Cinderella (Faerie Tale Collection) (2 page)

“I do not know.” Anthony peered at the girl he was pointing to. “It looks like a maid of some sort. Why?”

“Because I could have sworn it was Ella.”

CHAPTER TWO

“ELLA?” ZEDEKIAH ASKED.

Anthony smiled. “Yes, Eleanoria Woodston, Lord Dashlund’s daughter.”

“Who? I only know of Miss Dashlund—Lacey, I believe, and Jillian, the younger one, his stepdaughters. There is a third?”

“Precisely. No one has heard of her in years—and so has forgotten she existed. But I do not. She was the only girl who could outride me during the summer festivals, do you remember? When we were about eleven or twelve or so, how she would boast about it and make everyone angry?”

“More likely just make you angry. We were all laughing. But, yes, I do remember now. The only girl who could outstrip the prince in any event.” He chuckled.

“Yes, but she did not know I was the prince then. Father would have whipped me good if he knew you and I were creeping out in the stable boys’ clothing and dirt to be amongst them all.”

Zedekiah laughed. “Risking our necks was not on our parents’ agendas for the festivities, no.”

“Precisely. Which is why we would have to slip out to have the fun. Who enjoyed being in a castle looking down at the village below, when you could be down there experiencing it all?”

“Oh, how I miss those days!” Zedekiah twisted on his saddled. “Of course, now you have lost your adventurous streak, have you not? You will not even go into a house to say hello to your old friends.”

“Hush. Listen to me.” He rode his horse a pace or two closer. “I do believe it is Ella. Though why is Lord Dashlund’s daughter dressed like a servant? And why has no one heard of her in ages? Something is not right here and I want to get to the bottom of it.” He waited until Zedekiah approached. “I will have an adventure, just not the one you would want me to. Do me a favor, do not announce to her who I am. And especially do not let the family know I am with you as well. Tell them you came with an outrider of some sort if you must.”

Zedekiah’s eyes met the prince. If he remembered correctly, Anthony protested way too much about liking the feisty Ella all those years ago. Perhaps this was exactly what the stubborn man needed to bring him out of his dismal mood.

“Go in alone and I will keep Ella company out here,” Anthony said.

He grinned. “As you wish. So, uh—what do we call you, then?”

“Do you not remember? I always went by my middle name among the villagers.”

“Ah, yes! Jonathan. Good, ol’ John. My, er, outrider.”

“Precisely.”

Ella glanced up and saw the men approaching. Oh, dear, she was not even halfway through with the sweeping. Her stepmother would be livid. As quickly as possible, she swept what she could, and left the white marbled steps, going around to the back of the home, near where the duke was climbing off his saddle and handing the reins to the stable boy. The other man did so as well.

She ignored them both as she walked past the stables to the washing room and hung the outdoors broom upon its peg in there. Her mind too preoccupied with her chores to be overly concerned about any of the visitors that came to the home. Soon she would have to begin ironing the clothes that were on the line now, but her stepsisters’ bedrooms would need to be attended first while they were preoccupied. Brushing her hands upon her apron, she walked out of the room and came flush up to the man who had just come with the duke.

“You startled me!” she gasped, her hand flying to her chest.

“I am sorry, I did not mean to.” The man bowed and came back up, his dark brown eyes sparkling.

Those eyes looked vaguely familiar. She glanced over his sandy, darkish-blond hair but there was no recognition, other than he was probably about her age, or just a year or two older.

“When I saw you, I had to come and say hello to my old opponent.”

“Your old opponent?” She took a step back. “Do I know you?”

“Frankly, I am surprised you do not remember me. I would know you, Eleanoria Woodston, anywhere. My biggest rival at every festival race when we were children.” He grinned down, his gaze taking in her lively blue eyes and light brown hair. Even though she was dressed plainly, he could see she had become a very attractive woman.

She took a step back, her hand going wildly out to the white doorframe. For a brief moment, he watched a smile play upon her lips until she looked behind him and clamped her mouth shut. “I do not know who you mean. And I am sure we have never met before.” She curtsied quickly and said, “Good day, sir,” before brushing past him. “Hello, Hansen. Are you feeling well today?”

