The doors to the royal dining room opened, and a familiar voice from inside called to him, “Charles!”
Lifting his head, Prince Charles smiled, filled with a new sense of hope and determination.
If anyone would help him find the girl of his dreams, it was Aunt Genevieve.
Try as she might, Cinderella could not forget her second encounter with Prince Charles.
Every free moment she had, she ran through their brief conversation in her head. She couldn’t forget how her heart had swelled when he’d stopped to speak with her. And how it sank once she realized he hadn’t recognized her at all. It still stung whenever she thought of it.
“You have your answer,” she told herself. “He doesn’t remember you. So you should stop thinking about him.”
Easier said than done. The only way that would happen was if she didn’t have any free moments to think about him.
She threw herself into her new routine as the duchess’s attendant, working from dawn until long past dusk over the next week. Being a royal attendant was taxing; Cinderella had thought that serving only one mistress instead of three would be easier, but the palace was far bigger than her stepmother’s house. The walk alone from the kitchen to the duchess’s chambers with her tea took a quarter of an hour.
Not to mention, Genevieve was a demanding mistress with a keen eye, and few things pleased her.
“My collar is crooked,” she would say. Then, a minute later: “My hair is uneven. You’ll have to do it again.”
Or: “The rouge on my left cheek is darker than on the right. Can’t you do anything properly?”
And before breakfast: “I specifically asked for my tea to be steeped for four minutes. Not three, not five. Four. Any more makes it much too strong.”
On top of that, Cinderella was tasked with helping the duchess prepare her bath, taking her clothes to be laundered, steaming the curtains, beating dust out of the rugs, and polishing the duchess’s jewels until they sparkled. Duchess Genevieve was used to having at least three girls to wait on her, but no other servants arrived to Cinderella’s aid.
All the same, Cinderella didn’t mind. Duchess Genevieve was stern and eccentric, and as often as she berated Cinderella for her incompetence, she wasn’t mean-spirited, as Lady Tremaine had been. Maybe it was the portraits Cinderella had seen in the royal gallery of the duchess grinning, or the way she pored over her novels, chuckling to herself when she thought Cinderella couldn’t hear, that made Cinderella like the woman.
Her stepmother had never read; in fact, every time she caught Cinderella in the act, she tore the book away and burned it. In the palace, Cinderella had already stolen a few peeks at Duchess Genevieve’s novels, luxuriating for a few moments in a far-off adventure. Cinderella was certain that no one who read such thrilling tales could be that bad.
Besides, the extra work made the days pass faster. Every day she survived in the palace meant another night with a roof over her head and three hot meals, the leftovers of which she and Louisa always sneaked over to Bruno late at night.
But it didn’t help that she was living under the same roof as the prince.
The prince, Cinderella thought with a sigh, as she slid a pearl-studded pin into the duchess’s chignon to hold it firm. I don’t even know why I’m still thinking about him. Maybe I’m in love with the idea of him, just as he’s in love with the idea of me. So much that he didn’t even recognize the real me.
“You’re looking rather dour today,” the duchess remarked while Cinderella finished buttoning the back of her dress. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing, ma’am,” Cinderella mumbled.
“Then? For heaven’s sake, girl, can’t you say anything entertaining? The lot of you all are so dull.”
Genevieve sighed and reached for a book on her dresser. “I am beginning to remember why I stayed away from this place for so many years. This is the capital of ennui.”
“Would Your Highness like me to fetch you some embroidery? I have a friend who works in the sewing room, and she could bring something—”
“Embroidery?” Genevieve looked up from her book. “Goodness no, what do you take me for, my mother?” Scowling, she fluttered her hands westward. “Fetch me something new from the library. No, make it two. Make sure they’re adventures—with pirates and beheadings and the lot.”
Cinderella resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. “Yes, Your Highness.”
“If that old prig Martin is there, let him know it’s for Grinning Ginny.” In spite of her efforts to remain deadpan, the duchess disclosed the barest of smiles. She quickly repositioned her lips into a thin, stern line. “He should know what I’m looking for.”
