So This is Love (Disney Twisted Tales) - Elizabeth Lim Page 0,86

even begin? “I . . . I . . .”

Misreading her reaction, Louisa grinned. “Ah, you were with that boy from the masquerade, weren’t you? I want to hear everything about it. Everything. But first, I have news.”

“News?”

“I heard the prince has found the mystery princess,” she said, lowering her voice as the two girls shuttled from the servants’ quarters to their posts. “Everyone says he’s going to propose to her at the ball. Figured the romantic in you might enjoy that.”

Cinderella’s heart thudded in her ears. “Where did you hear that?”

“For one, the glass slipper is not in its case outside the palace anymore. And”—Louisa waved an envelope in front of her face—“this! Didn’t you get one of these?”

“No, what is that?”

“A letter from the prince himself! Everyone’s to get an increase in wages after the ball, and a holiday. The royals don’t just declare a holiday for no reason . . . it must be because there’s going to be a royal wedding. Oh, you must have gotten one. Check your room.”

But Cinderella was certain she hadn’t gotten one, and it was time she told her friend why. “Louisa,” she began.

She didn’t get a chance to say more. Madame Irmina called for her in her strident voice, and Louisa’s aunt inserted herself between the two girls.

“The duchess wishes to see you, Cinderella,” she said, her brows furrowed with confusion. “She asks that you not wear your palace uniform, and that you meet her in her salon at once.”

Dressed in the only clothes she owned—the shirt and skirt she had worn when she’d escaped her stepmother’s home—Cinderella approached the duchess’s chambers with trepidation. If Genevieve had given Cinderella the morning off, why would she summon her back to her room?

Well, in any case, this would be the perfect time to tell the duchess that she was the runaway girl from the ball and had accepted Prince Charles’s proposal of marriage. She gathered her courage, rehearsing the words in her head.

Once the doors opened, an overjoyed Bruno barked, racing to greet Cinderella. Forgetting her restraint, she was bending down to massage his ears when a stern voice spoke over them.

“Bruno. That’s enough.”

The dog’s ears lifted at the sound of the duchess’s voice. He looked confused, his attention vacillating from Cinderella to Genevieve as if he were trying to decide who he was supposed to obey.

“It’s all right, Bruno,” whispered Cinderella. “Go on, now.”

Hesitantly, her dog shuffled back toward the duchess.

Cinderella had had plenty of experience facing her stepmother when she was displeased. She’d gotten used to being punished for no good reason, and to having Lady Tremaine find fault with her work even when there was none to be had. But she had no idea what to expect from the duchess.

The older woman gestured at the empty chair opposite her. “Sit.”

It was a command, not a request.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat, Cinderella obeyed.

Genevieve reached for the teacup on her writing desk, indulging in a long, slow sip before speaking. “So.” She returned the cup to its saucer, set it down, and dabbed the corners of her lips with a napkin. “You are the mystery girl he’s been looking for all this time.”

The swan mask Cinderella had worn rested on the table beside the duchess. Genevieve picked it up, tapping it against her shoulder as she pretended to wonder. “This was found in the gardens, and the guards said it belonged to the woman with Charles at the ball. I wonder who could have given it to her.”

Cinderella’s shoulders tensed. “I was just about to tell you—”

Genevieve raised a hand. “I trusted you. I treated you like one of my own. And you kept this from me.”

Cinderella hung her head. “I know.”

Genevieve’s hand fell to her side. “And yet, I couldn’t be more relieved.”

Cinderella looked up, surprised to find the duchess smiling. “The two sudden disappearances from the balls certainly gave me reason for concern. I was worried that my nephew had fallen in love with some frivolous girl with an expensive dress and overdone hair—or worse, a pretty face skilled at manipulating young princes into lovelorn states.” She tapped her cheek with her fingers. “But you . . . you’ll do nicely. Or so my gut tells me.”

“Oh, I’m—I’m so glad you think so,” Cinderella said in surprise. “I was worried you wouldn’t . . . that you might not—approve.”

“Well, I do. And if my brother doesn’t, then I’ll make sure he knows what a fool