The skunk offered to spray all of Lady Tremaine’s expensive dresses, but Ella turned down his reoccurring suggestion. “That’s sweet of you to vindicate me, but you know that’s not nice. Besides, I’m the one who has to clean everything up, so it would actually be a punishment for me. But thank you for the thought. You’re the best skunk a girl could have.”
Ella flitted down the steps, making sure not to let the wood creak beneath her feet. She finished cleaning up the kitchen, and busied herself fixing up Drizella’s and Anastasia’s hair, apologizing for not helping them sooner. The table needed setting, so she worked on that, grateful that the Baron’s ego was such that he was never on time.
“The Baron’s twenty minutes late, Mom,” Drizella observed, needling her mother, as was her way. The three sat in the living room, with Lady Tremaine forbidding them to do anything else, so they would be ready to greet the Baron upon his untimely arrival.
“He’s too important to be confined by a mere schedule. He’ll arrive when he’s ready, and when he does, we’ll greet him with welcoming smiles. I don’t think I need to stress to you girls how much we need this. Ella’s trust doesn’t open until she’s twenty-five. Until then, we have to bring in more money if we want to stay where we are.”
Ella cringed at the notion that her trust could or would be slowly drained the moment it opened. She’d already met in secret with an attorney two years ago, signing specific instructions that the money wouldn’t be released, but put into another airtight account that Lady Tremaine couldn’t touch.
The deed to the house was also in Ella’s name after her father passed it down to her, and had been paid off long ago. She’d had a second document drawn up, making sure the house couldn’t be sold or given to anyone else, no matter what. Ella had a healthy enough fear to legally safeguard herself against Lady Tremaine’s Pulse.
Those two documents kept her from getting too riled up whenever Lady Tremaine spoke about a future that made Ella want to scream. Lady Tremaine had squandered enough of her father’s legacy. Ella vowed long ago that the madness would stop there.
The Baron was forty-five minutes late when he finally arrived, but Lady Tremaine greeted him as if she was pleasantly surprised by his visit, after shooing Ella out of sight. “Oh, David. Do come in. I was just thinking about you.”
“I can’t imagine a better way to spend one’s time,” he simpered, offering her a smile that was every bit as fabricated as the one she beamed at him. He removed his coat and dismissed his guard to go wait out in the car for the duration of the visit. “I guess I’ll just hold this, then.”
Lady Tremaine’s eyes flashed with venom at Ella the moment she flitted to the kitchen to fetch the girl who’d been told to stay out of the way. “Are you stupid? Come and take the Baron’s coat for him.”
Ella bit back her frustration at being jerked around with conflicting requests. “Yes, ma’am.” She kept her head down and took the Baron’s coat, offering up an apology for her tardiness.
“It’s so very good to see you again, Ella. My, my, how you’ve grown.” His words were friendly enough, but the way he said them was positively sinister. His eyes always managed to drift to her breasts, which were modestly covered. The white blouse was supposed to feel like armor against his unwanted glances, but the material felt laughably thin, now that she was so near him. She made quick work of hanging up his coat, and slipped back into the kitchen, grateful that Anastasia had gotten out her flute to entertain the Baron with her off-key tunes.
Lady Tremaine’s laughter sounded like breaking glass as she fawned over every word the Baron uttered. Ella had been instructed to stay in the kitchen, but the Baron mentioned that his servants stood during the meal, watching him eat to make sure they could tend to his needs without him having to raise his voice.
It was difficult for Ella to remain invisible when Lady Tremaine snapped her fingers and ordered her to stand in the corner of the dining room, a tea towel in hand, just in case. Ella felt like a wall hanging, posted to be ignored or stared at whenever it pleased the diners. She kept her head down, but her skin burned when she felt the Baron’s eyes on her form. She wanted to run away and take the hottest shower of her life to scald his icky gaze off her skin.
“I think we did a fine job of presenting your concerns to the king during the Dinner of the Elite. We make a brilliant team, if I do say so myself.” Lady Tremaine touched the Baron’s arm, and then shot a covert glare at Anastasia, who was chewing with her mouth open like a cow munching its cud.
