They exchanged glares as she stepped inside, her eyes glittering like the sharp emeralds studded on her tiara. A smug simper rested on her face.
Good heavens, how he despised that woman.
However, Ferdinand knew better than to show it. He stretched his lips wide, smiling until his cheeks ached. “Why, Your Highness. We were not expecting you.”
The king’s head bobbed up, his bewildered expression echoing Ferdinand’s sentiments.
“Five minutes is all the time I require,” Genevieve said, waving her fan at the duke with unconcealed distaste.
A thick wave of perfume assaulted his senses, and he coughed. “I beg your pardon. His Majesty and I have business to discuss. We have much to review about the council meeting, and—”
“And your sovereign could use a break after hours of listening to the ministers row and bicker with you,” Genevieve finished for him. She turned to King George, who was struggling to stifle a yawn, his eyes hooded with fatigue. He did indeed look like he could use a rest.
But Ferdinand would rather die before he ever yielded to the Duchess of Orlanne. “I am afraid that is not how it is done. As the Grand Duke, I—”
“As the king’s sister, I must insist. I have urgent affairs to discuss with my brother. Family business.”
At that, George raised a thick eyebrow in curiosity. “Out, out,” he said, tilting his head at Ferdinand to leave the siblings alone.
“But, sire, there is the matter of our treaty with—”
“That can wait. Later, Ferdinand.”
Hiding a grimace, Ferdinand bowed and turned on his heel, walking slowly and defiantly for the door. Once it closed on him with a resounding thud, he pulled on his mustache angrily.
That woman!
What right did she have to claim the king’s attention? She’d been away for years; now she expected to waltz back into court and usurp his hard-earned position? That was not how it worked.
He gave the guards by the door his most authoritative glare, and they immediately looked to the other direction as he crouched by the keyhole, hoping to catch what Genevieve was telling the king.
Alas. The harridan had the cunning to keep her voice low. He couldn’t make out a word.
Waiting was agony. He watched the seconds tick by on his pocket watch, then gave up and reached into his pocket for a handkerchief.
“Drat, where is that blasted thing?” he mumbled, checking pocket after pocket. While he searched, his fingers looped through a hole in one of his pockets, and he cursed. He’d have to send it to the seamstresses for mending.
The door behind him opened, and Genevieve sailed out. She looked insufferably pleased with herself.
“My brother will see you now.”
Ferdinand rose, straightening the tassels on his epaulets with a quiet grunt as he strode back into the stateroom.
Inside, he found the king still in his chair, toying with two porcelain figurines of a boy and a girl. Perfect. Ferdinand wanted to pick up where they’d left off: the topic of Prince Charles’s marriage.
At last finding a handkerchief, Ferdinand began polishing his monocle. “As I was saying, sire, before we were interrupted, I am simply trying to do what is best for the kingdom.”
“My son getting married is what’s best for the kingdom.”
“I agree. But he needs to marry the right girl.”
“Bah, the right girl. All this talk of bloodlines! What does it matter who he marries, so long as they make each other happy?”
The Grand Duke frowned. “Surely you don’t mean that.”
“It’s time to throw another ball,” declared the king. “A masquerade ball, so that way Charles will forget this mystery girl.”
“Sire, you just threw a ball!” Ferdinand said, his frown deepening. Already his mind was reeling over what costs another ball would entail, and all his careful work balancing the budget. He would have to change the king’s mind, and quickly—once George was set on something, the stubborn old man wouldn’t let it go. “If it’s the prince’s future you’re concerned about, why not consider my list of eligible princesses—”
“No more princesses. I don’t have time for fiddling over peace treaties and allocating dowries and such. If it’s money you’re worried about, think of how much we’ll save on the wedding if we just have it right here.”
“That’s not what I meant, sire.”
“Then what better time to throw another one? The wine’s been opened, the floors already polished.”
“But what . . . what will we say?”
“Say?” King George coughed, his thick white eyebrows knitting together. “I’m the king, aren’t I? We don’t have to say anything.”
Ferdinand grimaced and crossed his arms. The king was being far too insistent about this idea. Usually he at least considered Ferdinand’s suggestions. But ever since Charles had returned—and now Genevieve—everything was spiraling out of control.
“This is her idea, isn’t it?” Ferdinand said in realization, unable to mitigate the irritation in his voice.
The king ignored him. “Indeed! What better way to welcome my sister to the palace than with a ball? And Charles gets another chance to meet his true love.”
Ferdinand detected an elusive strain in George’s voice, but he looked better than he had the past month. When his son had returned, so had the bloom in his cheeks and some of the vigor in his personality. Certainly, his stubbornness.
Ferdinand would bide his time. Carefully.
In the meantime, he had more important issues to press. “Perhaps, sire, we’d be better off trying to arrange a marriage for the prince with the Princess of Lourdes.”
“An arranged marriage? You remember how that turned out for Genevieve. Also, the Lourdes royal family is unbearable.”
“Yes, but I’m sure the prince will see reason once we explain.”
“Bah, reason. Does a young man pining for a girl with a glass slipper sound like someone who is prone to reason?”
