It had been three days since the ball. The town of Isolde had come down from their pre- and post-event exhilaration. Life had returned to its usual rhythm, though certain things had indeed changed. Many young ladies had acquired suitors; each day brought a new gentleman into a new shop, seeking the hand of someone's daughter. The ball had truly been a fortuitous occasion for many.
The hour was striking one at noon when Esmeralda began packing up for the day—quite uncharacteristic of her. Jeanette happened to arrive just then and was surprised to see Esmeralda folding up her displays and bringing in the mannequins.
"Is there an event? Why are you closing the shop? Isn't it a bit too early for that?" Jeanette inquired, stepping further into Esme's boutique.
"There is not an event, Jean." She took a deep breath, then turned to face her. "I have a date."
Jeanette blinked twice, stunned by the revelation, especially coming from Esmeralda, who had shown little to no interest in men.
"A blind date, actually," Esmeralda added with a nonchalant shrug.
"Well, now. That is new," Jeanette said with a small smile. "Who is setting you up on a blind date? Has Papa finally tired of your single ways?" She chuckled, and Esmeralda joined in, laughing softly.
She did not wish to tell her it was the duchess; it would be akin to revealing she was going on a date with the duke's son. As much as Jeanette was her dear friend and their bond ran deep, it would not prevent a pang of jealousy—jealousy that might endanger a friendship years in the making. Esmeralda preferred to avoid the matter altogether.
"Yes, dear. It's Papa. He has indeed grown weary of my unmarried state," she lied. The falsehood tasted bitter on her tongue; she rarely lied, but when necessity called for it, she could summon the will.
"All right then. I just came by to say hello," Jeanette said, raising a small paper bag. "Went to buy Mama Lady Argentina's baguette. She absolutely cannot live without it."
Esmeralda smiled as she carried the last mannequin inside. "That's lovely. I shall see you later, Jean."
"Very well, Esme," Jeanette said, turning toward the door. "Have a good time on your blind date."
"I will," Esmeralda replied with a faint smile. Once Jeanette had left, she released a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding.
This was going to be bad.
★
"Lovely noon, Papa."
Esmeralda arrived home to find her father wearing an expression of the same surprise Jeanette had borne.
"What is the occasion, dear? Why are you home so early?" he began with a smile, which quickly shifted to concern. "Could it be that you're unwell?"
"Of course not, Papa. I am as healthy as a blooming flower," she said with a playful wink. Her father chuckled. "I have a date."
Even greater surprise—and delight—washed over his features. "Is this truly my daughter Esmeralda? What have you done with my precious child who wishes naught to do with men?" he asked, a sly smile curling on his lips.
Esmeralda laughed. "Oh dear. Papa, I'm running late. I must go dress."
"Of course, of course! I shall not keep you. Go to your young man and return with tales of success," he said, winking. Esmeralda shook her head fondly and slipped away into her room.
The Duchess had written to Esmeralda the day following the ball, a Monday. The rendezvous was set for Wednesday at three in the afternoon, at a fine dining establishment. Esmeralda had not found it in herself to decline after having agreed in person and receiving a written invitation. She resolved, however, to tell this son—whom she had never even seen—that she held no interest in him whatsoever.
Yes. It would go perfectly. She told herself.
★
Esmeralda alighted from the local carriage she had taken to Chef's Taste Restaurant. At the entrance, she was halted by a guard and asked for her ticket. She blinked, momentarily puzzled, then recalled that the Duchess had enclosed one in her letter. She opened her purse, retrieved the ticket, and presented it to the guard, who happened to be a lady.
"Lady Esmeralda?"
"Yes…" Esmeralda nodded cautiously, wondering how she had been recognized.
"If you will kindly follow me," said the lady guard. She turned to her colleague, nodded, then proceeded into the restaurant with Esmeralda in tow.
Esmeralda's eyes took in the refined space. The restaurant was quiet and sparsely populated, and those guests bore an air of high station.
Seems this is a place for nobles, she thought.
Though she herself was not of noble blood, she had dressed the part that afternoon. The lady led her up a spiral staircase to a closed door. She paused, opened it just slightly, turned to Esmeralda, and bowed before departing silently.
Esmeralda inhaled deeply before stepping through the doorway. She had prepared herself, yet the sight still struck her breathless.
There, within the private dining room, sat the duke's son in all his polished glory. Copper hair, slightly tousled, framed his blue eyes and fair countenance. But behind him…
Behind him stood the man who had haunted Esmeralda's dreams for the past three nights.
Golden.
Her ears flushed, and her heart began to pound. He was attired with the regal bearing of a personal guard; his towering height made it seem as though he loomed over all within the room.
Golden's expression remained composed. He was surprised, but trained as he was, no emotion escaped onto his face.
"What a beautiful lady this is," Alistair said, drawing her gaze. A smug smirk—one befitting his languid posture—curled on his lips. "Pull out the chair for the lady, Golden," he said to the man behind him, arching a brow with lazy command.
"I am certain you were not expecting me to do it now, were you?"