THE HEIRESS
EPISODE 16
From U.S Bah ❤ ✌?
The days stretched into weeks as summer
chilled into autumn, the sun disappearing
earlier and earlier each evening. Isabelle’s
father wrote to her daily, keeping her apprised
of the news from Kentshire and attempting to
cheer her slowly sinking spirits.
After a month at the palace, Isabelle still hadn’t
received a single letter from Leopold.
She’d written to him almost daily, mostly
recounting the petty frivolities the ladies of
Highcastle court used to pa-ss the time. She
told him all about the second time the queen
had summoned her to her study, so early that
the sun hadn’t even risen yet.
Once again, the
aging monarch had demanded that she remove
her ring and, once again, Isabelle had refused.
The queen had thrown all manner of threats her
way, warning her before dismissing her that a
queen would make for a formidable foe.
Isabelle couldn’t help but think that the only
formidable about Queen Leonora was her
inflated sense of self-importance.
With her many weeks of experience at the royal
court, Isabelle had slowly started to piece
together which of the courtiers were the ones
with any real influence. Countess Spencer, one
of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting, was always
the first to sport any new style, the queen
quickly following suit. Similarly, another lady-
in-waiting, the wife to Lord Admiral Barrett,
was who the queen looked to when it came to
culture and entertainment.
Lady Barrett had
been the one to decide that the Royal Opera’s
season opening was far too outlandish and, as
a result, the opera outing that the other
debutantes had been looking forward to for
days was abruptly cancelled.
In its place, the queen arranged a gaming
night, only to once again decide, at the very
last minute thanks to yet another of her ladies-
in-waiting, that it was not entirely proper to
gamble within the walls of the palace.
That
event, however, was not cancelled and Isabelle
had a sneaky feeling that it had something to
do with the king tiring of his wife’s trifling
indecision.
Each day was much of the same when it came
to the debutantes, now that they’d all gotten to
know one another. Much to Isabelle’s dismay,
Cora Neasmith had somehow clawed her way
to the pinnacle of popularity, thanks mostly to
her reputation as the most stylish of the
debutantes. The evening after a ball where
Cora had sported a rather exotic ne-cklace that
dripped diamonds down both her back and her
front, the very same accessory had appeared
on the ne-cks of everyone else.
Henrietta Barclay, the snobbish redhead who
had shared Prince Graham’s table the second
evening, and Cora had become fast friends, the
two of them parading around as if they were
queens in training already. Much to Isabelle’s
dismay, she and Violet seemed to have been
relegated to the lowest popularity rank among
the debutantes. She didn’t mind so much for
herself, but more for her quiet friend. Prince
Graham continued to be a nuisance and a
pest, commanding Isabelle’s company for
dinners, balls and outings, which often left
Violet very much alone. Try as she might to
convince Sam to at least talk with Violet when
she was left on her own, Isabelle was
thorou-ghly unsuccessful in redirecting his
interest away from Cora Neasmith.
But court affairs were the least of Isabelle’s
worries, for she had far more important
problems tainting her thoughts. She found
herself staring south whenever her mind
wandered, wondering what was happening
across the sea in Ardalone that had prevented
Leopold from writing to her.
She’d instructed
Lissa to send some of her letters from
somewhere else in the city just to be sure that
the palace wasn’t preventing them from being
sent.
Isabelle’s mood had slowly soured, her sleep
fitful and her patience for the ridiculous royal
court of Highcastle waning. Her longing to
return to Kentshire had almost turned painful,
something she’d mentioned in her letters to
her father, but his only response was for her to
stay strong.
He didn’t have to remind her what
the consequences would be because she was
already acutely aware that her suffering was a
small price to pay to feed her people.
She’d given up on attempting to befriend any
of the other debutantes, especially as Prince
Graham seemed bent on preventing such
friendships from blooming. It was difficult
enough attempting to integrate with the others,
thanks to Henrietta’s blatant animosity towards
her, but with Prince Graham whisking her away
and showering her with attention whenever she
grew close with someone else, it was almost
impossible for those budding friendships not
to sour into jealousy.
To help herself cope, Isabelle had taken to
feigning sick far more frequently than she
should have. She knew that neither her ladies-
in-waiting nor the queen believed that lie any
more, but the only person who had so far
discovered where she hid away on those days
was Prince Graham.