Turning in her direction, Anthony was startled to see her speaking to an old man just behind him.

“Aye, Miss. Thank you. My rheumatism has not acted up at all this morning.”

“That is good to hear. You make sure you use that oil at least twice a day. I would not want Lady Dashlund to find out. Please let me know if you need anything. Come to me first.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Please?”

His craggy smile lit up his worn features. “Aye, Miss. Only a fool would go to your step—uh—” he stopped mid-sentence, the old man’s glance looking straight at Anthony before he finished lamely, “—er, Lady Dashlund first.”

Anthony watched Ella’s head nod a short nod and saw the man smile once more; she appeared to whisper something to him before the two parted. The prince waited for her to turn around and address him again, but she did not. Instead, she hurriedly made her way to the back of the house—no doubt going through the servants’ entrance.

“Wait, Ella!” he called out as he rushed toward her.

She stopped and turned on her heal. “Shh!” she shushed him. “What do you want from me?”

“Nothing. A moment of your time, perhaps.”

She placed a hand on her hip and looked over to the outbuildings. “I cannot right now, I am extremely busy.”

Anthony grinned. “Are you really turning me down?”

Ella looked at him incredulously. “Yes. I have a lot to do this morning and I do not have time to waste chatting with someone I do not remember.”

“Well, then!” He could not help himself—his grin grew. “Now I know what this feels like.”

“What? People not having time for you?”

“Essentially, yes. And not wanting to have anything to do with me either.” He took a step closer to her. “So much so, they lie about remembering me.”

“I did not lie! I do not remember you.”

“And yet another falsehood slips from your mouth.” He stepped forward again. “What are you trying to hide from me?”

She sighed and folded her arms. “Why would I have anything hide?”

His gaze slowly made its way from her wispy hair, pulled back in a hurried bun, down the length of her servant’s attire, all the way to her dirty shoes and then back up to her face again. He did not say a word, his heart a slow sympathetic beat for her.

Ella raised her chin higher. “Yes? Is there something you would like to know?”

One eyebrow rose as a challenge. “Ella Woodston, daughter of Lord Dashlund—one of the wealthiest merchants in the kingdom—why are you dressed as a servant? What has happened to you?”

She threw her hands in the air in an act of disgust and turned on her heel again. This time making her way past the house into the small orchard behind it. The pretty trees were in full blossom. “You are still the same nosy boy you were back then—I am positive you have not changed a bit!”

“Ah-ha! So you do remember me! I knew you did!”

“Of course I remember you,
John
.” She paused and picked a few pink flowers from one of the stems. “How could I forget the only boy who actually cried when I beat him at the races?”

CHAPTER THREE

“CRIED? I DID NOT cry!” John sputtered.

Ella giggled and plucked at another branch, glad she could get under his skin. “What are you doing here with the duke, anyway?”

“I am his outrider.”

It was her turn to take a good long look at him—her eyes inspecting the fine clothes and expensive boots. “He dresses his outriders well—almost, I dare to say, better than himself.” Her eyes met his.

John nodded. “We do use the same tailor. I am intended to be at court most of the time, so this is how I dress, yes.”

“Hmm…”

“I
am
at court every day.”

“I am sure you are. But it does not explain why I have never seen you
here
before.”

“Oh, well, today he has express news from Her Royal Majesty, so I attended him. It is more official that way.”

“Well, then, what news does your duke bring the ladies of the manor this morning?” she asked in a tone that implied she was not curious, even though she was more than a little bit interested.

He waved it aside. “Just an invitation to a ball the queen is hosting in a fortnight.”

“A ball?” She thought of all the work she would have to do to get them ready for it and grimaced.

“You do not like balls?”

“No, I imagine they are horridly boring, actually.”

He looked shocked and then grinned. “But they say the prince is going to be there, does that not entice you to want to go?”

“What?” She threw her head back and laughed. “The prince? Why?”

