Cinderella (Faerie Tale Collection) Read Free Page B

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?”
    Her features clouded in pain. “No.”
    “No?” He was stunned. “What do mean? Who rides her then?”
    “I do not know. I had to sell her shortly after the funeral.”
    John paused before saying slowly, “You had to sell the horse your father gave you—the horse no one could beat you on, not even me? The horse you were made to ride. She is gone?”
    “Yes. But, I am well with it. I mean, I am sure it would have brought on too many memories of my father to ride her as I used to.”
    “Or helped you heal from those memories quicker.”
    She took in a shaky breath. “Yes, well—”
    “Ella?”
    “Yes?”
    His eyes were so gentle. “I am sorry.”
    She brought her lips together and sniffed. “’Tis nothing, really.”
    “No. It is something. It is something indeed to lose your father and your best friend at the same time. And I am sorry.”
    Folding her arms, she looked down and blinked a few wayward tears. How did he know? How did someone from so long ago, truly remember her—but not only remember her, how did he know what no one else did? That she was suffering. That she had suffered? How did this man reach through every tight barrier she had and shake her to her core. No one had been able to before. No one had ever cared. “Thank you,” she replied quietly.
    His boots came into view and then she felt his strong arms wrap all the way around her. Ella gave in for just a few moments and allowed her head to settle upon his chest. For just that little instant, she soaked in his calming heartbeat and allowed the world to drift around her.
    He rubbed his chin on top of her messy bun. “Ella Woodston, I know you do not like dancing, but will you go to the ball with me? We do not have to dance. We can sit quietly and watch others, or wander the gardens and talk—catch up and