The Wronged Princess - Book I - Page 66/133

"Comment devrions-nous la coiffer?"

Cinderella had no answer on how to dress her hair. But the matter appeared unnecessary as Essie put a finger to her bottom lip contemplating the dilemma for her. Pricilla poked her head round the door. "Tis, Maman. She is coming."

"Do something, Cill," Essie bit out.

"Essie, don't put yourself to trouble for me," Cinderella said, horrified. They were as good as dead.

"Children, children? Are you ready? Do not dally so." Stepmama sounded dangerously close. Cinderella gripped the edge of the vanity, panic choking her, ready to bolt. She glanced about the chamber for a hiding place. The wardrobe. Non, too impractical. Space would be limited with both Essie and Pricilla's abundance of gowns. Beneath the bed. She jumped up.

"Very nearly, Maman," Pricilla answered, slipping from the room. The door latched. "Is that what you presume to wear, Maman? The green frock is so much more becoming…" Pricilla's voice faded from beyond.

A tense moment ensued before they realized Pricilla had successfully distracted Stepmama. Essie's fingers dug into Cinderella's shoulder and she pushed her back onto the chair. Cinderella forced her fingers to loosen from the vanity and met Essie's eyes in the glass. Essie released a pent up breath. There was no mistaking the tremble of Essie's fingers.

"See? No problem." Essie's confidence was astounding, but Cinderella heard the alarm she tried to mask. "But we must hurry," she said. She turned to Manette, "Nous devons nous dépêcher."

"Oui, mademoiselle," Manette responded, snatching the brush off the table.

*****

Supper remained the same formal affair with its full five customary courses as the evening wore on. The wine, thankfully, flowed freely. Prince hid his surprise well, he thought, when Cinderella entered the fray of the family library before dinner. He wondered briefly at the sudden turn of events. He had not thought Ersalia's maman that generous in nature.

Prince studied Cinderella's attire from a peripheral view. He could not deny his attraction for her understated beauty. The soft lilac frock she wore suited her coloring, admirably. With her olive skin, dark hair, and slightly exotic eyes, she appeared quite the vision. Her hair was more simply dressed compared to Egrecia and Pricilla's elaborate twists and draping curls but it suited her.

Her quiet demeanor made him hungry for answers. More so, when he would swear a portion of the bread she'd been nibbling on disappeared beneath the table. He found himself biting the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. Mayhap she would venture to the gardens for another walk in the crisp morn. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but he could not place its origin.