by Brenna Lyons
Nana considered that. “You need a younger man, one that excites you.”
Amber pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead, feeling the first twinges of pain that would soon be pounding. “Nana,” she began patiently. “I do not need a man, at all.”
“Yet, but someday soon, you will.”
She nodded miserably. Nana wouldn’t live forever. When she died, “Lady” Mora would set Amber out, even if a blizzard blew.
“A young man then.” She waved a folded piece of parchment with a broken seal. “And this is the perfect place to find one.”
Amber groaned, plodding to the chair she’d used earlier and dropping into it, her head aching. At the very least, it already needed dusting. She couldn’t do much more damage, could she? She consigned herself to some torture of the old woman’s devious mind. “What now?”
“The prince is throwing a ball.”
“I don’t know how to dance, Nana. What would I do at a ball?” She’d be hopeless, a laughingstock. A ball would hurt her chances, not help them. Besides that, she wasn’t a noble. Last she checked, balls were for the nobility and royalty.
“How convenient that it is not that sort of ball.”
Amber screwed up her face in confusion. “What other sort of ball is there?”
Nana handed the parchment over, and Amber spread it flat on her lap.
To the ladies of Lenvia, I send greetings,
Be it known that His Highness, Prince Edward, seeks consorts, mistresses, and/or a bride. To that end, there will be a series of evening events in the four quarters of the Kingdom. The next Bride Ball will be held the 20th of Lunn at the estate of Lord Lewis Elmstead, to begin at dusk. All ladies, high and low, are urged to attend. In addition to His Highness, all noblemen of a want will be welcome to...
Amber scanned the rest, including the rather extensive list of rules for the event. “All young ladies must have a female escort, who will be responsible for their actions. No weapons or aphrodisiacs are permitted on the premises, under the harshest penalties allowed by law. Aphrodi... A sexual ball?” she asked.
“There is dancing there,” Nana mused, “but not those tiresome court dances. A woman need merely be swept away at a Bride Ball.”
“I have heard they are—”
“Delicious.”
Hardly the word Amber would have used for it.
“Oh, I wish I was young enough to escort you,” Nana sighed, her eyes glittering at some far-off memory.
“You cannot be serious. Being pawed by noblemen?” The thought sickened her.
“Only if you invite it. A simple refusal will end any unwanted attention.”
Amber picked that apart, looking for something to attack. Nana was making that difficult.
Not to mention, Lord Elmstead had taken her refusal well enough. Of course, he believed she’d be forced to call on him someday; he’d made that clear enough.
But she’d heard about Bride Balls. Women did the most shocking things there: sexual displays with men and other women, bared bodies for sale...
“What would I wear?” Amber asked, seizing at one thing Nana couldn’t have an answer to. Nothing she owned was appropriate for a Bride Ball. Thank the Goddess Mother! She couldn’t go in her work dresses, and it was a safe wager that Marquita and Kambry were not going to lend her something suitable.
Nana chuckled. “I have the very thing. It may not be the height of fashion, but it will showcase your attributes nicely.” Her gaze fell, rather pointedly, on Amber’s chest.
Amber felt her face burn, and she found it hard to breathe, let alone speak. “Showcase? You don’t mean...” She crossed her arms over her chest at that thought.
“You won’t be walking around with your wares on display...unless you wish to.”
“That’s quite all right, thank you.”
“Then, it’s decided,” Nana stated.
“What?” Amber hadn’t decided anything. “I don’t know what to do.”
“It’s simple. Meet the noblemen. If any among them stokes the flame within you, give him leave to seduce you. If anything disturbs you, refuse. If not, pursue pleasure. If it pleases you both enough, accept a position...or a trial position.”
“And...if it doesn’t please us both enough?”
Nana raked her gaze up and down Amber’s body. “Your first time may not be, though it is for some. We could...”
