Lennox, Mary - Heart of Fire.txt

by Heart of Fire. txt (lit)

  Nicholas gave her none of his time, but an outrageous title

  and land to go with it, did he? That underhanded, overbearing…

  Outlander! I am going home, she thought. Very soon. Just wait

  until I see him again—I’ll tell him what I think of his titles.

  ***

  Nicholas spent the time waiting for Sera to comply with

  his summons by attempting to work at his study desk. But he

  could barely concentrate on anything but the hands of the ormolu

  clock slowly rounding the hour. At the soft knock on his door,

  he jumped up from the chair, forced himself to stand quietly

  against the desk, and called for her enter.

  She slipped inside, a graceful woman of almost otherworldly

  beauty, her cheeks pink and her eyes bright. “You wished to see

  me, Nicholas Rostov?” she asked him.

  “Where the devil have you been? I hoped to see you an

  hour ago.”

  “I was in the town with Katherine. Are you angry because

  you thought I had already escaped?” Sera’s face set in a stubborn

  expression, and Nicholas groaned inwardly.

  Against his own good sense, he had called for her in order

  to, well, not quite apologize, but to try and make up a little for

  their last meeting. It wasn’t well done of him to leave Sera alone

  without at least helping her to fit into palace life.

  He took a calming breath and began again. “I wished to see

  how you’re getting along, that’s all. Do you like your chamber?”

  She shrugged. “It is comfortable—as prisons go,” she said.

  He sighed. “I’m going to ignore that last, Sera, rather than

  go into the whys and wherefores of your stay in Laurentia. So

  you’ve been out in the town with Katherine. Did you enjoy

  yourself?”

  “When I could forget. I do not wish a title and land, Nicholas

  Rostov. Please, take it back.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t understand yet, Sera.

  Someday, you’ll meet a man at court. Someone you’ll wish to—

  to….” Oh, God, he had to stop stammering. He took another

  calming breath. “Someone you may marry. And in order to do

  that, you’ll need both the title and the land.”

  All the color drained from her face, to then rush back again.

  Her eyes gave off blue sparks of fire. “You think I would ever

  align myself with an Outlander?”

  He nodded. “If—if you loved him.” Rushing on, getting it

  all said, was the whole reason for this meeting, he reminded

  himself sternly, even as he ground his teeth at the thought of

  Sera with anyone else.

  “And you need to know all about the court if you’re to make

  a proper match. So I’ve made a list of your activities for the

  next month or so.” He grabbed up the paper and thrust it into

  her hands quickly so she would not suspect his own were a

  trifle unsteady.

  She perused the list, a look of shock fading from her face,

  to be replaced by the disdainful thrust of her chin.

  “A schedule. You’ve given me a schedule, like a schoolgirl.

  Do you think for one moment I shall keep to it?”

  Merde! It was worse dealing with Sera than with a hundred

  hostile ambassadors. He hated being devious and clever with

  her, when there had been only perfect harmony between them

  before. “If you wish access to the stables, yes. I think you’ll

  meet with the masters listed and learn what you need to know

  from them.”

  Her eyes flashed in regal scorn, and for a moment, he

  wondered what idiocy made him think she needed to know

  anything more about being a noblewoman. His hand reached

  out for her, then fell to his side.

  “I only want you to be happy here, Sera. It’s the best I can

  do. Please, try to understand that.”

  “I understand perfectly, Nicholas Rostov,” she said with

  ironic scorn. “You want me to turn into one of your ladies. I

  must embroider, dance, gossip, and learn the proper way to

  curtsey. And then my life will surely be meaningful and therefore

  quite happy, will it not?”

  That had been how they’d left the matter. Except that

  Nicholas woke each morning with the feeling of a heavy weight

  pressing him down, and it had nothing to do with the future of

  Laurentia. It had everything to do with the one woman he could

  not stop thinking about, and lusting for, and wanting beside

  him—and how she’d looked at him when he threatened to refuse

  her the one joy she had in this palace she thought a prison.

  Thus, by the king’s command, Sera faced a battalion of

  embroidery masters, instructors in court etiquette, tutors in

  Laurentian history, and lastly, Monsieur Gallopet, the spindly

  legged, supercilious dance master, with whom Sera finally drew

  the line.

  “Tell that monkey to leave me alone!” she said to Katherine

  one day in midweek.

  “But Sera, Nikki said—

  “He never bothered to say anything to me about any of

  this. Do you realize that all his—his orders have been delivered

  by you? I shall not learn to caper and simper, even upon the

  command of the king.”

  “Oh, dear,” said Katherine. “What shall I tell Nicholas?”

  “Tell him I shall see him in Hades before I put up with that

  spider.”

  “I’ll tell him nothing of the sort. As a matter of fact,” said

  Katherine with a lift of her chin, “I’ll tell him nothing at all.”

  “As you wish,” muttered Sera.

