“If I’m not mistaken, I think those steps are meant to be for a rigaudon, but they’re not like any I’ve seen before.”
I jumped, startled, and turned to see Auguste standing in the doorway of the classroom, arms crossed against his chest.
“Please demonstrate how it’s done, then,” I said as I limped over to one of the chairs and collapsed, desperate to rest my aching legs.
Auguste shrugged, then claimed the empty chair beside me. “I’m too tired from my own dancing lessons to do any more today.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes.” Auguste fidgeted in his seat a moment before saying, “To be honest, I don’t dance the rigaudon very well either.”
“I thought so,” I said, leaning back in my seat with a sigh.
“Ouch.”
I laughed, then groaned as I felt the ache in my arches. I was going to be sore for days. Thank goodness lessons were over for the week, but Lady Celia had said that noblewomen must know a variety of dances, and so next week would be more of the same.
“Why are you here all by yourself?” Auguste asked. “I was waiting for you on the Latona Parterre for a half an hour. We were supposed to meet. Did you forget?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t forget. My rigaudon was so bad today that Lady Celia made me stay after lessons to keep practicing.”
Auguste and I had become something like friends and had taken to roaming the gardens and exploring the halls of Versailles after lessons. I’d told Elodie a little about him but not that she had met him in the Orangerie. All she did was tease me and ask if my mysterious friend at court was very handsome. I told her he was, but more than that, he was the friendliest person I had met at court so far. “I don’t understand why we need to master every dance. My allemande and gavotte are more than adequate. Shouldn’t that be enough?”
“If you’ve already mastered the allemande and the gavotte, you’re far more advanced than me. My tutor is shocked by how bad I am.”
I shouldn’t have been surprised to hear that Auguste also had dance lessons. It was mollifying to know I wasn’t alone in my labors, especially when the other girls seemed to pick up the lessons so quickly. Especially Severine, who didn’t hesitate to point out when I made a mistake or stumbled over a step.
“At least your lessons are private,” I said. “There’s no one to see you fail but your tutor. Everyone in class heard Lady Celia ask me to stay behind and keep practicing. It was mortifying.”
“I am lucky in that regard,” Auguste said. He sighed and for a moment looked almost upset as his green eyes clouded over and his perfectly square jaw set. Even the tone in his voice was strange. Like it hurt him to talk about it. I glanced at him to see his eyes fixed on the ground. But he must have felt my eyes on him, since he looked up and smiled shyly. I met his eyes and felt my cheeks burn.
“If you want,” he said, “we could practice together. It might be easier to learn that way.”
I sat up excitedly in my seat. “Yes, let’s! That would be wonderful!”
But the responding throb in my side and feet and legs reminded me that it wouldn’t be wonderful today.
“Perhaps another time would be best, though. I’m a bit too sore to do any more dancing over the next few days,” I said as my skirts swished around me.
“Next week, then,” Auguste said. “Dancing has exhausted me too. My tutor has been just as exacting as Lady Celia.”
I laughed in disbelief and caught my reflection in the mirrors all around the back wall. “Does your tutor keep reminding you that perfect mastery of each and every step is the only way to make yourself an attractive prospect for marriage? If not, your tutor is most definitely not as exacting as Lady Celia.”
I’d thought my comment was harmless, but Auguste seemed to take it poorly, turning his face abruptly and taking great interest in a painted cherub nearby. What did I say? I didn’t mean to hurt him. “Auguste, are you all right?”
“Yes. Yes, I’m fine. It’s just . . . marriage is a difficult subject for me.”
“Why?” I asked, only afterward realizing how impolite I’d been.
Auguste turned back around and looked at me so intently that it nearly took my breath away. It hadn’t registered to me before just how close we were, and the realization set my heart racing. I’d never been this close to any boy besides Marius. But he didn’t count: Marius was like a brother to me. Auguste was something else.
“Cendrillon, I need to tell you something,” he said, so seriously it made me nervous.
“I’m listening,” I said, wondering why he was so grave all of a sudden. Perhaps it had to do with his parents; there was always so much pressure among the aristocracy to please one’s elders.
“There’s a reason I haven’t told you what my family name is, and I appreciate that you haven’t pushed me about it.”
“I thought it strange that you hadn’t introduced yourself fully, but really, the family you come from doesn’t matter to me in the slightest.”
“But this might.” Auguste took a deep breath and exhaled the words in a rush of air. “I’m a bastard. My father was already married when he fell in love with my mother. I don’t carry his name, and it’s likely that I never will.”
A bastard. I hadn’t even realized that illegitimate children were allowed at court, but it was clear that Auguste was being treated like any other noble child—at least when it came to his education. I wondered if it was unusual, but I didn’t dare ask. It seemed as though he expected me to get up and storm out, offended by his very presence.
Auguste fiddled with a button on his waistcoat, and I could see his hands were shaking. Impulsively, I reached out and took his hands in mine. That got him to look at me, and the fear I saw in his eyes made my heart ache. “What does it matter how you were born? You’re my friend. That’s all that matters.”
Auguste’s green eyes flashed, as if he hadn’t expected that reaction, and then he smiled so brightly that my own lips curved into a smile.
Then he leaned toward me and I leaned toward him, but before I even realized what might be happening, he pulled away and jumped out of his seat, backing away from me slowly as if I were a wild dog.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. I made to get up, to follow him, but it was too late. He sprinted from the room and was gone in an instant, as if he’d never been there at all. But he had been about to kiss me. I could feel it. He wanted to. But then he ran away, so something must have put him off. Did I do something wrong?
I put a hand to my lips, unsure whether this was an occasion that called for elation or concern.