It was tremendously hot. I could feel my petticoats sticking to my calves and a trickle of perspiration down the middle of my back. Somewhere close by I could hear a bee drone, probably drawn by the purple irises Anna had tucked in her hair. Imagine that: actual fleur-de-lis. She might as well have written, “I’m yours for the taking, Louis,” across her forehead.
Between the heat and the morning’s hard work, I was exhausted. My knees still hurt from scrubbing, and my hands were chapped and red. I kept them hidden under my fan, but I couldn’t help but be envious of how the princesse and the duchesse, and certainly Anna and Diane, likely slept all night in a comfortable bed, had their breakfast brought to them on a tray by servants, and been given a chance to bathe and dress at leisure. They didn’t have to scrub Severine’s underthings or clean garden dirt from under their fingernails before trying to impress the dauphin.
The air was warm and drowsy and the hunters far away, and Anna said, “I couldn’t say,” one more time to one of Diane’s polite queries. Surely no one would notice if I closed my eyes for just a moment.
* * *
From far off, I could hear someone calling my name. Cendrillon, it said. Cendrillon. It was Lady Catherine with more chores for me: to sweep the larder, to feed the pigs. It was Severine with a cruel taunt: look at Cinder, covered in ashes. It was Auguste in the Hall of Mirrors, his face so deathly and dejected that I was terribly worried for him.
“Cendrillon!” Diane poked me in the ribs.
“What?” I sat up and opened my eyes.
The carriage had stopped. We were surrounded by more than a dozen hunters on horseback, a pack of ten or fifteen restless hounds, several squires, a valet—and the dauphin, who sat on his horse with a crooked but expectant smile, as if he’d just asked me a question. When I noticed a dozen riders around the carriage looking at me, I snapped my fan, sat up straight, and gave Diane a questioning look. Clearly I’d missed something.
“The dauphin asked you a question,” hissed Anna, as if she were the one who’d been affronted.
“I beg your pardon,” I said, giving the dauphin a nod.
Louis just gave me another crooked smile and asked, “I wondered if this outing bores you, Lady Cendrillon?”
I was aware of at least two dozen pairs of eyes on me. “Not at all, Monseigneur,” I said. “It’s only that I didn’t sleep well last night. I do apologize.”
Anna whispered something under her breath that sounded like “Who does she think she is?” and beamed at the dauphin. She probably believed Louis was so affronted that I would be one of the next girls eliminated.
For a terrible long second, I believed she might be right, and I was frightened. No rescue from Lady Catherine. No life beyond drudgery and humiliation. I would be trapped in that house for eternity, with no escape. No inheritance. Someone else would be dauphine—Princesse Henrietta, perhaps. Or, horrors, even Severine.
But before this thought could coalesce into ice around my heart, Louis wheeled on Anna. “Did you have something to say?” he inquired in his haughtiest tone. “A criticism of Lady Cendrillon? It’s hardly a crime for a young lady to close her eyes for a moment. Especially one who did not sleep well the night before.”
“I beg your pardon, Monseigneur. I did not mean anything by it—” Anna started, but Louis had already dropped down from the saddle to take my hand and help me from the carriage.
It was then that Louis did something truly remarkable. “Would a ride refresh you?” he asked.
“A ride?”
The entire party was completely silent. This was a breach of etiquette on the dauphin’s part. I wasn’t dressed for riding, and no horse had been provided for me. I would have to ride with Louis on his horse. It seemed almost impossible, the two of us. And astride, for that matter, not even sidesaddle.
I could feel them all watching me. And yet no one would tell me no, not today. Not when the dauphin himself was asking.
“I’d be glad to,” I said, and allowed him to swing me up in front of him in the saddle.
Anna was halfway out of her seat to object, and Diane’s mouth had dropped open—but before either of them could speak a word, Louis tightened his arms around me, touched his spurs to his horse’s flanks—and we were off.
The squires and hounds, the carriages and other ladies all fell away. There was only the feel of the horse thundering through the trees, the calls of the birds, and Louis’s arms tight around me, holding me to him.
It seemed an age that we raced ahead of the others, but it must have been only a few minutes until the picnic came into view and Louis slowed the horse to a canter, then a walk. I was sorry to see it end, my wild ride on horseback with the dauphin of France.
And yet it was possible that this would be the first time, not the only. If he chose me to be his queen.
“Well, then,” Louis murmured against my ear. “What do you think?”
When I caught my breath again, I said, “That was incredible. I’ve never ridden astride before. It was so fast!”
“You enjoyed it?” He bent to give me a sly smile.
“I did. Very much.” It was wonderful to ride so freely with the wind in my hair.
“Then we shall have to do it again sometime. With your permission, of course.”
“Thank you. I . . . would like that.”
He swung me down to my feet, then led his horse by the reins to a groom waiting under a nearby tree. The animal was flecked with white foam from the heat and exertion. I barely felt more composed, and yet I didn’t care if my hair was mussed or my dress wrinkled. For a moment, I forgot Lady Catherine, Severine, my place in the world. For a moment I was the dauphine, and I loved it.
I looked back the way we’d come. The carriages and squires weren’t visible yet, but I could hear them approaching. Soon it would be dull polite conversation about lemonade or the weather, and the horrified eyes of my rivals judging me for my impulsive decision to go with Louis. And yet, given the chance, I’d do it again.
“Don’t worry about them,” Louis said, and I was disarmed that he’d seemed to have read my mind. “They’re just jealous.”
We only had a moment alone. I might never get the chance again. “Since we’re on the subject, why didn’t you invite one of them?” I asked. “None of the others were rude enough to fall asleep on our outing.”
“Because,” said Louis, “I knew you would be the only one who’d say yes.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The Royal Stables were situated in the Place d’Armes, opposite the palace. After the luncheon was over and the hunt ended for the day—as dull and spiritless as I’d feared after the thrill of my ride with Louis—the carriages returned us there and deposited Anna, Diane, and myself.