No, as much as she might wish to, Nicolette dared not ruin her reputation, dishonor her family, or find herself with child.
I do not wish to be the mother of the king’s bastard. A dubious honor at best.
Nicolette reminded herself she did not intend to marry. Even so, to destroy all future hope of doing so in exchange for one night of passion was a fool’s game.
While the man does whatever he wishes. The very idea that she could come out of such an interchange ruined and her partner unscathed—for the very same act—made her furious and was sufficient motivation to check her ardor at the door. She had gained some perspective since her initial passionate expression.
A young woman’s folly.
Understandable, but folly nonetheless. Nicolette recalled to mind the queen’s disdainful appraisal, and a determination to prove the woman wrong burned in her chest.
I hope this is not another set up to cast me into despair.
She thought better of Alejandro. She might not have once, but now she did. Perhaps I should take his interest at surface value: as a great compliment to my musicality. He wished to have me sing at his coronation. He is pleased to see me again.
End of story.
She glanced at the breathtakingly handsome man sitting on the throne just as he glanced her way.
God help me, I hope this is not the end of our story.
48
Meet Me at Midnight
“I’ll wait for you at midnight
Yes
on the stroke of midnight
With all my heart’s devotion
I’ll wait for you, my dear”
- The Barber of Seville by Gioachino Rossini
Nicolette’s breath caught in her chest when she saw him. Entering the Gala Dining Room of the Palacio Real, her eyes were drawn to Alejandro immediately. He was dressed in ceremonial dress, but if he had been dressed in identical evening wear to every other man in the room, any stranger would have quickly identified him as king.
He was physically formidable. His regal ceremonial dress adorned with medals marked him as fearless. It was evident he was of a singular mindset: he would not suffer fools gladly nor would he allow anyone to stand in his way in the protection and advancement of his country.
Alejandro de Bonifácio lives for this role, nothing else. He had been forged in iron to get to this point and there was nothing anyone could do to reverse the process.
The king of Spain stood near his place at the head table, imposing and commanding, but his eyes searched the room until he found her. When he saw her Alejandro seemed suddenly frozen in time as their eyes locked. His stare only served to make her heart beat relentlessly faster.
Except for his burning gaze as he watched her, Nicolette might have thought the king to be a statue. When a slow, sultry smile formed on his lips, her hands began to shake slightly.
She, who was always in control.
No longer.
“Nicolette!” Lady Elaina nudged her. She had forgotten the presence of her grandmother standing beside her.
It wasn’t like her to be so rude. “I beg your pardon, Grandmamma.”
“The head footman is coming towards us. You appear to be frozen.”
Hardly.
“Oh, yes, of course.”
“Of course, what?”
The footman approached them, guiding the two ladies to the head of the king’s table.
“This is a tremendous honor,” Lady Elaina whispered.
As well as a tremendous terror. Nicolette had been in royal palaces before but felt her head to be spinning.
“Senorita Nicolette.” Alejandro took her hand and kissed it, holding it longer than protocol dictated. “You are more beautiful every time I see you.”
“Thank you, your majesty.” She bowed her head slightly, lowering herself momentarily while keeping her back erect. She turned towards Queen Léonie standing beside him and curtseyed.
The Queen Mother wore a pale yellow chiffon confection, a tiara, and heavy topaz jewelry. She frowned when she saw her son’s companion.
Queen Léonie clearly disapproved of the younger woman’s red silk evening gown as she ran her eyes over Nicolette, an assessment which was unfair in Nicolette’s mind.
She knew her attire was less elaborate than most of the other gowns—which were resplendent with bows and frills and flounces and lace—but she was inclined to think a simple design showed her to best advantage. Why was it wrong she should look her best when everyone else was putting ten times the effort into flaunting themselves?
