Chapter Forty-Seven
Even though the party began to wind down, there still was not a single trace of Joseph. It didn't take a genius to understand he had simply decided not to come, or if he did want to, then whatever emergency there was it must have taken him most of the night, if not all of it. Still, this did nothing to improve Isabella's mood, though it didn't worsen it by much.
"Father's busy," she mumbled. "Taking care of the direct control territories, he's always busy. I understand that," her fingers were gripping onto my arm with enough strength to perhaps leave signs in butter, but definitely not strong enough to make me flinch. "But this sort of things happen once in a lifetime," she whispered. "He could have showed up."
"I'll ask him why tomorrow," I spoke in a whisper, smiling gently as I patted her fingers over my arm with my free hand.
"Your royal highness," another noble soon came close, smiling and bowing most profusely as he presented himself. "Berard d'Albret, lord of Vayres, most loyally at your service."
"Ah, we are pleased to meet with you, Lord d'Albret," Isabella spoke using the royal We, rather than because she was speaking for myself too. "I hope you are enjoying yourself tonight."
Lord D'Albret smiled, and nodded. "Indeed I am. This party is magnificent, as magnificent as your royal highness." My mind was already trying to pinpoint who'd come in next. We had finished the vast majority of nobles, and were now moving into the Chevalier, or Honorable nobles. Basically, those nobles that either didn't have a title because their parents were still alive, or were the younger brothers of acting nobility.
The further down one went, the more the compliments increased exponentially. By the time lord D'Albret bid us farewell, it was pretty clear that Isabella was in high spirits. He had been perhaps the fiftieth lord to compliment her, or maybe the sixtieth.
"I wouldn't put much trust in words of circumstance," I muttered, "no matter how true they sound, there's always a second purpose behind most of them."
"Oh?" Isabella said, grinning slightly. "Are you perhaps...jealous?"
I blinked. Jealousy hadn't actually touched my mind in the slightest, but seeing how Isabella was preening up at the thought, I could easily play the card she had so gently handed over. I awkwardly smiled, as if caught red-handed, and glanced away as shyly as possible, "Maybe so, my dear. Maybe so."
Isabella giggled, a gloved hand covering her mouth.
Finally, the party came to an end with Robespierre's own farewell, and to that, the rest of the nobles soon followed swiftly.
"I will see you tomorrow, my Henry," Isabella said with yet one more giggle as she stopped linking her arm to mine, making a prim curtsy that I answered to with a bow.
"I cannot wait, my dear Isabella," I answered in turn, smiling as I watched her go.
De Damas calmly arrived behind me, and as I turned to look at him, he had a smile on his lips that told me he was somewhat pleased about the entire situation. "I must admit I was worried I would have to intervene had you gone for the wine more often than not, your grace."
I rolled my eyes, and smiled. "As busy as I was, there was little opportunity to aim for the wine," I exhaled, my stomach inwardly grumbling. I hadn't even eaten at all during the entire night, and the buffet was still there, if mostly depleted. "Tell me you managed to save me some of those delicious looking shrimps?"
"No," De Damas said. "I was busy ensuring you did not come to harm, your grace," he added, "But I will see to it that the servants are notified to bring you dinner in your rooms."
"Thank you, lord De Damas," I said. "Do also ensure the rest of the manticore knights were properly fed. I suppose they'll have to guard my rooms during the night, so see to it that they've been properly treated."
"I will ensure it, your grace," De Damas said. "Shall we leave the ballroom then?"
To that, I nodded. "By the way," I remarked as we began to walk, "Did you hear anything worthy of notice?"
"A few ladies were remarking on how your dark hair made a poor impression with the dark blue of the clothes," De Damas said. "Nothing worth of offense, I hope."
"Not truly," I said in a soft whisper. "Not yet, anyway. Everyone has their fashion sense-and I did say I would look better in black and red, but alas...the tailors looked scandalized at my suggestions." I chuckled, and as a servant showed me to my rooms, I held back the desire to whistle.
The room was pretty much as big as an apartment -a really big apartment in some high-class city block.