“Nana! You are joking, I hope.” Amber forced her legs to relax, abruptly aware that she was clenching her thighs together in rebellion at the suggestion.
“A sensible choice. The nobles like educating a virgin. You are more likely to make a coveted arrangement, if they know you’ve never experienced—”
“I may have a headache coming on,” Amber moaned. May? It was pounding behind her eyes with sickening intensity.
“If you do, have it now. On the night of the Bride Ball, you will want to enjoy yourself fully.”
“Nana,” she pleaded.
“Trust me. If some young buck makes you hunger, be willing to play.”
Chapter Two
“You had no right to,” Mora fumed.
Amber paused outside the parlor door, rolling her eyes. It always came to this. Nana owned the estate until her death. Any choice dealing with the house, grounds, or the bulk of the wealth was hers. Yet, Mora complained at every turn that Nana wasn’t frugal enough, that Mora’s stipend had to be increased, that one of Nana’s changes would reflect badly on Mora and her daughters socially.
So, it had come to this again. Amber knocked, wondering what they were arguing about this time.
“Come in,” Nana called before addressing Mora again. “You have a duty to the estate and to Marcus.”
Amber entered and set down the tray of tea and cookies, pouring and preparing without question of what they wanted. She’d served them often enough to do so in her sleep.
“Cinder is not of this estate, and Marcus is dead. I owe him nothing. I owe his bastard even less, no matter your allowances for her. If anything, the girl is your responsibility.”
Amber’s hand faltered at the venom in Mora’s voice. Mora spat untruths on a daily basis, and as far as Amber could tell, she’d never cared for Marcus and Amber as Nana had...as Xandra reportedly had.
Keeping a straight face, Amber put a second spoon of sugar in Mora’s tea. It was certain to infuriate her, since Mora was positively obsessive about her weight.
“You know I’m too old to attend a Bride Ball,” Nana reasoned, taking the tea and cookies Amber offered her with a slight nod of thanks.
“Then she won’t go. I won’t be responsible for a backward little snip that isn’t mine. I’ll carry her regrets,” she offered in stomach-churning false graciousness.
“I seem to recall that your own early Bride Balls were not always a stunning showing,” Nana replied.
Amber paused, halfway to Mora, shooting a look of surprise at Nana as the tension in the room rose. Nana wasn’t typically so circumspect; there was a story behind that simple statement, a story she would likely never know.
Mora’s expression eased from fury to feigned disinterest that proved Nana had struck some sort of blow. “I will not take her. That is final.”
Nana smiled sweetly, though her eyes hardened in rebuke. “Then I’m afraid you’ll have to prepare your daughters out of your usual monthly stipend, Mora. After all, Marquita and Kambry aren’t of the estate, either. Perhaps, the Duke might wish to offer aid to their cause?”
Amber bit the inside of her cheek, swallowing down a hoot of laughter. The Duke of Montberry aid his daughters? That one was beyond amusing. As far as she could tell, the man had washed his hands of his daughters, the very day he’d turned Mora out in favor of his mistress, a fine testament to how he felt about the lot of them.
Mora stared at Nana, her fury at the edges of control. Her stepmother ignored Amber’s offer of tea, so she sat it on the low table and headed for the door.
“You can’t,” Mora
protested.
“Oh, but I can. Amber, take this, please.”
She turned back, taking the half-empty teacup and depositing it on the tray again. It was obvious that Nana wanted her to stay in the room, so she took up a serving position at the tray.
Nana continued. “Come now, Mora. You don’t wear much to a Bride Ball. Surely, your purse will support that well enough...unless you wish to—”
“It will support,” Mora snapped. She scooped up the teacup and drank down a healthy mouthful, coughing and sputtering on it, her face going crimson beneath her powder.
Amber bit back another smile. “Is there a problem, Lady Mora?” she inquired, feigning concern.
“You put extra sugar in my tea,” she raged.