Surprisingly, whenever she
ran to the sunny reading room to escape, he
never disturbed her. He never mentioned her
disappearances during their dances or dinners,
but Isabelle had noticed that the room had
been tidied up, the dust swept from the
surfaces and a fire lit on the cooler days. She
refused to be grateful, well-aware that he had
most likely been the one responsible, because
she adamantly refused to thaw her icy hatred
towards the heir to the throne.
That was becoming an even more difficult
battle, especially since sparring with the
arrogant prince had turned into one of the only
ways she could vent her pent-up frustration.
No matter how rude she became, the prince
continued to grin and spur her on, pushing her
until she’d spewed enough verbal poison to
unburden her anxious mind.
Isabelle hated that
he seemed to have figured out exactly where
her breaking point was and that he never
overstepped it.
She didn’t dare to admit, even to herself, that
she was beginning to look forward to their
time together as it served as an escape from
the monotony of courtly life.
Their time together, however, had proved to be
more than just a simple distraction for
Isabelle. Now that she’d gotten used to his
games, she’d learned that while she was a far
clumsier manipulator that he was, she could
usually extract at least a bit of useful
information from him if she kept her wits about
her. She had no idea whether the prince let
sli-p the useful details by choice or by accident,
but thanks to him she’d learned some
interesting facts about the twins serving as her
ladies-in-waiting.
According to the prince, Laura and Marjorie
had been a-ssigned to her not because his
mother had wanted them to act as spies, but
rather because his aunt had hoped that they
could befriend her. The queen’s sister had
wanted to ingratiate her daughters to Isabelle,
the future duchess of Kentshire (and queen of
Germania, Isabelle had put in, much to
Graham’s amusement), in the hopes that she
would choose them as her own ladies-in-
waiting. When Graham had revealed his aunt’s
plot, Isabelle had burst into a fit of laughter so
raucous that she’d lost the count of their dance
and had nearly knocked him over as she
tripped on her skirts.
He’d been for-ced to
sweep her from the dance floor so she could
collect herself, giggling like an idiot in the
middle of a royal ball.
Much to Isabelle’s frustration, however, the one
person he’d remained ti-ght li-pped about was
Alicia. She had never dared to ask him directly,
for fear of hinting at her interest in the nosy
lady-in-waiting, but when she’d returned to her
suite after a debutantes-only dinner and
discovered Alicia rummaging around her
bedchamber, Isabelle had made up her mind.
She knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that
Alicia was spying for the queen, but now that
she’d grown brazen enough to risk discovery as
she snooped, something needed to be done
about her.
Thankfully, a few days later, on a particularly
warm, early autumn day, the prince invited both
Isabelle and her ladies-in-waiting for a walk
outside in the gardens.
Determined not to let the opportunity sli-p away,
Isabelle accepted.
THE HEIRESS
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EPISODE 17
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From U.S Bah ❤ ✌?
The wind rustled in the colourful leaves
overhead as Isabelle met Graham in the
courtyard just outside the ballroom. Her ladies-
in-waiting were tittering like a trio of excited
birds, their voices dropping to whispers upon
sight of the prince. Alicia seemed the most
excited at the prospect of their stroll throu-gh
the gardens, dimpling prettily and batting her
lashes as soon as she laid eyes on the prince,
which Isabelle found most irksome.
Graham,
however, ignored the three other women,
offering his arm to Isabelle.
“If you don’t mind, ladies, I’d appreciate it if
you didn’t attempt to eavesdrop today,”
Graham said bluntly. “It is most unbecoming.”
The way his words wiped the syrupy smile
from Alicia’s face had Isabelle bi-ting her cheek
to keep from laughing. The prince didn’t give
her much time to savour the sour look on her
nosy lady-in-waiting’s face, instead setting a
meandering pace towards the trees dotting the
broad swath of lawn, the leaves at the tips of
their branches slowly igniting into the fiery
colours of autumn. They walked in silence, the
birds chirping overhead as their steps
crunched on the gravel path.
As soon as they were out of earshot of the
others, Isabelle gathered her wits and spoke.
“It seems you’ve taken a shine to one of my
ladies-in-waiting,” she said, watching Graham
out of the corner of her eye. Rather than fidget,
however, the prince grinned.
“Heavens above, have I succeeded in making
you jealous?” he asked, stro-king her hand too
familiarly as it rested nestled in his elbow.
Isabelle tried to pull away, but to no avail.
“Absolutely not,” she huffed, reminding herself
not to allow her temper to flare until she’d
learned what she came to ask. “I’m simply
curious as to why I was a-ssigned your lover as
an attendant. It seems rather counter-
productive, especially if you’re trying to sed-uce
me away from Leopold.”
