The Heiress Queen (Season Series Prequel)

Chapter 6

If it was possible, Isabelle's ladies-in-waiting were even more useless than she'd expected them to be. They'd spent the afternoon absorbed in their own little melodrama, one of the twins bursting into a fit of tears when she couldn't find a particular ball gown she'd been hoping to wear that night. There was much rushing about and summoning of seamstresses as Alicia attempted to console the sobbing blonde all while Isabelle ignored the lot of them. Electing to have Lissa attend to her rather than Alicia, as the brunette had insisted, Isabelle had cloistered herself in her room once again, choosing her outfit with the help of her maid.

When the clock struck seven, Cora reappeared at the door, resplendent in an emerald gown that brought out the green in her seafoam-blue eyes. This time she had Violet in tow, whose lavender dress was just as fine though decidedly more demure than Cora's. Dressed before her ladies-in-waiting, Isabelle was practicing her patience in the armchair as Alicia, Laura, and Marjorie flitted about the room in a flurry of giddy preparation. Not one of them was fully dressed yet and the twins still had their hair in curling ribbons when Cora and Violet arrived.

"But you can't go to the ball without us!" Alicia had protested when Isabelle rose to follow her friends.

"If you're going to be so unprepared and disorganized, she most certainly can," Cora snapped, shooting an arch look at Alicia half done-up dress. The brunette offered no more protests after that, allowing Isabelle to sweep from the room unhindered.

"I can't believe you're here!" Violet gushed, her plump cheeks rosy with excitement as they emerged onto the second floor of the entrance hall. Below them, arriving nobles clogged the marble floor, the noise from their conversations almost drowning Violet out.

"Neither can I," Isabelle said, peering over the railing into the sea of nobles below.

"Oh it's going to be so much fun," Violet continued, "We'll go riding together and picnicking and walk through the gardens! It'll be just like at school, only better."

"You hated school," Cora said, "Besides, shouldn't you be more excited about finding a husband than spending time with us?"

Isabelle wished they were still in the privacy of her suite so she could smack her friend with her fan. While it was true that Violet had had a terrible time at Saint Mary's, it was cruel of Cora to bring up the fact that Violet had very nearly failed. She also couldn't blame the jolly, perpetually cheery Violet for being in no rush to marry. Her own parents spent most of their time in separate residences, her father remaining in Highcastle to serve on the city's governing council while her mother lived at their country estate near the seaside in the south.

Violet had rarely talked about it, but Isabelle was under the distinct impression that Violet's life away from Saint Mary's was a far cry from pleasant. Whenever she returned from school vacation, she was quieter than usual, occasionally sharing stories about her overbearing mother. Considering that Violet had never once exchanged any letters with her father during their entire stay in finishing school, there was likely no parental affection from that side either.

"Hush, Cora," Isabelle said jokingly, "Just because your sights are set on the prince doesn't mean all of ours must be as well. I'm not here to find a husband, so at least I'll have some company."

Violet shot Isabelle a grateful smile behind Cora's back as the three of them joined the queue near the ballroom doors.

"I have my priorities in order," Cora huffed, tugging and fussing with her dress as the first debutante in line, Anna Hindersley, was announced to the ballroom below. Violet leaned over to peer down the stairs that descended into the ballroom, her wide brown eyes widening even more.

"There's more people in there than I've seen in my entire life!" she whispered to Isabelle as Cora edged in front of them in line.

"You'll do just fine," Isabelle said, giving her friend's shoulder a squeeze as she adjusted the lace near Violet's neckline.

"Cora told me that you're still engaged," Violet asked, shooting a glance down to Isabelle's left hand. She'd foregone gloves that night, if only so she could keep her ring. As much as she was hoping to be able to enjoy a proper breakfast the next morning, she was more adamant about refusing to let the queen think that she'd been cowed.

"I am, which is why it's utterly ridiculous that they're forcing me to be here," Isabelle said as Cora was announced to the ballroom below. "But I suppose that means we'll have each other for company."