Amber furrowed her brow, adopting a look of confused innocence that no one in the room would buy as sincere. “One spoon only...though perhaps a bit too rounded?” she suggested.
“Much, and you know it.”
“My apologies, stepmother. I will try harder.” Mora hated to be reminded that she was Amber’s stepmother, and Amber loved reminding her, because of it.
“Leave us, you unruly little beast.”
Amber looked to Nana. “Do you require anything more, Nana?” she asked, making it clear that she was Nana’s servant and not Mora’s. It was a prod, a snub that she would surely pay for later, but for now, it was precisely what she wanted to impress.
Nana smiled. “No, dear. I will manage. I’ll send Mora to let you know when to remove the tray.”
Amber escaped without laughing, though the chickens were treated to the full explosion of her mirth.
* * * *
“That was a horrible thing to do,” Nana admonished, but she did so with glee in her expression.
“She deserved it.” Amber waved it off with a flour dusted hand and went back to the rolling of the pie crust.
“I thought you didn’t want to go.”
“I don’t, but I dislike Mora’s posturing more than that. She has no right to speak to...or about any of us that way, least of all Father and Mother.”
Nana shook her head but didn’t offer correction. She’d long since abandoned trying to force Amber to call her stepmother “Lady Mora” in private. Since Mora and the hens were out clucking about some clothier for “appropriate attire” for the Bride Ball, there was no one who cared to overhear her being so disrespectful.
Nana shifted on the cushioned chair Amber had drawn into the kitchen for her. “You’ve decided to attend, then?”
Amber halted in her work, her hands fisted on the ends of the rolling pin. She went back to it...slowly, weighing her options. “I can’t. You heard Mora.” Though she hated allowing Mora any victory over her, she was relieved she wouldn’t have to endure the Bride Ball.
“Whether she transports you or not, I have named Mora as your escort.”
She considered it, working the dough with half a mind to the task. “Then how would I get to the ball? How would I get inside?”
“I can hire Keane to take you, and if you’re on the list, you have only to announce yourself to the manservant coordinating. Since your proclaimed escort will be inside, you’ll be admitted. They only turn away women who arrive without benefit of an escort.”
Amber wondered why that was. Why would they want an older woman watching over the younger, if the men were not permitted trickery or force in bedding them?
“Well?” Nana pressed her.
“I have nothing to wear, and Mora will... Well, you know what she’ll be like, if you—”
“I’m certain one of my old outfits would do nicely.”
“Mora would still—”
“Cause a scene? Highly unlikely.”
Amber set the rolling pin aside, staring intently at it to avoid meeting Nana’s eyes.
“It’s settled, then,” Nana decreed. “You’re going.”
Amber groaned. “There’s no talking you out of this, is there?”
“You’re going, Amber. You must. If not for me, then go for yourself.”
“I fail to see how this travesty would be that much better for me.” Amber peeked up at Nana’s expression.
As she feared, the old woman wasn’t ordering her; Nana’s dark eyes pleaded with her, and Amber had never been able to stand up to that.
She sighed. “As you wish, Nana. I’ll go...but I cannot promise that I’ll meet someone.”
“Good. I’ll find just the thing for you to wear.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she muttered in return.
* * * *
“This isn’t one of those horrid drugs that makes one gain weight, is it?” Marquita questioned, staring at the small pink capsule in distaste.
Amber rolled her eyes and went back to the dishes.
“Goddess, no,” Mora replied. “But it will make sure you are fertile at the ball.”
“What if the prince demands contraception of his own?” she continued.
Amber grimaced, paying special attention to the dish in her hand, though it was no dirtier than any of the others. She did so more for a way to hide her disgust than any urge to see that one cleaner than the others.
This entire thing was distasteful. It had been more than a week of plans to seduce the prince, of plans to conceive a son by him if possible.
Amber was starting to hope the prince had adequate guards, since they’d even discussed the possibility of drugging him with an aphrodisiac. Surprisingly, Mora seemed adverse to the idea. That was a first for her.