“The king isn’t swayed easily. Perhaps you’ll accompany me to the next dinner?”
True glee lit Lady Tremaine’s pinched features. “Yes! Of course, David. Whatever you need. You know you can ask me for anything.”
“Can I come?” asked Drizella. “I’ve been reading up on Prince Henry. I know his stances on the policies. I’m sure if I could just get ten minutes alone with him, I could make him see how dangerous the Lethals are.”
The Baron took in Drizella’s face with a calculating squint. “It couldn’t hurt. Prince Henry is swayed only by his father, but at this point, I’ll try anything. Perhaps the king can be persuaded by his son. If we try both routes, that’s probably more effective.”
Anastasia piped in with a mouthful of food. “Ee oo!”
The Baron looked down his nose at Anastasia’s round face. Her chin was glistening with butter from her meal, but her grin found a way to shine through the grease. “I only have a seat for a plus-one, and for my son. Calvin can sit this one out. I’m sure he’ll find something else to occupy his evening.”
Anastasia pouted, complete with crossing her arms and huffing like the toddler she’d never stopped being. “No fair.”
Ella tried not to move at all at the mention of Henry. She didn’t like that they were plotting out how to manipulate him, as if he was some mindless fool who needed to be instructed how the kingdom should be run.
So focused on remaining invisible was she, that she barely noticed how deliberately the Baron’s elbow bumped his water. “Oh, would you look at that? All over my pants.” He cast around for a towel and snapped his fingers at Ella, as if she was his dog. “You, there. Bring your tea towel.”
Ella was already on her way to his seat to offer her towel, but when she reached him, he turned in his seat and opened his knees to her, leaving his hands out to the side.
Ella dropped the towel on his lap. “I’ll go get you another, sir.”
“Am I expected to clean up this mess by myself? Surely Lady Tremaine pays you enough to know your job by now. Clean me up, Ella.”
Ella froze, certain she’d heard him wrong. “But, sir, I… Lady Tremaine?” She looked to her stepmother in hopes that she would offer to dab at his trousers for him, but her stepmother’s jaw remained tight.
“Do as you’re told, Ella.”
Ella met the Baron’s snide gaze with anger she didn’t conceal. She took the tea towel and swiped over his thighs, setting it back down in his lap. “All clean. Excuse me.”
The Baron was used to being the most important man in most rooms he dined. He snapped his fingers at her again and pointed to his lap. “Until it’s dry.”
Ella waited for Lady Tremaine to intervene, begging her stepmother with her eyes to say something. Neither woman wanted Ella anywhere near the Baron, but Lady Tremaine played the role of the cool girlfriend who looked the other way. “Do I need to repeat myself, girl? Do as the Baron asks.”
Ana’s mouth was dropped open in disgust, while Drizella’s vindictive grin couldn’t be tamed when the Baron ordered, “On your knees, Ella.”
Ella obeyed, if only to be done with the task as soon as possible. She stuck to the tops of his thighs, scrubbing at them with the balled-up tea towel as vigorously as she could, so she could be dismissed from the horror.
Blood pumped in her ears, and without meaning to, her Listening sent itself out to the neighbor’s house, cluing her into what television program the husband liked
to watch while his wife tucked their child in for the night.
Ella was careful to avoid the Baron’s lap, though he scooted his pelvis out a few inches, spreading his legs further to make his advances completely clear. When the towel was soaked through, she sat back on her heels.
The Baron reached down and snatched at Ella’s face, cupping her chin in his bony grip. “This one needs a firm hand. My servants don’t hesitate to give me what I require.”
Ella gulped, trying to keep her expression neutral. She could tell that he enjoyed her fear, so she refused to give him even an ounce.
Lady Tremaine’s bark came out with a slight tremble. “Ella, you’re dismissed. Do not frustrate me again with your incompetence.”
It was the green light Ella had been begging for, and she didn’t look back as she bolted out of the room and ran outside, her heartbeat thrumming in her ears as she tried to lose herself, and all of her problems, in the woods.