“I thought all lovely maidens wanted to have their chance at winning his heart.”

She laughed harder. If John did not stop, she may expire right then and there.

“I am quite serious. What is so hilarious about this question?”

As if she would ever want to fall in love with a prince. After some time, Ella was able to catch her breath. But when she saw his countenance, she began laughing again. “Stop!” she gasped. “Do not look that way—it is too funny.”

“Ha ha. I am glad I can be of some amusement for you,” he answered ruefully, glancing away from her.

After a few more moments she said, “I am sorry. No, really, I do apologize.” She straightened up, but a grin still lingered upon her mouth. “I simply do not see the excitement over such a ridiculous man.”

John’s eyes grew wide. “Silly man? You are calling m—er, Prince Anthony a ridiculous man? Do you even know him?”

“Know him? Why would I want to know him? He must be the silliest foppish man in all the kingdom.”

“But why would you say such a thing? I truly thought all women loved him. He is said to be quite handsome, you know.”

“And that would allure me how? Any man who spends more time looking in the mirror than he does actually living life is of no consequence to me. I would prefer any man to a spoiled, pampered prince.”

“
Any
man?”

“Yes.”

“Come to the ball with me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

John looked more surprised than she did. “I am—uh, I am so sorry! I do not know where that came from. I—I—”

She grinned. “Are you attempting to retract the invitation now?”

He stepped back. “No!”

She took a step toward him. “I understand, first you wish to invite me to guarantee I would become eager to attend, and then you hope to dash all my dreams to smithereens.”

The look on his face was so horrified and confused she could not help herself, she had to laugh again.

When he realized she was jesting he asked, “Do you mock all of the men who come to court you?”

“Are you courting me, then?”

“I, uh—” He clearly was way out of his element.

She took another step closer to him, her hand reaching out to trail up his arm. “John, is there something you wish to convey to me?”

“Uh…”

“Something that expresses the true reason why you have followed me to this secluded copse.”

He swallowed and froze as she drew nearer, his hand going out to a trunk to steady himself.

Slowly, Ella stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, “It would not matter if you were the prince, I certainly would not go with you to the ball.”

He suddenly caught her shoulders before she could pull away. “Why?”

Her eyes locked with his. “Because I do not like to dance.”

“How do you feel about being courted?”

She blinked a few times and then answered, “Not very well. Not even if you meant it.” She took a deep breath. “Which clearly you do not mean any such thing—you only mean to unsettle me. And I will not be unsettled.”

“Ella, what happened?” he whispered.

They were still way too close, but she did not dare move out of his arms. “What do you mean?”

“You used to be so fearless and unguarded. And now—now you are cautious and reduced to…” He pointedly looked down at her attire.

He knows she is a servant here. Her heart skipped a beat as she pulled out of his arms. “I like to help out and I prefer not to get my nice clothing soiled, and so I dress like this because I want to.”

He rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand and nodded his head. “Very well, I see you are in good spirits and so I will not tease you out of them again. Instead, let us talk about happier things. How are you? How is your family? Is your father well?”

She opened her mouth to speak and then looked away.

“I have done it again, have I not? I have said something that disconcerts you.”

“No.” She shook her head and attempted a smile. “No. You obviously have not heard the news.” She tossed the blossoms to the ground and pasted a brave smile upon her face. “My father passed on a few years back. But his wife—my stepmother—Lady Dashlund and my stepsisters are all in good health. And you will most likely see them at the ball, for they will certainly attend such entertainments.”

“Ahh…forgive me. I am sure my mother mentioned the news of his death, but I had not remembered. And that would explain why no one has seen you—or why you have not been presented at court.”

“Yes, well, there was my mourning period, of course. And then—and then—I do not believe I ever fully got out of mourning. It is just not the same without him.”

His eyes traced her weary features. What must it have been like to have faced such tragedy, for no one had loved his daughter more than Lord Dashlund did of his Ella? She must miss him terribly. Like he would miss his father.

Determined to cheer her up and change the subject, he asked, “Do you still ride your swift mare as fast as you used to?”