Chapter 5
“My seamstress swore she knew the latest European fashion, but I feel terribly outmoded,” Linette whispered to Estelle, the two of them standing side by side, with Adam directly behind them.
As they waited their turn to greet Valentin at the entrance to the elegant dining room, Estelle smoothed the skirt of her simply designed iris-blue silk gown and shrugged her shoulders.
“Mrs. Polkinghorne did her best and I like my dress,” she whispered back, more for Linette’s benefit. If the truth be told, she did feel self-conscious surrounded by women wearing gowns with a more natural waist than her and Linette’s empire style, but there was nothing to be done about it.
Would Valentin notice? Would he mind that she wasn’t as fashionably dressed as the three beautiful young women and their chaperones who had preceded them? Surely they must all be of noble lineage from the jewels glittering at their throats and wrists and earlobes.
Estelle wore no jewelry other than a single lustrous pearl dangling from a delicate gold chain, a gift from her mother who had died when she was only one year old.
Adele Easton had left her four daughters a cache of precious jewels that had been sold so they might each inherit a modest fortune, but they had also each kept a special piece in memory of her.
Estelle fingered the pearl now, the smooth surface giving her courage and making her lift her chin in spite of the sideways glances being cast in her and her sister’s direction.
Linette did the same, keeping her eyes forward and ignoring the furtive tittering behind white kid-gloved hands and fluttering fans.
“That’s my brave girls,” Adam said in a low voice so only she and Linette could hear.
“My beautiful wife and my equally lovely sister-in-law. Do you think our gallant host sent each of those young ladies a personal invitation to his coronation? I seriously doubt it.” He stepped forward between them and took both Linette and Estelle by the elbow, propelling them closer to where Valentin stood next to an imperious-looking woman.
“Who do you think she might be? His maiden aunt? Some other highly placed relative?”
“His half-sister, Princess Hortense,” Estelle murmured without thinking, both Adam and Linette glancing at her in surprise.
She realized they must be wondering how she would have known such a detail, considering they knew nothing about her stealing away earlier with Valentin to the gardens, so she quickly added, “I overheard one of the other guests say as much. Didn’t you? ”
Neither Adam nor Linette had a chance to reply as they were now next in line to greet Valentin.
Estelle’s heart beat faster at how handsome he looked in his red military coat with gold braid and shiny brass buttons, white trousers, and polished black boots.
As soon as she had entered the formal gallery lined with gilt-framed portraits that led to the dining room, she had sensed he knew exactly where she was as if he heard her thrumming heartbeat, too.
A time or two she had seen him glance in their direction to check their progress, a tension in his shoulders that matched the impatience she felt to gaze again into his arresting blue eyes.
She bit her lower lip, remembering their all too brief kiss at the gazebo when everything around her had receded except for the warm pressure of his lips upon hers—
“Miss Easton, you say?”
Estelle blinked at Princess Hortense’s voice sounding every bit as haughty as she appeared, the elegantly clad woman looking her up and down with thinly veiled disdain as an official-looking gentleman made the proper introductions.
“Lord Linley…Lady Linley,” Hortense continued, her gaze skipping over Estelle as if she were of no consequence whatsoever without a title.
“So gracious of you to accept my brother’s invitation and join us for this momentous occasion.
Of course, you’ve already met His Highness, Valentin Antoine Pierre Chevalier. ”
While Adam bowed and Linette curtsied, Estelle felt rooted to the floor as at last, she stood before Valentin and stared into his eyes.
Steely, turbulent-looking eyes that swept from the modest plumed headdress atop her upswept hair to the satin slippers that perfectly matched her—oh, dear, regrettably unfashionable!—evening gown.
“Miss Easton, you look enchanting,” he said, inclining his head while belatedly, Estelle remembered to curtsey as her cheeks burned with embarrassment. To her relief, he seemed not to notice her discomfort, but leaned toward her with an inquisitive look upon his face.
“You know, I forgot to ask you when you arrived about your little dog, Luther—ah, no, forgive me.”
Valentin had recognized at once what Estelle found so difficult to discuss, even four months later.
“You were very kind to ask me, but Luther’s gone now…
not long after my birthday in February,” she said softly, though she forced herself to brighten.
