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Or would have, if he’d thought of it. This visit was Ammalia’s idea. She was the one who could not stay away from her mystery woman. Not if there was the slightest chance—
“Prince Azzurro sent you to do what?” Lady Tremaine asked, bewildered.
“My brother wishes to ensure that this family will be attending tonight’s royal ball. As you may know, our father is increasing ties with England, which will soon include a royal wedding to unite our two countries. That is why tonight’s ball is open to all unmarried women. The king believes my brother deserves no less than the prettiest English rose in all the kingdom.”
Stasia and Dorothea exchanged delighted glances, rolling back their shoulders and puffing out their chests in preening self-satisfaction.
“I told you he was looking at us,” said Stasia.
“At me,” Dorothea said smugly.
“Of course we’ll be there,” Lady Tremaine assured Ammalia. “Not Cynthia; she’s needed here. Someone has to do the chores. But my daughters and I would not dream of missing an opportunity to—”
“The entire family is to be present.” Ammalia enunciated each syllable, ensuring her accent did not hinder their comprehension. “Which appears to include Cynthia.”
Who, Ammalia realized, had clearly been in the midst of a lively struggle to attend the ball, only to meet with familial resistance. For the fight to have progressed to a level that left Cynthia’s gown in tatters only underscored just how badly Cynthia had hoped to dance with—and perhaps enamor—the prince.
Ammalia tried not to be disappointed. She should not have expected otherwise. Young ladies in both countries would tear each other apart to be the one to wed Zurri. Ammalia had just hoped Cynthia might be different. That she might see beyond the prince’s façade to the sister that stood in his shadows.
“Well… I mean, yes, technically, Cynthia is a part of this household,” Lady Tremaine conceded, “but she’s wearing the finest gown she owns, and as you can see, it’s barely fit to sweep the cinders from the fireplace, much less rub shoulders with royalty.”
Cynthia pressed her rosy lips together, as if forcing a retort back down her throat.
Perhaps something like: This gown was perfectly serviceable until you three ripped it apart with your bare hands. Or perhaps: If the family coffers have money enough for your modiste, surely you could have spared a coin or two for me. Or even: I could open your wardrobes right now and find two dozen acceptable gowns you could have loaned me.
None of it mattered. Even if Cynthia was destined to wed Zurri, Ammalia didn’t want her to have to endure disrespect from to the Tremaine women ever again.
“As it happens,” she said coldly, “his royal highness, in all his wisdom, has already provided the solution.”
All four women stared at her.
“S-solution?” stammered Lady Tremaine.
Ammalia held up the be-ribboned box she’d been carrying. “My brother sent this gown, in case one of the young ladies needed it. It sounds to me as though that lady in need is Cynthia.”
Stasia gasped in horror. “The prince… But I want…”
Dorothea whirled around. “Mama, you cannot allow that scullion to outshine us!”
Ammalia stepped forward and handed Cynthia the decorated box.
The tips of their fingers touched, sending a jolt of electricity crackling along Ammalia’s skin.
She swallowed hard, to hide how badly the brief touch had affected her. “Good luck with my brother tonight. Mayhap your maid can help you don the gown.”
Cynthia lifted her long eyelashes, her voice shy and her expression wistful. “I am a maid. I no longer have one.”
“In that case…” Ammalia straightened her shoulders as an undeniable burst of wickedness rushed through her. “Do allow me the honor.”
Chapter Five
Did the princess just say… she would be Cynthia’s handmaiden?
The stunned expressions on her goggling stepsisters’ faces mirrored Cynthia’s own dazed reaction. Once she picked her jaw up off the floor, all she could do was stutter, “I… You needn’t…”
“I’ll tell you what we need,” said Princess Ammalia, turning toward Lady Tremaine as if it had been Cynthia’s stepmother who had offered to play lady’s maid. “A hot bath, posthaste. Instruct one of your footmen to take it to Cynthia’s dressing chamber at once.”
“Er…” said Stasia.