"Violet Harwood."

Violet smiled, before turning around to face the ballroom. Isabelle held her breath as Violet took her first step, hoping her friend wouldn't accidentally tumble down the stairs in a fit of the trademark clumsiness that had almost gotten her expelled from finishing school.

"Isabelle de Haviland."

Resting a hand on the curving banister, Isabelle scanned the room below as she descended the stairs. Her stomach grumbled in anticipation as she located the buffet table at the back of the room, piled high with roasted meats and baked goods. At Lissa's urging, Isabelle had decided upon a gown of teal blue that didn't require her corset to be tied too tightly, leaving her enough room to eat. It wasn't her finest dress, but it would do for a ball where she had no one to impress.

Following Violet, Isabelle found a place on the empty dance floor next to Cora as they waited for the other debutantes to descend. There would be no dancing before the king and queen entered to ensure that the entire room was ready and waiting when they deigned to arrive. Settling in to wait, Isabelle tried not to fidget as she eyed the food, wondering whether anyone would notice if she ducked off the floor once the prince had selected his first partner.

After the last debutante had joined them on the floor, they all waited for nearly a half hour, standing there like pretty statues while the rest of the inaugural ball guests were free to eat, talk, and mill around the outskirts of the room. After more than ten minutes had passed, one of the debutantes, a tall, blonde girl who'd been eyeing the buffet table just like Isabelle, had gathered her skirts to leave the floor, only to be ushered back into place by a pair of footmen. Her cheeks had flamed scarlet as the nobles around her tittered cruelly, their judgemental sniggers lifting Isabelle's hackles. She was of half a mind to link arms with the tall blonde and leave the floor as the clock struck half eight, annoyed that the royals would keep them waiting so long.

But then the king and queen emerged and Isabelle forgot all about her hunger.

She glared up at the thrones as the king, an outwardly jovial man with sunny blond hair that contrasted with his cruel, beady eyes, took his seat. She had never spoken to him, but she already hated him for what he'd put her father and people through nonetheless. He had the nerve to sit there, every article of his clothing glittering with golden thread and every limb bedecked with more jewels than she could count. He shone like a sun in the light cast by chandeliers and Isabelle couldn't help but think that one of his many rings could have kept an entire village fed for the winter.

"His Royal Highness, Prince Graham."

As the king and queen took their seats atop their thrones, the double doors behind them opened once again. Isabelle fought from rolling her eyes as gasps and squeaks of excitement escaped the debutantes around her. Curtseying like the rest of them, she kept her gaze down, the picture of disinterest, as the prince wove among them. While they were all waiting, she'd edged towards the outside of the dance floor, hoping for an easy escape once the prince had chosen his first partner. Her eyes had wandered back towards the buffet table when Cora's sharp intake of breath drew her gaze, only for it to land on the prince as he paused before her friend.

Grudgingly, Isabelle conceded that Cora had been right: Graham was handsome, though in a far different way than Leopold. Where Leo was dark, Graham was fair, with sandy blond hair that was cut short enough that his curls wouldn't get out of hand. Unlike her betrothed, the crown prince of Britannia was clean-shaven, with no hint of stubble on his fair skin. Isabelle fought a grin as she remembered Leopold once likening Graham to a woman, claiming his face was too feminine to grow a beard. Though as she examined him, she determined that Leo had been wrong. Graham's jawbone alone, strong and square like his father's, was enough to give him the regal appearance of nobility.

As she looked him over, he turned his green eyes to her, his eyebrows lifting with interest. Cora, still curtseying before him, risked a glance up to see why he hadn't yet extended his hand. Her friend's eyes followed the prince's gaze and Isabelle bit her tongue, inwardly cursing as profanely as a sailor when the prince took a step in her direction.

"I'm in awe. It can't possibly be the indomitable Isabelle de Haviland, can it?" Prince Graham asked, extending his hand.