Although most ladies wore low-cut bodices for evening wear, Nicolette knew it was a style which showed her to advantage. The vibrant red dress was low-cut and form-fitting, hugging her figure to just below her hips where it flared out, a flamenco design, which the queen should have appreciated. Satin rosettes accented her bosom; thin sleeves formed a band around her arms, leaving her shoulders bare. Nicolette wore red lace gloves, a white pearl choker, and drop pearls at her ears. Her coal black hair was arranged in an elegant “Gibson Girl” style and pearls were placed through-out her coiffure. Nicolette thought she looked well enough—and certainly undeserving of censure.
Nicolette understood the reason for Queen Léonie’s dislike: the royal believed this opera singer to be her son’s mistress.
His mistress. Nicolette liked the sound of that. It is so unfair. She was to have none of the benefit and still thought to be a tramp!
Nicolette seethed. She detested gossip, slander, and being labeled as something she was not.
I am not a kept woman, Nicolette wanted to scream. As if I would grovel before a man! Léonie Helene knew Nicolette was not being considered as Alejandro’s wife, so this had to be her opinion. Even though Nicolette was the daughter of an earl, clearly Spain needed a strong alliance, and Nicolette was anything but.
And being on the throne is the last thing I want. She would have to be crazy to want anything to do with ruling a country. There was not a more difficult, thankless job on the face of the earth. She lived to be in joy, not in headache.
No matter how one looked at it, the queen’s fears were ridiculous. This opera singer poses no threat to Spain’s throne.
So it made no sense for the queen to be rude to her.
“I am pleased to introduce to you my sisters, Princess Bianca and Princess Isabella and my brother Prince Francisco. Lady Nicolette, the earl of Ravensdale’s daughter.” The sisters were very beautiful, one blonde and one brunette. Prince Francisco was small and nondescript next to Alejandro, but he appeared to be quite pleasant, as were the sisters. She particularly warmed to Princess Isabella. Nicolette curtseyed very deeply. Her thighs were certainly being exercised on this trip.
“May I introduce the Duque de Almodóvar del Valle?” Alejandro continued. Standing beside the queen was a handsome man with a chest full of medals.
There are a myriad and vast quantity of medals on display at this dinner party. Nicolette was well aware that such affairs of state were more about impressing everyone than anything else.
The Duke bowed graciously as Alejandro continued. “Lady Nicolette and her grandmother Lady Elaina, daughter of the Duke of Yarbury.”
Queen Léonie glanced approvingly at Duke Almodóvar del Valle during the introductions. It was the first time Nicolette had observed the queen liking anyone.
Beside the Duke was a younger and exceedingly handsome man—with no medals! Did he merely intend to eat and talk?—wearing skin-tight clothing. His attire revealed his muscular form, especially in his legs and buttocks, which he was at no pains to hide in his form-fitting trousers. Quite the opposite.
He is a show-off as well, but his body is his medallion. She smiled to herself. I have no objection to the view.
Quickly she guessed this oddly placed gentleman’s occupation. Nicolette would have taken him for a dancer if it weren't for the give-away: his golden caramel skin tanned by the sun, striking against his white tuxedo shirt. He had masculine fe
atures, white teeth, and a strong square jaw.
Following her eyes, Alejandro said somewhat stiffly, “May I present Rafael Gomez Ortega, Spain’s most famous matador.”
As I supposed.
“I am charmed, Senorita.” The matador bowed with aplomb.
“And you are well acquainted with Senor Xalvador.” Esteban stood behind the king in his position of bodyguard.
“I’m delighted to see you again Senor Xalvador,” Nicolette said sincerely.
Esteban bowed. “I trust you shall not have to take up the sword to protect King Alejandro on this trip, Lady Nicolette.”
There was murmuring among the entourage.
“It is true. Lady Nicolette saved my life when I was in Paris.” There were gasps among the nearby guests.
“And you, mine, your highness,” Nicolette added. “And have there been any other attacks?”
“No,” Esteban said with finality. “The people are overwhelmingly happy with the new regime. Everyone is ready to see change.”
Queen Léonie frowned.
“It is a changing world, to be sure.” Generally this requires a forward thinking leader. Nicolette glanced through the dining room door to see Joaquin standing on the other side of the door. She noted guards further down the hallway. It appeared security had been increased despite the assurances.