Grinning Ginny? “Yes, Your Highness.”
“What are you standing there for? Don’t make me regret keeping you on.”
Cinderella hurried out of the duchess’s apartments. On her way to the library, she took a few wrong turns and ended up in the middle of Blooms and Looms. She decided there was no harm in quickly checking on Bruno while she was there. She and Louisa had found a hiding spot for him behind the henhouse, and they been taking turns sneaking him snacks from the kitchen. Cinderella only hoped Bruno had behaved himself and hadn’t become tempted to chase the—
“I found this mutt hunting the chickens!” Irmina said, dragging a regretful-looking brown bloodhound into the servants’ quarters.
Bruno whimpered, a thick leather leash knotted around his neck.
“He’s mine!” Cinderella exclaimed, racing to him.
“Yours?” blustered Madame Irmina, tightening her grip on Bruno’s leash. “Why am I not surprised?”
Fear spiked in Cinderella’s heart. “Please,” she pleaded. “He’s a good dog. He has no place to go.”
“There are no pets allowed in the palace. Either he goes or you both go.”
“Oh, please,” said Cinderella. “Bruno’s been with me since I was a little girl, and he—”
Irmina’s jaw tensed. “Need I repeat myself?”
Cinderella was about to plead her case again when a sharp voice from behind interrupted, “What is going on here?”
Instantly recognizing the speaker, Cinderella fell into a curtsy.
“Your Highness,” Irmina spluttered, startled by the duchess’s unexpected appearance. Behind her, Bruno growled and nipped at the hem of her dress. Irmina kicked him back, locking him into one of the pantries behind her.
She cleared her throat, her tone becoming honeyed and warm. “What an honor it is to welcome you here. My deepest apologies—I was not expecting you.”
Genevieve harrumphed. “And why should you? I do not make a habit of having my comings and goings announced.”
“To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit, Duchess?” asked Irmina, wisely changing the subject.
“I was wondering what was taking so long with my book. Imagine my displeasure when the guards informed me they spotted my attendant here instead in of the Royal Library.”
A smug sniffle escaped from Madame Irmina’s direction, and Cinderella tried not to panic.
“I apologize, Your Highness—”
“I’ll see to it that the girl’s dismissed,” cut in Madame Irmina, starting to shoo Cinderella away. “Come with me, you and your mutt, before you embarrass us—”
“No, please!” Cinderella twisted away, untangling her arm from Madame Irmina’s grip. She freed Bruno from the pantry, and as he spun toward the door, the duchess stepped on his leash.
“Halt!” she commanded, and to Cinderella’s surprise, Bruno stopped. “Now, explain yourself.”
Flustered, Cinderella saw she had no choice but to tell the truth. “I wanted to check on Bruno, my dog. You see, we’re both new here, and he had nowhere to go, so—”
“Animals are not permitted in the palace,” Madame Irmina interrupted, reaching for Cinderella’s arm again. “I must apologize for disturbing you, Your Highness. I’ll see to it that she leaves the palace straighta—”
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br /> “I’ll take him,” interrupted the duchess.
Stunned, Madame Irmina blinked. “Pardon, Duchess?”
“I said, I will take him. The mutt, the dog—Boris, whatever it is his name is.” Genevieve glared at the maids eavesdropping on the scene, and everyone hastily returned to work. “Untie that ridiculous cord from his neck.”
“Y-y-yes, Your Highness.”
“Thank you for reminding me why I prefer the company of animals to the lot of you. Servants, lords, kings—you’re all the same. Squabbling ninnies. Come, Bruno.” Genevieve gestured at the bloodhound, then fluttered a beringed hand at Cinderella. “And you, girl, get to the library and bring me my book. Chop-chop.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Cinderella breathed. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. It’s only out of boredom that I decided to save your mutt. My brother and nephew are hardly good company when all they’ve been doing is moping about.”
Cinderella hoped the duchess didn’t see her flinch. Moping about?
