The Serenade: The Prince and the Siren

by Hollingsworth, Suzette

  “I thank you, your highness.” Though she knew very well he was not complimenting her. This was the strangest arrangement between two people who disliked each other.

  Nicolette needed Prince Alejandro, and she must presume he needed her. But to what end?

  This was what frightened her. And could anyone blame her? He kept saying he only wished to hear her sing, but that didn’t make a great deal of sense. Why was he willing to put up with her company which he did not enjoy simply to hear her sing? Something which could be accomplished on any day of the week?

  It definitely had the ring of conquest. She saw it in his eyes. They had started out well enough but it had quickly deteriorated from there. Some men got a perverse pleasure from dominating an independent woman, attempting to crush her spirit.

  “Loneliness is quite a separate thing from self-recrimination,” she added. “I had an isolated childhood, you see, and I still pinch myself with happiness to be in Paris.”

  “I pinch myself when I am in Paris as well.”

  “And, though I know you find it distasteful, I am an actress, Prince Alejandro, and, as such, I am always watching people and speculating on their motivations.”

  “I assure you I do not find actresses distasteful, Senorita Nicolette. Quite the contrary.”

  “Inferior to more reclusive women then.” Oh my goodness, if my tongue becomes any looser I expect it will dance across the table.

  I wish it might slap me in the face.

  “And what do you see which amuses you, Senorita?” he asked with feigned interest, obviously wishing to change the subject though not denying her remark.

  “I see that the lady in the large pink hat with chartreuse feathers is interested in our every movement. The gentleman in exquisite silks—Indian dress I believe—is a person of very high rank, but of an uncommon jovial disposition.”

  “The smiling gentleman is the Maharaja of Jaïpur, called 'Bubbles' by family members. He is indeed of a jovial bent.”

  Nicolette did not add that she knew the maharaja’s identity. “Most unusual that a person of rank should express such joy.” She looked at Prince Alejandro pointedly.

  “And have you encountered many persons of rank, Mademoiselle Genevieve?”

  “On occasion, your highness.” She bit her lip.

  “Has anything else caught your notice, Senorita?”

  “Did you not see me nod to Olga on my way in the room, your highness?”

  “Olga? Queen Olga of Greece?” Disapproval escaped from his tone at her familiar address. “Ah, you recognized her from a photograph.”

  “Of course.” His arrogance was consistent at least, she could say that. “Although Queen Olga has always mixed among the public. She insisted on continuing her engagements without a military guard even though shots had been fired at her husband and daughter. And she personally visited wounded servicemen during the Greco-Turkish war.”

  “And when she attempted to have the Bible translated into the common language of uneducated Greeks, riots ensued in the streets and eight died,” Prince Alejandro added bluntly.

  “Olga only tried to make a book available to everyone, and people killed to stop it, in the name of Christ.” Nicolette shook her head. “She is a lovely woman and cannot be blamed for the ignorance of others.”

  “Lovely but naive.”

  “To believe she could make a difference? To trust in the goodness of people?”

  “Precisely.” His unwavering gaze made her uncomfortable, she who was used to thousands of eyes being upon her. “And are you Catholic or Protestant, may I ask?”

  “Why do you presume I am Christian, your highness? There are other religions in the world.”

  “Because you took an interest in Queen Olga, I suppose.” Suspicion crept into his voice. “And do you make a study of the powerful and famous?”

  “All people are the same to me; I do not differentiate. I merely observe what is before me.”

  “And what do you believe about me, Senorita Nicolette?”

  “I believe you can be quite charming when you choose to be, Prince Alejandro.” To a purpose. “I believe you want something from me or else I would not be here.”

  “I can assure you my motives are pure, at least where you are concerned, Senorita Nicolette.” He leaned back in his chair, studying her. “I can honestly say no other woman has perplexed me more.”

  I might say the same of you. “There is no mystery to me, your highness.” She met his gaze with the force of the fire in her soul. “I do not play games nor attempt to direct anyone’s life but my own. Only those with no passions of their own need play with the lives of others. I, for one, am consistent in my behavior.”

  “Passions?” He appeared to choke on a bit of salmon momentarily. “Consistent in what way?”

  “I am not a person who floats through life. I am exceedingly clear on what I want and I don't rely on anyone else to give it to me. Anything worth having comes deep from within, don't you think, your highness?”

  “Is there anything worth having, Senorita Nicolette?” He cleared his throat, seemingly startled by his own utterance.

  She stared at him aghast. “Is there nothing you want, Prince Alejandro?”

  “Indeed there is.” Suddenly his gaze was so intense she felt it might burn a hole in her skin. It completely disarmed her. She felt her skin grow warm.

  “And what is that?” she barely whispered.

  “I have already told you what I desire: a private performance.”

  “Prince Alejandro, forgive me if my suspicions are aroused again. I notice you are quick to condemn and criticize the arts. You don’t seem as one who is agog over opera.”

  The intensity in his gaze wavered for a moment. “I am particular where the arts are concerned, true.”

  “You realize that Bizet’s opera is very modern. You do not strike me as a man who would enjoy such an opera.”

