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 glittered 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.”
Narrowing her eyes at him, Genevieve furiously swirled her spoon in her tea, creating a miniature tempest in the cup. “You, welcome me back? I can’t imagine whose company I’d find more venomous—yours, or a viper’s.”
“I have never understood what happened to us,” Ferdinand forged on. “We were friends once, don’t you remember?”
“No, I do not.”
“We might never have trusted one another, but we respected each other,” he amended. “I sense, now, that most regrettably is no longer the case.”
“I find it hard to respect a two-faced scoundrel. If only my brother could see you as I do.”
Ferdinand blinked. “You wound me, Genevieve.”
“That’s ‘Your Highness’ to you.”
“Let’s not play a game of rank now. Else I’ll remind you that it is thanks to me that you were permitted to keep your title.”
“Thanks to you?” Genevieve scoffed. “Thanks to you, my husband died in shame. Thanks to you, my children were banished from Aurelais and robbed of their birthright.”
“It could have been much worse,” replied Ferdinand smoothly. “Few get to spend their exile on an estate provided for by the king. And lo, now you’ve returned and most have forgotten the degree of your treachery. Even the king, it appears.”
She was struggling to keep her composure; Ferdinand noticed how taut her cheeks had become, how the pulse in her neck thickened and throbbed. She peeled off her glove one finger at a time, her voice flat and wooden when she spoke next. “If you are trying to blackmail me, Ferdinand, go ahead. I don’t care what anyone at court thinks of me. Least of all, my brother.”
“Not even your nephew? Your influence on young Charles is unacceptable. He doesn’t understand what a threat your beliefs are to the future of this nation.”
To her credit, she barely flinched. “You dare to imply that I don’t care about Aurelais? My family has ruled this country for centuries. My ancestors tilled and founded this nation with their blood and tears before yours first arrived.”
“I’m not the only one. You’ve been away from court for far too long, and yet now you frolic back to the palace and resume your position as the king’s sister? Why now, Genevieve?”
The duchess set her teacup on its saucer with a sharp clatter. “Why don’t you ask the little spy you’ve planted in my household?”
Ferdinand choked on his coffee. Promptly reaching for his handkerchief, he blew his nose, then faced Genevieve, his posture stiffening. “Just what do you mean?”
“Don’t try to be coy. I know my attendant is one of your spies.”
“That innocent-looking creature?” Ferdinand spluttered, pretending to be offended. “She looks like she’s barely spent a day out of the countryside. I wouldn’t bother.”
“Yes, that’s precisely why you picked her. But unfortunately for you, she’s sharp enough to see you for what you are—a wolf in sheep’s clothing. And she isn’t afraid of wolves.”
He raised a thick eyebrow. “Isn’t she now? Where is the young lady, anyway?”
“Cindergirl is at the library, fetching a new novel for me.”
“A book?”
“Yes, Ferdinand. Unlike you, I have hobbies other than scheming and conniving.”
“Yes, I quite remember. Yours are more in the line of deceit and treason.”
“Why, you!”
She’d stepped into his net, but he needed to proceed carefully if he was going to ensnare her. He clasped his hands together and rested them on his lap. In his smoothest, most all-knowing tone, he said, “After all these years, after publicly swearing you’d never return, there must be a reason you’ve come back.”
“I heard my nephew had come back from university. I wanted to see him.”
He didn’t believe her, not for an instant. King George’s sister was a skilled deceiver, and her denial was too quick.