“Now why are you still standing there? While you’re at it, I want a fresh cup of tea. Remember, two lumps of sugar and a splash of milk.” Genevieve turned to Bruno. “And you—you’re the skinniest dog I’ve ever seen.” She clapped her hands and next directed her severe tone at Madame Irmina. “You, see to it that Bruno has a bountiful meal. I want to see some meat on his bones.”
Madame Irmina hurried to fulfill the request.
“I’ll fatten you up, you scraggly beast,” the duchess murmured to Bruno. She wrinkled her nose, picking a chicken feather out of his coat. “And I’ll see to it you’re bathed, too.”
Hiding a smile, Cinderella turned for the library to procure a book as the duchess had requested. If Genevieve had a soft spot for dogs, she couldn’t be as irredeemable as everyone said.
A half hour later, Cinderella returned to Duchess Genevieve’s chambers, out of breath but with an armful of novels that the librarian had eagerly recommended.
Her mind was reeling. While walking back, she’d secretly flipped through the top book, unable to help herself. It was titled The Pirates of Ild-Widy and the Enchanted Forest.
The word enchanted had caught her eye. Before she’d met her fairy godmother, she’d thought magic and spells and curses were long gone, now only existent in tales meant for small children—or novels such as these. But it seemed there was more to it than that. As she absently glanced through the pages, she noticed one that was dog-eared.
It wouldn’t do for the duchess to read a book with bent pages. Cinderella turned to it, only to be confronted with a handwritten message:
We must bring magic back. Maybe 36 ships and 47 pirates can help. —Art
The rest of the message had been smudged. It made no sense at all.
Cinderella stopped. What could it mean, and who had written it there? There was no other message in the book, nor in any of the others Cinderella had borrowed.
Before she had a chance to investigate further, Genevieve appeared.
“Hand those here,” she said, taking the books. The duchess barely glanced at them. She pushed them to the side of her desk and collapsed onto the brocade daybed in her parlor.
“What is wrong with this dog?” she demanded.
Hastily setting aside the book, Cinderella asked, “What do you mean, Your Highness?”
“I bring him here, out of the gutters into one of the grandest apartments in the palace, but all he does is stare mournfully at the door. I do not understand him at all.”
“Where is he now?” As soon as Cinderella asked, Bruno started scratching against the bedroom door.
Genevieve opened it, and he practically leapt into Cinderella’s arms.
Forgetting her present company, Cinderella embraced him, stroking his fur and tickling his ears.
“Ahem.”
The duchess was watching them with a stern expression. Quickly rising again, Cinderella nudged Bruno toward the duchess.
Genevieve rubbed one of his floppy ears, and after his hesitation eased, Bruno luxuriated in the attention. She drew back her hand. “When was the last time he had a bath?”
Before Cinderella could reply, the duchess fluttered her fingers at her. “No, don’t tell me. I’d rather not know. I don’t see any fleas, thankfully. See to it that he is washed tonight.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Duchess Genevieve sighed, petting Bruno again. “You know, it’s been a long time since I’ve had a dog. I didn’t expect to find this mongrel so delightful, and yet he grows on you quite unexpectedly.”
It wasn’t the first time a smile had graced the duchess’s lips, but as before, her expression quickly became stern once again. “How did this creature come to you?”
“My father and I found him on the street outside our home,” Cinderella said. “I was nine, and my mother had just passed away.” Her throat tightened. “He looked lonely, like my papa and me, so we took him in.”
“Sometimes I wish George would get a dog,” Genevieve said with a harrumph. “Though I guess he’s got a pack of other animals nipping at his feet.”
“Excuse me, ma’am?”
“Oh, all the gentry and the lords on the council. The Grand Duke, especially. But a real dog would do him good. It would do Charles good, too.”
Cinderella inhaled at the mention of the prince. “Why is that?”
“His mother died when he was a young boy, too, of course,” mused the duchess. She cleared her throat, as if suddenly aware she was sharing too much. “And why the name Bruno?”
