Resolute, I deliver Stacia and Cilla’s breakfast trays, then venture into Tremaine’s dark study. For once, it doesn’t reek of overindulgence. Chompers growls, but he slinks past me without incident. I kick the door closed behind him, stride to my stepfather’s worn leather chair and flinch when he peers up at me. Awake.
“Well, girl, what have you decided?”
I hand over the key, holding his eye. “I’ll need a gown, too.”
He picks up the key and examines it in the low light. I stride to the window and yank the curtains aside. “You’re missing a beautiful day.”
“Get the horses ready,” he says, already inserting the key into the box. His greedy expression roils my stomach.
So does the sight of gold coins stacked neatly inside. A fortune. I could have run away and lived in comfort for years.
“There is enough here to buy an entire wardrobe for both girls,” Tremaine says with satisfaction, and closes it, tucking away the key.
“All three of us,” I insist. The sidelong look he gives me does nothing to quell my unease.
I hitch the bays to the heavy black carriage. Tremaine insists I drive. Dust blows in my face all the way into Belterre City. By the time we arrive at the best modiste in Belterre City, I’m a filthy, travel-weary mess. The other women and their servants stare at me before wrinkling their noses and looking away.
“Isn’t that Lady Woordige and her daughter? We outrank them. We should be ahead of them in line,” Dru complains.
“They arrived first,” Tremaine says.
“It’s not fair. I’m melting in this hot sun. I’ll get freckles,” Stacia whines.
“Hold your tongue, girl,” Tremaine snaps.
“I need to use the necessary,” Cilla says not two minutes later.
My gaze locks on the coins in Tremaine’s pocket. It’s a fraction of my full dowry but if I could pick his pocket and run…
You cannot leave them,my conscience pipes up.They’re your family.
I had better get a dress out of this, at least. If I meet the prince and fall in love, I can hire a whole contingent of servants to care for them. Better than I can by myself.
Prince Alistair is said to be handsome, an excellent hunter, and a good dancer. A man like that could surely take care of me. He would love me. See my kindness as strength instead of a weakness to be exploited.
We’d make a real family.
My daydream is interrupted when whispers ripple down the line. Ladies lift their skirts and dart into the street, dodging passers-by.
“What’s happening?” Cilla asks.
“It’s the prince,” says the woman who thought I was a beggar, her eyes shining with excitement. I’ve been careful to stay out of her line of vision, but she pays no attention to me now. “He’s returning to the castle. His ball is a fortnight hence.”
Eyeing the line waiting for service at the modiste, I know we’ll be lucky to get in at all. Dru and Stacia dart after the other girls. The line shortens abruptly. Mothers and maids remain in place to hold their spots. A few, apparently coming to the same conclusion I have—that Madame will never be able to finish so many gowns in time for the ball—quietly exit the line.
I remain glued to Tremaine’s side. “We’re not going to get an appointment,” I mutter.
“We will.” He reaches into his pocket and produces a coin. “Once my daughter is queen of the realm, our problems will be solved forever. We just need to get gowns.”
I can only watch helplessly as he passes a coin to a maid, who slips out of her spot and hustles away guiltily. Tremaine takes her space, ignoring the glares of the people behind him.
Fuming at his underhanded and wasteful approach to getting ahead, I nonetheless follow him. Cilla and Stacia return, looking crankier than ever.
“Did you get to see him?”
The taller stepsister shakes her head. “False alarm.”
“Or he went another way.” Stacia fans herself. Dark circles rim her underarms.
