The Serenade: The Prince and the Siren [Daughters of the Empire 2] (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (9 page)

Everyone
of breeding and taste knew that, in concerts, one was to stand immobile so as to place extra demands on the voice alone to impart the desired emotion
. Anything else was both improper and unaccomplished. Above all, she must be
accomplished
.

I imagine

Silk and satin gardens

I hear

Music

which I spin into flowers…

As she sang the aria, the tender moment when Mimi introduced herself to the handsome poet Rodolfo became unexpectedly real to her. A picture of the beautiful, lonely boy she had seen flashed before her eyes, and her heart filled with concern for him. She saw once again the gentleness in his expression, and she was sure that it was the same expression that Mimi must have seen in Rodolfo.

Nicolette became Mimi, delicate and sweet, genuine and open. She saw Rodolfo from Mimi’s eyes. Suddenly the music became far more important to her than the codes of recital conduct. She gave herself to the world she was creating heart and soul. Longing and love filled her heart, and she abandoned her stiff stance as her entire being entered into the music. She retrieved her lace handkerchief embroidered in flowers, showed it to the audience, and then caressed her cheek with it, closing her eyes.

They call me Mimi

I live by myself

I eat alone—sometimes I forget

I don’t often go to church,

My life is my prayer

From the window of my tiny white room

I can see the Paris rooftops,

the moon and the stars…

When spring comes

A rose blossoms in my vase,

I breathe its perfume, petal by petal

The flowers I make, alas,

have no scent

But when spring comes

She whispers in my ear

The sun’s first rays are mine

April’s first kiss is mine!

She made a circle with her arms to the sky as she sang, “The sun’s first rays are mine,” hugging herself.
A
pang of guilt for her lack of discipline
crept into her consciousness
even as she felt herself yielding to the music.

And when she sang, “
April’s first kiss is mine!
” Nicolette did the unthinkable—she fell to her knees and clutched her handkerchief to her heart. In that one instant she could not regret it—she owed it to the music. Regaining her senses, her eyes scanned the audience as she prepared to exit in disgrace
.

How could I have been so unaccomplished as to succumb to my feelings
? There was a long moment of silence, and her heart fell.

A thunderous applause ensued. She saw tears in the eyes of some. One gentleman pulled a single rose out of a nearby vase and threw the deep-crimson flower to the floor at Nicolette’s feet.

Four or five more roses followed with no apparent remorse or embarrassment for rearranging the Red Assassin’s flower arrangements.

She learned a valuable lesson that night. In giving herself to the music, she imparted those emotions to everyone present. And she received something unexpected.

Their hearts reached out to meet hers
.

“There are few who can actually bedazzle an audience, but you, my dear, are one of those few,” Lady Ravensdale whispered as she hugged her.

“Oh, no, Mama. I don’t wish to draw attention away from the music. I wish to
be
the music.” She heard the truth from her own lips for the first time.
And I want to do this every day for as long as I live
.

“Come to me, child,” the sultan commanded.

Her father took her hand, and his touch reminded her that she was safe. The earl of Ravensdale was dressed in the full military garb of The Princess Royals
,
the 7th Dragoon Guards, reminding her that he knew how to fight—if indeed she needed such a reminder.

Even she had to admit that the captain of the 7th Dragoon Guards looked quite dashing in his uniform. He was tall and slim, and he wore a red jacket sporting his captain’s insignia, black pants with a wide claret stripe down the sides, and black leather knee boots. He carried a steel helmet adorned with a long black tassel. An enormous sword was strapped to his side.

Her hand firmly resting in her father’s, curiosity became her overriding emotion as she approached the dark man upon the throne. She turned to look at the captain of the guard, who did not appear to share her enthusiasm for the experience. He kept his deep-blue eyes straight ahead, never wavering from the sultan.

The sultan studied her from the throne for a long while before speaking. The supreme ruler of Constantinople was wearing his traditional military dress as well. The impression of ferocity he conveyed was furthered by dark, piercing eyes, a moustache, and a pointed beard, not softened in the least by the addition of a fez hat. There was no doubt in her mind that she stood before a person of great power.

“Most interesting. I have heard other European music, which I found stale by comparison.”

She curtseyed. “Thank you, Grand Seignior.”

“Your music sounds different from Eastern music. Explain this to me.”

“Europeans sing in half tones rather than in the quarter tones of Eastern music, Grand Seignior. What to the European ear is sharp or flat or out of tune is actually a note to the Eastern ear.”

