6Isabella headed for the Lady Helene's quarters in the East Wing of the Palace, her red silk skirts swishing against her legs, her glossy dark curls bouncing out of the intricate top knot on her head, one of the footmen following her, no doubt sent to make sure she didn't steal anything. She may have been a courtier for many years now, but she could never shake the feeling of being an outsider and not entirely trusted. But she only had herself to blame for that and she had worked very hard to erase memories. She suspected she had not been entirely successful. That was why the Queen's request had been so surprising. That she would trust her with the education of her precious son's fiancee? That was most unexpected and a little puzzling. Then to be asked to tutor the Lady Helene in the art of seduction ... well, that was more than a little ironic, considering her past.
She could feel the footman's eyes on her as she swayed along the corridor. Her fiftieth birthday may have come and gone a few months ago, but she was still capable of gaining the attention of handsome young men. This particular footman, who was tall and blonde and extremely pretty, had been in her bed just a fortnight ago. She sighed as she remembered how firm his muscular young arse was and how many times he had managed to perform in one night. It had been quite miraculous.
She passed the great hall and then the portrait gallery and finally reached the East Wing, a little out of breath now. She may still have sexual allure, but she was definitely not as young as she once was, and not as fit. Stopping outside a polished walnut door she waited for the footman to knock upon it and announce her.
"Madam Broussard to see the Lady Helene," he said to the maid who opened the door. She blushed prettily at the sound of the smooth deep voice, and no doubt the dimples that Isabella could not see right now, but knew appeared when the footman was being charming.
"Come in Madame," the maid said, looking Isabella up and down with a skeptical raise of an eyebrow.
The little chit! Isabella swept past her giving her a haughty scowl and found herself in a pleasantly sunny room decorated in shades of peach.
The Lady Helene was seated on a little couch, an embroidery frame in her hand. She placed it carefully down beside her and elegantly stood up. "Madame. How do you do?"
"Very well my child, very well indeed and it is a pleasure to meet you," Isabella said warmly. There was something about Helene that had instantly brought out her maternal side, a side of her that wasn't usually at the forefront.
Helene looked nervous. Her cheeks were pale. "Do be seated," she said in a quiet little voice, and noticing her maid was still in the room, she said, "You are dismissed Janet. You will not be needed until I dress for dinner." And Janet quickly left, no doubt hoping the handsome footman was still outside.
"Well now," Isabella said breezily as she sat down beside Helene. "I believe the Queen has divulged her concerns to you and you know why I'm here."
"Yes," Helene said and looked down at her hands. "I'm concerned that you will find me a very reluctant student. I do not think I am capable of ... seduction."
"Every woman is capable of seduction. Especially when they are as beautiful as you," Isabella said, taking a gentle hold of her chin and examining her face. "You have the most exquisite skin and a delicate bone structure, not to mention that glorious hair. I think that men must wonder what you look like naked."
Helene gave a shocked little gasp. "But I am too thin and ..." she looked down at her chest and across at Isabella's voluptuous décolletage, "... lacking."
"Some men like their women to be petite and delicate. It makes them feel more of a man."
"And do you think Nikolai feels that way?"
Isabella was surprised at Helene's frankness. She had already got to the point of this visit without any of the usual polite hedging around and genteel evasion. Unfortunately Isabella suspected Nikolai did not like his women frail and childlike. From what she had seen and heard, the Prince had a taste for feisty curvaceous young ladies who did not hold back in the bed chamber - ladies rather like herself. Her mouth watered a little just thinking of Nikolai. Handsome footmen were very well and good but it was Prince Nikolai who was the ultimate delectable young stud. So like his father in looks, with that dirty blonde hair and wicked smile and athletic physique. But Isabella knew from court gossip (and her not so subtle interrogation of Nikolai's many lovers) that his tastes and skills in the bed chamber were not like his father's. By all accounts Nikolai was a considerate lover with a sense of fun and an innate confidence that had women falling at his feet and begging him to satisfy them. In that respect, the only thing he seemed to have inherited from his father was his impressively sized prick. Isabella wanted a taste of that large appendage. She wanted it so badly she had agreed to tutor this poor child in the art of seducing her wayward Prince. Isabella was hoping that it would be herself who ultimately gained access to Nikolai's bed. She had had his father and his stepfather, surely the next logical step was to have him?
