose I would concern myself with your requirements, your highness,” she retorted.

  Alejandro gasped in spite of himself. He was unaccustomed to such venom.

  Honestly, he had never been treated so rudely by anyone in his life.

  Who does she think she is to speak to me in this manner?

  I need this siren, he reminded himself. Calling upon all he had learned of military tactics, Alejandro forced an air of humility, though his response sounded choppy, even to his ears. “I have already said the payment is entirely up to you, Mademoiselle Nicolette. I am ready to do your bidding.”

  “Are you, your highness?” Flames nearly leapt from her eyes.

  Alejandro was perplexed. He clearly said the terms were up to her. For a mere dinner. Why was she so chafed?

  Everyone wants something he reminded himself.

  What does this viper want? Aside from eating children for dinner.

  Could it be something with which I have more experience? He had seen her sensuality as she danced on the stage. Everyone had. It was a reasonable assumption she lived for the bodily passions. This was not his intent in being here, but he would oblige her if it meant he would hear her sing again.

  His mouth went dry as he pictured her movements as she sang Carmen, forgetting his growing dislike for an instant.

  “Or perhaps…there is something else I can do for you,” Alejandro murmured seductively.

  Her eyes opened wide, her expression one of shock, followed by fury.

  “Why should my offering you anything you wish make you angry, Mademoiselle Genevieve? How many times must I say I am at your service and the recompense is entirely up to you?”

  Or possibly the feigned effrontery was deliberate. She was skilled at the game of chance and was increasing the odds in her favor. She was, after all, an actress par excellence.

  “Why indeed? Surely you cannot believe this treatment will improve my opinion of you, your royal highness.” Her voice hardened and her eyes turned as cold as ice. She moved a step towards him, as if to show him he did not frighten her.

  And why should a witch be afraid of a mer
e mortal? Alejandro began to wonder if there was a medical reason for her ill temper. He had heard inflammations of the spleen could result in disturbing character anomalies.

  “I am strongly desirous of your good opinion, Senorita…Mademoiselle…even though you clearly have no need of mine. And yet, I want something of a different nature from you.” He felt his lips form a frown at her impertinence.

  “Pray tell.” There was a long silence before she replied, her breath controlled. “What is it you want, your highness?”

  Alejandro raised his eyebrows. The appropriate tone of respect was noticeably missing from her address. Despite her beauty, he was beginning to dislike her.

  And I need her. Demon or saint, she has the power. At this point he was leaning toward the former.

  “As I believe I have already explained, I merely desire to hear you sing again, Mademoiselle Nicolette. Privately. Just you…and I.”

  “Ah, privately. Nothing more than singing, your highness?” Her voice was syrupy sweet, grave suspicion written all over her face.

  “A private concert. Nothing more,” he replied with a growing resolution. “Unless you wish another arrangement, Mademoiselle Nicolette.”

  “What possible arrangement could I wish?”

  “I’m sure I have no idea what you wish, Senorita. It alludes me entirely. For myself, all I ask is a true performance just as you gave this evening. I will give you anything you desire for this service. Anything.”

  It was strange how this woman he had thought to be the most beautiful he had ever encountered was becoming less and less appealing to him. She was transforming before his eyes. He began to wonder if he could perform if she required it.

  “Service?” she repeated, turning from him as she rearranged her perfume bottles on her dressing table.

  She had her back to him. It was the height of rudeness; one never turned one's back on royalty. She had to understand the insult she gave, which increased its impact.

  “For my part, all I require is to hear you sing,” he repeated.

  Suddenly turning to face him, her expression assumed a level of haughtiness which astonished him. “I am merely a singer who would flaunt herself on the stage. Of what possible interest can I be to you, Prince Alejandro?”