Page 11 of The Duke's Dream
Dusting her hands, she admired her work.
A knock came, followed by her landlady's grandson calling her name. She yelled for him to wait, but he pushed the door open.
The pebbles clattered against the floor, scattering in every direction. Helene groaned, eyeing the tiny stones as they rolled under the bed.
Thomas leaned in the doorway. "This is for you, Miss Beaumont."
Helene caught the envelope from the blushing youth and, after inquiring about his grandmother's health, closed the door behind him.
When she saw the strange letter, she forgot about the mess. "It has been franked in Austria," Helene murmured.
"It's from France! They frank it there to bypass the Foreign Office." Louise inspected the handwriting. "What if it's a summons from Napoleon?"
Helene retrieved the letter. "Does he want me to fight the redcoats with my slippers?"
Celeste clapped her hands. "Oh, Helene, do open it. It could be a letter from a long lost intended. A Bavarian prince?"
"As long as it's not a debt..." A sense of foreboding washed over her, and she opened it with trembling fingers. Inside, a brief note and another envelope greeted her.
Her breath caught. The paper was thin, the seal unbroken. France. The word sent a ripple of unease through her. It wasn’t possible. Her family was gone.
Hands trembling, she broke the seal.
The girls circled her, their voices muffled by the drums of her heart.
"Gaetan," Helene's knees buckled as she read her brother's name, a beloved melody she hadn't hummed in years. Tears blurred her vision, and a sob caught in her throat.
The memories came uninvited, transporting her to a summer garden. Plums bursting their casings in the heat. Arms overflowing with lilies of the valley. Her legs trampling the buttercups to keep up. A song, soft and inviting. Laughing male voices and a boy with long golden hair.
The letter was taken out of Helene's hand.
Louise sat beside her, scanning the lines. "Did you know your father had been a marquis?"
Helene closed her eyes. "They took my parents to La Force during the revolution. But Katherina wouldn't tell me more."
Louise lowered the letter, her face pensive. "Your brother is not only alive, but he is also a general in Napoleon's army. He recovered your family's estate."
"My brother Gaetan is alive." Helene's chin trembled, and she placed a hand over her mouth.
"He is alive, and he is now the Count of Wagram." Louise's voice dripped with admiration. "I bet the Emperor himself gave him the title."
Helene’s fingers clenched around the letter. It was absurd. She was not a nobleman's sister. She was Helene de Beaumont. A ballerina. Nothing more.
Celeste traced the wax seal. "How marvelous to have a brother who is a dashing soldier, and a nobleman! What does he want?"
"He wants Helene to come back to him," Louise said.
Panting, Helene grabbed the counterpane, trying to recover her balance against a word that spun.
Celeste's eyes turned moist. "Will you leave The Swans of Paris?"
Louise embraced Celeste. "Of course, Helene must—"
Shaking her head repeatedly, Helene took the letter from Louise's hand.
"As the sister of a French general, you are in danger. Spies lurk and—"
"This stays between us." Helene lifted her brows at Louise and then at Celeste. They were different, but they shared this common trait—loyalty.