That night Nikolai was forced to attend dinner with all of Helene's rather vulgar family and his own parents and brother. Helene's father was pleasant enough, an aging Duke who had been a great friend of his Grandfather's, but his second wife was ghastly. She was a brash gold digger who dressed in ostentatious finery and spoke in a loud grating voice usually about herself. Nikolai's father hated her. He was sitting at one end of the table a dark glower on his face and his jaw rigidly set. Glancing over the table at Helene, Nikolai noticed once again that in the presence of her stepmother and stepsisters she became even quieter and more reticent than usual. She was so withdrawn she almost disappeared, especially wearing that pale dress. When she had visited his chamber yesterday morning, she had shown him a glimpse of an entirely different girl. His thoughts had been wholly occupied by Theo since last night, but now he was watching Helene, he found himself intrigued by her. He had spent years ignoring her and now he was wondering if he had been a little unfair.
Gabriel seemed occupied in watching him. Nikolai felt his brother's eyes on him and he turned and pulled a face at him. Gabriel smiled into his soup.
"What's the matter, fathead?" Nikolai mouthed and Gabriel just shook his head and gave him a steely stare, so Nikolai sighed loudly, threw his napkin down on the table and noisily pushed his chair back. "That food was splendid," he declared, stretching his arms above his head. "Absolutely top notch. I'm completely stuffed! So if you'll excuse me everyone..."
His mother was staring at him with a look of horror. "Don't you dare," she mouthed.
But he ignored her, stood up and left. And he could swear he heard his father choking down a laugh.
Gabriel found him in the library half an hour later.
"Mother is livid," he said, pulling at his neckcloth.
"I'm sure she is," Nikolai yawned stretching out his legs and finishing off the glass of whisky in his hand in one gulp.
"Why must you antagonize everyone?"
"Oh I don't know! I guess because it's easy."
"And why must you treat Helene with so little respect?"
Nikolai looked up at his brother through long dark lashes. "That's the exact same phrase that she used."
"When?"
"Yesterday morning when she came to my bedchamber and demanded I kiss her."
Now it was Gabriel's turn to be shocked. He actually took a step back and almost fell against the desk behind him.
Nikolai smiled. "I do believe she is not as ladylike as she makes out."
"Did you kiss her?" Gabriel asked, his voice low and hesitant.
"Yes. She said it was most pleasant." Nikolai laughed. "Not the reaction I usually get, I have to say."
"Most pleasant," Gabriel repeated, trying to decode what that might mean. Had she enjoyed kissing Nikolai? How far had the kiss gone? Had tongues been involved? Hands? Oh God, he didn't want to think about that. And that same night she had walked in the dark with him and told him she found him attractive, and he had spent every moment since imagining what she would look like unclothed.
"You know, Gabe," Nikolai said, getting up to refill his glass. "It has only just begun to sink in that Helene and I will soon have our wedding night."
Gabriel grabbed one of the glasses on the sideboard and filled it with a generous amount of whisky. He would need it to get through this conversation. "You can't be nervous," he said, "You're not exactly lacking in experience."
"No, I suppose I'm not but she is." He sat back down on the couch and stared moodily into his drink. "It's quite a big responsibility."
Gabriel couldn't help laughing. "You've been betrothed to her since you were children and that fact has only just occurred to you?"
"I've always understood it in theory, but the practice is only just occurring to me, Gabe, and quite honestly ... I'm bloody terrified."
Gabriel snorted and took an eye-watering swig of the whisky.
"I've never deflowered a virgin before," Nikolai said quietly.
"As far as you know."
Nikolai chuckled. "As far as I know. I suspect Helene is the sort who will lie rigid in the dark and wait for it to be over, don't you?"
"I'm sure you will be able to do the deed quickly and efficiently."
"And repeat until she is with child. Oh God, how depressing, I do hope I'm not expected to be faithful to her."
"I think Mother will be expecting just that."
"I'm doomed." And they both sat in silence getting slowly more intoxicated as they stared into the fire and both thought of different women.