“
Out of
tune
?” He frowned at her, and it seemed his beard grew longer and more pointed.

“The truth,” she added quickly, swallowing hard, “is that Eastern music actually requires extra training. I apologize that I am unable to sing this more difficult music, Grand Seignior.”

A slow smile came to the sultan’s lips. “I found nothing lacking, Lady Nicolette.”

“Thank you, Grand Seignior. I am much gratified.” Her courage was waning, and she found that she was having trouble keeping her heart in her chest. Her father squeezed her hand, but his eyes remained straight ahead.

The sultan snapped his fingers and a servant walked forward, carrying a stunning assortment of silks, satins, mohair, and cashmere. Nicolette felt her eyes open wide at the beauty of the fabrics. One of the turquoise silks in particular would make an exquisite gown for her mother. Unwittingly she smiled widely at the sultan before catching herself and turning to her father.

He nodded his curt approval, and she bowed her head, murmuring, “Thank you, Grand Seignior. You are most kind.”

“Sing again.” He nodded toward the center of the room.

“One more piece, and that shall conclude my daughter’s performance,” Lord Ravensdale stated clearly, bowing, the tails of his jacket swishing behind him. “She needs to eat her dinner and then retire to her room for rest.”

The sultan frowned but waved his hand in dismissal as he allowed himself to be lulled into a trance under the spell of Lady Nicolette’s performance.

Chapter Seven

This evening Love comes before Duty

—
Georges Bizet,
Carmen

She whispers in my ear

And brings me back to Life

The music filled his heart as water fills a drowning man’s lungs.

He fought the pleasure, knowing it to be deception. He had been taught over and over again that every joy was an illusion.

His life flashed before his eyes. He had imagined himself to be in love with his first, a stage actress. He had written her passionate letters and bought her expensive gifts.

She sold the letters to the king for a small fortune.

Remembering that she had traded his affection for money when he would have given her anything and the ease with which she forfeited his companionship, his jaw tightened.

But the feelings of betrayal only whispered to him. He was no longer controlled by them. His feelings were now only information, nothing more. He had finally learned.

Just as he had then functioned out of need, others sought the fulfillment of their desires. Could he blame them when he was no different? There was no such thing as love, pure and unselfish. Better that he knew how to obtain that which he wanted while acknowledging that it was all pretense, as was everything in life.

One played the game in order to procure a desired outcome.

Finally I will find peace.
He welcomed his death. He longed for it.

He was nineteen years old, the crown prince of Spain, and on his deathbed.

I have failed at my duty
.
There is no shame greater than this.
In one moment he saw his father before him, holding out the crown. In another instant he saw Esteban, his hand reaching out to him while moving farther and farther away.

Why doesn’t anyone give me water?
He felt his mouth go painfully dry.

It seemed as if he had been begging for water for all of eternity. He shook his head back and forth, struggling to make his will known. The murmurs of strangers escalated all about him, speaking in a strange language he did not know.

Most of his life had been spent with strangers. Why should his death be any different?

A breeze caressed his face, carrying the aroma of exotic foods. Probably the thing that had poisoned him to begin with. He felt his stomach churn, but thankfully, there was nothing to expel.

Where
am I?
He tried to open his eyes but could not. Frantically he searched his memory. After laboring for what seemed hours, he saw in his mind’s eye dark-skinned men and veiled women staring at him as if he held their lives in the balance.

He wanted to feel relief as the memories slowly began to fill in, but he could not. The memories were like pieces of one of those irritatingly tedious puzzles, each piece raising one’s expectations only to find that the last piece was missing.

Ah, yes. He had come to Constantinople on the king’s behalf and fallen sick almost immediately. King Don Bartolomé would not be pleased.

He wished he had never been taken from active duty. Once
he had finally been allowed to return home, it was the last thing he wanted
. He had never been so happy as when he had entered military school. For once in his life he was like everyone else. He was accustomed to discipline and to working beyond endurance, more so than the other young men, and finally his competitive spirit had been given a realistic outlet. His commanders had called him an “animal,” much to his pleasure.

Now this wild beast was reduced to lying about in silk pajamas, ogled by strangers. It was a humiliating way to die. He who had served, fresh out of military school, on the
Almirante Oquendo
, a 6,890-ton armored cruiser launched at Balboa, Spain. He had longed to stay in the navy and travel the seas, rising up through the ranks to command his own ship.