10
Four Dozen
It was two days after dinner with the Baron before Ella’s swollen and black eye finally started to open. Just the sight of Ella pushed Lady Tremaine into a rage, knowing that the Baron preferred young blondes to the woman desperate to be on his arm. It didn’t matter that Ella hadn’t returned his advances; it was her mere existence that drove Lady Tremaine to the brink.
Ella hadn’t returned Henry’s texts since the dinner, too lost in her own despair to conjure up even a passable representation of cordial conversation. She didn’t want him anywhere near that humiliation. If anything, it sealed her decision that he was best kept far away from the mess she was mired in. She missed him terribly, but knew it was for the best. He had a kingdom to think about, and shouldn’t be wasting his time holding together a sinking ship. She ached to return his texts, reading them over before bed, but remained firm in her silence.
Ella kept out of sight as much as she could, making sure everything was spotless and in order, so as not to give Lady Tremaine any additional ammunition that might fuel her hatred.
When the doorbell rang that evening, neither Drizella, Anastasia or Lady Tremaine moved to answer it. Ella put her tools away from her bout with the rickety garbage disposal, dried her hands on the apron she’d made from a worn men’s flannel, and moved to the front door to greet who she was certain would be a solicitor, or one of Drizella’s dates.
The gasp that flew from her lips wasn’t telling; anyone who opened their door to find the Prince of Avondale standing on their porch would likely have the same reaction. “No!” she whispered, pain slashing across her bruised features. She didn’t want him to see her like this—so clearly in need of help she couldn’t give herself.
Henry gaped at her black eye in horror, speechless.
It was the man next to him who finally spoke, introducing himself with a calm demeanor that had been bred into him from birth. “Good evening, Miss. I’m Remus Johnstone. I’m looking for Lady Tremaine. Is she available?”
Ella couldn’t find the right words—or any words, for that matter. She stood in the doorway, stunned and ashamed, begging Henry with her one good eye not to give their secret relationship away.
Remus stood with perfect posture in gray slacks, a lavender shirt, and a blue tie that had a streak of canary yellow across it. His knowing gaze seemed to understand the conundrum, clapping Henry on the shoulder to remind him that he couldn’t behave like a man in love. He had to conduct himself like a prince, which meant he couldn’t throw Ella over his shoulder and run her far, far away from the people who tormented her.
It was Drizella who popped her head into the foyer, her penciled eyebrows raised. “Oh! Mom! Mom! It’s Prince Henry!” Her comical shouts died when she remembered her mission to seduce the prince, and calmed her tone to a low, coy come-hither. “Hello, your majesty. Won’t you come in? Don’t mind our servant. She’s slow in the head. We’re very gracious to have hired someone like her.”
Ella closed her eye, wishing that, of all people, Henry hadn’t heard her stepsister run her down so cruelly. “Please come in.”
“Go ahead, Remus. I need a minute.”
Remus did Henry a solid and addressed Drizella, taking the air of authority, since he was the oldest person in earshot. Ella guessed him to be in his mid-thirties, but there was a timelessness to Remus Johnstone that made him seem boyish, and yet simultaneously ancient. His black hair was neatly fashioned, and his posture upright and polished. “The prince has a few packages in the car. Might he borrow your servant to help him carry them in?”
“I can help him!” Drizella offered eagerly, standing up on her toes with wide eyes as Anastasia came bounding in, munching on a donut.
Remus smiled, and the look was so genuine that Ella almost bought the words that flowed seamlessly from his lips. “I wouldn’t dream of asking a fine lady like yourself to do something as common as unloading a car. Besides, I’m here to speak to you two and your mother, if she has a moment. It’s concerning important matters having to do with Avondale’s future.”
Drizella thrilled at the attention, forgetting all about Ella, who slipped out onto the porch with Henry. Anastasia fetched her mother, and the three fawned over every word Remus said as they dragged him into the dining room.
Henry balked at Ella on the porch, speechless in his shock.
“Your car,” she reminded him. “I’m supposed to be helping you bring in packages.”
“What happened to your eye?”
“You shouldn’t have come here!” she whispered at him as she walked towards his town car.