A table was set a few minutes later, and as I finally ate dinner, I couldn't be more satisfied with the Gallian cuisine. It truly was something to write home about -and perhaps, I would. With a full stomach and a pleasant sense of satisfaction in my body, I finally dropped like a rock on my sumptuous bed, and rapidly fell asleep.
Being a trophy-husband might not be such a bad thing.
The next morning, I was woken up so early it made the thoughts of the night prior completely disappear, only to be replaced by an impending desire to kick my own self senselessly in the back of my head.
The beautiful gardens of the South Parterre were filled with blooming roses, the knights of the Southern Rose Parterre were a distinguished company, and on that peculiarly beautiful morning they took their duties as seriously as possible, standing proud and tall with a hand on their swordwands' handle, their eyes set firmly on ensuring no harm would befall their princess, and her betrothed.
I felt an immense sense of pity for those poor guys. Under the morning sun it wasn't perhaps that bad of a thing, but standing still for hours to no end -truly worthy of respect. Perhaps they had a spell to strengthen their trousers, so they could sit down on them without anyone noticing? It would be quite the cunning idea, I reckoned.
Isabella had changed from the attire of the night before with something perhaps simpler, and yet still oozing with richness and nobility. The breakfast set on the table was the sort of thing one could see at a buffet in a five stars hotel, and my mouth was already watering since the croissants weren't just emitting the most delightful of smells, but they emanated a type of warmth that was easily felt across the air.
"My Henry, please do sit," Isabella said with a smile, gesturing to the chair in front of her.
"I gladly obey, my dear," I answered in turn, taking the offered seat.
The fun fact was that the servants were the ones who cut the croissants, placed the jam within, and then served them on platters. The only action I had to do was actually remark what I'd like to eat aloud and then wait until said breakfast was placed in front of me.
However, there was something this fine morning that caught my attention. It was a beautiful, foreign and yet hauntingly familiar, smell. It came from a servant drawing near with a silver platter, upon which various pitchers stood. It was a smell that made my fingers twitch in eager desire to have some immediately.
For indeed, apparently among the many choices of breakfast, Gallian Royalty had the option of drinking coffee.
...
Sign me up. I'm yours now, and forevermore.
"This is a delicacy imported from beyond the east," Isabella said with a smile. "The merchant who brought it had to trek through the forgotten lands of demons and barbarians, past the stifling heat of the Sahara-and reach the wonders of Rub Al Khali, and then he had to make the same trip back," she fanned herself gently, "At his return, he presented this to a noble who in turn brought it to my grandfather's attention. It's the greatest novelty right now at court. They call it Coffi."
It's Coffee. This. Is. Coffee.
You are forgiven for your heresy, Isabella, on the grounds that this is indeed the first cup of properly brewed coffee I've had since my birth in this world.
Honestly, you would be forgiven anything in exchange for this.
"Quite amazing," I said as I was served a cup of it. As I lifted it to my lips, I swallowed the bitter, but robust mixture whole.
I felt at home.
"Usually it's drank with sugar and milk in it," Isabella said, her eyes slightly wide as I did not give any outward signs of having been claimed by its bitterness. "It's...surprisingly bitter otherwise."
"I like bitterness," I said gently. "And sourness," I continued. "The aftertaste is also pretty strong. I think I am in love of this," I said in a whisper, the cheesy pick-up line born of my Italian heritage coming up swiftly afterwards, "just like I am in love of you."
The expected result happened without a doubt, as Isabella's cheeks reddened and her fan began to speed up. "Oh my," Isabella said. "My Henry-this early in the morning such bold words-" she giggled, trying to hide her nervousness.
I simply smiled warmly back.
You can take Italy out of the Italian, but you can't take the flirting out of him.
"So, concerning the Gallian court, I am sure you must have noticed the great number of Baronets and non-landed nobles-" Isabella said, and suddenly all of my previous thoughts disappeared. This-I knew that tone. This was Eleonore's tone. This was Eleonore's tone whenever she was imparting knowledge I was supposed to memorize by heart within minutes.
This-she had baited me with coffee and delicacies, and now-now she was sharing her knowledge of the Gallian court expecting me to memorize it all.
This was-This was the devious baiting of an innocent and kindhearted young man!
And yet, I found myself listening on.
It was only fair, after all.
