So This is Love (Disney Twisted Tales) - Elizabeth Lim Page 0,62

barbed remark, Bruno sank deeper into his cushioned bed. Cinderella wished she could do the same.

“I was only going to go for an hour with a friend. I’ve never—”

“No more.” Genevieve held up her fan, silencing Cinderella. “I do not want to be an accomplice in your illicit outing. I’m sure Madame Irmina has given you girls her fair warning about sneaking out to the ball.”

“She has,” Cinderella said. A twinge of panic riddled her nerves. “Ma’am, I—”

“I said I don’t want to hear it.” The duchess sprang from her seat, gliding toward a ribboned box that Cinderella had brought to her chambers earlier.

“Open this,” she ordered Cinderella.

Carefully undoing the ribbon, Cinderella lifted the box’s lid. Inside were three masks. The duchess removed two, holding them up.

“I had these made for the masquerade, but the shopkeeper was overzealous and sent me too many. I only need one.” Genevieve laid the masks side by side on the table. The green one was decorated with peacock feathers accented with violet and indigo gems, and the white one resembled a swan; its feathers were opalescent, with a band of black velvet around the eyes.

“They’re beautiful,” Cinderella said admiringly.

“Take them. One for you and one for your friend.”

Cinderella drew a sharp breath, surprised by the duchess’s offer. “I couldn’t.”

“Take them, Cindergirl. That’s an order.” Genevieve pushed the masks into her hands. “If you’re going to break the rules, do it properly—and with style. Besides, they don’t go with my gown.”

Cinderella brushed her fingers over the swan mask’s delicate feathers. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

“No need to thank me. Just make sure when you report to work tomorrow morning you have your head out of the clouds. Off you go. My nephew will be here to escort me to the ball any moment now.”

At the mention of Prince Charles, Cinderella’s heart skipped a beat. Part of her wanted to encounter him again, and part of her dreaded it more than anything.

“Yes, ma’am.” She curtsied. “I hope you have a grand time.”

The clock struck eight as Cinderella hurried back to her room, where Louisa, already dressed for the ball, was waiting.

“You look beautiful!” exclaimed Cinderella.

“Keep your voice down,” whispered her friend, though she beamed at the compliment. “Aunt Irmina’s still upstairs.” Then Louisa twirled, showing off her olive-green gown and the gold trimming she’d added to its cuffs. “Wait until you see yours.”

“I’ve got something, too. Look what the duchess gave us.” Cinderella opened the hatbox, and Louisa’s eyes widened.

“They’re exquisite,” she breathed, picking up the swan mask. “This will go wonderfully with your dress.”

Louisa stepped aside, lifting the pale pink gown draped over Cinderella’s changing screen. Its fluted sleeves shimmered with tiny crystals overlaid upon the gossamer silk, and the skirt, dappled with gentle threads of silver, seemed to dance off the candlelight against the wooden floor.

“How did you—”

“One of my mother’s customers ate too many oysters and fell ill,” explained Louisa with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Won’t hurt anyone if you borrow her dress for a few hours.”

“I couldn’t possibly—”

“Yes, you could. Mama’s already agreed to let you have it for the night. You’re not allowed to refuse.”

Touched, Cinderella pressed the gown’s soft silk to her chest. “I guess in that case . . .”

“Hurry and put it on before Aunt Irmina gets back.”

Eager to comply, Cinderella slipped behind the changing screen. The gown was still warm from having been pressed, and the ruffles tickled her collarbone as she slipped it onto her body.

“I had a feeling it’d be just your size.” Louisa surveyed Cinderella with an approving eye. “But it’s missing something. A shawl maybe, or a necklace.”

A necklace. Cinderella opened her dresser drawer for her mother’s beads. “Will this do?”

“Oh, that’s very nice,” said Louisa. “The perfect finishing touch.”

While she clasped the beads around her neck, Cinderella glanced at herself in the mirror. The pink dress was elegant and understated, its shape slim and formfitting—unlike the billowy skirts on the ball gown her fairy godmother had conjured for her. That suited her just fine. She wasn’t going to the masquerade to catch the prince’s eye.

Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself. The thought slipped into her mind before she could stop it.

Cinderella took in a deep breath, trying to relax all the tension gathered in her shoulders. Her toes wriggled in her shoes. No glass slippers this time; her shoes were made of leftover scraps of satin and, for good measure, she’d added a band over the ankles so