“It is not a safe time for the monarchy, is it?” Lady Elaina posed, voicing Nicolette’s thoughts.
“Across the world, it is not. Many monarchies have fallen,” Alejandro said.
“More will follow I fear.” Lady Elaina spoke the words few would venture to say. The Duke of Yarbury’s daughter was not one to sugar-coat.
“Hopefully not Spain,” Nicolette murmured.
“Never España,” Alejandro said with a vehemence she had not heard in his voice before. Nicolette shuddered.
“As I said, King Alejandro is wildly popular,” Esteban said. “There is a very small group who does not like anyone.”
“There are always those type of people,” Lady Elaina said, casting a brief glance in the direction of Queen Léonie Helene.
Alejandro motioned to another gentleman and woman to Lady Elaina’s right. Introductions were accomplished with great formality and hierarchical structure, she was accustomed to that. “May I introduce Luis Beltrán Marcilla de Teruel Moctezuma, the Duque de Moctezuma, and a Grandeza of Spain, and his wife, María de los Angeles Gómez?”
“Grandeza. Duchess.” Nicolette tipped her head.
So many names, so many medals. How does Alejandro remember it all? Nicolette’s head was spinning.
“Doña Montezuma, I am delighted you are seated by me,” Lady Elaina said warmly. “You are someone who can surely acquaint me with Spain’s fascinating culture and history. As well as all the notables and the proper rules of decorum.”
“How many courses do we have?” Doña Moctezuma asked in a playful spirit, tipping her mantua forward.
Everyone laughed, lightening the air. Nicolette saw in Duchess Moctezuma a kindred spirit to her grandmother.
Nicolette reflected that Lady Elaina’s chic gown suited her temperament perfectly: she was dressed stylishly in a ball gown of white satin hemmed in a six-inch band of black satin. The gown was trimmed in black velvet and white gold lace, and she wore a six-foot scarf of gold-dotted black gauze. She was quite elegant and indisputably mod-ish to Nicolette's way of thinking.
Once the king and queen mother were seated, everyone else followed suit. The footman held out Nicolette’s seat, and she was seated. He followed suit for her grandmother.
Seated next to Alejandro at dinner, just to his right, Nicolette found it difficult to keep her eyes from him. She seemed to know every breath he took, even when she made conversation with Lady Elaina, seated next to her, or with Rafael Gomez Ortega, seated kitty-cornered across from her, though she had to move her body to the right of the flower arrangement to see Rafael in entirety. Certainly it was worth the effort.
Rafael had a wonderful sense of humor, considerable charisma, and was as charming as he was virile. Ordinarily she would have taken great pleasure in his company, but everything seemed a distraction in Alejandro's presence.
When seated, there was a large flower arrangement blocking her vision of the queen. Nicolette smiled to herself, wondering if Alejandro was behind the placement. It certainly created a veil of privacy to which she had no objection.
Nicolette was well acquainted with the enormous tables which allowed for such private tête-à-têtes, even among company. The noise of one-hundred-and-twenty-eight was just at a level where privacy could almost be assured.
Alejandro leaned towards her, as if he were anxious to converse. “And how is your room, Lady Nicolette? If you are lacking in any comfort, please personally let me know.”
“Comfortable?” She giggled. “It is not precisely the descriptor I would have chosen. My room is enormous. And so opulent.”
“Yes, but do you like it?”
“It is…almost oppressive,” she blurted out.
Alejandro chuckled, his brown eyes suddenly twinkling as he nodded his chin slightly. “The entire palace is.”
When he was amused all the harshness in his look dissolved away, leaving a boyishness to his expression. Within seconds of being seated they were both absorbed in each others’ eyes, the formality of the setting melting away. It struck her that Alejandro could not be himself with too many people, not even his immediate family.
Unlike other men, Alejandro was attentive. He could switch from fierce to warm in an instant. Warning bells rang in her head.
“Shall I have something removed from your room, Lady Nicolette?”
