After returning from Silesia, Callia continued to stay by the Prince's side. The Queen herself had arranged for the attentive young woman to serve as the Prince's temporary maid—a significant elevation in status that left many highborn ladies envious.
At this mont, Callia was putting her long-prepared plan into action. She hadn't forgotten her teacher's advice: to make the Prince fall in love with her. But with Doctor Perna always by the Prince's side, she had found it difficult to find the right mont.
Now, with Perna in Silesia, Callia knew she had to seize this rare opportunity.
She stole a glance at Aymon, who was sitting nearby, and saw that he was gazing out the window. Her confidence grew. Quietly, she slipped her stockinged foot out of her shoe and, using the tablecloth as cover, began to inch it toward the Prince across from her.
This was her first ti attempting sothing like this, and her face flushed with heat. She focused on recalling the "trick" Mada Celeste had taught her—a trick said to be irresistibly alluring to n. After paying a hefty fee, Callia had learned this technique from Celeste, a noblewoman reputed to have captivated no fewer than twelve gentlen.
"Your feet should graze his knee, then slide up along his inner thigh, gently caressing, and then…"
Callia silently recited these instructions, feeling both sha and anticipation. Her toes soon brushed against the hem of the Prince's trousers.
Her body trembled slightly as she bit her lip and started to move her foot upward, her heart pounding with hope that the Prince would enjoy this.
Joseph had just decided to award Perna a silver Fleur-de-lis dal in recognition of her work in establishing the field hospital. As he reached for his pen to draft the comndation, he accidentally knocked over his teacup. Hot tea spilled from the delicate Oriental porcelain, spreading across the table and dripping onto the floor.
Just as Callia's foot was about to make contact with the Prince's pants—less than two milliters away—a sudden hot liquid soaked through her stocking, burning her skin.
She nearly cried out but bit her lip hard to keep silent. As she tried to pull her foot back, she noticed the Prince bending down to clean up the spilled tea. Panic seized her—her foot was still suspended in the air!
"Your Highness, please allow ," Aymon's voice ca just in ti, saving her from disaster.
Joseph straightened up, nodded in thanks, and moved aside. "Thank you very much."
While Aymon was busy cleaning up, Callia swiftly withdrew her foot, wincing in pain as she slipped it back into her shoe.
Noticing her flushed face and the tears welling up in her eyes, Joseph asked with concern, "Are you feeling unwell?"
"No, no," Callia stamred, forcing a smile. "I'm fine, really…"
Once back at the Tuileries Palace, the defeated Callia hurried to her room while the Prince was occupied with Archbishop Briand. She quickly removed her shoes and stockings, revealing her once-delicate feet now red and swollen like boiled shrimp. Luckily, the tea had cooled a bit, preventing any serious burns.
Overco with sha, frustration, and pain, the young girl finally let her tears flow…
London
In a villa on the southwestern outskirts, Pascal Paoli, dressed in a brand-new blue-gray suit, kissed his wife goodbye with a smile before stepping into his carriage. A gentle breeze brushed his face as he humd a tune, feeling quite content.
Recently, Paoli had enjoyed great success both in his career and in love. Last month, he had t Isabella at a salon, a kind and beautiful English noblewoman whose father was a baron. Despite being courted by young noblen from St. Jas's Palace to Buckingham Palace, this angelic woman had been captivated by his charm and eloquence, and they quickly fell in love.
Although he had been married for years, it was perfectly normal for a prominent politician like himself to have a mistress.
As he reveled in the joys of love, he received another pleasant surprise last week—a Scottish businessman who admired his fight for freedom and independence in Corsica. The businessman, deeply moved by Paoli's efforts, expressed a desire to support his cause.
From what Paoli had learned, Chalrs owned two coal mines, a textile factory, and shares in the East India Company, with a fortune of at least £200,000. Paoli was confident that such a wealthy man would donate at least £10,000, if not more.
Paoli's carriage arrived in front of a luxurious villa not far from the Thas, where a short, middle-aged man greeted him, opened the carriage door, and smiled, "You're finally here. Mr. Chalrs arrived half an hour ago."
Paoli quickly followed the man into the villa. At today's salon, Chalrs might finalize his donation.
"Are Balster and Eliock here?" Paoli asked.
The man nodded, "They just arrived."
"Good," Paoli said, breathing a sigh of relief. "It's understandable that Chalrs wanted to et first."
Though he said this, Paoli couldn't help feeling a bit annoyed. Chalrs had insisted on eting three other senior mbers of the Corsican independence movent before agreeing to provide funds.
Reluctantly, Paoli had them sail to Britain, even though it might delay their efforts in Corsica's parliant to block the pro-French faction's proposed tax law. But with a large sum of money, he could later buy more votes to support his cause.
Before the salon began, Lady Henry, the hostess, warmly welcod Paoli and the others, instructing her servants to take good care of them. Soon after, Paoli t the shrewd-looking Scottish businessman, wearing gold-rimd glasses.
"Ah! It's a pleasure to et you," Chalrs said after exchanging greetings and taking a seat. He raised his glass, "Over the past few days, I've heard a lot about you. Mr. Paoli, I must admit, I'm deeply impressed by your achievents and your father's. I've decided to donate £20,000 to support your noble cause."
Paoli was taken aback by how straightforward Chalrs was and by the amount—far exceeding his expectations.
"That's wonderful," Paoli said, raising his glass as well. "On behalf of the people of Corsica, I sincerely thank you!"
After clinking glasses, Chalrs hesitated a mont before saying, "However, Mr. Paoli, I have a small request."
(End of Chapter)
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