  “And why is that, Senorita Nicolette?”

  “You seem, forgive me, old-fashioned.”

  “My friends have said the same. I do not consider it an insult.” He smiled, to her relief, though somewhat stiffly. “Bizet’s opera is not what I would ordinarily enjoy, but I do not see how anyone could see you perform and not be mesmerized, Mademoiselle Genevieve.”

  Is he not aware of the negative reviews? She attempted not to drop her jaw. “There are those who find a way, it seems.”

  Prince Alejandro shook his head. “I do not understand, Senorita.”

  He seemed genuinely perplexed, as if he had not read the reviews of her performance.

  Is it possible Prince Alejandro does not know? If so, I have greatly wronged him with my suspicions.

  The crown prince did not strike her as one who could lie with ease. He was certainly painfully direct where she was concerned. Oddly enough, they had that in common.

  “Surely you know my performance was the target of the critics.” She did not wish to make him aware of the hold he had over her if he didn’t already know, but it could only be a matter of time before he found out.

  I must know his motives.

  “Do you mean there was someone who did not approve of your performance? Are you quite serious, Senorita?”

  “Did you not read the papers, your highness?”

  “I do not ordinarily concern myself with the opinions of art critics.” He raised his eyebrows disdainfully. “And I was otherwise occupied this morning. I had other things on my mind.”

  “I have had nothing else on my mind.”

  “The opinions of the ill-informed cannot be of any importance to your career. A mere stumbling block.”

  “Much more than that.” She was relieved to see the confusion in his expression. “Prince Alejandro, were you not surprised I agreed to meet you today?”

  “I believe we discussed that.” He shrugged. “I asked your employer to send you. I am accustomed to a certain chain of command.”

  “Yes, but by what means was my employer able to
induce me to comply?” She felt the heat rising in her face. “I am not accustomed to obeying a command.”

  “I see. Then why are you here, Mademoiselle?”

  “Please reassure me you had nothing to do with the critics reviews, Prince Alejandro.”

  He laughed robustly, but his eyes were warm. “Senorita Genevieve, if I had thought this was the only way I could entice you to sing for me, I would have done it a hundred times over. But, no, I had nothing to do with it.”

  She was inclined to believe him. She had seen with her own eyes how surprised he was that anyone should disapprove of her performance.

  “I have never used such underhanded means to get what I want. But I would for you. That is how badly I want this. But no, it is a moot point. I didn’t do it. Frankly, I am accustomed to stupidity, but I am astonished. I still can’t believe it. Fools and buffoons,” he added under her scrutiny.

  He seemed almost as incensed as she was, and that was saying something. She had to admire his honesty. She believed him: he wasn’t behind it.

  Which was all the worse. “I suppose I should be happy, but your protest means the critics truly hated my performance.”

  “As I said, critics are fools. Anyone who could not see that your music is the pathway to heaven…”

  “You truly loved my performance?” she asked softly.

  “That is a bit of an understatement.”

  Keep your wits about you, girl. Do not be swayed by flattery. Prince Alejandro may not have orchestrated the blackmail, but he was nonetheless blackmailing her: she was required to do his bidding and comply with his wishes.

  “Why?” she asked softly. “What was so special about the performance? For you?”

  Prince Alejandro’s expression was notably uncomfortable. He hesitated to answer her, and then he seemed to come to an inner resolution. “Senorita Nicolette, the well-being of an entire country rests on my shoulders. Or will, someday.”

  “I am very aware of that. How could I not be?”

  “As such, you must be equally aware there are unscrupulous individuals who would take advantage of being privy to my inner thoughts.”

  “I understand.”

  “In all relationships, it is difficult to allow oneself to be vulnerable for fear of being betrayed. But it is far worse when one is famous.”

  “Yes, I suppose so.”

  “Can I trust you with my deepest thoughts, Mademoiselle Genevieve? Would you use them against me?”

  “Certainly not. I would never use information given in confidence in an illicit fashion.”

  He sighed heavily. “In spite of my better judgment and my extreme dislike of opening myself to others, I feel I must be honest with you in order to gain your trust, Senorita. I do not appear to have made much progress in that arena.”

  “That much is true. And why do you desire my trust, Prince Alejandro?”

  “When you sang, Senorita Nicolette, something wonderful happened for me. Something terrible and something wonderful.”

  “Something terrible?” She bit her lip.

  “I relived a terrible memory. But in the process I was released from an inner torment which I have known intimately since the day of being sent away from my family.”

  “You were sent away as a child?”

  “Yes. I was very young—and attached to my family.”

  “Naturally you would be.” She felt the sadness he conveyed in his intensely expressive eyes. “But what does this have to do with my performance?”

  “I am not free, I might never be free. But when you sang I turned a corner. Neither the memory nor the pain will ever again have the same hold over me.”

  “How is this possible, Prince Alejandro?” She placed her fore fingers on her lips.

  “I’m sure I don’t know.” He shook his head, suddenly animated. “It is a miracle. I faced my fears—I re-lived them—and I no longer need to exert energy to suppress them. They no longer control me. I am a changed man, Senorita.”

