welcome.” King William accepted Cinderella’s hand, foregoing the traditional act of fealty to the king.
She lifted a section of her gown and bowed with simple grace. “I am honored, Sire, beyond words.”
Robert grinned like a besotted fool as Lady DeGanne stepped closer. “My Lady, may I present Cinderella.”
The two women greeted each other, Lady DeGanne with a small smile and Cinderella blushing as she attempted to tidy her hair.
“Where is my stepsister?” Robert looked around the room.
“She prepares the guest room for Cinderella, insisted on seeing to it herself,” Lady DeGanne replied as she motioned them to a cushioned bench.
“The room will be perfect.” He smiled at Cinderella.
“You are exhausted, I am certain.” Lady DeGanne sat across from them. King William stood beside the group. “How long did the journey take?”
“Many days, but the carriage is comfortable, and the accommodations—I do not believe I have ever stayed in so many pleasant rooms.”
“Nothing will compare to your chamber at Monmoore.” Lady DeGanne assured. She turned her attention to Robert. “Lead her to the morning room. Marissa will meet you there once she has set Cinderella’s belongings in her suite.”
Robert placed Cinderella’s hand in the crook of his arm upon standing. They exited and took a flight of stairs to the second story landing. Cinderella, hand on the railing, gasped at the view of the grand hallway.
“Come. This is the portrait gallery that leads to the visitors’ wing.”
“Why does it incline?”
“We are moving from the lower ward to the upper ward. The rooms here will be on the ground level. Our chambers are upstairs. You will have a balcony overlooking the west wall down into the valley.”
“Sounds spectacular. Are these your ancestors?” She looked at a life-sized portrait of a gray-haired man wearing a long black robe.
“Most of them, in one way or another. Although we did not become the direct line until my great-great-grandfather. Something about the king at that time almost destroyed the country and the keep. That monarch has all but been erased; although, I do wonder if there are trails of him in secret parts of the old castle.”
“You are an adventurer,” Cinderella teased. They continued their journey through the gallery, pausing for comments at the absurd garments or eccentric additions to the portraits.
“My, she is graceful. Who is she?” Cinderella stopped near the end of the hallway.
Robert gazed on the life-sized image and felt pain engulf him. “My mother, Queen Charlotte.”
“Not the lady we met with the king?”
“No. Mother died when I was still a boy. A mysterious illness took her from us.”
“None could save her?”
He shook his head. A strange urge to cry closed his throat. Standing before his mother, he had the oddest desire to rip Cinderella’s hand from his arm. They moved on, but unrest warred within him. He felt as though claws were tearing at him, pulling him into oblivion. But the further they travelled, Cinderella planted at his side, the more the feeling ebbed, until his thoughts and desires once more revolved around her. He pointed at a hallway running in a different direction. “Our family rooms are in that direction. You will visit them during the latter part of our engagement. The guest wing is this direction.” He waved at the arched opening before leading her to a different set of rooms beside the portrait gallery. They entered the first open door.
“Oh my, this is splendid.”
The morning room, though more intimate in size, had several groupings of chairs and cushioned seats all covered in yellow fabrics and darker painted wood. Crown molding had been enriched with delicate carvings. A crystal and bronze chandelier hung from a round medallion. The color in the room came from soft hues of blues and greens in the Persian carpet. Landscape paintings adorned the walls. Open French doors flooded the room with light.
“It is a pleasant place to meet with family and close friends. The next room is the library.”
Cinderella shook her head. “It is so much. How will I ever be worthy to stand at your side?”
“You are all that is lovely.” Robert cradled her hands with his own. “Do not be intimidated by these things. You are more precious. You have the bearing of royalty, my love. People the realm over will adore you.”
“They will not fear me?” Her lips twitched.
“Fear you?” He laughed. “It would be easier to fear a butterfly.”
She slapped him lightly. “I hope to have more sustenance than a butterfly.”
“You are grace and beauty. None who meet you could help