“How did you—”
“One of my mother’s customers ate too many oysters and fell ill,” explained Louisa with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Won’t hurt anyone if you borrow her dress for a few hours.”
“I couldn’t possibly—”
“Yes, you could. Mama’s already agreed to let you have it for the night. You’re not allowed to refuse.”
Touched, Cinderella pressed the gown’s soft silk to her chest. “I guess in that case . . .”
“Hurry and put it on before Aunt Irmina gets back.”
Eager to comply, Cinderella slipped behind the changing screen. The gown was still warm from having been pressed, and the ruffles tickled her collarbone as she slipped it onto her body.
“I had a feeling it’d be just your size.” Louisa surveyed Cinderella with an approving eye. “But it’s missing something. A shawl maybe, or a necklace.”
A necklace. Cinderella opened her dresser drawer for her mother’s beads. “Will this do?”
“Oh, that’s very nice,” said Louisa. “The perfect finishing touch.”
While she clasped the beads around her neck, Cinderella glanced at herself in the mirror. The pink dress was elegant and understated, its shape slim and formfitting—unlike the billowy skirts on the ball gown her fairy godmother had conjured for her. That suited her just fine. She wasn’t going to the masquerade to catch the prince’s eye.
Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself. The thought slipped into her mind before she could stop it.
Cinderella took in a deep breath, trying to relax all the tension gathered in her shoulders. Her toes wriggled in her shoes. No glass slippers this time; her shoes were made of leftover scraps of satin and, for good measure, she’d added a band over the ankles so they wouldn’t fall off.
Then again, she wasn’t planning on having to dash off at midnight this time.
A touch of wistfulness came over Cinderella as she and Louisa arrived in the ballroom. It was just as magnificent as she remembered: a crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, reflecting brilliantly upon the marble floor, making it seem like she was walking among the stars.
She scanned the room, searching first for the Grand Duke and then for her stepmother. No sign of Lady Tremaine and her daughters.
With a sigh of relief, Cinderella adjusted her mask, the feathers tickling her cheeks as she tied it tight behind her hair.
“Are you sure no one will recognize us?” she asked Louisa.
“I’m certain. Stop fretting!”
Cinderella fidgeted with her mask one last time and inhaled. There was no need to worry. They had taken a secret entrance into the ballroom, one used most frequently by the servants who served the king on his private balcony, so no one had seen them arrive. Not to mention the mask! There were so many people—all wearing masks—that even if her stepmother and stepsisters were present, chances were slim they’d recognize her.
She swept her fingers against the marble balustrade, her shoes sinking into the plush carpet as she and Louisa descended one of the ballroom staircases. Last time, she’d been so caught up in the moment that she barely had time to absorb and admire her surroundings.
How foolish I was, she thought. I didn’t even know he was the prince! I didn’t bother wondering why the orchestra started playing the moment we began to dance, or why there was no one else on the floor with us.
She wouldn’t be so foolish anymore.
The orchestra had begun a waltz, the violins swelling into a lilting melody, but there was to be no dancing until the duchess made her appearance.
“Why does everyone keep looking to the door?” Cinderella asked, but she knew the answer as soon as the words left her.
“Everyone is waiting to see whether the lady with the glass slipper will show up tonight. The entire household is betting on it.”
“What do you think?”
“I have fifty silver aurels on it.” Louisa’s eyes glittered behind her mask. “What about you?”
“I . . . I don’t think so.”
“Come on, some of the girls are over by the buffet. Smart idea to get some nourishment before the dancing starts!”
Cinderella had started to follow Louisa when, out of the corner of her eye, she spied the Grand Duke perched on a private balcony beside a portly elderly man, speaking in hushed tones as his companion observed the assembly with a pair of binoculars.
Could that be the king? she wondered. Given the older man’s uniform, pinned with so many medals it weighed down his shoulders, it had to be.
She touched Louisa’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go first? I want to explore a little.”