  “I am astonished. And delighted I could have any part in this. But I feel it must have been coincidence: I was performing at this place in your emotional journey and the timing was simply right for you.”

  “No. I believe you were integral to the process.”

  “Even so, it has already happened. What more could I possibly do for you, your highness?”

  He leaned very close to her, his breath caressing her fingertips resting on her cheek. “I want more than the absence of fear, Senorita Nicolette.”

  She swallowed nervously. “And what is it that you want, Prince Alejandro?”

  “I wish to live.”

  23

  Child of the Bohemian

  “Love is the child of the Bohemian

  It has never known any law”

  —CARMEN by Georges Bizet

  It is absurd. I cannot possibly have had anything to do with the transformation Prince Alejandro claims to have taken place.

  That he is a changed man, she was starting to believe. He is certainly more interesting.

  I am beginning to like him. She never thought to think that!

  But believe she had anything to do with his improvement, she did not.

  It was beginning to seem ridiculous that this was an elaborate seduction.

  Nicolette sighed. Unfortunate really.

  Just as she was becoming favorably predisposed to him, Prince Alejandro gingerly placed a velvet black box beside her.

  Oh no, not be the emerald necklace again.

  He opened the box to reveal a sterling silver labradorite antique tiny box, his hand lightly brushing hers. She surprised herself by feeling a tingling on her skin.

  What is this? I am no schoolroom miss.

  My life is opera.

  Her eyes strayed to the tiny box, ornately carved, a small single aquamarine stone in its center. Though it did not stupefy like the emerald necklace, it was decidedly charming.

  “Senorita Nicolette, this is a box which belonged to my grandmother.”

  “Why would you give me a family heirloom, Prince Alejandro?” Her eyes flew open, her suspicions growing. “Why did you initially offer me such an expensive gift, Prince Alejandro? And now a priceless family heirloom? Why not flowers, a small painting, a lace handkerchief, or a book?”

  Nicolette knew her implication was clear: a single man would never give a single woman of class such a gift. In offering her an expensive gift, he marked her as a woman of ill repute. As a man of education and breeding, Prince Alejandro knew this.

  Why does he persist?

  “You are determined to misunderstand me, Senorita. I give as I have received. The box is yours, whether or not you sing again for me.” Gently he caressed the velvet box with his fingers, and she was surprised to feel her heartbeat increasing with every stroke of his fingers. “It has great significance to me and is very near to my heart.”

  “These are not gifts, but inducements. You wish something from me, your highness, and you are bombarding me with gifts, so I find it difficult to trust your sincerity.” Not to mention these gifts mark me as a wanton. Nicolette hoped she didn’t have to mention it. Most unladylike.

  “It is true, Senorita, I strongly desire you should sing your aria from the opera Carmen in my private suites.” Alejandro cleared his throat, his manner acutely attentive. “But that must be separate from my gift which is in gratitude for that which you have already given me.”

  In a desperate attempt to stall for time, she toyed with Le Meurice's signature dessert, a caramel ice cream cut into portions and served with warm caramel sauce, slivered almonds, vanilla whipped cream and topped with fresh bing cherries. Finally she asked, “The song you wish me to sing, your highness. You speak of the Habanera, I expect?”

  “The Habanera? I did not realize the song within an opera had a name.”

  “If you love me, beware…?’” She allowed the words to dance slowly upon the air.

  “That is it.” A remarkably sensuous smile came to his
lips.

  Nicolette caught her breath. She found herself swimming in the depth of his eyes and hated herself for it. She forced herself to remember he was attempting to buy her.

  “May I ask, your highness, do you count your countrymen's money as your own that you lavish these gifts upon me?” She regretted the words as soon as she spoke them. She knew it was both rude and ungracious, but she could not tolerate how close she felt him to be.

  She had not given him permission to invade her heart, and he was becoming intimate with her in ways she had never imagined when she least expected it. She had heard of such men, like the famous Casanova, who had a practiced power over women.

  And now she would have to sing privately to this irresistible man to save something—her career—which she had already earned.

  “You mistake the matter, Senorita Nicolette.” His teeth were clenched and she could see she had tested the limits of his temper. “No one feels his countrymen's pain more than I do, I assure you. Everything I do is for my people and with the future of España in mind.”

  Her remark had hit home. Her words pained him. With some difficulty he regained his composure.

  “I admit I have been selfish where you are concerned, Mademoiselle Genevieve.” He motioned to their surroundings. “Personally, I do not care for such lavish surroundings as this, but it is necessary. I must move within certain circles. Today especially, the decisions made in these circles affect whole countries.”

  She merely nodded, watching him closely. This was a reaction she could trust.

  “I am sorry, your highness, I do apologize. I am not accustomed to feeling backed into a corner.”

  “I am utterly perplexed by you, Senorita Nicolette. The only thing I find consistent in you is your repulsion to gifts.”

  “I must say I would not expect a woman’s sensibilities to be so puzzling to an educated man of the world.”

  “As for this,” he motioned to the silver tiny box. “It is a matter of personal honor that I repay those who have given me something beautiful with something beautiful in return.”