Cinderella Spell - Laurie Lee Page 0,8
in the carriage with you, no one will pay you any heed anyway.” He ruffled her hair.
Marissa swatted at his arm, giggling.
“Marissa DeGanne.”
The firm voice of her mother caused Marisssa to flop back in the chair. Robert’s eyes widened as Marissa dropped her hands in her lap, smoothing her skirt. She faced her mother. “Yes?”
“Where have you been?”
She swallowed. “Professor Renois was speaking of artists. I’ve been here in the library with Robert.” She turned the oversized book a bit to the left. “Look what we found.”
“Prince Robert?” Lady DeGanne smiled at the young man.
“We’ve agreed to be friends and there’s no need to worry about his title.” Marissa knew by the slight throb of a vein at her mother’s temple she would receive stronger discipline once they were alone.
Lady DeGanne smiled at the prince instead. “I hope she has not disturbed your studies.”
“Quite the opposite. She is a delightful partner.” He pointed at something on the page. “She’s pointed out details I’ve never noticed before.”
“Marissa is more interested in her imagination than what can be found in books.”
Marissa rolled her eyes, but at least she hadn’t been dragged from the library yet. “Perhaps my studies should take place here.” She waved her arms. “Professor Renois should be able to find something on every subject here.”
It was Robert’s turn to frown, but Marissa ignored him.
“Renois is your tutor, Marissa. Prince Robert should not be disturbed by him.”
“Why?” Marissa turned from Robert to her mother. “Does he get someone better?”
“Professors of university come to the palace.”
Marissa stood. “Then I should be here. Did you hear that mother? From the university?”
“I will speak with King William, but, until I say otherwise, you will work with Professor Renois. You will not leave him scouring hallways in search of you.”
Robert’s grin made Marissa want to laugh, but to do so would be reckless. She bit her lips instead, took a deep breath, and nodded. “Yes, Mother.” She took a few steps toward the door, then turned to Robert. “Shall we meet after dinner? What sort of games do you have?”
“How about you and your mother come to the peach parlor after dinner? I’ll send Rowley to show you the way.”
Marissa waited for her mother to respond, then added her own, “That would be delightful.” With a final grin at Robert, she followed her mother.
“Did you know there will be a parade on Saturday?” Marissa walked through the door her mother held for her.
“You have a fitting this afternoon.”
“A fitting for what?”
“A gown for the parade and ceremony first. There will be others. Day dresses, evening frocks.” She gave a sharp glance. “School uniform.”
“Did something happen to my things? I thought Mrs. Boyde unpacked the trunks.”
“This is a different time and a new place.”
She crossed her arms. “I don’t want to look like a princess.”
“No matter your clothes, my dear, you will always be Marissa. Monmoore Palace is part of who you are now. Accept the responsibility that comes with living in the palace, rather than fight it. Life will be much happier.”
They reached the set of rooms used for tutoring. A man in a blue uniform opened the door. Marissa could see Professor Renois hovering like a thunder cloud beside where she should be sitting. A thick black book that didn’t look as interesting as the one Robert had on his desk rested by her writing slate.
“I will fetch you after luncheon. Seeing how your escapade took so much time, we’ll have a light tray brought to you here.”
Marissa groaned, but moved into the room even though she wanted to run and find Robert again. The door closed as she slunk into her seat.
5
“Keep still.” Mrs. Boyde grunted as she tugged Marisa’s undergarment of stiff linen and tied the ribbons. “Ow,” Marissa complained, but the ribbons did not loosen. The pale dress of silk with a hint of hazel color floated down over her head to settle at her feet. She frowned. What did she need with something so fancy?
“You almost look like a princess.’ Mrs. Boyde teased as she secured the column of painted buttons. “No need to worry, I won’t give you away.”
“I don’t want to be a princess.” Marissa frowned. The girl in the mirror did not look like herself. This other girl had glossy curls and dainty feet wrapped in silk slippers peeking out from beneath the skirt. At least the gown was straight. She was too young for a bustle or the dreaded bone crusher that gave a different