“Shall I come with you?”
“No, I won’t be long. I . . . I just want to catch a glimpse of the king.”
“Don’t take too long.” Louisa shot Cinderella a sly smile. “Our kingdom’s most eligible bachelor will make his appearance with his aunt soon. You won’t want to miss that.”
Louisa spun away and missed the deep flush that colored Cinderella’s cheeks at the mention of the prince.
Composing herself, Cinderella pursued her mission of spying on the Grand Duke and returned to the secret door through which she and Louisa had entered. Located in one of the ballroom’s many anterooms, it looked like an ordinary wall panel, marked only by an ivory knob in the center. Inside was a network of narrow tunnels that Cinderella didn’t dare explore lest she get lost. After retracing her steps, she cracked open the door a hair, just in time to hear the duke say:
“If I may say so, Your Majesty, I saw the young prince with your sister. They were riding into the city yesterday morning, and since then, he hasn’t been himself.”
“What are you trying to say?”
The duke took out his monocle and wiped it clean with a handkerchief. “As I’ve been trying to tell you, your sister’s influence on the prince concerns me. Fortunately, I have invited the Princess of Lourdes to attend—”
“I do not want to hear this, Ferdinand. Just let me have my hour’s worth of peace and quiet.”
“But you must listen, sire.” The duke lowered his voice, and Cinderella couldn’t make out his next words, but the color suddenly drained from King George’s face.
Oh, no. Cinderella swallowed hard. The duke must have discovered what Genevieve had been trying to hide from him—that the king was planning to abdicate.
Her heart hammering in her ears, she dared open the door a fraction wider.
Her suspicion was verified by the king’s next words: “Does Charles know?”
“He will not have heard it from me.”
“Do you think he should know?”
A long, deliberate pause. “No.”
Before she could hear more of their conversation, the king disappeared behind a curtained partition, and from the top of the ballroom staircase, the royal crier announced, “The Duchess Genevieve d’Orlanne, sister of His Royal Majesty, King George-Louis Philippe, honorable and beloved sovereign of Aurelais.”
Brass fanfares trumpeted across the chamber, startling Cinderella, who quickly exited the secret panel to join the rest of the guests in greeting the duchess.
The Duchess of Orlanne had donned a black mask with silver whiskers, and she descended the staircase regally, fluttering a matching fan with feathers so long they nearly brushed against the carpet. At her side was Prince Charles, wearing a white mask that covered the upper half of his face.
As the fanfare faded, the orchestra resumed its incidental music until the prince and the duchess reached the dance floor. Then a slow triple beat emerged from the orchestra’s lush harmonies.
Cinderella watched the prince dance with his aunt, hiding a smile. The harsh angles that typically lined the duchess’s mouth eased away, and Cinderella saw a trace of the cheerful, mischievous young duchess from the portrait gallery.
Then, as they danced, Genevieve whispered something in the prince’s ear. Cinderella flinched, having a strong feeling the duchess was tel
ling him to forget “her.”
Tearing her gaze from the dance floor, Cinderella wove through the crowd to look for Louisa, but she didn’t see her friend by the buffet.
“Her relationship with the king was never a good one,” murmured a lady blocking Cinderella’s path, “but she was best friends with the queen. After Her Majesty passed away, she and King George had a terrible row and that was the end of that.”
“I heard it had to do with her husband. He was one of those ruffian intellectuals—even got himself in jail once, remember? The king had to create a new territory to knight him so it wouldn’t be so disgraceful for Genevieve to marry beneath her. You’d think she would have been more grateful.”
“Well, who knows what happened between them? It was all very hush-hush.”
“Married to that traitor, I would be, too! Maybe we’ll find out now that she’s back.”
The conversation flustered Cinderella. She didn’t know what bothered her more: their spiteful words about the duchess’s past, or their disdain that her husband had been a commoner.
Both, she decided, finally spying a way around the noblewomen.
