“But when you’re the king’s bastard and not the king’s heir—kept away from court for most of your life—they still treat you differently. But in this case, more like you’re useless, because you can’t do anything for them, not even intervene with the king on their behalf. They might hang around if they think you have influence with the dauphin, but when they find out you don’t, off they go again. You aren’t even useful as a marriage prospect, because illegitimate children can’t marry someone of noble birth without first being legitimized by the king. And my father hasn’t done that for me, although he always promises that he will one day. So, no, I’m not a prince, Cendrillon. I might be the king’s son, but I’m nobody.”
The overwhelming sadness in Auguste’s eyes hit me like a physical blow. I knew I was right to distrust court life. It might be beautiful and decadent to look at, but there was so much hidden underneath that I didn’t understand. I reached out and took his hand.
He looked up at me and smiled weakly. “I was afraid that you would treat me differently, too, if you found out who I really was. I finally met someone who just wanted to be my friend, and I didn’t want that to change. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” I said as I squeezed his hand gently. “I understand why you did it. Court politics seem so . . . so ridiculous and cruel.”
Auguste beamed at me then, leaving me breathless. He’d grown much more striking than his brother. They might both take after their father, with dark hair and strong jawlines, but Auguste had the finer, more beautiful face, mostly due to the kindness in his expression.
“You don’t know how much I’ve missed you,” he said, breaking eye contact to glance back at the couple sitting behind us.
I took the opportunity to catch my breath. My cheeks had begun to burn as if I had a fever. What was wrong with me? I needed to get ahold of myself. It was just Auguste, my old friend. That one time when we almost kissed . . . just a childhood folly. Nothing more. I was going to make things strange between us if I didn’t get my misbehaving thoughts under control.
“I had to endure my lessons without the reward of seeing you afterward,” he continued. “They were dreadfully dull without you.”
“I would have liked see you,” I said, “but I needed some time away from court after my father died.”
“I never got the chance to tell you how deeply sorry I was to hear of your father’s passing,” Auguste said. “I wanted to go the funeral, but I was told your father’s wife wanted a small service. Also, I think she found it distasteful to imagine the king’s bastard there. Some people at court believe that I should not be so public as I am.”
“Oh!” I said. “I’m so sorry. I would have wanted to see you.” Yet another comfort my stepmother had taken away from me. The messages I sent—it was clear he never received them either.
He scooted closer to me on the bench and tightened his hold on my hand, startling me. I hadn’t even realized we were still holding hands. It wasn’t entirely proper, but I couldn’t bring myself to pull away.
“He was a good man. Every time we met, he always had a kind word for me. That’s not something I can say about all my father’s advisors. And he would talk about his beloved daughter to anyone who would listen.”
I smiled. That sounded like Papa.
“Where have you been for the past year? Lady Françoise seemed surprised when I told her I saw you in the market.”
I hesitated for a moment before answering, “I’ve been living in my father’s château with my stepmother and stepsisters. I’m sure you remember them. Alexandre and Severine, the girls from the Orangerie.”
“Those are your stepsisters?” Auguste asked in surprise, almost falling off the stool. “And I thought having Louis for a sibling was bad luck.” When I didn’t reply, he hurried to say, “I don’t mean to be indelicate, Cendrillon, or offend you, but I know what they’re like.”
I fidgeted in my seat. I didn’t want to tell Auguste the depressing details about what happened to me over the past year, but I didn’t want to lie either. Eventually, I would tell him everything. But not now. Not here. Not while I was having so much fun.
“They’re not so bad once you get to know them. Well, Alexandre isn’t, anyway. And Severine . . . Well, I can endure Severine.”
I silently begged Auguste to drop the subject. It was my fault, really. I shouldn’t have brought up my stepfamily. It was only going to lead to questions I didn’t want to answer.
“How do you find your stepmother? I can’t even imagine having to adjust to living with a new family on top of your father passing away.”
I extricated my hand from Auguste’s grasp. My palms were starting to sweat. He was far too observant and would notice that I was getting nervous. Not to mention I was aware that my hands were rough from cleaning, not as smooth as Auguste’s. I was afraid he would notice.
“It has been difficult, to put it plainly. I didn’t have much time to get to know my stepmother before the wedding, but we’ve had ample time since to get acquainted.”
That was terrible. It sounded as if I was talking about a distant cousin coming for a visit, not a woman whom I lived with and was meant to love.
“I haven’t met Lady Catherine personally, but I’ve heard other nobles speak of her. She seems to be quite a determined person.”
Ambitious, he meant. He was being careful, even if I couldn’t help but wish he’d change the subject. Every word he spoke was carefully and deliberately chosen so he could prod for information without upsetting me. It was obvious that he knew Lady Catherine was desperate to get ahead at any cost, and had been worried when he found out she was my stepmother. I didn’t dare speak ill of her in case she found out about it somehow, but it couldn’t hurt to acknowledge his tact, especially when it was coming from a place of concern.
“She is very determined,” I said slowly. “And very proud. Very dedicated to her family. Lady Catherine can come across as uncompromising in her ambitions, but she just wants to ensure that her children have everything they might possibly need.” I let my eyes wander across the increasingly raucous celebration, hoping that skewed close enough to the truth to satisfy Auguste’s curiosity.
It was true that Lady Catherine was dedicated to her family—she simply didn’t consider me to be part of that family. And even if pushing her daughters up the social ladder was really for her benefit, they would still benefit from it regardless.
“Perhaps we could talk about this another time, Auguste,” I said, feeling my mood dipping with just the barest mention of Lady Catherine. She ruined everything she touched. I wouldn’t let her ruin the ball too.