“My papa picked it. He said it meant ‘brown,’ like his coat. But also ‘protector.’ We didn’t mean to keep him at first. But he came to us looking so starved and sad that we took him in, and once he’d been fed, Papa and I couldn’t part with him.” Cinderella smiled at Bruno. “He’s been my sweetest companion ever since. And my most loyal protector.”
“I like dogs much more than people,” said the duchess. “For that very reason—they don’t let you down as much.” She sniffed. “I have six children, you know, but my husband died three years ago. He was a good, practical man, one who never grew up with a golden spoon in his mouth or with a crown dangling over his head. My children, on the other hand . . .” She shuddered.
“When Arthur died, he left the estate to me instead of our eldest son. Unheard of! My children love me, but they rarely visit anymore. They say I embarrass them by throwing away our wealth to charity and hobnobbing with poor intellectuals. So you see, even though I’m always surrounded by people, it is rather lonely sometimes.”
Cinderella understood, more than she could express. Her heart opened to the duchess, and she began to wonder why the duke disliked her so much. “Then why don’t you visit more?”
“Visit George?” Genevieve’s shoulders shook with mirth, but her expression grew quickly somber. “Perhaps I should have. Charles has been away at school, and I suppose I never forgave George for casting Arthur away from court. I can hold grudges for years, you see, and I left with a promise never to return.”
A promise never to return? Cinderella bit her lip to contain her curiosity. What did that mean?
“But now here I am, back again in the palace.” Genevieve cleared her throat. “Tell me, what does your father do?”
“My father passed away a long time ago,” Cinderella said softly.
“I see. You must miss your parents terribly.”
“Every day,” confessed Cinderella, swallowing the lump in her throat. It had been so long since she’d permitted herself to mourn her parents. While she had lived with her stepmother, Lady Tremaine kept her so busy that she hadn’t had much time to think about her father or her mother. But now she missed them more than ever.
“I don’t remember my mother well,” Cinderella began, “but she used to sing a lullaby about a nightingale every night.”
“Did your father remarry?’
“Yes,” said Cinderella carefully. “My stepmother has two daughters.”
“Ah, therein lies the problem. You fell into their shadows, didn’t you?”
Cinderella barely nodded.
“Poor Charles,” Genevieve murmured. “He’s been alone a long time, too.”
“Alone?”
“My brother didn’t spend much time with him. He hopes to rectify that, I think.”
“How?”
The softness in Genevieve’s expression immediately hardened as she realized she’d revealed something she should not have.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness. I shouldn’t have—”
“Can you keep a secret?” Genevieve interrupted softly.
Cinderella blinked back her surprise. “Yes.”
“He’s not a young man, my brother. He is tired of ruling, and plans to pass on the throne.”
“To . . . to the prince?”
“Charles doesn’t know it yet, but that’s why George is so adamant that he find a wife and start a family—so that the succession will be secure, and none of our neighboring kingdoms will sense any weakness.”
Cinderella remained quiet. She didn’t know what to say.
“That’s why George asked me to come. Oh, he says it’s to help Charles and his future bride settle into their new roles as king and queen, but I think he’s finally feeling guilty about what he did to my husband. He’ll never apologize for it, though. He’s proud, just like me.”
Again, Cinderella’s interest was piqued. What happened between the Duke of Orlanne and the king? she wondered.
“No one knows this yet—not Charles or the Grand Duke. It is of the utmost importance that it remains this way, until my brother is ready. Though I have a feeling Ferdinand suspects something, given my return to the palace.”
Cinderella winced, remembering the duke had asked her to collect information on the duchess. Now she wished Genevieve hadn’t told her anything. “What makes you think he suspects something?”
“Ferdinand’s a sly old fox. Always has been. Why else do you think he’s plastered himself next to the king as his most trusted adviser for all these years? George’s always been a child at heart, and Ferdinand’s taken advantage of him to increase his influence. I can’t stand the man.”
So This is Love Page 9