Behind her, the prince’s dance with his aunt came to an end, and polite applause rolled across the room. Then, as soon as it was considered tasteful, every eligible lady in the ballroom pushed her way forward, batting her fan to get the prince’s attention.
Cinderella backed into a corner so the waves of eager young women wouldn’t trample her as they rushed forward. Jewels glittered and a mix of rich perfume and desperation filled the air. Every lady parading past the prince was attractive in her own way, be it a lovely face or a stunning gown. If the prince was looking for a new bride, he had hundreds to choose from.
Stop thinking about it. That’s not your concern anymore.
The problem was she didn’t see Louisa anywhere. She had started toward the back, where the buffet and a chocolate fountain awaited, when she noticed the Grand Duke had detached himself from the king’s side and was now speaking with a young woman wearing a tiara.
Who was he speaking to?
Before Cinderella could investigate further, three flamboyantly dressed women paraded across the ballroom. Though they wore masks, Cinderella would have recognized those auburn ringlets, those black curls, and that tight gray bun anywhere—but the familiar blue and green feathers, the blue-gray shroud, and the haughty, upturned noses only confirmed it. A tide of panic washed over her.
It was Lady Tremaine—and her daughters.
Blood rushed to her head as Cinderella ducked behind one of the ballroom’s towering flower arrangements. Only after the count of three did she dare glance back at her stepmother and stepsisters.
Good, they hadn’t seen her.
Catching her breath, she edged along the table and searched the area for Louisa.
She did say she’d be by the food, didn’t she? thought Cinderella, stepping back for a better view of the buffet. Her heel landed hard on someone’s shoe, and she spun around, horrified as the stranger let out a quiet gasp of pain.
“Oh, pardon me!” she exclaimed. “I’m so sorry—”
The stranger’s mask slipped off, and Cinderella’s knees dipped instinctively into a crouch, her fingers reaching out to catch it before it fell. The string hooked over her thumb, and in triumph, she held out the mask to the stranger.
“Here—” she began.
Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up. It was the prince!
He had changed his clothing in an apparent attempt to go incognito, doffing the ivory jacket with gold epaulets for a simple blue coat with bronze buttons. But she would have recognized that face in any outfit.
“Thank you kindly,” said Charles, also half crouched. He started to rise to take the mask from her, but she was so startled to see him that she dropped it, and this time it fell to the ground.
Her hand leapt to her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she uttered quickly. “That was clumsy of me.”
Thankfully, the prince laughed. “I’ll get it. It seems to have a mind of its own.”
Prince Charles picked up his mask and pressed it against his face, quickly tying the string behind his head. Then, as he rose, he finally looked up and into her eyes—
And he let out a quiet gasp. “It’s you.”
Her heart skipped a beat. What should she say? What should she do? Her legs were frozen in their spot, and if not for the table behind her, she was afraid she would have stumbled over her own two feet.
“It’s you,” Prince Charles repeated in wonderment, his expression softening. He cleared his throat, a distinct rush of red coloring his ears as he realized he was staring at her. When he spoke again, his voice grew even gentler. “I thought I recognized your voice. I . . . I hoped I would see you again.”
Cinderella could have sworn the room was floating, and she with it. The glowing chandeliers swam around her, their lights blinking like stars.
He hadn’t forgotten her. He recognized her. And moreover, he seemed happy to see her.
Her lips parted. He was waiting for her to respond, but what could she possibly say? How could she explain why she’d left the other night, and why he hadn’t been able to find her?
He hasn’t asked you for an explanation, she chided herself.
“H-hello,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t hear how her heart hammered. The simple greeting instantly made his face brighten, and she wondered whether he could have possibly worried the same—that she had forgotten him.
“Hello,” returned the prince.
Before he could say more, a server appeared with a tray of fresh glasses. Charles gestured at it, and as he offered her a glass of water, his hand trembled slightly—the only sign that he was as nervous as she was. “Were you . . . thirsty?”
