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—”
“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.”