“My lover? Oh how Alicia would love to hear
those words on your li-ps,” Graham chuckled.
“And if you were hoping for a grand seduction,
I’d be all too happy to oblige.”
Isabelle did not like the way her stomach
swooped as Graham looked down at her. She
swallowed, which earned yet another throaty
chuckle from the prince.
“Always so prim and proper,” he mused. “But I
must say, I’m disappointed in you, asking me
questions to which you should already know
the answers. I’d have a-ssumed you’d be much
more skilled at courtly games than that.”
“I hardly see how besmirching a lady-in-waiting
could be considered a courtly game,” Isabelle
replied, knowing it was the wrong thing to say
but desperate to turn the tide of the
conversation away from any talk of seduction.
It had been a stupid choice of words on her
part, especially as she was now all too acutely
aware of the warmth of Graham’s arm as it
curved around her hand and the solid feel of
his torso against her wrist.
“Tsk tsk, your mind is sharper than that,
surely?” Graham chided, apparently choosing to
ignore the blus-h that was creeping into her
cheeks. “Think, Isabelle. Unless you haven’t
bothered to investigate the women we’ve
a-ssigned to hound your every step.”
She shot the prince a glare, but he was no
longer looking at her, instead tipping his head
back to bask in the warm, early autumn sun.
The sheer plea-sure of being outdoors on such
a spectacularly sunny day, with the scent of
orcha-rd blossoms filling the air and distracting
whiffs of the prince’s cologne billowing her
way on the breeze, was almost enough to
distract Isabelle from why she’d accepted
Graham’s invitation in the first place. She
wished she could’ve enjoyed her time outside
the confines of the palace walls in peace, but
she hadn’t come to enjoy the weather. She’d
come for information and, for some reason, the
prince was making her work har-der for it than
usual.
“I’d thought that Alicia was your mother’s spy,
considering the rumours about her,” Isabelle
started, forcing her mind away from the
unsettling proximity of the man at her side so
she could focus her thoughts. “But the queen
had not been pleased when you left the
inaugural ball with her, which doesn’t make any
sense. A spy wouldn’t act counter to her
master.”
“Good girl,” Graham purred. “Go on.”
“I’ve heard that she’s been at the palace for a
long time. Perhaps the two of you are old
friends, since you’ve denied being her lover,”
Isabelle continued. “That might explain her
actions.”
Graham opened his eyes, looking down at her
in amusement.
“Oh how naive you are. I wonder how Leopold
stands it,” he chuckled. “You’re trying, so I’ll
reward you for your efforts.
“Alicia is a shameless social climber. She’d
set her sights on me from a young age, but
she has nothing to offer me…at least, nothing I
couldn’t already have without marrying her.”
Isabelle made a disgusted noise in her throat,
once again attempting to pull away in the face
of such vulgarity, but Graham held fast, tugging
her closer so she’d be for-ced to hear him out.
“So you are lovers,” Isabelle said, her li-p
curling with disgust. Graham ignored her, but
the corners of his li-ps had twitched up before
he fought down the grin.
“Once Alicia realized that she didn’t stand a
chance of winning a crown from me, she
turned to my mother for help. She’s been
acting as the queen’s spy ever since, which is
why she was a-ssigned to you. Now, knowing
what you know, why do you think I keep
stringing her along?”
“Because you’re a cad,” Isabelle snapped,
losing the battle against her mounting
annoyance. Graham smiled outright this time,
though it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Wrong. Try again.”
“Because you have no shame, no decency, and
no qualms about the consequences of your
impropriety,” Isabelle all but spat. This time,
Graham laughed.
“Oh darling, it doesn’t do to throw stones when
your own betrothed is no better,” he said. “But
before you work yourself into a conniption, you
ought to stop and think before you speak.
While it’s utterly charming seeing you in the
throes of such jealousy, you need to fit some
pieces of your puzzle together if I’m going to
continue being so generous with you.”
“As generous as you are when you sneak off
with Alicia?” Isabelle demanded, realizing only
once she’d spoken that it was the very wrong
thing to say. Graham laughed, tossing a glance
over his shoulder to the woman in question.
“Keep making me laugh so heartily and you’ll
have an enraged spy on your hands,” he said.
Isabelle gritted her teeth, forcing herself to
focus. He’d worked her into a state, as he
often did, and as badly as she wanted to tell
him she was in no way jealous of a conniving
little who-re like Alicia, she wanted her answers
even more. Deciding to change tack, Isabelle
tried blunt honesty.