“It’s been two days since I heard from you. You can’t blame a guy for wanting to know why he’s being blown off. Now I can see I shouldn’t have waited so long. Who hit you?”
Ella sized up his clenched fists and shook her head. She didn’t mean for her next words to come out like the crack of a whip, but they bit at him for getting too near her open wounds. “None of your business.” She covered her mouth, instantly ashamed for being so acerbic when he was only trying to be compassionate.
Henry reared back as if she’d slapped him. “Excuse me?”
She touched her forehead, overwhelmed at the mere sight of him on her property. “If I tell you, you’ll confront the person, and it’ll just make things harder for me. I told you, I’m stuck in this. I don’t want to take you down with me.”
Henry reached out for her hand, but Ella shirked away. “She’ll see!”
“Who? Lady Tremaine?”
Ella nodded and opened the back door of his car, looking around for packages, but seeing none. “She doesn’t like it when men pay attention to me.”
“Ella, I swear to you. Tell me who hit you, or I’ll make a big scene right here, right now,” Henry’s voice rose ominously, “and the whole neighborhood will know how I feel about you.”
Ella ducked and then looked around fearfully. “Would you keep your voice down?”
“Why? I’ve only been keeping our connection quiet because that’s what you said had to be done. I want to call up Royal Watch and let them know I’m officially off the market. I want to bring you home to meet my father. The whole nine yards of relational bliss—I want that with you.”
Ella swooned and simultaneously crashed, her face falling. Emotion caught in her throat but she refused to cry. “You can’t say things like that to me!”
“Why not?”
“Because I want to hear them too badly! You’re trying to make me believe things can be different, but I know that they can’t. You’re giving me hope, Henry. It’s the nicest and cruelest thing you could do to me.”
Henry popped the trunk, so they could keep their fight away from Lady Tremaine’s prying eyes. He reached into the trunk when she moved to pick up the separate bouquets of four dozen white lilies, four dozen blue carnations, four dozen pink roses, and four dozen yellow daises. “I’ll get those. I’m not going to make you carry in your own flowers.”
Ella froze, taking in the massive bouquets with amazement and
fear. “My own flowers? What do you mean?”
Henry ran his hand through his hair and blew out a nervous breath. “It’s been four weeks since we met. You stopped returning my texts, so I came here to win you back.” He motioned to the mass of flowers. “I didn’t know which was your favorite, so I tried a variety.”
Ella’s mouth fell open as she took in the gesture that was too grand for words. “I… You… These are for me?”
“Always and only you.” Henry grimaced, looking at the flowers uncertainly. “Too much? Rory said it was romantic, but Remus thought it might scare you. I honestly can’t tell which one you’ll land on, judging by your face. Pretend I only bought you one bouquet if it’s too much.”
There were plenty of reasons to be afraid, but Ella opted for a moment of wonder. If it was only a moment she would be allowed before reality overtook the beauty of the petals beckoning her to stroke them, then she wouldn’t waste that slice of time on anxiety.
She leaned in, filling her lungs with Henry’s affection, which she was learning was always a little bit too much, but somehow exactly what she craved. “These are incredible. No man’s ever bought me flowers before, except for my father. That you did this?” She inhaled again, and felt transported to a world that either hadn’t existed, or might someday exist if life decided it knew how to be kind. “Henry, you’re making it hard to resist you.”
Henry’s mouth drew to the side in dismay. “Only hard? Drat. I was trying to make it impossible for you to turn me away. They had tulips there, too, but not four dozen. Would you be completely swept if I’d thrown in some tulips?”
Ella managed the first hint of a smile she’d accessed in days. “How do you do it?”
“What?”
“Make me believe I have choices. Make me trust it won’t all crumble the second I smile.” Under cover of the trunk, she reached down and linked her little finger around his in the midst of the petals, brushing her knuckles to the silk that felt decadent. For the span of a secret, she willed that luxury of softness to transfer into her. She prayed it would stay with her long after Henry would have to take the flowers away. Her lashes swept shut. “You shouldn’t do things like this. I nearly brought the roof down on our heads when we almost kissed.”
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