Cinderella smiled shyly. “No, thank you. I was just looking for someone. A friend.”
“A friend?”
“Yes. She came to the ball with me. But I think she might have made her way to the dance floor.”
Charles set the glass down. “Let me accompany you there to find her—and selfishly steal a dance for myself if I may.”
Yes, she wanted to say. She desperately wanted to dance with him, to talk with him, to get to know him better. And yet . . . the duchess’s words haunted her.
I think he’s in love with the idea of her.
Well, the same could be said of Cinderella, too, for what did she know of the prince?
Nothing. After one kiss, you were imagining yourself his bride. It’s a good thing the Grand Duke never asked you to try on the glass slipper. You would have fallen into a dream with a harsh awakening.
No good could come of their meeting. She was a servant in the palace, he the only heir to the throne of Aurelais. Maybe if she made an excuse to leave, she could run back to the servants’ quarters and pretend this had never happened.
Then, right as she’d gathered her resolve, a smile lifted Charles’s warm brown eyes, and she melted.
“Cat caught your tongue?” he prodded softly. “Or are you looking for the prince?”
His gentle teasing set her heart at ease.
“Your Highness, I apologize. I didn’t—”
“Don’t bow, and don’t apologize.” His words carried no trace of admonishment, only relief. “You have no idea how glad I am you’re here.”
Rather bashfully, he extended his arm for her to take. “It seems for once the Grand Duke’s done me a favor.”
“What do you mean?”
Prince Charles gestured in the Grand Duke’s direction.
“He’s searching for you,” Cinderella murmured, stating the obvious, still not understanding. “He doesn’t look happy.”
“See that girl behind him?”
Cinderella craned her neck to look. Yes, the same young lady with the tiara she had noticed earlier.
“I was hiding in the corner of the ballroom, trying to dodge Ferdinand’s ploys to have me dance with her. If not for his scheming, I might
never have seen you again.”
Cinderella’s blush deepened. She stared at her hand, resting comfortably on the prince’s arm. “It looks like they’re waiting for you,” she said quietly.
“And I’ve been waiting for you,” replied Charles. He gestured at her mask. “A swan. It suits you.”
“I didn’t have many choices. It was either a swan or a peacock.”
The prince leaned closer, speaking softly. “Swans were my mother’s favorite birds. She used to tell me that once they fall in love, they stay in love forever.”
A fanfare pierced the ballroom’s din—and Cinderella’s thoughts. “Announcing the Princess Marie of Lourdes.”
A young man dressed like the crown prince of Aurelais bowed to greet the princess, and Cinderella whirled toward the prince, blinking back her confusion. “But you’re here.”
The prince laughed. “Pierre was kind enough to exchange clothes with me for the night. I must say, having a loyal attendant who looks like me has come in handy.” He gestured at the young man in the white mask standing stiffly beside the king’s throne as introductions were made. The princess was clearly waiting for him to ask her to dance, but Pierre stifled a yawn instead.
“He’s doing too good a job of impersonating me,” said Charles, amused.
Dozens of ladies surrounded the fake prince, and even from the outskirts of the ballroom, Cinderella could hear them crying, “Your Highness! Do you remember me?”
“Poor Pierre.”
“I think he rather enjoys it,” said Charles wryly. “Anyway, I’ll make it up to him. For now, let’s take advantage of our disguises, shall we? Would you do me the honor of a dance?”
She touched her mask nervously. Hundreds of guests filled the ballroom, their faces blurred by candlelight. Cinderella scanned the crowd for her stepmother and stepsisters, but she couldn’t find them.
Stop worrying, she told herself. Enjoy the moment.
“You aren’t still worried that you’ve forgotten how to dance, are you?” Charles smiled. “I know for a fact you haven’t.”
Cinderella blushed, surprised he had remembered their conversation from the first ball. Still, the joke relaxed her, and she smiled back at him. “No, I’m not.”
So This is Love Page 17
