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"Lady Whistledown?"
"Yes, do you know of her?" the Empress asks from beside me, a paper in hand, watching her Lady's maid, Sofia Volkov, brushing and styling my raven hair— it felt bizarre for someone aside from myself to do such a small task for me. I gaze at my reflection in the mirror before me, watching myself gradually transform into a figure of the aristocracy. Within days, countless pieces of apparel were fabricated with my precise measurements; bosom, waistline, hips and all. Among all selections, I had chosen one that first caught my attention, a lovely purple dress with silver and gold embroidery. The white corset under the dress was just as painful as any other, but not from the same inexpensive material that used to itch me. Though uncomfortable to breathe with, the dress accentuated my curves perfectly and made me feel simply stunning.
"I have heard of her, but I never read her pieces. She is an anonymous author under this alias, exposing all rumours and scandals of the Ton, yes?"
"Exactly. In fact, Lady Whistledown has already written about you," she waves the article in her hand, and it was then I detected the distinctive black print of a side-profiled woman on the paper.
"She does not squander her time, does she." I take the paper from the Empress, curious about what the renowned author could have penned about me, and clear my throat as I read. "Dearest Readers, even I, Lady Whistledown, am astonished by what transpired a few days ago. One of the greatest enigmas of our time has finally unravelled. The missing daughter of the Imperial House of Russia, Vasilia Romanov, has been found in London! The real question now, ladies and gentlemen, is the Grand Duchess to present to the society where many potential bachelors await, or will she remain a lonely spinster?"
"Was it frankly necessary to end with such a statement? 'Or will she remain a lonely spinster,'" I huffed loudly, quickly returning the appalling article to the Empress, who giggled along with her maid at my soured expression. Sofia then secures a mauve with silver accent aigrette into my hair, pressing softly to ensure it would not slip off.
"Lady Whistledown certainly has her ways with words," the Empress comments as she pinches my chin to turn my head from the mirror to face her directly, her smile immediately widening at my pristine appearance. "You look absolutely beautiful, my dear."
My cheeks reddened at the compliment, suddenly feeling bashful under her and Sophia's gazes, "thank you— ah, mother."
Her face brightens the moment I call her 'mother,' her expression comparable to a child winning a new toy. I glance towards the unopened door of my room, having expected my brother to waltz in, as usual, a while ago and ask, "where is Matvey? Is he still asleep?"
My beloved younger brother had made it his ultimate task to make me feel at home with them and to build a strong bond as siblings. He arrived punctually every sunrise to escort me to Her Majestie's family dining room, where I would find Queen Charlotte, the Imperial couple, and the Prince of Prussia Friedrich. You could imagine my shock when the grinning Prince spoke of Daphne Bridgerton.
"Oh? Daphne Bridgerton?"
"Yes, she is the Diamond of the season," the Prince stated proudly, eyes and voice wistful at the mere thought of Daphne, "I had asked the Viscount for her hand in marriage recently. He told me he knows better than to answer for his sister but has no objection. However, he leaves it to her to decide."
Whatever has occurred with poor Simon? Is this why he is leaving?
"I see. Then, I will be waiting to congratulate you when the wonderful news comes to ears, Your Highness," I had responded with a stretched smile, now quite distressed about Simon's wellbeing.
"Please, no need for titles, Your Imperial Highness— we are equals here."
"And you as well. Being addressed as 'Your Imperial Highness.' is still becoming of me."
Aside from the intriguing exchange, Prince Friedrich had displayed to be a charming gentleman with a pure heart.
Matvey would accompany me to evening strolls and horse riding in the lavish garden to learn of my time as an average commoner. When he discovered my mastery in the kitchen, he implored me to make him some dishes in the near future— and who was I to say no to such eagerness. The Emperor has his ways of showing he cares as he seems harsh from the exterior, but he is incredibly soft to his loved ones. And though he has some difficulty expressing his emotions at times, it is known that his intentions are always for good. A few times, he had joined me in the grand royal library, recommending me his favourite books, discussing my thoughts, interests and opinions— it was his way of learning about me. The Empress had attached by my side the most, guiding me in proper etiquette, mannerism and speech. She is exceptionally patient with me, encouraging me, and aiding me in ways a mother would. I did not find much appeal in garments before since I did not have the luxury to afford anything more than cheap fabrics and aprons. The Empress had changed that by bringing her seamstress to comprehend my likes and dislikes, uncovering personal preferences, and selecting colourings that best conformed to my skin and eyes with me. She enjoys knowing of my feminine attractions.
"Did he not tell you?" she wonders at my question about Matvey's absence, to which I shook my head as she continued, "It must have slipped his mind. He left earlier with Lord Bridgerton to his club."
"Anthony Bridgerton?" his name unconsciously slipped off my tongue, and I immediately pursed my lips. I stood up from my seat once satisfied with my appearance, and my mother hooked an arm around mine as we left my room for Her Majestie's family dining room.
"Yes, it appears you already know of his name," the Empress nods, "he is Viscount of the Bridgerton family, and I had the pleasure of finally meeting him. He is known to be a capital 'R' rake by Lady Whistledown, but I view him as a well-mannered gentleman who cares deeply for his family and sister's future."
I know, I so desired to say.
"Finally, you say? Is the Viscount close to Matvey?"
"Quite. Matvey met Lord Bridgerton in Oxford," she says, when suddenly her eyes widen in sudden realization, "Oh yes! Lady Trowbridge is throwing a party soon. I would like you to attend it with us, dear, and there you can meet the Bridgertons."
