deeply. Cindi nodded and turned on her heel, returning to the library.
* * * * *
The following few days were a flurry of activity in the Lancourte household. Dressmakers came and went, their arms loaded with dresses, and numerous assistants in tow. One of them had made the mistake of selecting a lovely amethyst gown and suggesting Cindi try it because it would be perfect for her. Alana had stopped short of burning the dress, and the unfortunate assistant had been banned from returning.
The week went by in a blur, and the afternoon of the ball arrived to shrieks, squeals of excitement. The staff scrambled to keep up with the demands of four shrews who'd become the bane of their working existence.
Deschamps came into the kitchen as Cindi was pulling fresh baked Cinnamon Buns from the over. She smiled at him, then laughed when his features screwed up into a snarl.
"That woman should be shot!"
Cindi nodded and watched him slump into a seat at the table.
"I agree with you. She's been even worse today, and I didn't think that was possible."
""You should be getting ready to go to this party yourself, Miss Cynthia."
She shook her head. "I wasn't invited."
"The hell you weren't!" Deschamps tone was uncharacteristically snide. "She wants to think that, the invitation reads differently! All the women of Lancourte Manor were invited, and that does include you!"
She patted his hand and smiled. "Thank you, old friend, but in this case, I believe you are mistaken. The illegitimate daughter is not on the guest list." She went back to the cooling racks, and returned with coffee and warm cinnamon buns. They ate together, stealing a few minutes peace.
* * * * *
"I can't believe you did this, Father!" Michel snarled. "Why didn't you just hold an auction?" His voice rose to a shout, and everyone cleared out of the suite's sitting room.
Alenzo's infamous temper rose. Though he contained it with admirable effort, and replied in a voice tight with restrained annoyance, "Michel, you agreed that it was time to find a suitable mate, what better way than to host a Ball?"
Michel was furious with the turn of events. His father's false passiveness notched his anger up another degree or two. "I knew you were up to something, but this! This is underhanded even by your rich standards, Father." Disgusted, he turned to leave.
"Michel, you will attend this Ball, and be damn gracious while doing it, my son, or by morning a new heir to Coranthis will be decreed."
The words struck him like the lash of a whip, and halted his exit. Alenzo's words rang like shots from a gun, the volley ripping through Michel's protective armor of indifference. He turned and met his father's calm gaze. In those horrible, silent seconds, he felt his freedom curtailed, and his chest was tight with fear and rage.
"You can't do this to me, Father." Desperation tainted his words. "Why?"
"Because it's time!" Alenzo's dismissal was in his curt statement. He turned his back. Heading into the adjoining bedroom, he glanced over his shoulder. "Michel, this is not a punishment. One day you will thank me."
"Not fucking likely, old man," Michel muttered. The door slammed behind his father and he collapsed into a chair as his knees started to shake.
* * * * *
Cindi was running back and forth between four bedrooms, the moment lunch had been served and cleared. Alana and her daughters had driven out countless maids who refused mistreatment by the overbearing hauteur of the four women. Alana was finally dressed and ready, which meant she expected her daughters to be ready. Patience was never her strongest virtue.
Cindi looked at them with a touch of envy. None of them would be considered a great beauty, but in the right trappings, even plain could be transformed to striking. That was certainly the case here. Alana was in a glorious shade of sky blue that accentuated her fair hair and deep blue eyes. Her daughters, while less lovely, were certainly more beautiful than Cindi had ever
* * * * *
The following few days were a flurry of activity in the Lancourte household. Dressmakers came and went, their arms loaded with dresses, and numerous assistants in tow. One of them had made the mistake of selecting a lovely amethyst gown and suggesting Cindi try it because it would be perfect for her. Alana had stopped short of burning the dress, and the unfortunate assistant had been banned from returning.
The week went by in a blur, and the afternoon of the ball arrived to shrieks, squeals of excitement. The staff scrambled to keep up with the demands of four shrews who'd become the bane of their working existence.
Deschamps came into the kitchen as Cindi was pulling fresh baked Cinnamon Buns from the over. She smiled at him, then laughed when his features screwed up into a snarl.
"That woman should be shot!"
Cindi nodded and watched him slump into a seat at the table.
"I agree with you. She's been even worse today, and I didn't think that was possible."
""You should be getting ready to go to this party yourself, Miss Cynthia."
She shook her head. "I wasn't invited."
"The hell you weren't!" Deschamps tone was uncharacteristically snide. "She wants to think that, the invitation reads differently! All the women of Lancourte Manor were invited, and that does include you!"
She patted his hand and smiled. "Thank you, old friend, but in this case, I believe you are mistaken. The illegitimate daughter is not on the guest list." She went back to the cooling racks, and returned with coffee and warm cinnamon buns. They ate together, stealing a few minutes peace.
* * * * *
"I can't believe you did this, Father!" Michel snarled. "Why didn't you just hold an auction?" His voice rose to a shout, and everyone cleared out of the suite's sitting room.
Alenzo's infamous temper rose. Though he contained it with admirable effort, and replied in a voice tight with restrained annoyance, "Michel, you agreed that it was time to find a suitable mate, what better way than to host a Ball?"
Michel was furious with the turn of events. His father's false passiveness notched his anger up another degree or two. "I knew you were up to something, but this! This is underhanded even by your rich standards, Father." Disgusted, he turned to leave.
"Michel, you will attend this Ball, and be damn gracious while doing it, my son, or by morning a new heir to Coranthis will be decreed."
The words struck him like the lash of a whip, and halted his exit. Alenzo's words rang like shots from a gun, the volley ripping through Michel's protective armor of indifference. He turned and met his father's calm gaze. In those horrible, silent seconds, he felt his freedom curtailed, and his chest was tight with fear and rage.
"You can't do this to me, Father." Desperation tainted his words. "Why?"
"Because it's time!" Alenzo's dismissal was in his curt statement. He turned his back. Heading into the adjoining bedroom, he glanced over his shoulder. "Michel, this is not a punishment. One day you will thank me."
"Not fucking likely, old man," Michel muttered. The door slammed behind his father and he collapsed into a chair as his knees started to shake.
* * * * *
Cindi was running back and forth between four bedrooms, the moment lunch had been served and cleared. Alana and her daughters had driven out countless maids who refused mistreatment by the overbearing hauteur of the four women. Alana was finally dressed and ready, which meant she expected her daughters to be ready. Patience was never her strongest virtue.
Cindi looked at them with a touch of envy. None of them would be considered a great beauty, but in the right trappings, even plain could be transformed to striking. That was certainly the case here. Alana was in a glorious shade of sky blue that accentuated her fair hair and deep blue eyes. Her daughters, while less lovely, were certainly more beautiful than Cindi had ever
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