The minutes stretched, and finally, she cleared her throat. “Your Grace, you summoned me.”
His fountain pen rattled against the inkpot. “Ah, it’s you.” He held a red stick of wax against the lone candle burning on his desk, then affixed a seal to his document before putting it aside.
“At last. You must be brimming with news, my child. Come, what is your report?”
Two key pieces of information clung to Cinderella’s mind. But she remembered what the duchess had told her about Grand Duke Ferdinand: that behind his sterling reputation was a sly old fox—a man not to be trusted.
She pursed her lips. “I’m not sure what to report, Your Grace.”
“Not sure?” The Grand Duke eyed her skeptically. “You’ve had days to observe the duchess. I told you I wanted to hear everything.”
“She takes her tea three times a day, steeped for four minutes—”
“I don’t care about her tea-drinking habits!”
“Forgive me, Your Grace. You never told me exactly what you do care about.”
He seethed at her. “Need I remind you that I gave you this position? I could easily take it away.”
“I apologize, Your Grace,” she said quickly, fervently hoping to be released from this meeting as soon as possible.
“There is nothing unusual about the duchess?” he asked impatiently. “What does she do during all her time? Write letters, go on long walks?”
“She reads, Your Grace.”
“Reads what?”
“Novels. Mostly pirate adventures.”
The duke let out a snort. “A front. Come now, there’s more. You’re twisting your hands.”
Cinderella’s hands flew apart. She hadn’t even noticed.
“You have learned something from the duchess. Something valuable. Out with it, my child, I haven’t all day.”
“I . . .” Think of something, Cinderella urged herself. Anything.
But all she could think of was the truth: the king was planning to abdicate.
The duke inhaled in frustration before softening his tone. “Come, my dear, it’s all right. Sit down, sit down—I’ve frightened you, haven’t I?”
He ushered her toward one of the plush chairs across from his desk, but Cinderella remained standing.
“You can tell me. Do you not care about the kingdom? It is my duty to see to it that our country remains strong and safe. The king’s sister spends a great deal of time lobbying with the common folk, and arguing against laws that the council has passed to secure the future of our people. If she has shared something with you, it is your duty to tell me. It is your duty to Aurelais.”
He said it so convincingly that Cinderella nearly believed him. Nearly.
“Th-thank you, Your Grace,” she stammered, “but all the duchess and I talk about are tea, my dog, Bruno, and what books she’d like from the library.”
Following a long exhale, the Grand Duke folded his hands over his lap. “Is something troubling Her Highness? A physician was seen leaving her chambers yesterday.”
Cinderella tilted her head. “I don’t know. I didn’t see him.”
“I ask only out of concern,” Ferdinand pressed. “Is something amiss with her health?”
The question seemed innocent enough. “Oh, no. She’s fine,” Cinderella responded. “But she has had some trouble sleeping . . . she takes a sleeping draught.”
The duke leaned forward with interest. “Come again?”
“A sleeping draught,” Cinderella repeated. More hastily, she added, “Every afternoon after lunch with the king. It’s the same one His Majesty himself takes.”
“No wonder he no longer takes tea with me,” the Grand Duke muttered, stroking his chin. “Interesting.”
It seemed like a common enough thing for a woman the duchess’s age to do—and the king. She didn’t know why it interested the duke so much.
“You needn’t look so frightened, Cinderella. The duchess is a powerful woman, yes, but she has had a turbulent past, and I would not be surprised if she harbored deep resentment toward her brother—and toward me and my late father.”
“But why?”
“There was an incident, you see. . . .” The duke frowned, as if he’d remembered something that tasted sour. “There was an incident revolving around the duchess that endangered the kingdom, and it is my duty to see nothing like it ever happens again. Genevieve is not to be trusted. Understood?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Very good,” he said. “You’ve done well, Cinderella. Very well. If you learn anything else of note, come find me at once. You are dismissed.”
Not needing to be told twice, Cinderella left the room, breathing a sigh of relief once she was alone.
What an odd man, she thought. For the life of her, she couldn’t imagine why he had looked so surprised to find out the duchess took a sleeping draught. At least it was better than his knowing the real truth—that King George was planning to pass the throne to his son.
Or that she was the mysterious princess everyone was searching for.
The duchess was already awake when Cinderella arrived to draw the curtains and help the lady out of bed.
Forgetting her place and entirely too aware of the Grand Duke’s interrogation, Cinderella asked, “Are you feeling well, Your Highness?”
“Now there is an impertinent question,” huffed Genevieve. “Didn’t you learn it was improper to ask a lady about what ails her?”
“My apologies, Your Highness, but I thought—I was hoping I might be able to help you.”
“Hah! There’s nothing you could help me with,” Genevieve said, stirring the sugar into her tea.
“Why can’t you sleep?” asked Cinderella, concerned. “Nightmares?”
The duchess scoffed. “You truly wish to know?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it isn’t any of your business, girl. End of discussion.”
Startled by the duchess’s sharp tone, Cinderella bowed her head to show she understood.
“I’ll be taking supper with my brother today. Be sure to have an extra pot of tea prepared for when I return, with a plate of shortbread. I’ll need extra nourishment for tomorrow morning. Charles suggested the most ghastly hour for a tour of the kingdom.”
Cinderella’s heart skipped a beat. “Prince Charles?”
“Do I have any other nephews named Charles I’m not aware of?” The duchess wrapped the shawl over her shoulders and reached for her walking stick. “All these girls swooning over my nephew. I hope you aren’t one of them.”
“I wouldn’t be eligible, Your Highness,” Cinderella said, swallowing the lump that suddenly formed in her throat.
“All because of some silly laws that my silly ancestors made. The world is changing, Cindergirl, and anyone—I do repeat, anyone—can make something of herself if she puts her mind to it. Oh, to be young today!”
“You think a servant could become a princess?”
“My husband came from a family without wealth, but he was smart—and practical. He was a shrewd businessman, and became one of the richest men in Aurelais. Anybody can become anything, so long as they put their minds to it.” She eyed Cinderella. “Hard work and fortitude, Cindergirl, is what will get you ahead. Not swooning over my nephew.”