  She was strangling in this place.

  ***

  That evening, the maid Annette helped her into a woolen

  dress of a soft rose color. “You dine en famille tonight,” she

  announced. “And the king will be there.”

  The décolletage shocked Sera, who had only gone about in

  day dresses before tonight’s command performance. “I cannot

  wear this,” she said, coloring.

  “Oh, my lady. It is charming and quite modest, I assure

  you.” Annette fluffed out the sleeves, which came to her wrists,

  and turned her to the cheval glass. “You see? Barely any cleavage

  showing, at all. It is much more demure than your ball gowns.”

  Ugh. If she had to appear in anything lower than this

  neckline, she might as well stand in front of a house of ill repute

  holding a sign that read “for hire; hourly rates.”

  Why was she so tense? It was just dinner. Just Nicholas,

  who had dictated what her life should be and then avoided her

  forever.

  The sky was dark by the time Sera followed a footman

  holding a branch of candelabrum down the long corridor, past

  other silent footmen in powdered wigs and satin. If she were

  stark naked, she wouldn’t have felt any more exposed. The man

  opened a door into an elegantly appointed dining room. A small

  table was set beside a window overlooking a small garden.

  Katherine and Andre, who had been standing close together,

  jumped apart as the door opened. Katherine colored prettily.

  Andre recovered first and bowed to Sera.

  “Another lovely damsel. Whom shall I assist first?” he askedr />
  with a grin.

  Sera smiled back at him. With Katherine’s and Andre’s joy

  fairly flaming on their faces, they would be good company

  tonight, making this meeting less awkward. Still, she would

  have preferred a larger buffer—say a dinner party for eighty.

  “Katherine first, if you please,” said Sera with a wry smile.

  “She has been a princess longer than I have been a lady.”

  Andre’s hands rested possessively upon Katherine’s

  shoulders as he helped her into her seat.

  As he took his own, Sera leaned toward Katherine. “This

  gown is too low in front,” she whispered.

  “No,” said Katherine peering at Sera’s chest. “It is quite

  modest.”

  Nicholas walked into the room.

  “Late again, Nikki,” said Andre. “This makes the fifth time

  this week. Anything I should worry about?”

  Sera turned to look at the king. She had a difficult time

  catching her breath. Nicholas in travel-stained clothing was a

  formidably attractive male, but in evening dress, he was

  splendid. His deep blue velvet coat and breeches fit his body so

  well that one saw everything—his wide shoulders, his slim waist

  and hips, his long, muscular legs. Elegance, strength, and

  symmetry together in one man. She looked down at her hands

  clasped before her, her stomach a tight ball of nerves.

  “Nothing of note. A meeting that ran overlong with the

  Chancellor of the Exchequer.”

  Nicholas’s curt nod settled into a frowning stare as he took

  his seat opposite Sera. He rose and rounded the table, taking

  off his dinner jacket, then dropped it over Sera’s shoulders. “That

  gown is not proper to be worn publicly,” he said.

  “I told you,” Sera muttered to Katherine. She wished she

  could crawl back to her room. Nicholas returned to his chair.

  He kept his eyes on the wine the footman poured for him.

  “Nonsense, Nikki,” Katherine said. “The gown is charming.

  Mine is cut a good deal lower.”

  “Then perhaps you should both use a different

  mantuamaker. Kindly see to it tomorrow.”

  “I shall do no such thing! Nicholas, what has gotten into

  you? You’ve never complained about my gowns before, and

  Sera’s are perfectly proper. Are you threatening some form of

  social isolation for us?”

  Nicholas stared at Katherine in what looked like blank

  shock. Sera wondered if she had ever openly questioned her

  brother’s judgment before.

  “When a kitten turns into a little tiger, it’s wise to let her

  have her way,” said Andre with a sidelong glance at Katherine.

  After a moment, Nicholas inclined his head in a gesture of

  defeat. “Very well. Let Sera be a slave to these immodest

  fashions,” he said. “And hope the men of the aristocracy have

  some self-restraint.”

  So she was nothing to Nicholas but a Hill slave who had

  embarrassed him yet again. She wanted to clutch the heavy

  dinner jacket around her and run back to her room.

  Nicholas motioned to a footman standing unobtrusively

  against a wall, and the man reappeared within moments with

  the first course.

  As Katherine, obviously emboldened by Andre’s

  admiration, teased and laughed with him, Nicholas lapsed into

  a stiff silence. He looked at the blinis on his plate as though

  they were the most fascinating of objects.

  Sera cautiously watched Nicholas out of the corner of her

  eye. He leaned back in his chair, dangling his wineglass by the

  rim. His face was as remote and formal as it had been when he

  first refused to look at her in the palace of Iman Hadar. He looked

  as though he had never been young and never laughed.

  “What are you thinking, sitting so aloof in your corner?”

  Katherine asked him.

  It had taken an act of will for Sera not to ask that question.

