After returning from Silesia, Camellia 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 moment, Camellia 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 moment.

Now, with Perna in Silesia, Camellia 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 time attempting something like this, and her face flushed with heat. She focused on recalling the "trick" Madame Celeste had taught her—a trick said to be irresistibly alluring to men. After paying a hefty fee, Camellia had learned this technique from Celeste, a noblewoman reputed to have captivated no fewer than twelve gentlemen.

"Your feet should graze his knee, then slide up along his inner thigh, gently caressing, and then…"

Camellia silently recited these instructions, feeling both shame 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 medal in recognition of her work in establishing the field hospital. As he reached for his pen to draft the commendation, 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 Camellia's foot was about to make contact with the Prince's pants—less than two millimeters 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 me," Aymon's voice came just in time, saving her from disaster.

Joseph straightened up, nodded in thanks, and moved aside. "Thank you very much."

While Aymon was busy cleaning up, Camellia 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," Camellia stammered, forcing a smile. "I'm fine, really…"

Once back at the Tuileries Palace, the defeated Camellia 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.

Overcome with shame, 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 hummed a tune, feeling quite content.

Recently, Paoli had enjoyed great success both in his career and in love. Last month, he had met Isabella at a salon, a kind and beautiful English noblewoman whose father was a baron. Despite being courted by young noblemen from St. James'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, Chalmers 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 Thames, where a short, middle-aged man greeted him, opened the carriage door, and smiled, "You're finally here. Mr. Chalmers arrived half an hour ago."

Paoli quickly followed the man into the villa. At today's salon, Chalmers 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 Chalmers wanted to meet me first."

Though he said this, Paoli couldn't help feeling a bit annoyed. Chalmers had insisted on meeting three other senior members of the Corsican independence movement before agreeing to provide funds.

Reluctantly, Paoli had them sail to Britain, even though it might delay their efforts in Corsica's parliament 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 welcomed Paoli and the others, instructing her servants to take good care of them. Soon after, Paoli met the shrewd-looking Scottish businessman, wearing gold-rimmed glasses.

"Ah! It's a pleasure to meet you," Chalmers 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 achievements and your father's. I've decided to donate £20,000 to support your noble cause."

Paoli was taken aback by how straightforward Chalmers 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, Chalmers hesitated a moment before saying, "However, Mr. Paoli, I have a small request."

(End of Chapter)

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