papa picked it. He said it meant ‘brown,’ like his coat. But also ‘protector.’ We didn’t mean to keep him at first. But he came to us looking so starved and sad that we took him in, and once he’d been fed, Papa and I couldn’t part with him.” Cinderella smiled at Bruno. “He’s been my sweetest companion ever since. And my most loyal protector.”
“I like dogs much more than people,” said the duchess. “For that very reason—they don’t let you down as much.” She sniffed. “I have six children, you know, but my husband died three years ago. He was a good, practical man, one who never grew up with a golden spoon in his mouth or with a crown dangling over his head. My children, on the other hand . . .” She shuddered.
“When Arthur died, he left the estate to me instead of our eldest son. Unheard of! My children love me, but they rarely visit anymore. They say I embarrass them by throwing away our wealth to charity and hobnobbing with poor intellectuals. So you see, even though I’m always surrounded by people, it is rather lonely sometimes.”
Cinderella understood, more than she could express. Her heart opened to the duchess, and she began to wonder why the duke disliked her so much. “Then why don’t you visit more?”
“Visit George?” Genevieve’s shoulders shook with mirth, but her expression grew quickly somber. “Perhaps I should have. Charles has been away at school, and I suppose I never forgave George for casting Arthur away from court. I can hold grudges for years, you see, and I left with a promise never to return.”
A promise never to return? Cinderella bit her lip to contain her curiosity. What did that mean?
“But now here I am, back again in the palace.” Genevieve cleared her throat. “Tell me, what does your father do?”
“My father passed away a long time ago,” Cinderella said softly.
“I see. You must miss your parents terribly.”
“Every day,” confessed Cinderella, swallowing the lump in her throat. It had been so long since she’d permitted herself to mourn her parents. While she had lived with her stepmother, Lady Tremaine kept her so busy that she hadn’t had much time to think about her father or her mother. But now she missed them more than ever.
“I don’t remember my mother well,” Cinderella began, “but she used to sing a lullaby about a nightingale every night.”
“Did your father remarry?’
“Yes,” said Cinderella carefully. “My stepmother has two daughters.”
“Ah, therein lies the problem. You fell into their shadows, didn’t you?”
Cinderella barely nodded.
“Poor Charles,” Genevieve murmured. “He’s been alone a long time, too.”
“Alone?”
“My brother didn’t spend much time with him. He hopes to rectify that, I think.”
“How?”
The softness in Genevieve’s expression immediately hardened as she realized she’d revealed something she should not have.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness. I shouldn’t have—”
“Can you keep a secret?” Genevieve interrupted softly.
Cinderella blinked back her surprise. “Yes.”
“He’s not a young man, my brother. He is tired of ruling, and plans to pass on the throne.”
“To . . . to the prince?”
“Charles doesn’t know it yet, but that’s why George is so adamant that he find a wife and start a family—so that the succession will be secure, and none of our neighboring kingdoms will sense any weakness.”
Cinderella remained quiet. She didn’t know what to say.
“That’s why George asked me to come. Oh, he says it’s to help Charles and his future bride settle into their new roles as king and queen, but I think he’s finally feeling guilty about what he did to my husband. He’ll never apologize for it, though. He’s proud, just like me.”
Again, Cinderella’s interest was piqued. What happened between the Duke of Orlanne and the king? she wondered.
“No one knows this yet—not Charles or the Grand Duke. It is of the utmost importance that it remains this way, until my brother is ready. Though I have a feeling Ferdinand suspects something, given my return to the palace.”
Cinderella winced, remembering the duke had asked her to collect information on the duchess. Now she wished Genevieve hadn’t told her anything. “What makes you think he suspects something?”
“Ferdinand’s a sly old fox. Always has been. Why else do you think he’s plastered himself next to the king as his most trusted adviser for all these years? George’s always been a child at heart, and Ferdinand’s taken advantage of him to increase his influence. I can’t stand the man.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
The duchess picked up her fan and batted it