“No, sire, but—”
“And didn’t you doubt that my plan would work? If it worked once, it can work again.” King George clasped his hands together and rubbed them. “All we have to do is create the right mood, invite the right girls.”
Ferdinand’s brow furrowed. “But why a masquerade?”
“Genevieve has this idea that the boy will find true love better if he’s not blinded by the girl’s beauty.” King George coughed. “Always practical, my sister.”
“Sire, are you all right?”
“I’m fine!” barked the king. “Stop questioning me, and do what I ask.”
Calm, Ferdinand. If the king is going to be dead set on Charles marrying, you must see to it that he selects your bride. A bride the council will thank you for choosing.
“I don’t think that another ball is the answer. Give Charles some time, and he’ll forget the girl. Then we can arrange a marriage for him with a proper princess from one of the neighboring—”
“The ball’s been decided,” interrupted the king. “This is your last chance, Ferdinand. Don’t disappoint me again.”
“Certainly, Your Majesty.” The Grand Duke swept a bow, but as soon as he turned away from the king, he scowled. Things were not going as he had planned. Not at all.
When he returned to his chambers, Ferdinand sank into his chair and drummed his fingers on his desk. If the king wanted to be foolish and take Genevieve’s advice over his, then more drastic measures needed to be taken. The duke needed to prepare for the worst: it stood to reason that when Charles ascended the throne, he would kick Ferdinand out of the council and replace him with some radical fool he’d met at university.
Ferdinand needed to cement his power, and now. If he could finagle Charles into marrying the Princess of Lourdes, her father would reward him handsomely, maybe even insist on making him ambassador to Lourdes. The council would laud him for being the engineer of such a desirable royal union: his legacy would be established, and his power
impossible to undermine—even for Charles.
But first, Ferdinand needed an informed report from his sources within. No, “sources” wasn’t quite right. He preferred to think of them as involuntary emissaries.
The first one he would call for would be that doe-eyed servant girl, Cinderella.
Cinderella had a feeling, as the Grand Duke peered at her through his monocle, that he was mildly displeased she did not fear him.
She had dreaded their meeting, to be sure, but she wasn’t afraid of him and she wouldn’t pretend to be. The only person she’d ever been truly afraid of was her stepmother, but those years with Lady Tremaine were over.
“Young lady, I see no point in beating around the bush. I have called you here regarding a matter of critical importance to the state.” The Grand Duke drummed his fingers on the gilded desk. “Have you learned anything of value from Genevieve?”
Cinderella straightened in her chair, lifting her chin so she could meet his eyes. “I don’t understand what you mean, Your Grace. Mostly, I brush Her Highness’s hair and help her dress. She doesn’t talk to me about important matters.”
“She does not need to talk to you. That is why I installed you as her personal attendant.” The duke glowered at her. “You have every opportunity to eavesdrop on her conversations, read her mail, record her comings and goings. Why, when she was away with the prince, you should have been searching her room for indications of treachery!”
“Treachery?” Cinderella repeated with a frown. By that, did he mean magic? “Sir,” she said carefully, “why would the king’s sister be a traitor?”
The Grand Duke leaned back against a plush cushion, steepling his long fingers before answering. “Because of her husband! How else but for subterfuge do you think he obtained his fortune? It is no secret that the Duke of Orlanne passed Aurelais’s secrets to our enemies, weakening us among our allies. All while giving King George poor advice that nearly ruined this kingdom.”
“What sort of advice?”
“What does it matter? She married a traitor.”
“She said she married a businessman,” Cinderella said.
The duke’s gaze intensified. “So she has been talking to you.”
When Cinderella cringed, he leaned forward, his palms pressing against his desk. “She’s trying to charm you the way she’s charmed the prince. Yes, her husband was a wealthy businessman, one who nearly toppled the monarchy with his treason. Everything she’s told you is a lie. What else has she told you about her husband, my child?”
“Nothing,” said Cinderella, determined not to say any more.
Ferdinand let out an exasperated sigh. “I shan’t blame you for believing the best of her. A young, simple servant girl like you couldn’t possibly begin to grasp just how conniving Genevieve can be, so let me explain:
“When the Duke of Orlanne was young, he showed great promise, so much that King Philip, King George’s father, invited him to Valors to be an adviser to the throne. The king even knighted him for being a visionary—and then he betrayed the crown.”
Cinderella couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “Betrayed the crown how?” She had to bite her tongue to stop herself from adding, By supporting magic?
“Why do you think Genevieve has lived outside Aurelais for all these years? It’s because her husband surrounded himself with traitors who corrupted his good judgment, such that he tried to dethrone the king. He should have been executed, but your mistress was able to save him. But in doing so, she, too, was exiled from Aurelais. That is, until last week, when the king called her back to court.”
The duke twirled his mustache, as if he knew he’d succeeded in getting her attention and cooperation. “You will find out for me, Cinderella, why His Majesty has called her back. Should you succeed, I will see to it that your post in the palace is a permanent one. If you fail, well . . .” He paused for effect. “Are we clear?”