  It would have flowed from her so naturally in Selonia. She

  needed a good, swift kick.

  “I’m wondering about the Brotherhood, and about

  Napoleon, and how the French are waging a bloody clever

  internal campaign against us, and how I wish to h—beg

  pardon—to heaven we could crack their code.”

  “Why are you certain Napoleon is behind the Brotherhood?”

  The words were out of her mouth before she could call them

  back. Nicholas looked at Sera as though she were a foolish child

  allowed to sup with adults who had more important matters to

  discuss. He raised his hand and began counting reasons off on

  his fingers. “Bonaparte is conquering Russia. Laurentia borders

  Russia on the south with well-built roads to all of Europe. We

  are a wealthy state. Our people are ripe for the winds of

  liberalism—actually, they lead the rest of Europe in that

  philosophy. The country is ready made for Napoleon’s brand of

  reform.”

  Sera raised her brows in what she hoped gave an impression

  of cool superiority. “If I were king, I should not forget Ockham’s

  Razor before I ruled out other possibilities.”

  “What?” Nicholas looked at her as though she had just

  stepped out of a madhouse.

  “William of Ockham,” said Sera, in a voice that sounded

  pedantic to her own ears. “Reduce things to their bare essence

  by shaving away facts that do not impact upon the situation.”

  “I know what the devil Ocham’s Razor is, Countess.”

  Nicholas gave her a look that might have downed a bird at thirty

  paces.

  “Excellent,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “I wouldn’t wish to discuss subjects that might confuse

  you.” “Would you care to enlighten us upon the bare essence of

  our problem?” At Nicholas’s icy sarcasm, Katherine squirmed

  in her seat, but Sera was too angry to be cowed.

  “The Brotherhood attacked you in Jehanna. Jehanna is

  southeast of Laurentia. Napoleon and his army are northwest

  of Laurentia.”

  “Foolish woman.” Nicholas said. “Iman Hadar is far too

  old and soft to mount such a devious campaign.”

  Sera wanted to punch him in the stomach. “Goat-brained

  Outlander.” She allowed herself that pleasure, at least. “There

  is another to the east of Laurentia, younger, more evil, and

  devious enough to destroy the devil, himself.”

  “Galerien?” Nicholas looked at her—really looked at her.

  Then he shrugged, neatly relegating the unruly Hill child to the

  nursery again. “You speak from a natural antipathy, but your

  theory has no factual basis. I realize Galerien harasses the Hill

  people. However, Galerien, although an unpopular king, is a

  long time ally.”

  Sera waited for more, but Nicholas only began to spoon

  Russian caviar and sour cream upon his blini. He’s only an

  Outlander, and therefore, a dolt, she fumed. Why do I even care

  to warn a man who ignores me and patronizes me and rudely

  demonstrates that he barely suffers my presence?

  Sera remained silent through coffee and brandy. When

  Nicholas rose and bowed formally to her, holding out his
hand,

  she stood without accepting it, and preceded him out the door.

  “The Season begins soon,” he said, walking beside her down

  the long hallway. “You will make your debut at the opening

  ball.”

  Sera had eaten little at supper. Now, she felt the effects of

  the wine she had drunk. “I don’t wish to mix with your court. I

  don’t wish to be here, at all.”

  “You will do quite well here. As long as you make an honest

  attempt to understand the expectations of society.” She hated

  the new tone of voice he took with her. As though he were ages

  older and far wiser. “You have a quick mind, Sera, and a great

  deal of natural grace. With help and instruction, you’ll fit very

  nicely at court. Katherine and you will do very well together.”

  “And that is my new position, is it?” Sera shook with some

  very nasty emotion she had never felt before, but it was tearing

  her insides apart. “I am now a sham countess, and the Princess

  Katherine’s friend.” And nothing to you, she added silently.

  “That is exactly your position. Any woman of your former

  status would be delighted with this advancement. And as I shall

  be quite busy in the next months, it is natural that you and

  Katherine utilize the time to become close companions.”

  Sera looked straight at him. If her eyes were blazing or tear-

  filled, she could not care less that he saw. “Firstly, you may be

  ashamed of my ‘former status’, but I believe the shame of it

  belongs to the Nantal and Iman Hadar. Secondly, nothing is

  natural with you, Outlander. That is your saddest problem.”

  When she heard a shattering crash behind her, she was too

  furious to look behind her to see what it was. Instead, she threw

  the dinner jacket at him. And to her own consternation, she

  picked up her skirts and ran all the way down the long hallway,

  past the perfect figures of stolen gods and heroes, past stone-

  faced guards who looked straight through her, into the empty

  place of artifice they had chosen to call her chamber.

  “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,” she said in a voice low

  and harsh to her own ears. Her fists clenched at her sides. She

  wanted to scream. She wanted to break something. She wanted

  to—

  She whirled, her gaze blazing, and stared into the fireplace,