Chapter 10. The Duke

Cecille had really pulled the best out of me by some miracle.

My hair, now considerably pleasing to the eye, no longer maintained the same drab appearance. I had no need to pin back my bangs. They had grown out and cascaded towards my cheeks, framing a face of color (thanks to numerous creams and powders).

Standing before my chipped mirror, clad in a gown of white silk, made to make me seem pure compared to the women of the Moulin Rouge, I looked every bit the part of a Duke's wife. Or fiancé.

"Who am I?" I asked my reflection, placing a hand over the nose of the stranger staring back at me. "Not a freckle in sight…"

I was everything I had wanted. All of the flaws I had found in my figure and appearance were now fixed. What was there to frown about? Why could I not look at myself and see someone worth smiling over?

"Why are you doing this to yourself?"

So that the Duke will love me. So a man might someday find me worth his time. So I can get out of the Moulin Rouge once and for all, never having to deal with Uncle Harod and sleeping in an enfeebled room.

The past few months had been nothing but work. Perfecting my grammar and exactly the right things to discuss during a social gathering. Knowing when it is appropriate to laugh or make a comment. Trying to maintain a figure worth remembering.

"How superficial could our world get?" I laughed, upon this realization. "I've spent over half a year trying to look good for a society I could care less about to begin with. And the… the only person that I care a bit more for is the one who could care less about what I look like. I don't need this make-up. Or this hairstyle. Or this dress. I don't need any of it."

Little by little I removed the facade that Cecille had used on me.

Each bit of my costume that was dissipated reminded me further of why I had not wanted to go to the Moulin Rouge.

I hated its values. Women were only worth what men could pay for them. Their only purpose in life was to look beautiful and make men hear what they wanted to hear. These past few months I had grown into the kind of woman I had hated to begin with.

"Isabel," Harod approached me with an enthusiastic grin only to have his eyes go wide at my appearance. "This was not what Cecille had told me you were to wear."

"I decided I wished to look the part of myself," I challenged him with my eyes defiantly. "I am not one of your whores, Harod. I am not going to put on airs to make some man love me."

"Do you realize what you are doing?" Harod asked. "You are risking everything! This duke can offer you anything you want. What are you thinking?"

"I am thinking that being a spinster cannot be half as bad if it saves me from a marriage without love." I held my head high, letting my words be heard. "These past few months I had forgotten that. The truth was, I was not thinking."

"Harod!" Cecille's voice rang out pleasantly. "The Duke and I are anticipating the arrival of Miss Isabel."

"You are throwing your life away, Isabel." Harod told me seriously. "Remember that before you enter this room. I'll give you one more chance, my child. Go upstairs and get back dressed. Do not ruin this for yourself."

"No." I answered firmly. "I am not going to be some chimerical fantasy for someone. This is who I am, Harod. You of all people should know that."

"Where are you going?" Harod called when I retreated. "The Duke is waiting for you."

"I had given you a year to cancel this meeting," I called back as I headed towards the exit. "This is not my problem."

"And I'd give up forever to touch you

'cause I know that you feel me somehow

You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be

And I don't want to go home right now

And all I can taste is this moment

And all I can breathe is your life

'cause sooner or later it's over

I just don't want to miss you tonight

And I don't want the world to see me

'cause I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am." (1)

My voice echoed through the streets of Paris, my own melody to add to the never-ending pandemonium of the city. The stories and emotions that I could not express in my writing escaped through song, pouring out as fine a tale as that which had ever been written. Frustration and anguish filled my voice, leaving me empty and raw when my song reached it's end.

"Isabel?"

"Oui," I nodded, bent over from exhaustion, and unable to see the man standing behind me speaking. "I am Isabel."

"A particular Monsieur Ziddler arranged for me to meet his niece this evening." I grew rigid when I heard his footsteps advancing towards me. "He told me many things about you, Mademoiselle Isabel, but he did not once mention that you possessed such a mellifluous voice."

"It is not something he takes note of, nor knows."

"Does Mademoiselle Isabel know of it?"

"She does…I do… now." I grew uneasy when I felt his presence right behind me.

"Why did you leave?"

"I…"

I could not look up. Never did I expect the Duke to come after me. Never did I expect the Duke would want to come after me.

"Cecille said you were just a bit nervous. Is that true? I am not that challenging of a fellow to get along with, I assure you."

"I do not doubt it…"

"Might I at least have the honor of seeing the lady I have been obliged to meet this evening?"

A pair of clear blue eyes greeted me, as heart-filled as his smile. Chestnut locks, cut a bit longer than usual Aristocratic sense, seemed more fit for a Bohemian than a Duke.

I had expected a curt, starched man with a pair of glasses, but had received a young man not much older than myself, grinning at me with enough charm to win over every female in France.

"Up to your standards, Mademoiselle Isabel?"

"Am I up to yours?" I ignored his question, throwing aside all decency Cecille had taught. "Wasn't expecting a freckled gypsy to be a potential wife, I'm sure."

"I find your attire fascinating," he remarked. "If every woman was able to throw aside the presumptuous fashion of Paris, more showgirl and Prima Dona than anything, I shall die a happy man."

"A bit hypocritical, you think?" I spoke back, noting his clothing. "You are dressed more for a funeral in that black suit and overcoat, Monsieur."

"Is this more to your liking?" he removed his jacket to reveal a white, buttoned down shirt, exposing part of his chest, and a scarlet cravat.

"Considerably better, thank you."

"Whatever pleases the ladies," he grinned.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty."

"Rather young for a Duke, do you not think?"

"My father died when I was eighteen. It is a position I have held for over two years."

"What is it like to be a Duke?"

"So many questions," he laughed. "Am I not permitted the same favor?"

"Ask away."

"Who taught you to sing?"

"No one."

"You learned on your own?"

"I sing on my free time."

"Music is one of my passions, you know." He told me. "I can play three different instruments. I sing when I can, but my voice is nothing special."

"Neither is mine."

"I beg to differ."

"You'd be the first."

"Who else has heard you sing? Besides yourself."

"No one."

"My point exactly."

"Then who are you to say your voice is nothing special?"

"I am the Duke."

"Sing something then," I crossed my arms, amused with whatever he might choose to sing. "Come now. You were doing a perfect job of being self-aggrandized. No need to stop now."

"One, you're like a dream come true. Two, just want to be with you. Three, girl it's plain to see that you're the only one for me. Four, repeat steps one through three. Five, make you fall in love with me. If ever I feel my work is done then I'm starting back at one." (2)

"Some people want to fill the world with silly love songs," (3) I sang with a smile, relishing his words.

"Cecille has been telling me of you, Mademoiselle Isabel," he replied. "She told me you were one-of-a-kind. Inimitable. I was expecting a duplicate of her. It seems all ladies strive to be like what Cecille is. I am glad I was wrong about you."

"Cecille is independent."

"And a flirt," he grinned. "No wonder my parents warned my cousin of engaging to her."

"Your… cousin?"

"Yes. Edmund Ambler. My mother is his father's sister. I am Gregory Ambler."

Goo Goo Dolls "Iris"

Brian McKnight "Back at One"

Ewan McGregor & Nicole Kidman "Elephant Love Medley"