The Serenade: The Prince and the Siren [Daughters of the Empire 2] (BookStrand Publishing Romance) by Suzette Hollingsworth Page A

was overcome with joy—and she knew that this was the reason for her being. There could be nothing else. Power, glory, adoration? They were circular endeavors that would never be realized.
    But to be in joy was an end unto itself. It was love and hope and life all wrapped into a gift from the Creator.
    A gift that she freely gave to her audience.

    It was the most extravagant feast she had ever attended—the smells more exotic, the courses more amazing, and the guests more pleased.
    And she ate nothing, drinking only water.
    Nicolette was very proud of her grown-up look. She wore her best dress, a white silk tied at the bodice with a maroon satin ribbon and a matching maroon velvet jacket. Her dress was a little tight since she had last worn it, but her mother had managed to let the seams out. And the velvet jacket was very slimming, Lady Ravensdale had said, adding that Nicolette’s “arresting eyes” and “captivating voice” would be everyone’s focus.
    Nicolette ran her fingers along the small pearl necklace that she was allowed to wear for the occasion. Her mother had arranged her shiny black hair atop her head and placed tiny white pearl droplets in the curls. To complete her ensemble, she carried a white lace handkerchief in the pocket of her velvet jacket, which her mother had sewn quite inexpertly but very charmingly. And, of course, she wore white gloves.
    When she stood, her dress and jacket reached between her knees and her ankles, revealing white stockings and maroon silk slippers. Lady Ravensdale did not allow her daughter to wear any heel on her shoe or makeup on her face, saying that she did not need it.
    That was silly because she did . She did not have her mother’s aristocratic features or high cheekbones—her face was almost round! But there was never any point in arguing with Lady Ravensdale once her mind was made up. How a person came to be so stubborn was a mystery to her.
    Even looking her best, Nicolette had to fight the inclination to feel dowdy in these opulent surroundings. Luxurious tapestries from Baghdad and Teheran lined the marble floors framed by huge fluted columns. There were candelabras of cut glass, frescoes by French artists, and the grandest mirrors she had ever seen. The tablecloth was velvet embroidered in genuine silver. The napkin rings were mother-of-pearl set with diamonds. Real diamonds!
    And the clothing put heaven’s angels to the pale! Vests adorned with precious stones, Bursa-silk trousers, velvet-tasseled caps embroidered with pearls, and sheer, luminous veils. It truly was as if they were living inside a magical fairy tale.
    “What is that scent, Mama?” She stared at the sherbet now being served as she felt her mouth watering. She took another sip of water.
    “Mango and pineapple, I believe.” Her mother took a bite and closed her eyes momentarily. “Oh, my . The sherbet is concocted of the essence of roses and fruit juices.”
    “ Roses ? In the sherbet?”
    “It is delicious, I assure you.”
    “You need to eat something, Nicolette,” Lord Ravensdale commanded.
    “Under no circumstances would I eat before singing!” She shook her head vehemently, taking a sip of water and staring at her father in disbelief. “It interferes with the purity of the voice.”
    “Do you see, Nicolette?” Lady Ravensdale asked as she inclined her chin. “It appears that there are other Europeans present.”
    “Oh, Mama, my heart is pounding!” She scanned the crowds for any signs of welcome. “I only pray that I will do my best.”
    “All performers are nervous. The trick is to channel your nervousness so as to enhance your performance. You may thus surprise yourself and do better than your best .”
    How was that possible? When the sultan motioned toward Lord Ravensdale, the earl rose, taking her hand, and they walked to the center of the room. Nicolette glanced at her mother, looking very fine in a whisper-thin, aqua-blue, soft silk as she glided toward a