I would wish to have something added to it. She swallowed uncomfortably then looked about to see if anyone was looking at them. “I shouldn’t think it would reduce the impact, do you? The walls and chairs are lined in a lime green silk. Gold filigree designs accent the point where the walls meet the ceiling. A crystal chandelier hangs from the middle of the room. A thirty-foot canopy bed with red velvet curtains is somewhat startling, don’t you think, your highness? And paintings! So many people staring at one as one attempts to sleep.”
“One always feels watched in the palace.” He was clearly having difficulty containing his laughter, although he was making a half-hearted attempt.
“Everything screams, Look at me!” she giggled. “And sometimes it is difficult to separate the paintings from the real people.”
“Ah, but the paintings will never seek to destroy your reputation with lies.”
“Simply for amusement,” she added. “Now that you mention it, I suppose paintings are better than a room full of severed animal heads staring at one, surrounded by one’s trophies as it were.”
“But not much?”
“That is to say, the room is very elegantly appointed, and most…historic.”
“Historic?” Alejandro raised an eyebrow. “Would you like me to have the paintings in your room removed, Lady Nicolette?” He did not seem to wish to converse with anyone else, and no one would dream of imposing upon the king’s obvious wishes.
“Oh, no, of course not.” She raised her eyebrows, startled by his offer to alter his ancestral home. “Honestly, someone has gone to a great deal of trouble to lighten the heaviness. There are white roses and white lilies-of-the-valley everywhere.” As if adding white could soften the impact.
“White roses become you, Senorita,” he remarked softly. “I shall henceforth always think of you when I see them.”
“Oh? Are they from you?”
“Of course.”
She swallowed, feeling the color rise to her cheeks. “I must say I do appreciate the honor you have bestowed upon me, your majesty. The room must have belonged to a person of great importance.”
He frowned, as if marking the moment when they moved into formality. “It was Charles III's wife's quarters.”
“Maria Amalia of Saxony?”
He nodded.
“But then…that must mean…” She bit her lip.
She leaned near to him and whispered, “I cannot help but notice I seem to be very near to your quarters, your maj—Alejandro.”
“Your room is next to mine,” he remarked matter-of-factly, as if he had just announced that a fruit basket had been specially prepared for her.
Rather than appearing embarrassed, his eyes sparkled with amusement.
The surprise on her face must have shown because he smiled. In low tones he added, “Never fear, you are quite safe, Lady Nicolette. There is a lock on your door. And I revere you too much too dishonor you.”
I am disappointed to learn it.
And, indeed, Alejandro did appear to be quite in control of himself. And comfortable in his new role of ruling a country.
For the latter she was grateful. And yet, his calm façade in light of the giddiness she felt exasperated her.
Why am I here?
Alejandro conversed momentarily with his sister Isabella and Nicolette with her grandmother. The soup was then served, a spicy bean soup of sorts. On the side was a small tapa, a ratatouille consisting of a fried egg, tomatoes, peppers, zucchini, onion, garlic, and olive oil.
Delicious. Slowly she savored the soup.
“Do you like our spicy food, Lady Nicolette?” Alejandro asked.
“I like everything about Spain,” she said honestly, her eyes following the strong line of his jaw. “Do you enjoy other European cuisines, your majesty?”
“Not generally, but one always prefers the foods of one’s youth. I recently dined with the Kaiser and found the food to be particularly dissimilar.”
“Oh? And what was served?”
“Wild Boar’s heads, wild ducks, game soup, and, of course, a generous side of sauerkraut.”
“Ah, yes, to honor Saint Hubertus, the patron saint of hunters.”
“He was suitably honored, believe me.”
“I must ask you, your highness. Is it true? Are you safe?”
“There will always be a small violent group in every culture and in every country. But, yes, the monarchy is enjoying a resurgence of popularity.” He leaned towards her, so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. With feeling, Alejandro said, “Nothing will happen to you while I live, Nicolette, be assured of that.”
The Serenade: The Prince and the Siren Page 35