Mora sighed. “It can’t be helped. Most men don’t, but he may. If you do seduce him, you’re nearly guaranteed to catch.”
A clink of stoneware announced Marquita taking the pill down. “Awful,” she complained. “I loathe pills.”
“Get used to them,” her mother advised. “You’ll be taking one every day for the next month. Longer, if he makes an offer. I purchased a two-month supply, to start, and we can procure more. You must produce a son, before he tires of you. He can take mistresses, but the princess who presents his heir is nearly guaranteed to be his queen for life. Few kings dismiss a wife that has given them an heir. Worst case, he chooses to leave her to her amusements and takes mistresses to his bed.”
“I won’t have to, will I?” Kambry asked, seemingly concerned.
“Thanks to Her Ladyship, no. Once I purchased your costumes and jewelry, there was only enough left in my stipend to supply the drug to Marquita.”
That was typical. Though the drug would supply both daughters for a month, and Mora could buy one or both more with her stipend the following, she focused on Marquita alone.
Her snub of Nana was even more expected.
Amber rinsed the scrubbed plates, her jaw tight in fury, hoping the water would drown out Mora’s voice.
There was a moment of silence, no doubt Mora waiting for a reaction from Amber. She could keep waiting, keep staring at Amber’s offered back. If there was one thing twelve years with Mora had taught Amber, it was that nothing annoyed her stepmother more than being ignored. She wondered how many times the Duke had ignored her and wagered with herself that it was a high number.
Kambry fiddled with her teacup. Amber didn’t have to look at her to know it was Kambry. It was a nervous habit of hers, one that usually ended in censure. Today was no different.
“If your hands cannot be still, Kambry,” her mother snapped, “clasp them in your lap.”
The cup settled. “Yes, Mother,” she answered dutifully.
“Better.”
“Mother?”
“Yes, Kambry?” It was obvious that Mora’s patience was quickly wearing thin.
“What if one of us does catch, but His Highness doesn’t offer a contract?”
Kambry always was the smartest of the three.
Mora didn’t agree. “Don’t be daft! Once the doctors establish paternity, you’d have an estate and a sizable stipend to live on. After all, producing a lawful heir to the throne, bastard or not, carries reward. I
f the prince were to die without producing heirs, the bastard would inherit all. That’s how Hein Matthew and Hein Darren evolved.”
It was true, for the royalty. Only the fact that King Benjamin and Prince Edward had been only-children kept the Willowmarshes in the running for the throne. If the king had a second son or the prince had two, Hein Matthew and his son, Hein Darren, would revert to lesser nobles, Dukes most probably.
“If the child is male,” Kambry pressed, her voice tentative.
“Of course, if it’s male. Even if the child is female, you could still make a coveted position, though you’d have to dispose of the bastard first, preferably before you ruined your body with producing it...but afterward, if testing is inconclusive.”
Amber deposited the last plate in the drainer a little more forcefully than the others she’d washed, turning abruptly and taking to the stairs.
Mora and Marquita wore twin looks of dark satisfaction. To Amber’s surprise, Kambry seemed discomfited.
She always was the smartest of the three.
Perhaps she was the most empathetic, as well. Looking back at her life, Amber had to admit that it was nearly always Marquita and her mother needling her. Kambry hadn’t done so, since they’d been children, well over a decade earlier...and always following Marquita’s lead.
Chapter Three
“Let me off here,” Amber requested.
Keane shot her a look of disbelief. “Why would you do that?”
“You know my stepmother. If I’m announced, she will make every effort to embarrass me.”
He winced. “She would, but how will you get in without being announced?”
“I have a plan for that, but you need to let me off here.” Ahead, she could see the curve that would lead them to the front entrance.
“As you wish.” He pulled the vehicle to the side of the road to let Amber out. It was his father’s vehicle, an older model that had seen better days, but it was quiet and well-maintained.