“She’s already the most frustrating of
nuisances,” Isabelle said. “And I’ve had nearly
enough of your games, so I’ll be frank. I want
to know why she’s rummaging around in my
things when I’m not around. What is she
looking for? And why?”
Graham inhaled, an eyebrow co-ck ed pensively.
“Why do you think?” he asked, after a beat of
silence. He was watching her again, his
emerald eyes glittering.
“If I had any idea, I wouldn’t be strolling
throu-ghthe gardens attempting to extract it
from you,” Isabelle snapped. She bit her
tongue, frustrated that her temper was fraying
so easily while he looked on with amusement.
He watched her for a few more moments
before tipping his head back again to study the
turning leaves overhead.
“Alicia has my mother’s ear, but only so long
as she remains useful,” he began. “Since the
two of you are clearly not close, she’s going to
the necessary lengths to continue providing my
mother with the information she requires. It’s
not enough that she’s reporting on your every
move, especially as she hasn’t figured out
where you go when you tell them that you’re
feeling ill.”
Isabelle fought a triumphant smile. At least
she still had some secrets.
“Which is why she’s been sharing every detail
from your letters to dear old Leopold,” Graham
said.
Isabelle looked up at him in shock.
“Those were sealed!” she said. Graham’s li-ps
quirked up into that infuriating half smile as he
to-re his eyes from the trees to look down at
her.
“You have so much to learn it’s almost cruel to
taunt you,” Graham mused. “But I suppose they
never taught you never to write atop a stack of
blank papers at finishing school. You see,
whatever you write leaves the faintest of
imprints on the next sheet, which when ru-bbed
with charcoal exp-oses the most interesting of
secrets.”
Isabelle swallowed as Graham’s eyes danced
with mischief. They most certainly had not
taught her anything of the sort at finishing
school, or anywhere else for that matter.
“I hadn’t realized that your court was so
overrun with spies,” Isabelle said, thinking
aloud as she remembered all the cruel things
she’d written to Leopold about the royal family.
If Alicia had been sharing the contents of those
letters with the queen, how was Isabelle still at
court?
“You wouldn’t, would you? Nor do most other
debutantes and courtiers who come here to
dress up and fli-rt in the hopes of winning royal
favour,” Graham said. “That’s why you’re so
lucky to have me, even though you consider
me to be a ‘meddling cad of a man.’ That is
how you phrased it, isn’t it?”
The heat rose into Isabelle’s cheeks. Those
were her exact words from the letter she’d
written three days ago.
“You have no right to read my correspondence
with my betrothed,” she said throu-ghgritted
teeth.
“Oh but I do, especially since you’ve made it
so easy for Alicia to copy them,” Graham said.
“Though I feel compelled to point out that you
should be thanking me rather than scolding
me. After all, I’ve done you the great favour of
expo-sing the weakness my mother’s spy is
exploiting.”
“You’re a meddlesome prince purposefully
imprisoning me in his palace and tumbling my
lady-in-waiting so she’ll steal my secrets for
you and your horrible mother,” Isabelle
snapped. “I hardly think that deserves any
thanks at all!”
“Tumbling your lady-in-waiting? Goodness, you
certainly jump to the most entertaining of
conclusions when you’re jealous, don’t you?”
Graham chuckled. “Besides escorting her out
from the inaugural ball, have I really done
anything improper with her?”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t know nor care,” Isabelle
huffed.
“Perhaps you should,” Graham said. “Every
little bird has a price for their secrets, which is
something you ought to learn. Women like
Alicia hunger for power, which, thanks to
Kentshire, you’ll have in spades someday. If
you’d only been more shrewd when you arrived,
perhaps you’d have turned her into your own
little songbird rather than the queen’s.”
“She’s a rat, not a songbird, and I have no
interest in what nonsense she’d tell me,”
Isabelle replied, lifting her chin.
“A pity, though I won’t say I’m disappointed,
since your shortsightedness has led to my
gain. Alicia is useful to me, which is why I’ve
so carefully cultivated her to continue believing
that she can still hope for a chance with me.
She cracks so easily with a few kis-ses, you
know, obligingly sharing everything she’s been
telling my mother about you.”
“You’re a scoundrel and a pig,” Isabelle spat.
“You’re no better than your father, shamelessly
manipulating people while you’re protected by
the crown atop your head.”
Graham’s steps ground to a halt as he looked
down at her, a glare on his face before the
stony-eyed stare of a king wiped it away. When
he resumed their meandering pace, his jaw
muscle remained clenched.
