She pulled open one of the drawers and thrust a lavender sash and an apron into Cinderella’s arms. “Put this on after you’ve changed. I hope you’ve bathed recently. I suppose it doesn’t matter, since you won’t last long anyhow. Louisa! Get this girl an attendant’s dress. And don’t forget the wig.”
Cinderella raised an eyebrow.Wig?
“Come on,” Louisa whispered, guiding her to the staff’s changing room as Madame Irmina returned to the Grand Duke.
“I told you not to say anything,” Louisa said softly. “Now you’re going to be the duchess’s attendant.”
“Madame Irmina was going to fire you.”
“Aunt Irmina’s family,” Louisa explained. “She loves making threats, but she’s not as mean-hearted as she sounds. So long as you pretend to be afraid of her.”
“I’ve had some practice with that,” muttered Cinderella, stifling unpleasant memories of Lady Tremaine. Madame Irmina didn’t seem half as bad as her stepmother.
“Here,” said Louisa, after rummaging through the closet for a rose-colored dress with frills along the cuffs and collar. She scrunched up her face. “I know it’s hideous. I didn’t design it.”
Cinderella slipped the new uniform over her head. “What’s this for?” she asked, touching the lavender sash.
“The color tells us who you’re serving. In your case, the duchess. It’ll match her call bell on the wall.” Louisa pinned the sash at her side, then spun Cinderella toward the mirror. “One last thing.”
Louisa rifled through the drawers again until she found a wig with white ringlets that looked like they’d seen better days.
While Cinderella pinned the wig to her hair, Louisa hastily brushed its ivory curls. “It’s a little big for your head, but it’ll have to do for now. All attendants wear one. Come on, the duke is waiting.”
“Ah, that’s much more tolerable,” he said, throwing a cursory glance over Cinderella when she returned. “Madame Irmina, this is not to happen again. My time is far too valuable to check on every girl we send to Genevieve.”
“My deepest apologies, Your Grace.”
“See to it that she’s promptly directed to the duchess’s chambers. I must be off.”
“Eyes down, girl,” muttered Irmina, pushing Cinderella’s neck toward the ground. “When you’re with any person of importance, stay three paces behind at all times. Don’t speak unless spoken to, got it?”
“Yes,” Cinderella murmured.
From behind, the Grand Duke cleared his throat. “On second thought, you”—he pointed carelessly at Cinderella—“follow me. I’ll direct you to the duchess myself.”
Keeping her head low, Cinderella tried to focus her gaze on the ground, but her eyes kept drifting up.
This was the man who’d visited the chateau looking for her. All she had to do was ask him to let her try the glass slipper.
Under his arm, the duke carried a thick scroll loosely bound by a satin ribbon. It looked like a list of addresses—presumably, residences that he had to visit today in search of the missing princess.
In search ofher.
“Have you found her yet?” Cinderella asked, filling the heavy silence between them.
Startled from his distraction, the duke scowled at her. Who knew whether it was because she had dared speak to him without first being given permission, or because she’d brought up an unpleasant topic, but she simply couldn’t help asking.
“Who?”
Cinderella inhaled, summoning her courage. “The girl with the glass slipper.”
“Heavens, no. If I had, the council wouldn’t have canceled the meeting this morning, and I—” He stopped, his expression stony as he plodded ahead.
Tell him,her heart urged her.Tell him you’re the girl who danced with the prince at the ball.
Cinderella opened her mouth to try again, but the words came out as a question:
“Can any girl try on the glass slipper?”