“You gave us two more years together, for which I’ll always be grateful. ”
“Your Highness.”
Princess Hortense’s voice carrying a clear correction, Estelle quickly added, “Yes, of course, forgive me. Your Highness.”
She didn’t have a chance to say anything more as Adam cleared his throat and propelled both Estelle and Linette into the dining room, where formally dressed menservants led them to their places.
Her heart sinking, Estelle found herself immediately separated from her sister and brother-in-law, who were seated at the opposite end of the immense table, closer to where she imagined Valentin would sit. Meanwhile she was offered a chair next to a glum-looking gentleman with a shiny, bald pate.
“Good evening,” she ventured, but her greeting was barely acknowledged as the man downed what appeared to be a brimming glass of sherry and then waved for another.
The chair on her other side remained unoccupied, and Estelle had the distinct impression that she’d been seated so far away from Valentin on purpose while those young ladies and their chaperones, men and women, filled in every seat in between.
As what she had anticipated would be a wonderful evening with Valentin now loomed drearily in front of her, she watched as he and Princess Hortense walked together into the dining room while the man seated next to her belched indecorously.
“My wife,” he indicated with a bleary nod at Hortense, who took a seat not far from her brother and next to one of the lovely bejeweled ladies smiling so brightly at Valentin. “Allow me to introduce myself…Edward Bertrand, Baron of Toulouse.”
He hiccoughed, bowing his head to Estelle, and then he leaned toward her on his elbow, his breath reeking of spirits. “You’re the parson’s daughter, aren’t you?”
Stunned that the man would know such a detail about her, she nonetheless nodded, reasoning that his rank as a baron must not have entitled him to stand beside his wife in the receiving line. Suddenly she felt sorry for him as he tossed down another half a glass of sherry.
“My wife knows all about you…well, what she could glean from Valentin. He was a brave boy to save your life, a very brave boy.”
Another hiccough followed, and then he leaned even closer to Estelle to whisper sloppily, “Hortense doesn’t like you at all…and can’t wait for you to return to England. Steer clear of her if you can, my dear girl. You’re not part of her plans at all, oh, my, no.”
As Estelle stared at him in astonishment, the meal began with a flowery welcome by Princess Hortense, clearly the hostess for the evening—and no doubt, the person responsible for the seating arrangements as well.
At the opposite end of the table, Valentin sat looking at her from what felt so very far away, while Linette threw her a smile of silent encouragement.
Estelle wasn’t surprised she couldn’t summon a smile back. Instead, she stared at the gold-rimmed plate in front of her while the baron downed the rest of his sherry, the man’s warning ringing in her mind.
Steer clear of her if you can, my dear girl.
Would the baron even remember what he’d said to her come morning, or for that matter from the rate at which he was drinking, by the end of the first course? She wasn’t so na?ve that she didn’t understand what he had meant.
She was a parson’s daughter, albeit one with impeccable connections in English society, while Valentin was a royal prince.
And though she hadn’t yet been introduced to those young women vying at that very moment to charm him with their smiles and sparkling conversation, Estelle could only imagine they had come from some of the finest houses in Europe as potential brides… oh, Lord, potential brides.
If she’d been walking on air that afternoon when she’d returned to her room, now she felt wholly deflated—until she looked up to find Valentin watching her from across the room.
His eyes intent upon her face, his expression carefully composed though she could see a tic working in his jaw that reminded her of when Robert had told him more guests and his half-sister had arrived at the castle.
Reminded her, too, of what Valentin had said to her with that same fierce intensity in his gaze.
You mustn’t let anything you see distress you. It’s all a game I must play, nothing more. Will you promise me?
Yes, she had promised, which made her swallow the unhappiness threatening to engulf her and smile brightly at him even as laughter trilled from a trio of feminine throats.
Even as Princess Hortense saw the reassuring look fly from Valentin to Estelle, the woman’s backbone clearly stiffening against her chair.
Undaunted, Estelle focused upon the steaming crab bisque ladled into the exquisite bone china soup platter placed in front of her, determined to enjoy herself no matter that she’d been intentionally seated as far away from Valentin as possible.
She may not be as headstrong and outspoken as her sister Corie, but by God, Estelle had a backbone, too!