“Darling, if you think me a vulgar manipulator,
you are woefully unprepared for what awaits
you in Germania,” he said. “At least we
Pretanians respect our high-born women
enough to allow them their own thoughts.”
“You know nothing of Rhysalia,” Isabelle
snapped. That infuriating grin reappeared on
the prince’s face, but this time it didn’t soften
the ha-rd look in his eyes.
“Tell me, have you ever sat down and
conversed with the Queen of Germania?”
Graham asked, his elbow ti-ght around her
fingers.
“I haven’t yet had the privilege,” Isabelle
replied. “Though I’m certain she’ll welcome me
with open arms when I arrive.”
Graham laughed.
“Oh, I’m certain that she will. She’ll welcome
you into her prison of a palace if only to have
some new company among the hens she calls
a court,” he said. “You do realize that all those
Germanian women are forbidden from doing
much else besides gossiping, planning parties,
and serving as decorative trophies for their
husbands?”
“The Germanian’s Queenscourt is one of the
most highly respected in the world!” Isabelle
fired back. “They are all clever, beautiful
women and I’d be honoured to join them.”
“The Germanian Queenscourt is a pit of
backstabbing sows,” Graham replied. “Frankly,
I’m disappointed that you’ve so eagerly eaten
up the lies your father has been feeding you to
keep you cowed and loyal to Leopold without
once bothering to question them.”
“Will you please stop calling me a cow!”
Isabelle snapped, wrenching her arm free from
Graham’s. The crown prince whirled on her and
she took a step backwards, only to come up
against the thor-ny climbing vines along the
garden wall.
“No, I will not,” he said. “Because that is
precisely what you are. A pretty, dimwitted
cow, trotting off to Germania to be bred,
penned, and slaughtered when you’re no longer
useful, just like every other Pretanian bride they
have ever taken.”
“You are the rudest, most horrible person I
have ever met!” Isabelle snarled, “And if I am
ever blessed with a son, I would slap him if he
ever spoke to a lady in such a way!”
“If you are ever blessed with a son, he’ll turn
out to be a misogynistic, self-centered swine,
just like every other Germanian prince before
him, and there won’t be a thing you can do to
prevent it,” Graham said, taking another step
towards her so that Isabelle was for-ced to
back up against the thor-ny vines if only so he
wouldn’t be standing on top of her.
“You know nothing about Germania nor its
princes!” Isabelle snapped. The anger mounting
in Graham’s eyes flashed at her words, a
dangerous smile curling his li-ps. When Isabelle
realized she’d been looking at them, she darted
her eyes back up to his, all too aware of how
close he was standing.
“I haven’t decided whether I’m amused or
disappointed that you still believe that,” he said
darkly. “But I can tell you, with utmost
certainty, that I know far more about Germania
and its princes than you do, Miss de Haviland.
That sad fact becomes more and more
apparent with each of our conversations.”
He took a step back, raking unimpressed eyes
over her.
“I really did think there was more to you than
this. What a pity,” he said, shaking his head.
Before Isabelle could formulate a retort, the
prince had dug his hands into his pockets and
turned on his heel. He sauntered past
Isabelle’s trio of ladies-in-waiting, the wide-
eyed twins frozen in place on the garden path
while Alicia shot a sly look towards the prince.
Graham kept walking, ignoring the brunette
before disappearing around the corner.
With a decidedly unladylike gr-unt, Isabelle
extricated herself from the thorns, brushing off
her skirts. Misogynistic, self-centered swine
indeed. Leopold would never speak to anyone
so rudely, nor would he have ever have
compromised a lady-in-waiting for
amusement. Everything she knew about her
betrothed attested to his gentlemanly
demeanour and refuted all the lies Graham had
spouted about him.
Taking a shaky breath to compose herself, she
looked up at the bright blue autumn sky. She’d
tried her hand at Graham’s game and he’d
wiped her clean off the board almost
effortlessly. She sighed.
For the first time in her life, she felt woefully
unprepared for what she faced. While she’d
harboured suspicions about Alicia, she’d never
have dreamed that the conniving little rat
would’ve stolen her stationery to spy on what
she’d written. Grudgingly, Isabelle conceded
that she owed Graham some thanks for
revealing that little pearl of wisdom, but it still
didn’t excuse his lies about her betrothed.
Shivering despite the warm air, Isabelle sent
up a prayer for Leopold’s swift return. She’d
had enough of Graham planting doubts in her
head about her promised prince charming.
To be continued…..