Cinderella pursed her lips, emotions warring inside her. The duke’s threat finally did frighten her; she was beginning to feel happy here, and finally the miserable life she’d led before—where she’d forced herself to live in her daydreams to get through each day—was fading in her memory. But then again, how could she live with herself if she went from serving one tyrant to another? Even if she managed to hold on to her position with Genevieve, that would change once the duchess’s visit was over. She would have to find another way to live eventually.
“I don’t think I can do this,” she said quietly. “Duchess Genevieve has been kind to me, and I will not spy on her.”
The duke’s expression darkened. He straightened in his chair, arranging his collar. “I see.”
“Now if you will excuse me, Your Grace,” said Cinderella, starting to rise, “I should return to—”
“Not so fast,” he interrupted. “I advise you to reconsider my most generous offer, young lady. Lest your friend Louisa and her dear aunt suddenly lose their positions in the palace as well.”
Cinderella went very still. “Louisa?”
“Yes,” replied the duke, picking at his mustache. “Though, why stop there? I’m sure she has mentioned to you that her father also works in the palace. He’s a steward, I believe. What a pity it would be if his position were suddenly offered to a younger, fitter man. And her mother keeps a modest dress shop in the garment quarters, a store that struggles to pay its rent. Louisa was so kind as to bring you into the royal household, but that good deed may be her family’s undoing.”
He peered into his monocle, then wiped the lens on his coat before returning it to his eye. “I would suggest you consider your loyalties very carefully.”
Cinderella’s hands trembled at her sides. Everything was starting to sway and spin, and she gripped the end of the duke’s table for support. She couldn’t be the reason Louisa was dismissed.
“Well? Shall you reconsider?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” she whispered.
His mood improved, a bounce returning to the clipped ends of his words. “Very good. Now see to it that you have more to offer the next time we meet. And remember, my dear, if you are caught in the act of investigating the king’s sister, I unfortunately will not be able to come to your aid. So use caution.”
Cinderella nodded mutely.
“I will summon you again in three days.”
Three days.
Cinderella walked mindlessly, her feet automatically taking her back to the duchess’s chambers. With every step, her heart hammered in her ears.
What should she do now?
The answer was clear. She didn’t trust the Grand Duke, in spite of his sterling reputation as the king’s trusted adviser. How could she help him, knowing he’d had a hand in exiling Lenore’s kind?
But what about Louisa’s job in the palace? Cinderella squeezed her hands into fists.
What will I tell him when he calls for me again? What will I say when he asks what I’ve learned about the duchess?
While on her way, she hurried through the portrait gallery, but this time she focused on the paintings of the duchess. The last one of Genevieve portrayed her and her husband, a studious-looking young man, and their three young children. It was the only portrait in the entire gallery with the Duke of Orlanne. His smile was warm, and tucked in his breast pocket was a lavender handkerchief, its color matching the fan in his wife’s hand.
Lavender, like Cinderella’s sash.
Craning her neck, she leaned closer to read the spines of the books painted behind the duke. Most of the words were too small for her to make out clearly, but she deciphered the word enchantments on one of the books. . . .
“Cinderella, Cinderella!”
Across the hall, Louisa hurried toward her. Her friend was out of breath, and her cheeks flushed with excitement.
“Aunt Irmina wants us back at Blooms and Looms right away. Something about an urgent announcement.”
“What’s going on?”
“It’s only a rumor. But”—Louisa’s hazel eyes gli
ttered with excitement—“but they say the king is throwing another ball!”
Another ball? The news made Cinderella furrow her brow. Did that mean the prince had given up on searching for her? Did it mean he was seeking a new bride?
“You go ahead,” she said, “I . . . I need to finish a few things for the duchess before I come.”
Chin up, she told herself as Louisa headed back to the servants’ quarters. Who cares about another ball, anyway? You’re here to make a new life, not mope over the prince.
No matter how much she wanted to see him again.
Whatever the rumor was, whether there was to be a ball or not, Cinderella wouldn’t give it a second thought. What mattered most now was finding a way to protect Duchess Genevieve and helping Louisa keep her job in the palace.
And all that depended on untangling herself from the mess she’d gotten herself into with Grand Duke Ferdinand.
On most occasions, Genevieve d’Orlanne would have been the last person Ferdinand wanted to see, but today he sought her out. He needed information, and he didn’t trust that doe-eyed servant girl to get it for him soon enough. Luckily, he knew just how to needle the king’s sister.
“I do not recall inviting you to tea, Ferdinand,” Genevieve said, receiving him frostily.
“I’ll have coffee then, thank you.” The Grand Duke snapped his fingers, sending the nearest servant into a frenzied dance to fetch a fresh pot.
Genevieve glared at him as he took the seat across from her. “That isn’t what I meant.”
His cup of coffee arrived promptly. Crossing one leg over the other, Ferdinand took a sniff before sipping.
“What do you want?”
“Blunt as always,” said Ferdinand affably. “I must say, I’m pleased to find you haven’t changed after all these years. I merely wished to have a conversation with you, Genevieve. It’s been so long since you’ve been here at court, and with all the excitement over Charles’s missing bride-to-be, I haven’t had a chance to properly welcome you back.”
So This is Love Page 13
